We didn't hit the road till around 7, and after a few pitstops we reached the Bridgeport access to the Dominguez Canyon Wilderness Study Area around 10:45 PM. It was dark and already cold. I pitched the tent in the parking lot, fluffed up the sleeping bags, and the three of us assumed the fetal position hoping to retain any bit of warmth we could. Sleep was tough to come by. Our sleeping bags, rated at 30 and 15 could do very little to shield off the 4 degree temperatures outside.
We got up quickly at first light, boiled some water, ate some oats and a poptart apiece, decided it was against our best interest to brave another frigid night in the canyon, and headed out for a day-hike.
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I fashioned a dogfood can into an alcohol stove before heading out on the trip. Using about 1 fl oz of denatured alcohol a pint of water begins boiling after about 6 minutes, 30 seconds, with another minute remaining until the alcohol burns out.
I packed a good 25 pounds into the pack, just to get some proper practice and we set off. We hugged the railroad tracks along the Gunnison River for the first mile and a half before crossing a bridge and weaving our way over towards Dominguez Canyon. We spent the day hiking, lounging/napping in the sun, and examining the evidence of civilizations past, for whom the canyon served as a home.
Enjoy the photos.
I think next week I'm going to make my way out here (solo and with a warm sleeping bag), I have three days for hiking allotted and think I can dial in an 80ish mile loop, utilizing the North Uncompagre Wilderness and the Tabeguache trail, that would be great practice for the AT.
The tarptent set up without the interior/bugnet/floor. Extremely lightweight, simple, requires only trekking poles and stakes.
House, built in 1901
Nature's dog house, built over hundreds of thousands of years
Wow
People on horseback. Alligator snapping turtle??
Mel sitting by the frigid Big Dominguez Creek a few miles before it feeds into the Gunnison.
Home away from home.
Pulled one of these guys out of Luna's foot- ow.
Luna elected to cuddle next to some trekking poles for her afternoon snooze
Packdog
Gunnison River
Hitched a ride back to the trailhead
Meanwhile, somewhere in the east, Rob has mapped out a feasible route for a run across New Hampshire for a second edition of our Runs For Relief project, which had it's first event in Rhode Island almost a year ago. We're looking at a ~73 mile route and a late March execution date. I hope that logistically I'll be able to formulate a way to get out there and join him in the effort!
The last week or so I've had occasion to really dial in my gear for the upcoming Appalachian Trail trek. I've got a pack that packs just right, a great shelter that is both sturdy, light, and quick to set up and take down. Most importantly I have a pair of strong, healthy legs that are adapting well to carrying a greater load at a reasonable pace.
On Monday, Luna and I got dropped off at Turquoise Lake and completed a 7 mile stroll back to town while carrying about 28 lbs. We completed the route in 1 hour 39 minutes and some seconds. The route was a steady climb of about 550 ft, pretty trivial compared to the AT, but I was still delighted to maintain a pace of about 4.25 mph.
Tuesday I had a little window in a long day of working that allowed Luna and I to get out for 31 minutes. We ventured up the hills in the backyard for 2.1 miles and 500 ft of gain. Despite the climbing and snow on this short outing, we were right around 4 mph once again. Tuesday night, Mel, Luna, and I made it out for a nordic ski, which is always a pleasure; even more so on a clear, quiet night when the sky is speckled with stars.
Thursday rolled around, I rolled out of bed. I glanced at the thermometer and saw it was a whopping 5 degrees out, I then looked at the day's projected high in Boulder and saw that it was 55(?!), so we went there. We hiked a 3 mile loop from Chataquah Park (carrying ~25 lbs), scrambled about halfway up the second Flatiron (not Luna's favorite activity), and headed back home.
When we got back to Leadville, there was a package on our doorstep. Inside the package was our Tarptent Stratospire II. I tossed it in the pack (~18 lbs), grabbed the poles, strapped Luna's pack on and went out to try my hand at setting it up. It was dark, snowy, and cold; I figured if I learned to set up the tent for the 1st time in the dark it would be good preparation for the AT, where I expect to be setting up the tent at night frequently after long days of hiking. I'm not sure how long it took me to set up the tent, but it couldn't have been very long as our trip was 3.15 miles in 58 minutes (including set-up/break-down time).
The Stratospire II is a really cool structure that I look forward to really getting out in the field: I'll review it more throughly once I come to know it better.
I worked Friday morning and, just after my shift, received a proposition to catch a ride up to the Vail Winter Mountain Games to participate in a snowshoe race. I was really on the fence about it, with the possibility of a storm blowing in and making for a tedious drive back home, but after glancing at the website and realizing that 1) Snow is cool, 2) Snow is cooler when you're racing in it at night, and 3) I could race the 5k event with Luna, there was really no question.
Around 3:30 Sage and Sandi pulled up, picked us up, and we made our way up to Vail, enjoying the snowy scenery. Notch Mountain, neighbor to Holy Cross, looked absolutely incredible rising from the valley.
We parked, picked up our packets, and hurried to get to the startline. Sage and Sandi took off with the 10k start, and Luna and I waited for the dog wave, which started about 20 seconds after the 5k human wave.
We bolted past as many folks as we could through the chute and had ample breathing room to settle into a groove on the first loop. Luna was a good sport; she sported her Ruffware harness that she'll be wearing on the AT.
Snowshoeing is hard work. We ended up finishing 1st among the dogs, and 2nd overall in the 5k, though.
Meanwhile, Sage and Sandi grunted it out over some grueling climbs and twice the distance against stiff competition to finish very well, 3rd male and 5th female, respectively.
The atmosphere they create at the Vail Mountain Games is truly exceptional. There are a lot of people working really hard both in the events and behind the scenes, it is a truly beautiful thing.
These guys (Pigpen Theatre Co.) are doing really cool things, check them out:
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.
- Rachel Carson
The weather has been crazy; no snow for weeks, sunshine for days. I fear for summer wildfires, the Front Range draining the remainder of our lakes, and all that but, man, I do love running in the mountains.
Fortunately for me, so do Mike and Luna. We went up Elbert last Saturday, settling for a 2:00 start and excited to be racing the sun. As expected, it was snowy beneath the pines. Once we got above treeline, we were able to move a lot more efficiently. Being so late in the day, the southeast ridge cast shadows over our route and left us cold for about 40 minutes before welcoming the sun once again on the ridge. We reached the summit in a minute or two over 2 hours, and made it back to the car a minute or two before 3 hours. We ran really fast on the way down the ridge, it was sick.
Ridge to the summit
S. Elbert and La Plata in the background
Tried to fly and got denied
The picture above leads me into my next outing. The mountain on the right there is French Mountain (13,960 ft), the ridge runs west then south cresting Frasco(just barely in the light), and Casco(prominent in left of frame), as well. I see these peaks from my window every morning, as they shoot out of the valley between Elbert and Massive.
Anyways, the route, we'll call it the Frenasco, made for quite the fiasco. My starting point was at the Mt. Massive TH. I began by skiing about 2 miles up the road to the junction with FR 110.J, continued skiing up this road until it because unreasonably steep, which was about another mile. It was my belief that the choice to ski would greatly enhance the fun-factor, in reality though, the snow sucked for the first couple of miles and was so deep and so steep in the next mile it was never all that great. In fact, I quickly realized that it would be far more beneficial to have snowshoes.
Fresh Tracks
Icy Paths
I carried on up the road towards Iron Mike Mine. The snow was just below my knees for the entire slog. It was slow moving...
The basin begins opening up
I contemplated the ideal route to French's summit, but acted rashly instead of seizing it. Ideally, I would have continued up the gulch to Iron Mike Mine, which was probably about a mile away, but really the going was so slow that every extra mile up the basin was one more I'd have to walk down. So I had hoped to summit via French's east slopes, and return down the ridge to my skis.
Elbert's slopes looked far more appealing than my route
Gaining vertical was incredibly tedious. I was keen on the prospect of utilizing rocks versus snow in the ascent after what I'd been up to the last couple of hours. The rock route proved interesting, as each piece of talus was surrounded by a couple of feet of snow, making any misstep a bit frustrating (particularly for the pup).
Rock hoppin'
We got up to 12,500 ft when I decided to turn around. I think the ideal equation for this approach would be today+one human+two snowshoes-one dog. Sorry for a crumby day, Luna.
I was able to run a little bit through the powder on the way down, reached the skis and began to ski. The route was about 12 miles total and took me about 4 hours. I've got to get out here again, and look forward to completing this line and extending it over Elbert's summit.
"In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer"
-Albert Camus
I've made my way up the Halfmoon Creek drainage each of the past two days, and it has rekindled a desire to explore in me that warms my soul. When Mel and I first decided to move to Leadville, we set up camp out here and froze our tails off for a week or so before finding a place to live. It is home to the trailhead from which I first ran out into the sky above the trees, it's hosted some of my greatest mountain running efforts, and some days of demoralizing defeat. It is nice there.
Yesterday Luna and I cruised out to the Mt. Massive Trailhead (Elbert's was snowed in), I worked a bit in the morning, so we didn't get out there until about 2:00 leaving me with no intention of summiting Elbert. I did, however want to pack the trail down a bit following last weekend's snow. I also figured that if someone had made the first tracks someone else may be inclined to follow them at least as far as I did or extend them even further. This is what I encountered:
Before
I made my way back to the trunk of my car and retrieved some snowshoes, the snow was close to 2 feet deep... I then figured out how to put on snowshoes, pined briefly over how cumbersome they seemed and took off. Running in snowshoes isn't easy, it saps a lot of energy. I'd like to try running in some bonafied running snowshoes sometime, I imagine it's quite a bit better than the ones I've got at present.
Turquoise Lake disguised in white.
Up and up we (we being me and Luna) went until we came to the clearing just before you burst out of the trees. It was here I decided to turn it back for the day- it had been an excellent workout and the sun was tucking away more quickly than I'd wished.
After
When I arrived back at the trailhead, the sun seemed to be balancing on the tip of one of Elbert's North summits, mesmerizing. Then it was gone.
Today marked the first day Mel and I had off together in several weeks. We've shared a morning here, some evenings there, but this was the first day that was all ours! We tossed some snacks, skis, and the pup into the car and headed back to Halfmoon. Parking at the Massive TH, again, we headed further up the drainage via the 4x4 road that crosses many excellent campsites and sends you to the N. Halfmoon Lakes TH, from which you can access Massive's summits via the south slopes.
She always finds a way to get her kicks
My ladies
We skied for about two and a half hours, whooping and hollering all the while. The valley was quiet and peaceful, it felt like it was all ours again, much like in early May when we arrived. Except now Luna is with us!
One cold creek
Mel climbing- Elbert's northernmost summit seen above
A couple of days ago Luna and I went for a run up Mt Elbert from the N. Elbert Creek TH, the namesake creek looked like this:
Amazing that the trees survive after living in ice for months and months!
Below treeline the snow was pretty well packed with a few exceptions.
As we breached treeline, the footsteps were swept away and a beautiful, unbroken trail lay before us, my first split came at the first switchback above treeline. The split on my fastest time to date was right at 40 minutes, this time (likely due to the snowslogging and a month off of running) was about 1 hour 13 minutes. Pretty big difference there.
I did take it pretty casually. I came way overdressed, too. I quickly took off my hat, gloves, and jacket in the woods, and didn't don them again until I was up above 12,500 ft.
That kind of got me thinking: With the amount of snow we've been receiving, or lack thereof, it isn't unreasonable to think that a route up Elbert could be maintained all year. Yeah, its wicked cold and there are a lot of days where going up wouldn't be fun or safe, but there are still going to be days when its 30 degrees and sunny. I just need to seize those after the big snows and do a lap. I'll lug along some snowshoes and microspikes, if necessary. It would make the most sense to keep the South Elbert Trail packed. I figure I can ski up the road a couple of miles to the trailhead, if I don't feel like running it some days, ski the CT to the trailhead, and then run up the ridge.
Besides, its a beautiful mountain with beautiful views. Getting back up there and running around in the sky, glissading down pitches, and wearing myself out, made me remember that running brings me a lot of fulfillment and allows me to sleep completely awestruck at the beauty of our world.
Massive in the distance from just above treeline.
Nearing the summit, looking at Massive, Oklahoma, and the Halfmoon Basin
Quintessential summit-shot
It took me 2 hours and 10 minutes to get to the top, thats exactly 1 minute slower than my fastest round-trip time. The descent was an hour, making the day about 9 miles in 3:10, with 4,500 ft of vertical.
If anyone wants to join me on a winter run up Elbert, just pick a warm day (25+)and let me know!
I've realized this week that I am very much driven by results. I like to have tangible, maybe statistical, evidence that I am progressing in some way, be it as an athlete or as a person.
I've attempted to satisfy this vice in many ways over the past few years: In school I pursued the mastery of a foreign language, through which I could daily display deeper understanding or, perhaps, I would find myself floundering. At this point, I would concede that I needed to do conjugation repeats, or spend an hour or two just writing stories, which I would then reread an analyze every grammar concept that I attempted to use, identifying what qualified that as necessary in it's context, or maybe hit up the thesaurus to find words that helped avoid redundancy or enhanced the flow and made my works more cohesive. It's a never-ending pursuit, I'll never be the best, but I'll be better than I was.
And then there was running. It's really no surprise to me at all that participation in running events is on the rise across nearly every demographic in America. I mean, think about it, the "American Dream" boasts that progress is desirable and can be interminable. We are taught from grade school that we should be recognized for our progress and achievement. We strive, in whatever we do, to surpass arbitrary limits (often self-imposed) and redefine our paradigm of what it means to be "me". Thus, we run. We go for a jog around the block, we sign up for a 5k, we redefine "me". I guess the new "me" is a runner now, maybe not a runner, but now I know that I can run. We then realize that there will always be someone faster than us. But, HA!, progress can continue, because regardless of how fast everyone else may be, I can always become faster than that other "me".
One of the things running offers to an individual is the opportunity to have endless progress at their fingertips, and it comes with ever-present accountability. There are umpteen different distances to run, now do them faster, more confidently. There's an infinite number of routes, all of which you can run faster than you did today. And if you don't, just retrace your (figurative) steps towards progress by glancing at a training log, or by reflecting on a day you lounged around watching Netflix instead of getting out and taking ownership of your benchmarks and dreams.
I guess this is one of the main reasons that this blog exists at all. I feel like when my goals and steps towards progress are published here and shared with all who read it, it helps to solidify those dreams and past activities as a part of the "me".
Like I said, this week I discovered that I'm driven by my progress. This is how it came about: There is snow everywhere here. I could run, there are some well-packed trails, I have waterproof shoes, but it feels a bit more tedious than I tend to like it. All of my standby routes, on which I routinely monitor my progress, take significantly longer than normal and, thus, I don't receive the same gratification with their completion.
I was often asked upon arriving in Leadville, "You can't really run through the winter here... what the heck are you going to do??" I kinda thought that if I really couldn't run, I'd just sit and wish I could run. As I was saying, there is snow everywhere. Wednesday I put on a pair of skis for the first time and went out for a couple of hours with some friends and had a blast. Thursday morning I went again for a couple of hours, then another hour that night. I watched some youtube videos and the likes on Classic Cross-Country Skiing technique was completely entranced by the ease with which these folks could propel themselves. Friday, I went out and packed down a .5 mile track that I skied repeatedly, practicing the techniques I had seen and heard of, getting better every time. Saturday and Sunday were more of the same, making the motions more fluid and effortless, practicing my balance, and practicing techniques at higher speeds(ouch).
Needless to say, I'm hooked. Hooked on cross country skiing, hooked on progressing. I'm going to ski mo' and mo', to the point where I will be able to race confidently in the Breckebeiner 60k at the end of March.
From Kite Lake, just outside of Alma, CO, there is a fantastic loop that takes you over the summits of Mt Democrat (14,148 ft), Mt Cameron (14,238 ft), Mt Lincoln (14,286 ft), and Mt Bross (14,172 ft). The loop is widely known as The Decalibron.
I had wanted to do this at some point during the summer, but those plans never came to fruition. Next thing you know, you've got snow, ice, strong winds, and more enthusiasm than ever. Luna and I met up with Mike and Sage in Frisco and headed a bit south to the trailhead. The adventure was great, the route to first summit (Democrat) was easily the most hectic of the day, as it featured large patches of ice and a couple of feet of snow at times. After the first summit the weather became more favorable as snow stopped blowing and the sun graced us with its rays every once in a while.
The loop took us almost exactly three hours and is better described by this awesome video Sage complied than any words I can string together. So here you are:
It's always great to share the trails and mountains with these two humans, but little compares to the enthusiasm and vitality that Luna brings to every outing. Love that dog.
