Colorado Trail Journal: Clear Creek to Highway 50
Part two of our Colorado Trail adventure began the second we arrived home from the catastrophe of our initial attempt. To summarize, we made it to Kenosha pass and went home to heal. And to learn.
Cheyenne and Austin dropped me off at the driveway that day, and I limped around the house to the backdoor so as not to alert the dogs. It was vastly different from the muted light and cool air in the mountains – the sun beat down, though not unpleasantly, and the concrete under my bare blistered feet felt like an echo of a former life. I laid my things down and opened the back door, then settled myself down on the concrete and called for my goobers.
They came barking and crying, and smothered me in anxious kisses, and I, of course, cried.
And I cried when Vince came home. And I cried when I was alone the next day. And the next day. And, I’m sure, the next day.
Post trail depression is real. I was coping with a failure to top it, but the feeling of being lost with nothing to do but rest and heal after trail life is difficult. We had been on the move, or doing camp chores, sun up to sun down – always somewhere to be, something to take care of.
Be sure to keep yourself busy.
With our strict itinerary, there was no option to pick back up where we left off.
I suggest having a great amount of wiggle room when planning a through-hike – that or be willing to give up the concept of a through-hike all together.
Your best laid plans may go swimmingly, and if so, I offer a hearty congratulations, and admittedly a jealous “must be nice” sentiment thrown in for good measure. The reality is that most of us will experience setbacks in every pursuit of life, and must develop a modicum of flexibility and grace for ourselves within less than ideal situations.
<——- Even this intention ended up going awry.
To be sure though, THIS part went just fine, with little to no setbacks, and was easily the most enjoyable time spent on trail.
If you have someone in your life that is hands down YOUR ideal teammate, that works so well with you that the drudgery is a breeze, someone that you would hate to spend a day without – HIGHLY suggest making them your trekking partner. Its fricken magic.
We left the crowded campground at Clear Creek as quickly as possible that morning, bitching as loudly as we could about the asshole that had driven to the vault toilet, 500 feet from his camp, and filled it with acrid smoke – a truly disgusting decision, to keep dragging on your cigarette inside of a public restroom. I’m still pissed about it.
The initial few miles were a throwback to earlier days, when I was still in the 200lb range and had hiked this spot with Cheyenne and Charlie on a birthday camping trip to the area several years before. The climb was significantly easier this time (if you can imagine that). This was encouraging, at first. It wasn’t until the weather man with no visible physical qualifications steamed past with ease that I regained my humble outlook.
After chatting with the very stoned couple at the apex of that first climb, we had a beautiful descent onto the river valley below. We found a long lost pair of prescription glasses on a trail marker there, and it prompted a bit of existential dread. Natural selection would have taken me long ago if it weren’t for corrective lenses – I can’t imagine losing them in the middle of a wilderness area.
We were very exposed when the thunder began rolling in at the top of our second ascent. I was more than worried that I had led Vince into a drastically dangerous situation as we changed gears in an attempt to make it back into the trees before things got bad. Later that night Cheyenne told us that they had scurried off the trail down into a ditch and layed down in the midst of the most threatening cracks.
The longest duration of dry clear weather this day was during our first descent, into the river valley below
We ate here at the bottom, just before the bridge, and watched the clouds gather as we collected water. It wasn’t long before a sheet of white advanced towards us through the valley, and we rushed to don our ponchos and perch atop our packs under a small cluster of trees while we finished filtering
Upvote the poncho concept – we decided on these VS. a (much more costly) set of rain clothes and I think Ponchos are the way to go.
Shortly after leaving camp, we stopped at the first of Harvard Lakes, where I found my phone had died – many thank to Vince for pictures throughout this day
A break on the steep climb. Pictures can’t quiet capture the angle that had my over-stretched achilles tendon screaming at me
By this time we thought we would be in camp, set up and lounging. We were rewarded with this view after a fairly treacherous last thirty minutes of descent, but would spend the next 30 minutes on a painful and technical set of steep switchbacks.
We were all very grateful that there was little to no rain this day, but the descent was absolutely brutal. Cheyenne, who had previously attested that descents were where her power stride was found, recanted. Downhills are great. Descents are different.
They wreak havoc on your joints, and the near constant anxiety involved while you fret over not tripping or slipping or sliding wears your mind down quickly.
I maintain that I would rather power through a sweaty, laborious ascent any time.
It was this day that we finally re-evaluted our plan for our final trip out – that would be spring creek pass to durango. I had previously re-desgined it with a few tweeks, but one of our longest days was a 21 miler with nearly 8 straight miles of serious descent, and we realized that we needed to alter that drastically.
This was when we really understood that we would rather enjoy our time on the trail than crank out miles and complete everything we could at any cost.
That night my phone miraculously was on and fully functional again without having to be turned on. I’m not entirely sure what happened to it, but it was a massive relief that it self corrected.
Looking back as we climbed out of the river valley
We misjudged our pace again this day, though not quite as drastically as we had the day before. We were more than ready to lounge around when we had finally decided on a spot to set the tent up.
Laundry was more or less a breeze – I had brought along a ‘durable dry sack’ by outdoor research to use for multiple reasons, and it very much came in handy to shove all of our clothes into. We filled the bag with water and shook it to soak, dumped the water, filled it again and added some biodegradable soap, and really got to rocking the contents around, before pulling garments out one by one to be rinsed in the river. Vince squeezed, wrung, and hung while I washed the pieces and it worked perfectly.
up and away
The sunrise Friday morning
downhill to pass Mount Princeton Hotsprings, and the numerous other hotsprings hotels and inns along the way. We were pretty finished with the roadwalk by the bottom of this hill.
on the steep climb leaving the trailhead, on the way to raspberry gulch
The wikiup at the camp at brown’s creek is very cool. It has been supplemented with poles over the years but is likely a very old structure.
This camp had a beautifully deep pool within the river below. Had it been hot towards the end of the day, and had the water not been so shockingly cold, it would have been prime for lounging in.
This was the only place I saw a tick. I killed him on my shoe, and watched every movement with great suspicion afterwards. Ticks and earwigs are the only bugs that reaaaally bug me. They don’t make my skin crawl, they make my soul shudder, I hate them.
THERE ARE TONS OF COWS ALONG THIS SEGMENT.
Your warning is this – it is likely that the water in this area is teeming with Giardia and other water born parasites. Use extra care here.
After the climb, the views of the chalk cliffs were nothing short of extraordinary
The sun was glaring this day and the white of the porous mineral absorbed so much light it was difficult to make out the fine details
It got to be VERY hot on the way down into raspberry gulch
These guys were hanging out upstream of our camp. Remember these dirty asses, it is likely them who took me off trail on our third go round.
Saturday was SO beautiful. I felt like I was walking through an exhibit at times. I was surprised to not have run into a number of wildlife here until I realized how trafficked the area must actually be. We were lucky to have only a handful of run ins with other people through this area
This was probably our coolest man-made find along the trail. We pulled off trail to eat and drink and decided that we should go further back where there might be more comfortable places to sit. We ended up wandering past sight of the trail and happened upon a heavily structured camp. It was clearly a labor of love – someone had really taken their time setting up this throne, perhaps around the centerpiece seat-stone that was entirely too ass-friendly for a rock. Around the expertly structured firepit were many smooth logs, perched just so for ample seating at different heights and distances from the fire. There was a well structured rack for holding a large collection of firewood within reach of the throne, and a flat spot nearby for tenting.
Well spaced aspens made for a breathable and welcome break from the dark and tightly packed evergreen landscape that makes up most of the trail
Most of the foot traffic we experienced was here on the way down into the Angel of Shavano campground.
Saturday was the best day of all – without much question. It’s not the most breathtaking area I found along the trip (the San Juan’s take that prize) but It was really sort of magical.
The Shavano/Tabaguache area is really something to explore, and seems to be an area of abundance. Raspberry bushes were prolific throughout the mountainsides, and the rosehips were monstrous and enchantingly red as they approached ripeness.
The last mile hit me like a ton of bricks. My body was suddenly done, and it was all I could do the walk without a compensatory limp into camp.
We had a hell of a time once we layed down after setting up camp just getting up to get water. Slap happy was absolutely right, and Vince very nearly talked me into going to bed right then and there, before 4pm.
Descending into the angel of Shavano CG
I don’t think I’ll ever quite forget the lunch we took here on the other side of the bridge. We set up the stove on the flat surface of an old stump and lazily ate potatoes in the ambient warmth of dappled sunlight. We took plenty of time, Vince laying on this felled tree, I sitting cross legged on the part of it that extended into the river, and just let ourselves be hypnotized by the sound of the water and the stillness of life as it was there. He made a tiny boat of bark and stick, complete with a leaf sail, and we cheered it on through the little eddies as it tried to make its way down stream. This was one of the most simple and whole moments I’ve lived through, and I loved every second of it.
I can’t recall exactly where this picture was taken, but I know it was sometime Saturday
We woke early Sunday morning and broke out of the trees quickly. Dropping down and crossing highway 50 to the pull off was a breeze.
Look for my final post covering what we managed to travel of the Colorado Trail in 2018 🙂
Did you miss the first entry? Here it is! – Colorado Trail Journal : Segments 1-5
Now, for the disclaimer – I am not a vet, adventure guide, personal trainer, doctor, nutritionist, or medical authority, this is meant to be only a source of information and inspiration, implementing these techniques into your daily life is something you do of your own free will and at your own risk.
Join us for the journey!
Get great updates and inspiration with The Tenacious Crasis newsletter!
