Done

8/1/2015


Done


The Colorado Trail is done.  Hiked 40 days....took 4 days off....equals 44 days.

It is a beautiful state....a beautiful trail....and the people are beautiful.  Hiking the CT was truly a blast.  It was way more fun than I had dared to anticipate.  "Hawkeye".   

Friends

These are pictures of a few of my new friends.  I do not have pictures of many of you. You know who you are....and so do I. 

One Last Time Up Top

8/1/2015


One Last Time Up Top


There is a really good Muley Buck up the hill from me right now....a really, really good one....the best that I have seen this trip.  And I have seen a whole bunch of 'em.  This one is the best....the best ever.  He is right up there.  I spotted him watching me down here, at my campsite.  But he is too far for a photo.

I am at 11,331 ft. right now.  Going up to the alpine tundra one last time tomorrow morning...... and staying up high for about 5 miles on Indian Trail Ridge, in segment 27.  Then, I will reach Kennebec Trailhead and enter Segment 28....the last segment.... and gradually work my way down....down.....down..... to the Junction Creek Trailhead,  and the Southern end of The Colorado Trail.... at a mere 6,983 ft.  It is 3 1/2 miles into Durango from there.  It is almost over.

  I plan to finish the trail and be bumming a ride into town by 10 AM,  on Sunday Morning, August 2, 2015.  Counting that short jaunt to the end, Sunday Morning, that will be 45 days on the trail.  I took 4 zero days, so that is 41 days, that I actually did some hiking.  We had planned on 46 days total, so the initial plan was spot on...... except that I covered the miles faster,  and was able to take 4 rest days.  The young people, and it is mostly young people on this trail....really fun...enthusiastic....nature loving young people....can do it in 30 days..... if they are fit.  And most of them are very fit.  There are a few of us more mature hikers mixed in with the youthful ones, but not as many as were on the AT.  (I was going to say old codgers...but the truth is that we have climbed the same mountains as the youngsters....just not as fast.)  

I could probably get there (Durango) on Saturday night,if I pushed hard....but finding a place to stay on a Saturday night would be very tough,  and expensive.  And I would be tuckered out.... and as soon as I left the trail...based on past experience.... my brain would begin to function at a very low level..... and getting anything accomplished would be tough.  So I will stay on the trail Saturday night. 

I got up from a nap earlier, pulled on pants and shoes and walked the side trail near my tentsite to a scenic overlook.  I had established my campsite at around 2:30 PM, shortly before the very brief light rain fell.  I had heard a bit of thunder in the distance,  but it never got to me here.  And I am at tree level, as planned, anyhow.  As soon as I had eaten my hot meal, sleep beckoned.  I was tired, extra tired..... from carrying all that water. 

Yesterday afternoon after crossing Straight Creek for the last time,  I had filled up my bottles, my Sawyer pouch and a plastic Octopus pouch, with a total of 6 liters (12 pounds) of water.....the most of this hike.  The guide had warned hikers that the creek may be the last water source for 22 miles.  If so, for me, that would mean 2 nights of dry camping.  After getting all of that water,  I had hiked about another mile, maybe a mile and a half and set up camp for the first night.  I had passed the last campsite before the creek,  deciding it was up too high.
So I started out today carrying a little over 9 pounds of water.  I usually never carry more than 4 pounds, tops.   We all know that this is an unusually wet year on the trail, demonstrated by the incredible display of wildflowers...... and that, so far, all of the seasonal water sources, along the trail, have been wet.... which again is very unusual.  We all expect that there will probably be water somewhere....... before 22 miles.  We also all know that you don't take chances with water.  So everybody.....everybody.....leaves Straight Creek carrying a heavy load.  It turns out that there is rare (on this trail) trail magic about 4 miles into the hike today.  Two, one gallon plastic jugs in a styrofoam cooler, where the trail crosses a dirt road.  The note says "if you need it" , and of course,  none of us thru-hikers do need.  Maybe some day hikers or section hikers are unprepared.  At eight miles there is more rare trail magic.  A pickup is parked, with tail gate open, and a water sign....two 5 gallon jugs of water inside.  I talk to the two section hikers, an older couple, that are leaving the truck to hike.  I know them.  I had met them a couple of days earlier, back near Molas Pass.  I am tempted to grab some easy water, but my knees and back are already crying about this extra weight that they have been lugging, so I just gab with the couple....leave the water,  and hike on.  At 11.7 miles in this segment, I talk to another older couple, who have set up camp already.  They tell me there is water in a seep right by their tents....good....clear...water.  I am stopping at 12.3 miles,  if I can find the spot (I am not going up top today) for a total 14 1/2 mile day.... and I think I probably have enough water....water that I have now carried about 16 miles.  But I fill my Gatorade Quart container anyhow, waiting to treat it, when I stop for the day.  As I said..... you don't take chances with water.  It is a bummer to carry more than you need, but a bigger bummer to run out.

( Two more Muley Bucks just came down the hill, and past my tent at 35 yards.  I heard them out there, and saw them through the screening at the bottom of my tent.  Did the really big one come down to the meadow too?  I should put my pants and shoes back on and go back out and look!  I have not been able to get a close picture of a good buck, yet.  They just will not hold still.  Did you see my pictures of those two bull moose?  I got those two roughhousing!  I could feel the ground shaking as those big boys played. )

After the stroll to the overlook, I had walked back to my tent site, and sat on a log...purified some water...swatted mosquitoes,  and thought about home.
But, then I saw that big ole Muley watching me from up there....and I forgot about home.  Instead I studied that landscape....trying to guess the route that the big boy would take to come down the hill. Or to figure a way that I could do a sneak on him and get close enough for a good picture.  I wondered how long the Muley had been watching me before I noticed him.  I have spent some time in woods, and in these mountains.....but he lives here.  This is his home. 

The whole time I was sitting there visualizing these possibilities,  mosquitoes were feasting on my bare ankles.  The mosquitoes, in general, have not been bad....but they are bad today.  I could feel them down there chowing down with abandon ......but I was busy watching that Muley.  I did not put those nasty wet socks back on when I went to the overlook.  I was only going to be out of the tent for 15 or 20 minutes.  I am saving my last clean pair for tomorrow...and Saturday....and Sunday.  So now my ankles are eaten up.  I am back in my tent and Muley Bucks are runnning helter skelter all over the place...right out there!  Two Grey Jays are squawking about Muley Bucks outside my tent.
It is not even 8 PM, and all of the Muleys in Colorado, are on the move .... to the meadow....right outside my tent.
This adventure is not over yet. 

Two Bulls Jousting

These two Bull Moose were having a great time practicing for the fall Rutting season. They are probably 2 year old teenage brothers. 

Elk Creek Drainage

Water

Flowers

Above Treeline

7/26/2015


Above Treeline

It is a beautiful day for hiking.....beautiful.  It is just past noon, and I am in my tent already.  It feels really odd.  But after much internal debate, I am sticking to the plan.  I left Lake City this morning, shuttled back to Spring Creek Pass, and am heading toward Molas Pass, the trailhead that will take me to Silverton.  It is only about 54 miles of trail.  This segment of the Colorado Trail takes us to it's highest point 13,271 ft.  Almost all of it between here and Molas Pass (Silverton) is above 12,000 ft, and therefore above tree line.   There are a couple of other small climbs before the high point at 15.6 miles from the trailhead, where I started today.  During my time in Lake City,  I looked at my options and decided that I had two choices.  Do a really easy day of 8.7 miles, with a heavy, just resupplied pack.  But easy also, because I am well rested.  I took a zero day in addition to the first 1/2 day and night there.   Or choice two; to push hard, and do the whole 17.2 mile segment in one day.  Actually I would have had to go 1.3 miles into the next segment to get to a known campsite,  so 18.5 miles total.  I decided to do the easy day, and the climb tomorrow.  The weather forecast for today and tomorrow was good, I was told.....not so good for the weekend.  The younger hikers are all going to push hard the next two days, cover as much of the above tree line trail as they can.  The views will be good and no storms.  I want to do the same, but I know that my knees will be seriously unhappy, if I push that hard. 

The younger hikers that began their hikes at Waterton Canyon after it reopened on June 26th, have started to catch and pass me.  It first happened two days before Spring Creek Pass.  Now it has happened today too....more than once.  The competetive part of me resents being passed. 

(Woke up from a nap a while ago...boiled water..... and ate Chicken A la King.  I ate that meal first,  on this time out into the wild , because it was the heaviest of my freeze dried meals.  Now I do not have to carry it up to 13,271 ft. tomorrow morning.  Pretty doggone good for hiker chow too.  Slept like a rock for an hour and a half.  I am getting soft.  Aside from pack weight it was a very easy 9 miles today.   Got passed up right here at my tent site by a father 50?, and son 16?, team,  who said "Hi"..... and blew by me without breaking stride.  It is unusual that fellow hikers do not at least stop and chat for awhile.  Everybody chats.  They obviously are going up top, yet, today.  Hope the weather holds for them.  
Yes, I am jealous.  But also am being smart, I remind myself. )

It is interesting how easy it is for us to transition back into our home selves while on a hiking adventure, if we are not careful.  On a long hike you do have to cover some ground daily.  But I remind myself that I do want to enjoy this experience, and  to have fun daily.

On the Appalachian Trail the epic distance,  and the difficulty of the trail dominated hiking decisions.  We all hiked every day in spite of the weather....except  on the rare occassions when to do so was not safe....the Smoky Mountains Blizzard, the ice storm,  and maybe a lightning event.  We usually started at 7 AM and hiked until at least 4PM...often till 6 PM.....and sometimes until 8PM or later.  

Here in Colorado all hiking is dictated by lightning....period.  Because the elevations are so much higher, and the fact that hikers spend so much time above treeline and exposed....the potential for lightning dictates everything.  July and August are considered Monsoon Season by Coloradans.  It storms most days in the afternoon.  You do not want to be above treeline and exposed when it storms.  Therefore for me the hiking day starts with a 4:30 AM alarm....and the hike itself starts at 5:30 AM.  Some hikers start even earlier.  I personally have tried and do not like hiking by headlamp.  You walk into, and trip over stuff in the dark,  and it is harder to figure out where you are at.  Out here in these mountains, if you go the wrong way, you can be wrong for a long time.  The hiking day often ends as early as 1 or 2 PM.  Get going early, go up high, and then get down fast before the storms come.  That is the routine.  The result is less sleep, less time to hike, and more tent time out of the rain in the afternoons.  

Flash.  I am writing this piece this afternoon, and into camp hike two people that I do not mind catching me.  "Subaru" and "Jolly Rancher".  Far out!  Phil( "Bigby") and I met them on their first day in Waterton Canyon, and chatted with them again at Scraggly Trailhead while waiting for his dad to pick us up. 
After chatting with "Soob" and "Jolly" those two times early in their hike, I had decided that "Jolly" was just too sweet, too fragile, too jolly, to last very long on this trail.  I could not have been more wrong!  It turns out that "Jolly" has trained on a Stair Master with a 30 pound pack on her back.  They are both very fit.  She and "Soob" are two of the strongest hikers on this trail, and two of the most fun.  Had a great afternoon, today, visiting with them.  It is a real treat to see them again.  They are camping here tonight,  and then bound for Durango, bypassing Silverton....so carrying heavy loads.  That is how trail life is ........constantly bringing you unexpected joys. 

Hop In Back

7/21/2015


"Hop In Back"


I carefully stepped my way down the rock filled trail, way down from Snow Mesa......beating the lightning,  that almost daily pounds into that 3 1/2 miles of open plain, at 12,000 ft.  Stopped to make friends with one of the many Pika's.  (Pika's and Marmots may be the only living creatures that seem to actually love Scree (rocks, rocks , and more rocks).  Brushed my teeth so that my breath would not smell too bad  ....like I knew the rest of me did, after eight days on the trail.

( Hey, I rinsed my shirt, my face,  and my upper body in that freezing cold water of the stream,  just beyond and southwest of the Eddiesville Trailhead, that falls it's way to Cochetopa Creek.  Talk about freezing cold....the log bridge 7 miles back was washed out, and we thru-hikers all had to carefully cross the knee deep..... at the shallow spot,  current of Cochetopa Creek.  We lucked out.   Fifty percent more volume to that current and it would have been impassable.  As it was..... fording was doable....a tiny bit hairy....and a dangerous major bummer if you slip...and freezing cold...... but doable.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, rinsing my upper body at about 9 AM in the morning..... only three days ago.  No,  I did not rinse my pants, nor my lower body.  It was probably 45 degrees air temp and that water was absolutely freezing cold.)

So..... as I said...... I stopped before I got down to the highway, and brushed with my .85 ounce tube of Crest, in case I had to beg for a ride.  And then crossed the highway, to the trailhead parking lot.  I mentally noted that there was no pull off on the near side, the side I would have to hitch from in order to go toward my Post Office Resupply Drop in Lake City....... some 17 miles away.  No "pull off" means that it will be a lot tougher to get anyone to stop for a filthy, smelly, pathetic , old hiker.  And more dangerous.   I will have to milk the "old guy" sympathy card for all it is worth,  if I am forced to try to hitch my way out of here.
A guy, I met earlier on the trail, had told me that with my white beard, and my white Foreign Legion hiking hat.... that I looked like Ernest Hemingway.  Really,  he did.  So I resolve to go for the Hemingway look........well...... the shorter Hemingway look, anyhow.

Yesterday afternoon,  I had misjudged the distance that I had hiked a bit.  The result was that the last flat ground for potential campsites was a mile behind me.  Immediately ahead was 9.5 miles of high, exposed hiking.  Rain was coming.  I could see it.  I was tired and the one thing I would not do, was backtrack.  Thru-hikers do not hike back.... if there is any way to avoid it.
So I was creating a make shift tent site on the side of the hill at tree line.  Trying to make a spot before the rain came, as I knew it surely was coming, to that last place below tree line, a place that was safer from the lightning.
Today, I do not realize that the broken branch that poked me in the forehead during that mad scramble  to gouge a tent site out of the hillside, had actually gouged me a bit, in 8 different places across my forehead, and that instead of Hemingway, I currently look like an old bum who lost a street fight last night over the  remaining slug of whiskey in the jug.  I had seen the blood in two places on my hat...but thought both were the remains of critters or flies that had been squashed as punishment for getting inside the tent.  

I scoped out the cars in the lot.  No people in any of them....so I dropped my pack....took a slug of water,  and sat on a comfortable rock.  I unzipped my pants pocket, pulled out the gallon zip lock bag that contained my phone....(Did I tell you that it has rained seven of the eight days that I have been out this time?) and switched on my cell phone.  Hey.  I missed a photo op on a big bull elk that climbed to the ridgeline above me,  because of that Zip Lock during my first climb away from that, side of the hill, tentsite.  Anyhow I turned off Airplane mode, crossed my dirty fingers and waited.  No Service.  I could not call and pay for a shuttle.  I am stranded.  It was time to be Hemingway....and time to do some serious begging.

When you have no choice...no choice...it is easy to act.  I amaze myself at the desperate things I will do on these hiking adventures, that I would never do at home. 

A younger couple in a white SUV pull off the highway and motor past me and my rock chair.  I casually wait until they disembark  and then I pounce,  immediately. 
"Hi!!  How are yah? Great day for hiking.  Been up since 4 AM myself.  Yup.  Been up there at almost 13,000 ft.  So are you going to Lake City, or what?  Say, my name is "Hawkeye". (But I sure do look like Hemingway...don't you think?).  
While I am busy feeling them out...... and building raport...(Who says that sales training was wasted on me?)....another vehicle, a big white pickup pulls in...... does a circle and is heading past us new friends....... back toward the highway.  I stop talking in mid sentence....(Yes I can!  I don't begrudge your doubts on this,  but I tell you, that I did stop talking in mid sentence)....stick out my left thumb....and look like Hemingway!   
Yes!!!  The guy stops, and rolls down his window.  I am careful to stay 6 feet away, and do hope that I am not upwind of him.  As sincerely.....as old guy pathetically,  as I can....all the while looking like Hemingway....I state that I am trying to get to Lake City.  He gives me the quick look over, and says "Hop in back".  
Whoa....I was not expecting that...really was not.  My first thought is "Damn....I am upwind of him".  I force my tired brain to operate.  "Think...think.....I have it!".  
"Won't we both get arrested if I do that?" But he is quicker than me.  
"Hop in and we'll find out." He says,  and rolls up his window.  

Yes....yes....I know..... I know.  

At my age....and having considerable, and quite varied life experience, I must add.... a rational person would expect me to be wise enough to heed the voice of my inner self,  that voice of common sense. And right now that inner voice is sarcastically asking....asking in a way that said "Are you kidding?  Do You really need me to verbalize this for you?  Okay,  If I must I will.  It is what I do.  Listen up.  "Hawkeye",  Inner Voice to "Hawkeye"....Are you sure that you want to do this?" 

I heard the inner voice....honest I did....and I do appreciate it.  But I also know that I can not stay here at Spring Creek Pass.  I am on a hiking adventure. 

So I unsling my pack, hoist it over the tailgate .....and I do hop in.  

"Haven't done this for a long, long, time". I tell myself.  "What a fun way to travel 17 miles down the mountain to Lake City".  
My inner voice is silent....busy looking for something...anything....on which to hold on.

It turns out that highway #149 twists and turns down those mountains...... for 17 miles into Lake City. It one of those roads where you can look way, way, down into the valley...... way, way below............No! Stop that! Don't do it!  Don't look down!  Just look staight out the back.  Read the uphill 20 Mph signs.   And find something better to hold onto than this side-rail, or this adventure is over.  There... right there is an eyebolt tie down.  I can get one finger through it.  The force of the curves may rip my finger off...but it is my best hope for survival.  Hwy 149 is one of those narrow mountain roads somehow wide enough for two vehicles, traveling in oposite directions to squeeze past eachother, but where you feel that the vehicle is being pulled irresistibly off that road and over the precipice.   We are now whizzing down the highway taking all of the 20 MPH curves....at 40 MPH.  Every one is marked 20MPH for the uphill traffic..... with big, black inked, curves displayed on every sign.  I decide that I am ok with the truck hurtling over the edge....... as long as it takes the maniac driver , and the three woman who are with him too.   I will not be happy if only I get tossed out of this truck.  I want to believe that this driver's intent is just to have a little fun....to give Hemingway a Colorado thrill.  And that the man is not an escaped lunatic driving someone else's truck "off into the Wild Blue Yonder".  If that is true....... then this old timer really has no idea how hard that I am fighting, with all of my might, to stay inside the bed of this truck.  No idea! 

Two thirds of the way down the mountain, the truck roars into a pull off and slams on the brakes. 

"Oh great."  I think. "Now they are going to boot me out in the middle of nowhere.  At least I survived".  I console myself. 
The lightning...oh, I did not tell you about that one, yet....nor the rock slide, when half the mountain came down....Whew!!  But I am telling you about the most death defying thrill of this hike......so far!

Turns out the guy 75, looks 65, stopped so they could all see the scenic view, and read the placard about a famous major landslide that had occurred there.  I tell them about my moose video.  And we all become friends.  Then with great tact, but loud enough so that all three women can hear me....hoping that one of them was his wife, or even better his sister,  I mention to him that I am going to have to empty my drawers, as soon as I get myself a motel room.  He asks where I wish to be dropped off,  and I say the the Post Office, please.  Then I hopped in back....slid my least precious finger through the big eyehole and hung on.  I think my scheme worked, because we only took the curves at 35 miles an hour the rest of the trip down the mountain.  At the PO,  I showed them all my bull moose pictures,  and video of my bull moose grunting.  And we parted as friends. 

PS.  Now I have to go into town, and all the way to the other end of it, to buy more tent stakes.  It is a long walk. You know hikers hate walking when off the trail.  Maybe I will hitchhike.  I have washed most of the blood out of my hat, and cleaned up my gouged forehead a bit.  So, do you think I look like Hemingway?  "Hawkeye". 

Bull Moose and My Little Buddy

Wildlife

7/12/2015


Wildlife


At 3:30 PM today, I was walking back from downtown Salida and the Arkansas River, to my motel on Highway 50,  when I spotted this Muley Doe, in the photo,  munching on someone's shrub.... in a very nicely landscaped yard.

Last Thursday afternoon,  I was doing the first road walk of this hike,  and was walking down dirt road #291, headed for the Chalk Creek Trailhead,  through a residential neighborhood,  and watched a 2 1/2 year old Muley Buck walk up the wooden stairs in the yard and start munching on someone's flowers.  A block later,  I saw my first Elk,  a doe,  in a thicket,  next to someone else's flowers at 5 PM in the afternoon.  I was tired,  not sure that I was on the correct road,  and did not even think of pictures.

When I stayed at a new friend's house, back in Buena Vista, there was an Antelope doe,  with her two fawns, in the grasslands, beyond his back yard.

Way back on the trail.....on the night before I went up to Georgia Pass.... I had made camp in a pine forest,  and boiled my evening meal.  The flies were bugging me,  so I went into my tent to eat.  Two Northern Shrikes landed immediately....one on a stump 3 feet from the tent door.....the other maybe 8 feet away.  I could not have gotten both of them, in a photo frame,  at the same time....they were too close.  I did not think of it.  All I thought, at first, was that they would grab some of my gear and fly off.  So I yelled at them and scared them off.  Then I realized that I had just blown a once in a lifetime photo opportunity.  Still in my tent,(which was serving as wildlife blind),  I got my phone out, and got ready,  in case they came back.  This one in the photo did come back....but at 15 feet...... not 3 feet as the first time. 

When "Bigby" and I went back down to Denver,  to hike the first two segments of the trail, I got attacked by a lunatic grouse!  I was hiking along segment #1....innocently minding my own business, when I spotted a female grouse, with some yellow markings, sitting on a rock.  I took pictures,  and then started narrating a video. The grouse got off the rock, when I started talking....to hit the road,  I thought.  But no.  It got off the rock to attack!  Maybe she had eggs, or chicks nearby.   Or maybe she was just totally nuts!  She kept attacking me and would not stop.  I would carefully flip her backwards 8 to 10 feet, with my hiking poles.... to discourage her,  but she just came right back after me.  Finally I gave up, and ran down the trail 100 yards.  I looked behind me...... and that crazy grouse was gaining on me! 

On the second day, back near Denver, on Segment #2,  I started very early, and was the first one down the trail that morning.  I saw a total of eight mule deer.  Four of them were bucks.  Two that were traveling together were really good bucks.  I had somehow gotten the mistaken notion that Muley's were not that wary....but these Muley's would not hold still for pics.  The two big ones were standing in front of a big brown rock at 60 yards, and I did not even see them at first.  They do blend in.  Then they slipped over a little ridge on me.  The wind was right..... and I was up for the hunt........so I dropped my pack and poles,  got my phone (camera) ready,  and did a sneak on them,  in case they were right on the other side of the ridge.  No luck.  They had gone down hill 100 yards.  I enlarged a long distance photo  I took,  that is now totally blurred.  But am posting it, so that you can just barely make out their large antlers.   Those antlers still had two months of growing time left.  Trust me.  Those are two big bucks.  As I said, those muley's just will not hold still...... most of the time. 

While hiking up the Ten Mile Range Crest, before Copper Mountain Ski Resort,  I had my first sightings of Marmots and Pika's, in a giant rock pile.  The marmots were lying on the rocks( or were they laying on those rocks?  Hope my grammar instructors forgive me on that one.  Sorry it just did not sink in. ) soaking up some rays.  Whenever I tried to get close....they bailed. 
The Pika's were here......there....and everywhere...and not too wary.  They were very, very cute.  No. Don't even think about putting one in your pocket.  We are enjoying nature...not pocketing it. You have already seen those photos.
The next day, when I hiked over Searle Pass and Kokomo Pass, two Marmots were on the Colorado Trail, running up ahead of me.  They would run until they got about 35 yards ahead of me,  and then they would stop, and wait for me to catch up.  Then they would run another 35 yards.  This went on for a long time.  These two Marmots had played this game before.  I could tell.  I think they both finally got bored,  and left the trail for other fun,  because I was so slow, and no real sport for them.

Oh yeah..... one more.  I had just topped a hill,  on my way to the Tennessee Pass Trailhead,  last Monday,  a ways before Buena Vista, when hiking southwest,  and decided to take a break,  before I keeled over.  I was sitting on the ground there for a couple of minutes,  and suddenly heard the loud sound of claws raking tree bark.  A large animal was doing a semi-controled fall, down a tree...... about 100 yards into the woods, and directly downwind of me.   It made a heck of a racket sliding down that tree.  And it actually hit the ground pretty hard.  Whatever it was...........it was big!!
No.  I did not walk into that woods to investigate!  It was probably just a bear.  But as you guys are right now....at that time, I was thinking Cat.... really big Cat!  Here Kitty....Kitty.  Whatever it was,  got spooked by the fact that I had stopped,  and that it was getting a good whiff of me..... and so decided to get out of Dodge.  Whoa!

Rocky Mountain High

7/11/2015


Rocky Mountain High


We are making our way up the ridgeline..... heading toward the grassy saddle between two peaks.  It is later than usual.  In fact,  it is later in the day than I have hiked previously,  on this trip to Colorado and the Colorado Trail.  Yet there is no sign of rain....no storms coming.  It will be a clear, starry, night in the mountains.
Today has been warm, hot almost..... like all but two days have been so far, in the first three weeks of this hike.  But, as I said, it is getting late....though the sun's rays still light up the valley, as we continue our climb up to the saddle.

 A slight cooling breeze, just a puff of the cooling evening air, rises up out of the valley, and russles the thin stalks of a multitude of wildflowers,  that splash color to both sides of the trail.  Delicate little blooms of amazing richness and texture, still reaching upward for the those ebbing rays of sun.

Flowers....colors.... blend with the sandy soil and the rocks.  There are yellows, whites, oranges; the pinks of wild roses, every immaginable hue of purple and violet; the lavender of Columbine, and intense blue.  It is the blues.....blue blossoms,  that stand out most dramatically for me....tiny blossoms, the bluest of blue....blue bunches of Forget Me Nots.  The higher we climb,  the more blue mats of Forget Me Nots, we pass.  These are not giant blossoms, bending giant stalks, with their weight..... not garden monstrosities engineered by men in a hapless attempt to improve perfection.  No.   These alpine delicacies were forged by nature... not over generations..... but over eons. 

We climb higher still, and I am surprised by how good I feel.  Nothing hurts.  It is late in the day, and yet my knees are happy.......... my legs strong.  I am not even sweating, not even breathing hard,  as we travel up the narrow trail..... first coursing through stands of Aspen, their leaves fluttering in that mildest of breezes; and then higher, past pine and and spruce stands, seated precariously on those gravely slopes.   Evergreens so ancient and tall, that it hurts my neck,  and causes me to lose my balance,  as my eyes try to follow their path toward the sky.  They are giants,  yet mere specks, as are we on the face of this mountain....this hunk of rock.... that we effortlessly climb.  
My legs feel strong, the weight of my pack almost imperceptable.....strong legs and a feather light pack.....and late in the day.  
It is a bit odd, odd to feel so good climbing up to this saddle, so late in the day.  I turn and look back across the valley,  and see that we are surrounded by more mountains, and open spaces.

There are four of us smoothly floating our way up the mountain.  The two women, just ahead of me,  are both wearing hiking shorts..........  and they are both very fit.  They certainly have the legs on them...both of them.....serious hiker's legs.... or maybe they are mountain bikers..... and hikers too.  I have met some amazing athletes on this trip.... hikers, bikers, trail runners.  I do not recognize either of these women.  I am hiking with two very fit 60 year olds....two leggy, old babes, that I don't think, I know.  They may be younger than that even....maybe only 55 years old .....and leggy.   But I am not admitting to that.  I will just tell you that they are amazingly fit,  and firm,  60 something..... hikers.  I do a quick check of my pits.  This is amazing!  I have been wearing these clothes for four days....four days up and down these mountains.....and I don't even smell bad.  Oh this is good.  This is really good! 

The first member of our party, the guy up front, who is leading us up the mountain,  has not said a word as yet.  Well, neither has any of us said anything.  He justs stops periodically,  as we gain a brief flatter stretch of trail....looks back at the three of us, and smiles.  It is not that he smiles,  I realize....it is that he is constantly smiling.  Okay.  It is bigger than a smile, more of a continous ongoing, "Cheshire Cat" like, grin.  This guy is a constant, silent, beaming, grin!  In fact, we are all smiling.  We can't resist it.  We are all happy....happy....... and grinning..... and floating effortlessly up the mountain..... as the sun's glow slowly fades,  and the color of the trailside blossoms fades too.  

For some reason.... I am unconcerned;  even,  about where we are going.  I just want to know who these great-legged, old babes are?  And which of the two..... am I with?

The hiker up front,  our leader,  has a guitar strapped to his backpack.  I have seen that before, on the Appalachian Trail.  "Coolie Mc JetPack",  a young friend of mine,  had added his guitar to his hiking gear,  when he walked the AT through New York State.....and still carried it when we hiked together, for awhile, in Maine.  I remember that he played it for us,  at "The Cabin" Hostel. 

Still there is something odd.....yes, odd,  about this grinning guitar toting hiker leading our group.  He seems familiar. Yes.  I  recognize those goofy glasses.  And I am sure, I  know that grin.  
If I can just figure out which of these women with the incredible legs, is the one that I am with.....well, then I am sure that I can concentrate on, and place those goofy glasses, those kind,  happy eyes.....and that "Cheshire" smile.  I know this guy!  I know that smile! 

We have topped the saddle and make our way into the grassy meadow as darkness is settling onto the mountain.  We approach the campfire, and all is good.  All is really, really, good. 

No, I don't know who made the fire...... nor where they have gone.  Just go with it.  

What I do know, is that John has unstrapped his guitar, and is going to play his song for us.......... just the four of us,  on this most beautiful, summer night, in the mountains.
  

And I know that we are all happy.... very, very,  happy, as John begins to sing for us,  just for us......  as John always does.
  
"He was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year,  
coming home to a place he'd never been before.....
Colorado Rocky Mountain  High....I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky, 
you talk to God........ listen to the casual reply, 
Rocky Mountain High.....Rocky Mountain High......"

 I have heard John sing his song before, many times before tonight, but never..... before this moment, fully felt the depth of meaning that his words had for him.  
These are words from his soul. 
It was just a song for me until this moment.  Now I understand.  I know the depth of feeling that John has for this land...... for these magnificent mountains.  I hear it.  I feel it,  in his guitar....in his words.... in his voice.

In time,  the voice of John Denver is trailing off.......... because my dream is ending.   
As I wake, in my tent, to this new dawn, to new wonder ,  in this cool morning stillness.... I realize that I am still humming the tune of "Rocky Mountain High".   I think about John Denver,  and these Rocky Mountains.

 I love this place too.... as you do John.  I love these mountains.  "Hawkeye".  

Near Leadville, Co.