Cliff Hangers

Now I don’t know how many people have ever woken up inside of a national park, but I would recommend putting it on the bucket list. Up in the mountains it had been a bit too chilly for me. Out there on the edge of the canyon I woke in weather that I felt comfortable going around in a t-shirt with. (That’s really saying something for a guy who needs four layers to go out in 32° weather.) It was a beautiful sight to see and hear in the morning as well: the crashing of the river several hundred feet below with great dark rock rising out of it.

I took the first hour of the day to admire the highly underappreciated canyon before heading on to complete my collection of the four National Parks in Colorado. This meant driving for another four and a half hours down to Mesa Verde National Park. This drive included a winding road that was one of the best drives I have ever taken. If my memory serves me correctly (which, quite honestly, is a long shot—I hardly ever trust my memory myself, so I would encourage you to approach it with the same trepidation) it was Colorado Highway 92. The curves were beautiful hairpins with hills ascending and descending. I got to really slam through all of the gears in my little Honda CR-V. This is a rarity because I am already up into fifth gear by 35 miles per hour. Honestly, there is hardly any horsepower in that little engine. Still love it though.

After the 4.5 hours of driving I managed to pull into the park around 3:30, but I had no idea how huge the park was. It was a 30 mile drive in to get to the hike that I wanted to go on. That was about an hour of driving just to get to the trailhead. Not to mention that I was only 40 miles from hitting 400 miles on my tank, which is much further than I’ve gone on a single take before, but I was not about to turn around and go back five miles down the road to fill up my tank. That would take even more time, and all the sky around the park was already looking dark and ominous. In I drove, taking advantage of every downhill—riding it with my foot on the clutch—which made my approach to some of the hair pin turns a bit faster than they should have been in an SUV. Still, I made it alive and that is all that matters.

Usually Mesa Verde is one of the more crowded parks, so I was expecting a huge crowd of people, but instead there was hardly anyone there when I arrived. One of the park rangers told me that things die down during August for some bizarre reason. Because apparently it all picks back up again in September when a whole bunch of tourist groups start coming by in bus loads. But in August things are slow. So I got two National Parks almost all too myself, at least there were no other people on the trail with me so I got to take my time reading the signs and learning about the different parts of the architecture. Most people think of the cliff dwellings when they hear about Mesa Verde National Park, but before the natives ever lived on the face of the cliffs they just lived on the top of the mesas. Which is what I saw first. The best part are the Kivas.

I can’t help but imagine Native Americans tripping out on something while holding religious rituals inside of these earthen pits. The interesting thing is that they were most common during the older generations and later generations just filled them in, sometimes even using them to dump trash in. There’s one way to really rebel against the faith of your fathers.

After touring the ruins on top of the mesa I went to check out the cliff dwellings, and honestly that is where the real excitement lies.

Look at those places! Who gets it in their head that just living on top of flat ground doesn’t sound exciting anymore. They were probably all sitting in the Kiva passing the peace pipe and one guy just said, “Ever see those holes in the cliffs around here?”

“Yeah man, those look pretty cool.”

“Wouldn’t it be awesome to put one of these Kivas in one of those holes?”

“Dude, that would be sweet! It would be like underground, but also above ground, and then there would be this epic drop right outside of the door. And then only cool people who can climb like bosses could get in there.”

“Totally! We should definitely do that man. Then we wouldn’t have to have around all the old and sick people and the women and children while we were hanging out and smoking the peace pipe.”

And then they made the kiva and then the women, children, and sick people started just busting up the party and then they just decided, “Heck, if everyone is going to keep on coming down here to bug us we might as well build the entire town into the cliff.” There, that is my story of how and why the cliff dwellings came to be. There were no wars or anything like that, just a few guys trying to get some guy time, failing, and then everyone moving in because they all thought it was pretty cool.

Personally I would not have been one of the cool people who would be capable of making it to the Kiva. Good ol’ Darwin would have snatched me out of that gene pool in a second. I preferred snapping pictures from afar. And after my pictures I managed to get my car back out of the park and to the gas pump without the fuel light coming on. Then I continued driving until I got into Durango and pulled my car over into a Walmart parking lot where I slept the night after spoiling myself and buying some doughnuts, a sandwich, and a Lunchable. That is getting spoiled when compared to just eating packets of salmon or tuna along with a can of beans occasionally.

Next morning I woke up with a text from my Mom telling me that my little sister needed to see me update my blog, so I went and spent the morning getting a blog post written and pictures uploaded at the public library (the Durango library is a bumpin' place) before going and taking a ten-mile hike. This hike started at a random pull off on the side of the road. I saw a sign that said trailhead, and the way I am with constantly craving a hike I decided to pull over and give it a look. Turned out it was supposed to be a mountain biking trail, but I went hiking on it any way. Something tells me that mountain bikers hate having people just hiking on the trails—just an extra obstacle you have to watch out for and all. Still, I didn’t much care, it was a beautiful day that was just begging me to go hiking during it. And so I wandered around for about 4 hours. Found some good lookout points too.

It was a huge system of trails, which made the sign at the foot of the trail a liar, because it claimed that it was just a single loop, but the map up the trail a ways said quite differently. The red is the route I ended up taking.

After the hike it was back to more driving. Right as the sun was setting I ended up just pulling up a random road that claimed to be National Forest access. I found a nice overlook where I could watch the sunset and then I kicked back and smoked a very nice cigar while the sun fell behind the mountains. It was the perfect end to the evening, and almost an end to all of my adventures by myself. The next day I would just end up driving home, but not before waking up and finding giant elk hoof prints going around my car. Apparently something about my car got it’s attention, or maybe I was just snoring way too loud and it showed up to see if it could shut me up. Whatever the case, those were definitely some giant hoof prints.

And so my lonesome wanderings came to an end. Stay tuned for the post going up tomorrow about the beginning of the wanderings of the 3 Men on the Bummel.

Random Things and Hot Springs

I woke up warm and comfortable AND… miracle of miracles, DRY! I cannot tell you just how happy Rachel letting me sleep on her couch made me. Not only that but the angel made me toast and eggs in the morning! That was the most gourmet meal I had during all of my lonesome ramblings, even when I let myself splurge near the end of the week. However, don’t let me get ahead of myself.

At one point I had planned to go and hike to Conundrum Hot Springs, but it was a Saturday and that trail was already known as one that got way too busy. Not to mention that I had driven down to it the night prior and at night the trailhead for a sixteen-mile roundtrip hike was already almost completely full. Sure hot springs sounded excellent after tearing my legs to pieces during the twelve-mile hike that I had done the day prior, but crowded trails weren’t really my cup of tea. I had heard though that on that particular weekend all the National Parks were free because it was the 100^th Birthday of the National Parks on August 25, 2016. Which means that everyone needs to get out to the National Parks this year to celebrate 100 years of National Parks, along with the fact that they are considering putting limits on the number of visitors each park allows in each year. Get in while you still can!

For me there was also another reason to go check out the other National Parks in Colorado. I had already gotten to Rocky Mountain National Park and The Great Sand Dunes National Park earlier this year and now I wanted to complete my collection of the four Colorado National Parks (that’s a pretty high number for a single state too, just in case you didn’t realize—Colorado for the Win!). The closest one was the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, and it looked like I would be able to stop along the way at another ghost town—Marble, CO. I set the course and hit the road. 

It took me nearly thirty minutes to realize I was on the same road I had taken a couple years prior to get to Blues Recess in Paonia, Colorado. I have to throw in a little aside here about how freaking awesome it is to Blues and Fusion dance on the top of a bus in the middle of beautiful mountainous country. (if anyone wants to know what either of those types of dancing are just say in the comments and I'll find someone on my road trip to do a demo of both that I will record and I'll make a post specifically for explaining them). Unfortunately they have since stopped coming through Colorado and I would just like to make my personal plea… PLEASE COME BACK TO COLORADO, RECESS!!!! Now back from my aside—on our way to Recess that year we had stopped at some random, undeveloped hot springs that were just on the side of the road. I began to keep my eyes peeled and my windows rolled down so I could catch the scent of sulfur. Turns out neither of those things were absolutely needed since the pull off had a few cars there already (though I did smell the air for that sulfur scent just to verify that I had found the place).

I descended the little path to the side of the river that the springs fed into with the goal in mind of just soaking my feet and calves, which did still ache slightly after the excursion up the peaks the previous day. The big pool had a couple guys hanging out in it and I plopped myself down at a distance that was close enough to hold conversation but not so close as to appear creepy. (At least that was my intent, but wearing a straw fedora and purple rimmed sunglasses might have made the vicinity I had chosen still a little creepy.) Once again I had found people that were not natives and were in fact part of the great post-marijuana legalization migration, though honestly those that stick around in Colorado don’t just do so for the prime herb. As a nearly native individual (I spent the first five years of my life in California *gasp*) I understand that Colorado is just intoxicating and impossible to leave forever. My mom would disagree, but then she hates snow, wind, cold, winter, things losing leaves and dying, hail, lightning storms, and pretty much every part of the year in Colorado aside from June to July (maybe May and August can be thrown in if it is a warm and dry year). But anyway, these individuals came from the Midwest, one from Wisconsin somewhere and the other from Chicago, Illinois. So after either of those places Colorado is just about a perfect paradise. I say this before I’ve spent much time in either place so really it's just me being my generally offensive self.

I chatted with these two for a while and then a somewhat hippie looking girl joined us (my generation has done its best at reviving the hippie aesthetic, and sometimes I think we’ve even done a more complete job of it then the flower children of the seventies). But yeah, eventually the guys left and then the hippie girl asked if I was just going to just sit there and soak my feet or actually get in. It took no more goading, I was soon stripped down to my boxer briefs and into the little rock pool. (It almost always only takes that much encouragement, my older sister would know—just suggest the idea and chances are I’ll do it.) Turns out the hippie girl had a name, Christine, and then we were joined by some people from North Carolina and another hippie type boy who didn’t say much and then a snowboard “jock?” and a couple friends that were visiting him from out of town. The place was a party, beer included, I even got one from the hippie girl. It was a very good Saturday afternoon, but I had a National Park to get to before the sun went down. Eventually I got back on the road  and even maintained the intention of stopping by Marble, CO.

I did indeed get to Marble, but I did not even bother trying to locate the quarry, though I saw lots of beautiful marble sculptures that the residents had created. Still I did not even get out of the car to snap any pictures so… click here to see other people’s pictures of Marble, CO. I know, it’s just as bad as the Trump Campaign using the first picture of a Black Family they found when they Google searched the term, but you have to remember that I had a National Park to get to.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison is the National Park that apparently hardly anyone knows about, especially the North Rim. So if you want to see a beautiful National Park without having to deal with those pesky things that the world knows as your fellow human beings, then you should definitely check out the Black Canyon. It was just a little after five o’clock when I parked my car and got out to go for the seven-mile round-trip hike that followed the north rim of the canyon. Some people might consider this too late for such a hike, but I’m awesome… and also rather stupid, so I set off, and got back to my car before eight o’clock. And that was with a big old backpack on my back and a big old camera hanging from my neck. I even managed to snap some great pictures for you all.

At the end of the hiking I decided to stay there at the park overnight, though I would not be camping since my tent was still soaked. Still I got to sit down at a park bench to read and do some journaling, and no one looked at me weird as I resituated my car so it could become a sleep-able space.

I did not have very many pictures for you all for this part of the trip. I hope the writing by itself was not too droll, but don’t worry, I should have more pictures for the next post. And don’t forget, not the next post, but the one after, will begin the Bummel of my friends and I.

Land of the Gods

Just in case anyone was wondering, waking up wet cold and achy in the front seat of a car is not the way you want to start off the day right before you go and hike a couple fourteeners. And of course less than an hour before I began hiking at the Missouri Gulch trailhead that was the exact state I found myself in.

It took a little while to pack up the soaking wet tent and to reorganize my car so that I would be able to find everything in it, but eventually I found myself with the car all packed up and standing at the foot of a trail that I was planning to summit three fourteeners on that very day.

The reader should know that I hate being cold. Absolutely hate it! I will be the biggest sissy and wear upwards of five layers in the winter just to keep from being cold. Add being wet into the mix and I usually then decide that it really looks like a great idea to stay inside underneath several blankets reading a book or binge watching whichever random TV show I happen to stumble across on Amazon. Well that morning I was cold and wet and facing the prospect of some major physical exertion. Thankfully if there is one thing that overpowers my hatred of physical discomfort it is my bullheadedness when faced with a difficult physical task. (Not mental task or something that will take more than a few days though, if faced with something like that I pick the couch almost immediately, as the incredible lack of completed homework assignments over the years can attest to.)

My hatred of being cold and wet is still present though. Instead of five layers I only had four (it was only August after all): T-shirt, Sweater, another sweater, and a heavy jacket. Not to mention the rain suit that I had in my pack just in case the clouds that were still lingering decided to tear asunder and let the rains (or—God please no—snow) drown me. I ran into a couple from New Mexico as I started up the trail. They were celebrating the husband’s fiftieth birthday. My goal for my fiftieth birthday is to be hiking a 14er, and they were even aiming to do all three. I don’t know if they managed to accomplish that goal because after a few minutes of chatting and hiking along with them I began to drastically out pace them. That whole bullheaded issue when it comes to physical tasks started kicking in.

I love hiking, just have to get that out there, any kind of hiking--BUT hiking a 14er puts just about every other kind of hike to shame. Any other hike I can just go out there and do. I can (and did on my little excursion) do a seven mile hike as a short little sunset hike. When you go to face a 14,000 plus foot mountain though you have to prepare mentally, physically, and (heck, why not throw it in) spiritually. Then there is the way the world changes as soon as you break tree line. The air is thin and invigorating, there is nothing standing between you and this vision of massive peaks standing all around.

This is the Land of the Gods. Those behemoth peaks are the image of divinity. The way they always have their very tops stuck in the clouds as if chatting with the heavens. When you reach the summit you get to join that conversation, and it is awe inspiring. No high compares with the high attained on the summit of a 14,000 plus foot mountain. I guess that is why it has become a bit excessive of a past-time. It’s hard to tell people to cut back though, because it really is something of a spiritual experience. It puts you at your limit in every way with a very real goal that is attained at the end of it.

The first summit I reached that day was that of Mt Belford (after passing two more individuals on the trail, both probably around their fifties as well), where I ran into three young guys from Denver who get a paid day off once a year to hike a fourteener. If I had gone into finance in school I would definitely work for that company. I can only remember one of their names, Cameron, but they were all three cool people, though they decided to start heading down after just attaining that one summit, and I felt like I had bigger fish to fry. At least they were able to snap a photo for me though.

The next peak to summit was Mt. Oxford. It was only about another two miles to reach its summit, but that two miles included dropping into a saddle and then hiking back out of it. The drop in was steep, and I just about ate it and rolled down the side of the mountain a couple times, but the ascent up to the summit of Mt Oxford was nowhere near as difficult. I mean, aside from the cold, oxygen free wind that whipped across the ridge and the reflection of the sun off of the snow that left my cheeks a beautiful bright red color for several days afterwards.

However, I did make it from the summit of Mt Belford to the summit of Mt Oxford in an hour, which was my goal in order to keep up the pace to bag Mt. Missouri as well before descending to the trail head. And my it was beautiful! Not to mention perfectly lonely. I had to set my camera to take the summit picture for me.

The hike back down to the base of the saddle was easy, like I was expecting. It was the ascent back up to the opposite ridge that scared me, and rightfully so. I reached the ridge fighting the urge to just collapse down on my hands and knees and start pulling myself down the side of the mountain. It was at this moment that I first began to question my initial decision to hike up Mt Missouri as well. According to the map I had to follow another trail that descended for about two miles before reaching the base of the 1.6 mile trail up to the summit of Mt Missouri. (For those that are not big fans of math that would be adding a total of 3.2 miles to my hike for the day, pushing it over 15 miles, and adding another nearly 2,000 feet of ascent.)

Pain as keen as what I was currently feeling in my thighs as well as the fact that my calves had almost locked up and cramped several times already is a sensation that is easy for me to recall, but now as I write this I still think I should have tried to get to that last summit. But I used the excuse that it was starting to snow (barely) and the encouragement of the group of four guys that I passed on the way down to the intersection of the trail, who all felt I should skip it. Now all I have is a picture of the peak that got away.

Something that is unfortunately one of my dominant traits is losing things. This whole trip seems to be in jeopardy every time I think of just how often I lose things, and that hike was no different. That map I was talking about that told be how many miles each part of the trail was… yeah, I lost it somewhere in the Land of the Gods, so I headed into Buena Vista to see if I could find a map to replace it (because I really did like that map, I had used it to find the trailhead and to hike up Mt Yale just a few weeks prior). After I found a couple maps that offered a half decent replacement I found myself reflecting upon the possibility of sleeping on my wet mattress pad that night and I just could not handle the idea. A friend of mine from Denver had moved out to the Aspen area a little while ago though, and the hike that I was considering to do the next day was in that area so I gave her a call. Thank the heavens, Rachel came to my rescue and let me crash on a warm dry couch that night. I will forever remain in her debt.

Once again I find myself rambling on, so I will have to call it for this post. I’ll have a couple others set to go up for the next couple days though, and tomorrow the rest of the crew will be joining me. Things are about to get epic people. Hold on to your hats!