Collegiate West: Day 6, Paying Homage to My Feet

       

              A few weeks ago, I came around a bend on the Colorado Trail and the busyness of Monarch Pass opened up before me. Six days earlier, my wife Helene dropped me off at Twin Lakes, seventy seven mountain miles north of my destination, Monarch Pass, which was now a quarter mile down the trail. Helene

was down there – I could see her crossing the highway to meet me. I had been out backpacking a new stretch of the Colorado Trail, Collegiate West, to raise funds for the Nature education programs for a not-for-profit environmental education center that I started 15 years ago. When I left, I was up to $114/mile in donations and pledges. With the new trail being 80 miles, I was closing in on $10,000 raised so far!

            As I hiked those last steps down the trail, a huge sense of gratitude filled me. For one, I was so thankful for Helene, who did lots of driving to get me where I needed to be and then pick me up as planned. I was also feeling much appreciation for all of the donors who believed in the cause of Nature education, and in me, to give some of their hard-earned dollars towards this effort. Without them, it would have just been a long backpack through some of Colorado’s beautiful, but challenging, high country. 

            I was also feeling a healthy dose of gratitude for my almost six-decade old body. I suppose that throwing an extra 30 pounds on my back and hitting that mountain trail could be considered something above and beyond the call of duty for a body that’s been around this long.   For sure, I was feeling a bit weary on those final rocky steps, having just hiked a few 15+ mile days of up-and-down hiking over several 12,500+ ridges. But I still felt pretty darn good. Especially, my feet!

            When it comes to backpacking, I am of the belief that, after a mind that will make wise decisions, the most important pieces of equipment for a safe, successful and enjoyable backpacking trek are happy feet! The feet are where my body meets the ground, up close and personal. A nice fitting backpack, the right clothes, staying well hydrated and protected from the sun and rain and wind – all of that and everything else takes place on the foundation of – my feet.

            I have all too much experience knowing how a bad blister or two, or shoes that are poorly matched, can wreak havoc on a hiking adventure that otherwise would have been a most pleasurable experience. Admittedly, it has taken me quite a few years, and a fair handful of painful backpacking adventures, to figure out what my feet needed to be happy.

            After a visit to a knowledgeable pedorthist – someone who knows how to assess a pair of feet and what kind of footwear those feet need – gone are the stiff high-top boots that took 100 miles to break in, gone are the special liner socks, gone are the special ways of lacing and tying.I now wear a quality pair of waterproof, low-top trail shoes with excellent sole support, a good-fitting pair of non-cotton socks, and a pair of low gators to keep small rocks and forest debris out of my shoes. With this simple lower extremity wardrobe, my feet have been happy backpackers ever since. Nearly 500 miles on the original Colorado Trail and only one blister (due to tiny pebble that got into my shoe – after that the gators became a part of my backpacking apparel).  

            But there is more to my happy feet than the fine looking duds I put on them. The right footwear, no matter how right they may be, will not make an unhealthy foot healthy. I also attribute the well-being of my feet to the regular yoga routine that I have made a part of my life. I am no yoga expert, mind you – I couldn’t tell you the difference between Dhanurasana and Dadasana – I could hardly pronounce them, let alone tell you what they are. But, I probably do them, along with several other basic yoga poses most days, and I am convinced that doing them has contributed much to the making of my happy feet.

            And so, I bow to you, my feet (I think bowing like that is called Uttanasana) for taking me across mountain meadows, up steep mountain trails, quickly across open alpine ridges when the clouds began to rumble, over gnarly talus fields and slippery slopes of scree, and for doing all of this and more with hardly an ache, a hot spot, or a sore toe. I have enormous gratitude for you, my feet! Thank you for all you do to make my fund-raising backpacks, and everything else I do on you, such a success. 

           

            

            I actually still have a few more miles to go to officially complete this specific fund-raising hike. The Collegiate West trail continues another five miles beyond Monarch Pass, climbing up to almost 12,000’, where it meets the original Colorado Trail for another 8.5 miles out to a road. So, I will be back out there in a few days on that mountain trail, completing my hike for Nature education on my happy and oh-so-appreciated feet!

Collegiate West: Day 5

With Chalk Creek Pass ten miles away, I want to be sure that I am up and over the pass before any storms have the chance to build, so I am up early, cooking breakfast and breaking camp in the dark. I click off my head lamp just as I start hiking, enjoying the transition from night to day. 

After a long series of switchbacks up a heavily treed mountainside, I break out of the trees into another glorious Colorado morning. A couple of Forest Service employees that I ran into the evening before told me they had seen a moose up here, so I have my eyes open for a moose!

 Do you see a moose? Neither do I! But it sure is pretty up here, and there's a couple of deer!

Beneath this hillside is what remains of the Alpine Tunnel, a narrow gauge railroad tunnel constructed in the early 1880s. It was in use until 1910 when it was closed due to damage. It has since been sealed off. It was the first railroad tunnel constructed through the Continental Divide in Colorado, and remains the highest railroad tunnel and longest narrow gauge tunnel in North America. 

The old railroad grade makes for some easy hiking...

...but this jeep road that climbs out of the old town of Hancock is no fun to hike on!

As I am filtering some drinking water, I look back down the valley at Hancock Lake and the Chalk Creek drainage. This water eventually flows past Mount Princeton Hot Springs. A most perfect scene!

With the pass behind me, I am now hiking along the Middle Fork of the South Arkansas River. 

An America robin and the Colorado Trail decal both pointing the way - go left.

 I make it to Hunt Lake and my highest campsite at nearly 11,500'. The sky decides to rain lightly on and off as the day ends, and the mosquitoes are a mighty force, so I am tucked in pretty early after a long 17-mile day.

Collegiate West: Day 2

The chattering alarm of a pine squirrel rouses me from my slumber. I guess this little creature is not happy to discover that the tent that materialized in its shady forest the evening before is still here. It is no longer dark, but the sun has not yet made it into this stand of conifers. I move and feel some soreness from yesterday’s hike.  I begin my morning routine – firing up my little alcohol stove to heat water while I begin to break down camp - stuffing the sleeping bag, rolling up the ground pad, dismantling  the tent… all of this interspersed with some yoga poses to continue stretching out these sore muscles. Fueled by a breakfast of oatmeal, walnuts and a little dried fruit, I am on my way.

Hmmm, many of these plants are tinged with white? Is that frost? I reach down and confirm that the thermometer was down below freezing here last night. To think that it was around 100F in Pueblo yesterday. I'm glad I am here and not there. I work my way up the Clear Creek drainage towards Lake Ann Pass and keep exclaiming to myself what a perfect morning it is. The sky must be bluer than it has ever been, with not a cloud in the sky. Gazing at a series of rugged peaks that I am heading towards, known as the Three Apostles, it seems as if I can see every fold and crack and feel their rocky texture, the air is so clear.

Just as I break out of the trees, I meet a fellow heading down the trail. “Bobcat” is hiking the entire Continental Divide Trail, from the Mexican border in New Mexico to the Canadian border in Montana. As we part and I continue south while he heads north towards Wyoming and beyond, I look back and note the small pack on his back. I know I’ve reduced my backpacking weight at least ten pounds lighter than the old days, now down to around 30 pounds, which includes the weight of a few days of food. But, looking at Bobcat’s pack, I think I could do better.  With that thought in mind, me and my 30 pound pack head towards Lake Ann Pass, about 1000’ elevation gain in the next mile. “Just what could I do without that is now in my pack?” I ask myself as I slowly make my way to the pass.

The beauty of landscape, accentuated by the clarity of the air, just keeps blowing me away. I reach a snowfield and gingerly work my way across some slippery snow. I am glad I have these trekking poles. A couple more switchbacks, another stretch of snow, and I am at the pass – 12, 588’ according to the trail guide. The views from the top continue to blow me away. To the west is a huge valley, Taylor Park, with its reservoir and expansiveness. Looking back from where I came from is the rich turquoise water of Lake Ann. I wonder how that little lake got its name. I linger for a long while on the pass as the skies show no sign of a storm any time soon.

I begin the many switchbacks down off the pass and begin to feel some serious heat from some serious sunshine. I enter the trees and decide I need another break, but the mosquitoes are relentless. Never being a fan of Deet, my citronella-based bug juice works ok, but just ok. The skeeters keep me moving down the trail. Wishing for some cloud cover, I leave the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness and spend several miles hiking some hot, rocky, dusty trails that are also used by motorcycles (although I meet none of them today). I begin looking for a camp and find a nice spot above a creek, but the mosquitoes are miserable, so I keep going. Finally making it to the valley floor, I am pleased that a fairly consistent breeze is keeping the skeeters manageable. Tent up, dinner done, food bag hung, I am ready for some down time.

I pull out some reading material and stumble upon these thoughts from someone I’ve never heard of, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra: “There are many pathways in this life and it doesn’t matter which one you take, for they all have a common destination, and that is the grave. But some paths give you energy and some take it away.” This certainly is a thought-provoking quote to come across while out here on this pathway. The part about the grave has lots to do with why I am out here - life is flying by, it seems, and I want what life I have left to be full of being in wild places, just like this one. 
As for the part about pathways either giving or taking away energy? Well, after hiking nearly 30 miles in two days, feeling so wiped out right now, it begs the question – is this 90-mile trek giving me energy or taking it away? I believe that, considering how far I’ve hiked, passes I’ve traversed, all this mountainous terrain I’ve moved up and down and over and through, it required quite a large amount of energy to do this hike. And the act of setting out on it is what created the energy to actually do it. 
Sure, I’m tired now, but this does not mean that this pathway took my energy away. This tiredness is short-lived, it is fleeting, but the energy that this trek is creating, and will continue to create, is huge. I am pooped as I sit here and write these words, but I can still sense all the energy inside of me that will remain. If it could be quantified, the amount of energy that I spend to do this hike - yesterday's, today's and all the rest of the miles - pales in comparison to the energy I get, and will get, and others will get through my efforts, from doing it. So, I believe that this Collegiate West Backpack for Nature Education is definitely an energy-producing pathway that I am on. That being said, it is time for a good night's sleep - I've got more energy-producing miles tomorrow. Good night!