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Snow Games
Our Indian Summer came to a screeching halt this past weekend but, truth be told, we were ready to break out the skis. Today we finally got the chance. The Grand Mesa had a good foot or more of very light and dry fluffy stuff so off we went for the inaugural ski of the season, albeit for a turnless cross country outing. In fact our group of four had a diverse collection of sticks from skate skis to cross country to a leather tele set up and full on plastic tele boots and touring skis. It worked though, as Greg skated back and forth between the group like a dog which tired him out thankfully, and Chad who has a torn up ankle needed the plastic boots for support.
It was a chilly day topping out at 12 degrees farenheit so we headed out a few miles on the County Line trail. It was in great early season shape with twigs sticking out in only a couple of spots, thanks to some grooming from the Grand Mesa Nordic Council. There were plenty of others out there enjoying the fresh snow and sunshine.
At the end of our ski we practiced some avalanche beacon searches, making sure the beacons and operators were in tip top working order for a winter of backcountry skiing. Twyla and I packed in six searches for the boys two so I’m not sure what that means other than I’m going to stick close to Twyla when skiing in avalanche terrain this winter.
And of course, because we were so happy that winter has finally arrived we made the requisite snow angel.
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Milking It
Other than winter’s brief false start this has been the fall that keeps on giving. The leaves have been blazing yellow and orange for weeks and the weather has been gorgeous - downright balmy and bluebird skies. Although technically not an Indian Summer - the definition being a warm sunny period after the first frost and before the first snowfall - it might as well be. For sure it qualifies for being taken advantage of.
Now that the clocks have changed I have been forced to play hooky from work twice this past week. Twice! I just can’t help myself, it’s so good out there. Both times I hit up the Kokopelli Loops out in Loma. It was not difficult to persuade others to join me in milking the final days of our Indian Summer with some sweet sunny singletrack riding. The pictures speak for themselves:
Krissy Steele leads the way on Horsethief Bench
Kate Belknap and Lenore Bryant above the Colorado River as it winds through Ruby Horsethief Canyon. We watched a couple of rafts enjoying a fall float - lucky them too!
And now I’ve had my desert riding fix, I am ready for winter. Bring it on!
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Halloween on the White Rim
The White Rim is a 100+ mile long four wheel drive road around the Island in the Sky section of Canyonlands National Park. It’s very popular with mountain bikers and can be ridden in anything from one to four days depending upon one’s priorities. Although I have once done the fairly masochistic one day ride, the four day trip is infinitely more fun with copious quantities of food and drink carted around in support vehicles.
For a group of friends the four day White Rim is an annual event. Although I couldn’t join for the full trip, this weekend I decided to make my own two day version and meet them half way. I also theorized that since I would have to ride a fair distance the exercise would offset the feasting that would inevitably take place.
Arriving at Canyonlands Saturday morning, the temperature was below freezing and snow was on the ground. Since I was decked out in my Halloween costume I bailed on attempting the 70 miles by going anti-clockwise. Instead I decided to ride down Shafer and see if I could find them at the usual third day lunch spot, around 35 miles away.
Initially I was quite leary of any speed fearing my honey bee costume would disintegrate. But as I buzzed down the switchbacks my wings levitated off my Camelback and created a very special visual effect, sufficient enough to garner hoots and rounds of applause from several vehicles coming in the opposite direction.
With confidence I put the pedal to the metal and hammered out 30 miles to Gooseberry Camp. Here I stopped and reviewed my attire. Costume malfunction was minor. The black and yellow striped stockings were obviously not designed to stay up after 2+ hours of hard riding. My stinger was also a little crushed by the seat, but otherwise the bee was in good shape. I was, however, famished.
Luckily just five miles further on the trail I found the motley bunch of various costumed characters setting out the lunch table. Perfect timing! I filled up on turkey sandwiches and birthday carrot cake leftovers.
The plan that evening was to camp at Airport so after a leisurely lunch we set off. For me this meant retracing 15 miles of my morning’s ride. This time however I was accompanied by a beer bottle, a nun, a nerd, batman, a tiger, a pirate and a rocker.
The distant La Sal mountains were plastered with snow as we wound our way along the White Rim. The pace was more sedate and interspersed with a few cold beverages at favorite scenic spots along the way.
Arriving at camp the sag wagons disgorged their loads including, I was astounded to see, a set of bocce ball! There was plenty of time to enjoy the sunset on the rim above the river after setting up the tents, though we never did play with the bocce.
Pre-dinner cocktails were accompanied by homemade smoked salmon. The entree was a spicy chicken, chipotle and lime stew with tortillas and dessert included a massive bag of M&M’s washed down with a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc. Trick or treat? Only treats were available as the halloween festivities carried on well into the night.
The final day we had a slow start, with only 18 miles to the end of the ride. After a long breakfast we rode 10 miles to Musselman Arch. Here we stopped for another snack and we goofed around on the narrow band of rock hanging above a canyon, creating pictograph-like shadows.
The ride ends with a stiff climb up Shafer where a narrow shelf road switchbacks as it cuts through over 1,000 feet of red rock walls to reach the Island in the Sky.
By the time we reached the top it was time for another meal. I committed a White Rim foul by dropping the gallon size bag of M&M’s on the ground. But after dusting them off they tasted just fine. I checked out the views from whence we came while cleaning up the mess I had made.
Here I summized that the one flaw with any White Rim trip is the calorific intake always exceeds that which is expended. Despite my shortened version and 70 miles of riding I still could not escape the inevitable. A White Rim trip always delivers a treat and never a trick and especially so on Halloween.
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Enjoying the Last Days of Autumn
As I mentioned in my previous post I have been trying to get out as much as possible and enjoy the last few days of the fall. The weather has been really fantastic here in the Grand Valley for the past couple of weeks. Too bad I spent three of those days working on the Front Range where I was unable to escape outside. Still I made up for it whenever I could.
Here’s a few photos from a number of different outings:
Solo post work mountain bike ride out at Mary’s. The cottonwoods along the Colorado River were spectacular despite the cloudy skies.
The riding’s pretty great too.
A couple weekends ago I got in a nice long hike in the McInnis Canyons area to the west of the Monument. I devised a 10 mile loop up through the East fork of Pollock Canyon and crossing over into Flume Canyon on an unmarked old shepherders route. The cottonwoods in Pollock were outstanding of course.
This past weekend, I ventured into Ute Canyon for a trail run. After huffing and puffing up the Liberty Cap section, the trail flattens out and goes for miles in the base of the canyon. It has to be one of my favorite running trails.
I was all alone, at least from the two legged kind. As I ran round a corner I glanced up to see this large big horn ram keeping an eye on me.
Finally, I went out for a great mountain bike ride at 18 Road with my friend Susan Kishegyi. We were very pleasantly surprised to find the parking lot only half full and met very few other riders out on the trail. Given the popularity of the Grand Valley at this time of year it can get a little busy at the trailheads. I heard everyone was over at the Lunch Loop - great! more room for us.
We rode my favorite trail combination, the Double A, heading out west, up Zippety and then back across the Frontside and down Kessel Run - as always a super ride.
So now the weather forecast is looking distinctly wintery, with snow flurries forecast here in town. It wont be long before the skis are dusted off but I am glad I enjoyed the final days of fall as much as I could.
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Fall Resolution
The clock is ticking. Only 16 days left ‘til the end of Daylight Savings and the clocks turn back an hour. Although it gives us a little more light for the morning run, the post work outings are pretty much kaput after November 1. And that is a bit of a bummer because this time of year is the best for getting out in the Grand Valley, what with the weather so fabulous and the leaves turning.
So I have made a Fall resolution. Like a New Year’s resolution, but applying to the next two weeks only: I will attempt to get out and do something every day after work.
I made my Fall resolution just this afternoon. So this evening I rode up to Cold Shivers Point in the Monument and then watched the sunset on Mount Garfield and the Bookcliffs as I descended. It was beautiful. The cottonwoods in the canyons are really starting to pop and the color show seems to be much better than the aspens in the mountains this year.
So the pressure is on. Right now is perfect and there are so many things to do before the clocks change - riding over the Monument or through the Palisade vineyards, mountain biking at Mary’s, 18 Road or Lunch Loop, running the river trail, hiking in McInnes Canyons or Mount Garfield………whatever it is, just get out there!
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Canyonlands’ Needles District
The timing is darn near perfect. No sooner have the leaves dropped in the high mountains, than the searing summer heat of the deserts vaporizes for good. With moderate temperatures and glorious sunny days, late fall is the primo time to be a desert rat. We have plenty of opportunities for that in our neck of the woods.
This past weekend Chad and I spent several days ferreting around the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, and immersed ourselves into the quintessential desert south west landscape. Despite its relative remoteness the area is rich with history of human habitation from 2,000 year old petroglyphs to 100 year old cowboy camps. On our first day we rode our bikes around the park roads visiting the points of interest along the way.
On our second day we made a foray deep into the stunning landscape. There’s a huge amount to see so we tried to pack in as many sights as we could and set out with a fairly ambitious itinerary but with options to cut it short if needed. Leaving from the Elephant Hill trailhead we first hiked 5+ miles to Druid Arch. For the most part the ‘trails’ were cairned routes across slickrock and along canyon bottoms making for a more backcountry experience than we had expected from a National Park. Although the morning had started with a downright chilly 24 degrees, it wasn’t long before the desert sunshine had us stripping down to t-shirts. Upon reaching Druid Arch we stopped for lunch and basked in the warming sun for half an hour.
Next we backtracked 2 miles to the reach the cutoff over into Chesler Park. Along the way we found a fissure in the rock and decided to follow it. It was a bit of a squeeze - if any part of your body is more than say 34 inches around or 7 inches wide, you are not getting through - but definitely worth it as we happened upon an incredible place.
I was excited to finally arrive at Chesler Park, a grassland area surrounded by needles and other rock formations, having seen so many beautiful photos of the area. It lived up to my expectations and more.
At this point we were feeling pretty spry and made the decision to continue hiking on the Chesler Park loop trail which would add a few more miles to our day. The first section was the Joint trail which followed a ‘joint’ or crack between the rocks. Although not as tight as the previous slot and it was nonetheless a fun part of the hike with some scrambling involved.
We finished up the loop and started on the trail back towards Elephant Hill, arriving back about 7 hours after we set out. We covered 15 miles, but surprising to us was the amount of elevation gain. Our GPS reported 3,400 feet of climbing on the route. I guess there were a lot of ups and downs between the canyons, parks and mesas. Luckily a summer of mountain adventures had prepared us well for being desert rats.
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Credit Card Ride to Crested Butte
A credit card ride is named as such because only a credit card is packed to cover ones needs. Well, that’s the theory. In reality we carried quite a bit more as our group of seven headed out from Marble to Crested Butte to spend the night and return the next day. Packs were weighed down with food and clothing for the ride, bikinis and trunks for hot tubs, extra clothing for cruising the Butte, birthday gifts for one of the group, and even a fishing pole!
Mike Curiak and Susan Kishegyi are all smiles on the way to Crested Butte.
The ride starts in the small town of Marble and follows the road to Crystal Mill, the Devils Punchbowl and then up and over Schofield Pass. The rough 4WD road requires some hike-a-bike and a creek crossing.
Lenore Bryant and Krissy Steele take a run at the loose and steep hill in the punchbowl but it’s not long before we are reduced to this…..
Mike Steele demonstrates the art of the hike-a-bike.
After entering Schofield Park the road flattens out and we start to motor.
And after another couple of miles we reach Schofield Pass.
All told it is about 25 miles and 4,000 feet of climbing depending whether or not the sweet singletrack of the 401 Trailriders trail is included. In this case we opted out as the weather was looking kind of nasty and our feet were blocks of ice after the creek crossing. Still, the descent down into the Butte was very beautiful as the aspens are really starting to turn and the surrounding mountains were dusted with snow.
Arriving in CB we checked into our hotel and jumped into the hot tub to warm up. Later, as we headed out into town for the evening we discovered that it was the Vinotok Festival, a medieval style celebration of harvest and the autumn equinox. Various activities took place including a parade where participants stroll in and out of bars and restaurants, singing, playing instruments and reciting tales of folklore.
We were lucky to be serenaded while enjoying our cocktails at the Princess Bar.
The Vinotok celebrations continued out in the street and culminated with a huge bonfire after dark.
Knowing the return ride was relatively easy, our celebrations of Krissy’s pending birthday and general merriment continued unabated well into the night.
The next day we returned to Marble, arriving cold and drenched from virtually non-stop rain. However I managed to snap a few shots of the beautiful fall colors along the way.
A cabin in Crystal
Rain on aspen leaf
Mike Curiak has a great slideshow posted over on his blog
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Fall Backpacking and Climbing
I’ve been wanting to climb Capitol Peak for a while now, but every weekend I had it slated for an attempt, the weather hasn’t cooperated. This past weekend it didn’t look too stellar either but since there are not too many opportunities left this year we decided it to give it a shot. In any case a backpacking trip up Capitol Creek into the heart of the Elk mountains is pretty darn sweet. So off we went, a happy band of five wannabe Capitol summiters, with a good supply of the necessary staples - bad weather gear, wine and chocolate.
After a six mile hike we arrived at Capitol Lake and secured a campspot at the upper camping area - a rocky knoll at around 11,800 feet sparsely decorated with stunted pine trees, the only meager shelter. The north face of Capitol and its rocky ridge, our route for the next day, loomed above.
The sun was shining and although the evening air was brisk and had a distinct autumnal feel, our spirits were high as we ate dinner and settled in for the night.
Shortly after dark fell, the show began. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed and rolled from cloud to cloud. One clap was so loud I felt the ground shake beneath me as I lay hunkered down in my little tent and I felt the electricity in the air. Rain lashed the sides of the tent for what seemed like eternity. When the alarm went off at 5 a.m. the next morning I didn’t feel like I’d slept a wink.
By the light of our headlamps and the moon, we groggily hiked the switchbacks up to Daly Pass. As the sun rose the aftermath of the storm became evident. Capitol’s north face was shining white and we crunched over fresh snow the higher we climbed.
After an hour or so we reached the summit of K2, a 13,664 foot high bump on Capitol’s ridge.
To continue on would require some fairly sketchy climbing on snow covered rocks. I had on my flat soled, rock shoes so I opted instead to call it quits. Capitol will be there next summer and I want to be too, so the decision wasn’t hard for me.
Three of us decided to head back to camp and finish up some of the excess supplies while two of our group forged their way to the summit.
We were relieved to see the successful summiters return to camp a few hours later, safe and sound, and just as the weather turned bad again. In the midst of a hail storm we quickly broke down camp and headed out. I don’t think it was my imagination but the aspens had turned a deeper shade of yellow in the 24 hour period since we hiked in. Fall is definitely here.
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Independence Rock: A Classic Climb
It’s hard to believe that I have lived here for almost a decade and have never climbed Independence Rock, the quintessential climb in the Colorado National Monument. So when my friends Greg Tibboel and Twyla Gingrich offered to haul me up via the historic Otto’s route, I jumped at the chance.
Independence Rock is the standout spire in Monument Canyon
Early Sunday morning on Labor Day weekend saw us hiking up Monument Canyon into the base of the 450 foot sandstone tower. The air was cool and humid from the previous night’s rain and as the sun rose, a layer of light mist hovered over the valley. We figured an early start would be needed to beat the heat and the crowds on this popular route.
John Otto, the well-known proponent of the Colorado National Monument pioneered the area and made the first ascent of Independence Rock back in 1911. He succeeded by following a series of cracks and chimneys, and when those ran out, by hammering pipes and cutting steps into the smooth sandstone faces.
Although I knew it to be a classic route in terms of its historical significance, I had no idea that the climb itself was such a good one. Four diverse pitches of both trad and sport climbing, all excellent, would take us to the lofty summit.
We circled around the south side of the tower to reach the base of Otto’s route, which ascends the shady, cool northwest face. Twyla led the long first pitch following an easy crack to a chimney that required some wriggling and then finished up on a slab.
Twyla leads the first
Greg and I followed climbing simultaneously with a two rope system, enabling us to move relatively fast, one behind the other.
The second pitch was also long and involved a 5.8+ move on an overhanging off-width crack, which Greg adeptly led. Otto’s pipe holes (the pipes long gone) provided great finger pockets along with footholds chipped out of the rock. Without these the move would be near impossible to make. Thanks Otto!
The second pitch finished with a cool walk through a deep fissure called the Tunnel of Time and ended at a broad platform called Lunch Box Ledge.
Twyla walks through the Tunnel of Time
The belay stations all had bomber anchors and fantastic views
The next pitch was short but fun and ascended a vertical 80 foot slab protected by old pitons. The climbing almost exclusively utilized pipe pockets and chipped steps.
I’m loving this climb!
Quickly we were at the base of the final pitch and the thrilling finale. The crux of the climb lay ahead or rather above - the hardest moves of the day coupled with a good dose of exposure.
An airy rib offering no protection, leads to the top of the tower which is capped by Kayenta sandstone. This cap is made of harder rock than that below, creating an overhang, and requiring some 5.9 pumpy moves to navigate. Greg made it look easy, even on lead.
As I followed, placing my feet in the foot holds cut by Otto, I could only shake my head and say out loud for the umpteenth time “this Otto guy was one crazy dude”.
Dangling hundreds of feet above the valley floor, I refused to look between my feet, knowing it would send my head into a spin. I focused on the task at hand, feeling for finger pockets and cracks, smearing my feet against the rock and finally pulling myself up and over the ledge.
The summit is actually above the final anchor and required a couple of unprotected moves to reach it. Greg topped out and then belayed Twyla and I using a deep hueco as a solid belay seat.
On the summit we hung out for a while, ate some lunch and signed the register. Several parties had climbed in the days previous, so we were amazed that we had it all to ourselves on what we thought would be a busy weekend. Since it appeared no one was following us we were in no hurry to get down. But in the end we had to go.
The descent involved two double rope rapels which were super fast and a lot of fun, once we made the little hop ‘n drop over the overhang. With 8.1 mm ropes we added a prusik to the belay devices to slow us down, but even then we fairly zipped, smoking ropes and burning hands as we went.
All too soon we were down and hiking out. What an awesome day on a Grand Valley classic! I hope to repeat it many times.
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Getting Some ‘Tude
I’ve been getting my ‘tude back. Altitude that is. Although my body is in recovery mode, preventing me from running more than a little trot twice a week, I have been taking advantage of the glorious end of summer and getting up high.
Rather than hit up the crowded and ever popular 14ers, the last two weekends have seen Chad, I and friends virtually alone on a couple of mighty 13ers. The first trip involved a 5,000 foot climb to reach treeline on the Treasure massif. The crux of the climb is to avoid private property and so there was some bushwhacking and cross country travel involved. Having navigated our way to the summit ridge, it is an easy stroll on alpine tundra for several miles at over 13,500 feet. I’d read that Treasure has one of the best views in Colorado and I certainly couldn’t argue.
Twyla and Greg hike the long summit ridge
Luckily we hit it up on a really warm, sunny day as this is no place to be if there is an electric storm in the offing. The four of us spent over an hour lounging around on the summit, snoozling in the sun and searching for crystals and fossils. A rare treat to be at that altitude and not be shivering or running scared from potential electrocution. We even saw a herd of mountain goats who rapidly disappeared down the north face on improbable terrain. On the return we explored ribs and monoliths of white rock extending west from the summit.
The views were really some of the best with the Maroon Bells and Capitol looming closeby, and the distant and distincitve shapes of Uncompaghre and Sneffels, to name a few, on the southern horizon. To the west the Bookcliffs and the Colorado National Monument were even visible. Although a long day, over 9 hours and 12 miles, it was one of the best hikes I have done.
The second 13er of the week was Vermillion Peak, the highest point in San Juan County which we ‘climbed’ on Sunday. The approach passes through Ice Lakes basin where turquoise lakes of an almost unbelievable hue lie at the base of a cirque of crumbly peaks.
Although stunning from afar, one does not have to get too close to realise these peaks are Colorado Crumble at its best. Even Class 2+ moves can be a little nervewracking when your feet and hands are on terrain of questionable stability and there’s exposure involved. Luckily the route is fairly well traveled and the majority of the loose rock has been cleaned off. Well, kind of.
In the end we turned around 30 feet shy of the summit. This time we were not so fortunate to avoid any weather. As we poked our heads out over the top of the Vermillion Dollar Couloir we were greeted by a rumble of thunder a little too close for comfort. A flurry of snow confirmed our decision to turn it around and get the hell out of there.
Despite being a potential lightning conductor I am smiling, in part because, as an outdoor fashionista, I have coordinated my attire with the scenery.
We made it down safe and sound and probably in record time. Of course the sky cleared as soon as we got below treeline. But that’s life and expected along with another great day in the Colorado mountains.
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It’s A Coming…..
Yip! Yip! Winter’s on its way! Look what came in my mailbox this weekend and has me all twitchy…..
Other signs observed that winter is just around the corner:
Yellow leaves on cottonwoods in the Monument found third week in August.
Scrapped frost off my mountain bike seat Saturday morning in Silverton.
Precipitation of the flake rather than the drop variety above 12,000 feet in the San Juans this weekend.
And last, but by no means least, the seasons first email from the Colorado Avalanche Information Center arrived today.
Now I’d better go study the Gear Guide and spend the next two months debating which skis I should add to my quiver this year. And, of course, there is Fall, perhaps my most favorite season of all, that comes before the snow really starts to fly.
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Teton’s Garnett Canyon
After yesterday’s somewhat depressing post, I have emerged from my injury induced funk and have rustled together the final highlight of our road trip earlier this month.
We left Glacier National Park, racing to keep ahead of the cold front sweeping down from Alberta, and landed for a few days in our old stomping grounds of Jackson Hole. It has been over 12 years since I lived there though I have been back for a few visits. I love that place!
We found a great campspot with what has to be one of the best views of the Tetons. Herds of buffalo roamed the meadows around us. At sunrise the classic skyline pierced its girdle of clouds.
Throughout the road trip I have been savoring Jack Turner’s wonderful book “Teewinot: Climbing and Contemplating the Teton Range”. Jack Turner lives and breathes the Tetons and his love for these mountains is infectious. As a guide for the famed Exum Mountain Guides he spends his summers climbing the Grand Teton and in his book describes lovingly and in great detail the route and its history. I have never climbed the Grand or spent much time in Garnet Canyon at its base, but the sense of place projected through Turner’s inspiring words drew me to follow his footsteps.
The standard approach to climb the Grand Teton follows a popular trail from parking at Lupine Meadows to the Saddle where a base camp exists for many climbers. From the car to Saddle is at least 5 miles and 5,000 feet up. And, as usual we left insufficient time in the day to complete the route as a hike, so out came the running shoes. With hindsight that was a wise move as we would need to get out more quickly than anticipated.
We started up the switchbacks on the lower slopes before turning off into Garnet Canyon. Immediately the terrain changed from sunny, wildflower splattered meadows to a rugged and rocky valley.
In Garnet Canyon the vegetation struggles to grow not only because of the challenging terrain but also the harsh weather. No sooner had we reached the Platforms, a flat spot popular with campers, than the skies turned dark and menacing as thunderheads bubbled up and over the mountains. We scrambled up the boulders above the Platforms and took shelter as rain started to fall. As we peered out from beneath our boulder in the Meadows we could see the Middle Teton and its black stripe of lava known as the Dike.
The squall quickly passed and we continued upwards the trail now quite steep and our run reduced to a speed hike. On our way to the Saddle we passed many climbers and their guides returning from a successful climb of the Grand. Clouds continued to build again, thunder started to rattle around the summits so 1,000 feet shy of the Saddle we decided to turn around and head back. Half way down it really started to dump heavy rain and then huge hail stones. We took shelter again - running in hail, in fact doing anything in hail, is painful! Sheets of rain, sleet and more hail pounded the rocks around us as lightning and thunder cracked ever closer. We ran from shelter to shelter, from rock to tree, until we reached the cover of thick forest at the mouth of Garnet Canyon. From there we let it rip, running the four miles back to the trailhead as fast as we could.
After pouring the water out of our shoes and wringing out our clothes we headed to Dornan’s in Moose, the bar with perhaps the best view around. It is traditional to sit and enjoy a drink there, looking up at the Grand and toasting one’s successful climb. Not quite the same situation for us but nonetheless we toasted our success at experiencing, surviving and enjoying the best the Teton’s and their fickle weather could throw at us that day. As we watched the sunset over the Tetons it seemed a very fitting end to a truly amazing road trip.
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Dog Days of Summer
Although the dog days of summer officially ended on August 11, their presence is still felt. The sultry air presses down on the earth, everything beneath now tired and weary of the weight of the summer heat. The languid flow of the rivers and creeks appears almost viscous yet still reflects the harsh glare of the lower angled sun. Limp leaves barely rustle in the infrequent and feeble wafts of balmy air. Grasses are burnt crisp and dry.
Although seeming to languish, the earth does slowly creep towards fall. Days grow shorter and the first splash of yellow has appeared on cottonwoods deep in shaded canyons. We wait for cooler air in the valleys and frosts in the mountains. For the swansong of summer, a final burst of energy and glorious explosion of color before winter descends.
Like the earth, energy is sapping from my own body. I carefully coax it to bear the fruit of my labors, a wonderful but long summer of trail running. But I have pushed it hard, run too fast and far, to survive another big outing uninjured. It too is ready for rest. As a soak my tired feet in the cooling river, nature rejuvenates both soul and soles. I am reminded that being outside is enough. Even dog days are good.
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Thigunawat Hits the Spot
What the? Thingy? Thingy what? That new trail race up at Powderhorn on the Grand Mesa is the thingy what I’m talking about.
Somewhat difficult to pronounce, Thigunawat is the Ute name for the Grand Mesa and means home of departed spirits. How appropriate I thought as my spirit did indeed depart my body while running today’s First Annual Rocky Mountain Orthopaedics Thigunawat 10k. The unexpectedly long and strength sapping climb during the final two miles was somewhat contradictory to what I had read about the race. Billed as ‘not a hill climb but a base area ramble’ I thought it would be a walk in the park. Not true. In fact it was quite challenging and had plenty of climbing. Needless to say, I loved it!
Rob Reece has designed a very good course which in some ways reminds me more of true cross country rather than a ‘trail’ race. There were plenty of obstacles - ruts, rocks, roots, logs and bogs- as we ‘rambled’ or should I say ‘scrambled’ through the scrub oak. I tripped more than a few times and I heard there was plenty of carnage during the race. The technical terrain added to the excitement!
After the final big climb over from the West End lift it was a fast ride down to the base area where beer, food and music were waiting to restore any departed spirits. There were some fantastic raffle prizes too. I was stoked to win some great goodies including a Camelback and a free haircut!
Best of all there was a big turnout with around 140 folks showing up, who hopefully will return next year +2. Even if it’s both a tongue and ankle twister the Thigunawat race is for sure a keeper.
No pictures but the results for the race are here.
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Glacier’s Highline Trail
We had it all planned out. Four days in Glacier National Park, where to camp, where to hike, when our rest days would be. All so our visit who be maximized to the full. We would enter from the west side, drive through the park and spend a few days on the east side. But we didn’t factor in the National Park Service who threw a wrench in the works by deciding our truck camper was just a weenie bit too tall, long and wide to drive over the Going-to-the-Sun (GTTS) Road.
Now, in Colorado, I think we know narrow, windy, mountain roads pretty well. Independence Pass and Red Mountain Pass, to name just a couple, make the GTTS Road look like I70! But the Park Service turned us around and we had to drive the southern perimeter of the park to reach the eastern side.
Consequently we arrived in Glacier in the wrong place (per our plan), way late and with no campsite. Campsites are first come, first served and the most popular ones fill up early morning after a serious rugby scrum. The glacier gods must have been smiling on us as despite it being late morning we did score on a campsite and we then set about salvaging our plans by going on a hike. It was already noon but we figured we had just enough time to catch a shuttle bus up to Logan Pass, hike the 12 miles of the Highline trail past the famed Glacier Park Chalet and on down to the Loop to catch another shuttle bus back, all before they shut down for the evening at 6 pm.
Logan Pass is the highpoint of the GTTS Road with towering peaks, snowfields, meadows, wildlife and lakes and it was from here the Highline trail began. It was a zoo. The first mile or so because of the masses of people but once we motored through the melee it was a wild animal wonderland. The trail clung to the side of an arete named the Garden Wall, and passed through meadows of wildflowers. Eagles, goats, deer, very fat marmots and ground squirrels greeted us along our way.
The Highline trail with beautiful views through the smoke/haze drifiting from wildfires in British Columbia
Several miles from Logan Pass we finally felt as though we were truly in wild country. As we turned a corner I glanced down into the meadow 150 yards below and saw a large grizzly sow and her two cubs. They did not seem to be aware of our presence and as we were a safe distance away we watched them for a minute before quickly carrying on our way. It was a gift to see the bears in their own habitat, though I had my hand close to my pepper spray for the rest of the hike.
A very friendly goat. I DID NOT get anywhere close to the grizzlies, hence no photos of them.
Before reaching the Chalet we decided to take a detour to the Glacier Overlook, adding 1.2 miles and 1,000 feet climbing to our original plan. We realised that we might be hitch hiking back to camp but couldn’t pass on the view over Grinnell Glacier and into the west side of the park. We made the right decision - it was stunning.
Speed marching we arrived at the Glacier Peak Chalet and slammed down some water before setting off for the Loop on the GTTS Road. The hut warden looked a little doubtful as we left saying we intended on catching the last shuttle bus. We were now well over 10 miles into our short little afternoon stroll and I was having foot problems having forgotten to use by beloved Injinji toe socks. But the thought of sticking the thumb out kept us moving. The 2,400 foot descent was through areas of forest and thick vegetation and we raised our bear alert noise even higher. We made it just in time and caught the last bus back into camp.
Suffering from sore feet and tired legs that night, I hoped I hadn’t jeopardised the next three days of our trip as we planned several other substantial hikes. The next morning however the clouds quickly rolled in obscuring all views and within an hour rain started falling. The weather forecast was more of the same and worse for the remainder of the week as a low pressure system moved in. We hung out at Many Glacier for a day hoping the weather would improve but it did not. Glad that we had hammered out the Highline hike the first day and made the extra effort to add on the Glacier Overlook, we decided to head south in advance of the cold front.
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Lazy Feet in Whitefish
Some of you may wonder what kind of vacation I am really on, given that all I ever seem to do is ride, run, or hike. Well I am happy to report I finally started to slow down and take it easy in Whitefish, a really cool town near the west entrance to Glacier National Park.
First off I did something I have never done before - downhill only mountainbiking. Big Mountain at Whitefish has two good singletrack trails from the summit giving over 2,000 feet of descent for zero uphill effort. Well, other than lifting the bike onto a nifty little rack thingy they have on the chairlifts.
Look - no climbing! And no skis on a chairlift! Both are very strange feelings for me.
Normally I am almost exclusively into self propulsion whether I’m skiing or riding, earning my right to a descent by climbing an equal amount. Consequently it felt weird. Kind of like I was cheating. And I didn’t get a good workout in. Which probably explains why I did not feel well and only completed one run before calling it a day. Pretty pathetic, huh? Chad made up for it though by doing so many laps it made me even more dizzy.
Fortunately I was feeling much better for a boat outing on Whitefish Lake the next day. We cruised up and down marveling at the beauty of the surrounding mountains including Glacier National Park and the ski area whose runs are just 8 miles away and, very optimistically, fantasized what it would be like to live in one of the beautiful lake side homes. I did practically nothing other than steer the boat and open the lid of the cooler (frequently). Oh, and watch Chad fish.
My most strenuous activity was swimming, which I did only a couple of times to cool down. It was hot, almost triple digits!
Here is a sign of a Western Coloradoan in summer……a Chaco tan!
After a wonderful time in Whitefish we are onto Glacier, a park I have never visited before and is reported to be full of grizzlies. More sleepless nights and the bear spray will have to come back out again!
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A Busy Day in Missoula
Given we only had one day in Missoula we packed in as much as we could. That was easy as, like Grand Junction, this is a city whose character is defined in many ways by the outdoors. So we spent the day doing as Missoulians do.
The M and Mount Sentinel watch over Grizzly cubs in their daily practice
First we ran the M Trail which leaves directly from the University of Montana campus and home to the Montana Grizzlies (but of course what else would their teams be called?). Many people hike and run this every day as it is so close in to town. The trail reaches the M in less than a mile and carries onto the summit of Mount Sentinel in under two. With great views of the city and valley it also packs in a good workout.
Running up the trail with views of the Rattlesnake Recreation Area in the right background
After lunch in town we headed out a few miles north to the Rattlesnake Recreation Area which has many trails for hiking and riding. We chose to ride a 10 mile loop called Spring Gulch with a summit lookout over Montana Snowbowl, the local ski area. The trails were exceptionally buff and provided a ripsnorting fast descent.
Big smiles from Chad on the buff singletrack
In the evening we heard that there were free music concerts in a park alongside the Clark Fork River in the center of downtown. The music and the scene was happening, as was the river. One of the hottest days of the year the water was a very popular place to be. There was a wave adjacent to the park and a big party going on in and around the river.
A kayaker surfs the wave on the Clark Fork River
The water was teeming with kayakers, tubers, swimmers, bridge jumpers and rafters, all watched by the well lubricated crowd on shore who seemed to be as entertained as those in the water. It was the perfect ending to a very active day in Missoula.
Happy Hour in Missoula
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Highlights from the Gallatin Range
A moose takes a dip in the Gallatin River
We spent four days exploring the outdoors paradise between West Yellowstone and Bozeman along the Gallatin River. Numerous trails provide access to the beautiful Gallatin range. The day after the epic ride, we decided to take it easy and go for a short run up to Lava Lake.
The trail was in the forest all the way to the lake.
Of course we couldn’t stop at the lake and decided to continue on to Tabletop Mountain. And as usual our eyes were bigger than our legs. We ended up covering 13 miles and almost 4,000 feet of climbing. My quads got shredded on the run down and I’m still sore.
Luckily the next day it rained so we were forced to take a rest, hanging out in Bozeman and catching up on things like laundry, which was very necessary after our muddy exploits.
Our final day we met up with some GJ friends who happened to be in the ‘hood. The boys went fishing on the Madison River and had a great time. They actually caught some big fish. Pictures do exist but I don’t have my hands on them. I will try and post one later.
The girls, me and my friend Krissy Steele, went on an awesome ride to Emerald Lake above Hyalite Canyon, just south of Bozeman. The trail was rocky, rooty and wet and a lot different from the terrain we are used to in the Grand Valley.
Krissy climbs a switchback on the Emerald lake trail
Emerald Lake was very pretty but we didn’t hang out for too long as the mosquitos were bad, the first time we’ve really seen them out in force on the trip.
Now we are headed north again, to Missoula, a town I’m excited to check out. I hear it has a lot of similarities with Grand Junction so I know I’m going to like it.
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Devoured by Grizzly Country
Note to self: a good night’s sleep is not best accomplished when reading “Bear Safety Tips” right before bed. It does however guarantee a restless night. I tossed and turned, haunted by phrases from the ‘useful’ pamphlet such as “if a bear ‘pops’ its jaws, it’s agitated”, “snaps its teeth”, “intends to eat you”, “bear mauls you continuously”, “fast as lightening”, and finally and rather obviously I thought, “you will panic”.
I hadn’t even ventured out of bed and I was on the verge of panicking. The next day Chad and I planned on riding the Little Wapiti Creek trail in the prime grizzly habitat of Big Sky country, Montana. The ride was supposed to be incredible. “If there is an afterlife for mountain bikers it will include singletrack downhills like this” quoted the guidebook. It also happened to mention “this area is serious grizzly country! Make noise!” Riding fast and quietly in such terrain was a recipe for a bear encounter. So that evening, we entered the tourist town of West Yellowstone and armed ourselves with Bear Defense Pepper Spray and bells for our bikes. After mounting the weapons in the optimal position for rapid deployment, we read the accompanying propaganda and fruitlessly tried to sleep.
The next morning, groggy and anxious, I tried to calm my mind as we drove towards the trailhead. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, a perfect day for a beautiful ride. I was just being silly. The chances of a bear encounter were slim to none. The crystal clear Gallatin River wound its way through lush meadows of tall grasses and wildflowers over which butterflies flitted. The sereneness of the scenery started to work its magic and I finally felt more settled. And then there it was! A real live grizzly bear! Just 200 feet away! For real! A magnificent beast, its shiny brown coat rippled over its massive body as it lumbered through the meadow. Beautiful. And scary. Holy moly, we weren’t even off the road and the place was overrun with grizzlies! They must be really hungry or something. My heart immediately leapt back into my mouth.
A few minutes later we arrived at the trailhead. I pushed thoughts of grizzlies out of my head and focused on the 2,400 foot climb that started off the ride. Evidently the buff singletrack of the downhill wasn’t going to come without prepayment. For an hour we pedaled in our granny gears up a hillside covered with vibrant green grass and wildflowers. It was steep and hot and we were continuously attacked by swarms of nasty flies, crawling between eyes and sunglasses, in the ears and biting our scalps through the holes in our helmets. It was an unwelcome distraction from the bear prevention tactics we were trying to employ. One hand on the handlebars, the other alternated between swiping flies and ringing the bell. As we climbed spectacular scenery behind us unfolded but unfortunately stopping to take in the views only encouraged more vicious fly attacks. We kept on pedaling.
During the final two miles of the climb we left the open, sunny meadows and entered the dark forest. On the plus side the flies left us, but now every brown tree, brown stump and brown rock took upon the appearance of a bear. Ringing my bell, I noisily and nervously made my way through the trees. Without incident we finally arrived at the top of the downhill portion of the ride. The journey to mountain bike nirvana was about to begin.
But not quite yet. While in the forest, thunderheads had built to the west and now started to rain on our parade. No matter, we would wait it out. Taking shelter beneath a stump we were still buoyant and giddy about the ride ahead. The rain stopped. We remounted our bikes and made the turn onto the singletrack downhill. This was going to be special ride. An incredible six miles of trail rolled out before us. We just had to make enough noise and the bears would afford us safe passage through their country.
Unfortunately we had missed the Hot Tip in the guidebook “Dirt turns to gumbo mud when wet and your bike will not move; do not go after (or during) a rainstorm”. There is no better way to describe what happened next, only to say it was a suffer fest. I have never had to work so hard to go downhill in my life. First we tried riding on the trail but the wheels completely clogged up. After we scrapped off the mud with a stick, we rode through the meadow at the side of the trail, which at least meant we were moving. But every so often we would be unceremoniously dumped to the ground by a log or rock lurking beneath the grass. It was slow going. After a while we thought the trail might have dried out a little. We tried the trail again. Bad idea. Drying mud was even worse than wet mud and harder to remove with a stick. We carried our bikes, now twenty pounds heavier. Throughout it all we tried to remember to ring our bells as we traversed from meadow to forest. In hindsight the foul language emanating from our mouths was probably more than sufficient to scare the bears away.
Note bear spray and bell mounted on very muddy bike
At last we were in sight of the finish. A mile of trail stretched through the sagebrush, now dry enough with hard pedaling the wheels would finally move. Arriving back at the parking lot we were a sight for sore eyes: absolutely filthy muddy, red welts swelling from fly bites and close to exhaustion. In the end it was the grizzly country that devoured us, not the grizzlies.
Grin and bear it. I manage a smile at the end.
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The Call of the Road
All hands were on deck amidst a flurry of activity this week in preparing for our summer road trip. The Blue Buffalo is prepped and the camper mounted on its back, our home for the next two weeks is packed to the brim. The road is calling us northwards to explore new places and sights unseen.
First we will visit some of our old stomping grounds in the Wasatch and Yellowstone before moving onto new territory in Montana. Our goal? It’s about the journey, not the destination. Or rather the series of destinations and experiences we will happen upon along the way. Catch a few fish, ride sweet single track, climb a peak, hang out in cool coffee houses, discover a great book, some fine wine and dine, it’s all good!
Trip reports will be forthcoming along the way.
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Tweet Tweet!
I recently signed up for Twitter. I will tweet whenever I post on this blog, amongst other twitterings. If you haven’t already discovered Twitter, it’s fun! To follow along click here.
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Yes, we’ll have to check the conditions at P’horn. I hope they are making snow!
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What a wonderful Sunday!! I can’t wait to get out this weekend post “Pray for Snow” celebration!
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The picture of your costume gave me a good chuckle after a very long day :) What a fun thing to do!
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The picture of your costume gave me a good chuckle after a very long day :) What a fun thing to do!
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