Day 25: Junction to Molas Pass

A thick, gray mist enveloped our camp. Another wet, rainy day. Hoping to warm up hiking, we set off quickly and soon hiked out of the drizzle.

The trail traversed several grassy ridges, always staying above 12,000 feet. We passed several small lakes and ponds, blue jewels set in the green meadows. Soft, golden sunlight occasionally broke through the fog, but the high peaks remained shrouded in clouds.

Leaving the Continental Divide Trail behind, we climbed onto the Divide one more time before descending into the Elk Creek Canyon. Red and creamy white paintbrush dotted the grassy hillside along with a variety of other wildflowers. Two dark holes in the steep canyon wall gave silent testimony to historical silver mining operations in the area.

For two days we have seen no other hikers. Descending into the popular Elk Creek Canyon, hikers were everywhere. We passed solo hikers, couples, families, and a large Boy Scout troop.

Spruce, fir, pine, and aspen populated the damp forest next to the creek. Lush green moss carpeted the forest floor. Tall purple, white, and yellow wildflowers lined sections of trail. Decaying nurse logs gave life to baby trees and a variety of other green plants.

We pulled on raingear as the clouds again unleashed heir torrents. Water oozed from our shoes as we squished down the muddy trail. The rain finally slowed to a drizzle as we crossed the tracks for the tourist railroad that runs between Durango and Silverton.

We enjoyed occasional backward glances at the beautiful river valley as we began our climb to Molas Pass. My father met us at the pass, whisking us away for a Mexican dinner in Silverton and a warm, dry place to sleep for the night.

Day 24: Ruby Creek Pass to Highland Mary Lake Junction

Coyotes yipped and howled as they closed in on their prey. We packed up by the pale light of dawn. Cool, gray fingers of foggy mist drifted in and encircled our camp. We hiked out in a thick, gray cloud.

We climbed past the lightning strike, barely recognizable through the mist, and kept climbing. Our heads popped through the clouds as we neared 13,000 feet. Below us, fluffy, gray, pillow-like clouds blanketed the valley.

A wide grassy mesa awaited us at the top of the climb. A small group of deer grazed near the edge of the mesa. A lone coyote loped across the open grass in search of prey. Pika and marmots scattered and hid in waiting holes as we approached. A pair of ptarmigan strutted near the trail. A large group of tawny colored animals startled as we approached, stampeding down the steep hillside to a pond below.

We reached the high point of the Colorado Trail, 13,271 feet, just before 9. But the trail would stay above 12,000 feet, with no trees in sight, for many more miles. With dark clouds swirling around us, the threat of lightning would be our constant companion over the next 24 hours.

We continued to climb and descend a series of ridges all afternoon, never quite reaching 13,000 feet again, but never descending near treeline either. Storms raged all afternoon, with thunder rumbling overhead. The rains started with a torrential downpour, eased to a slow drizzle, then worked into torrents again. By late afternoon we were both cold, damp, and shivering.

Baaaa! Maaaa! Baaaa! Maaaa! Sheep perched on the ridge near Stony Pass, while part of the flock grazed in the valley below. Sheep dashed away as we approached, clogging the trail and creating a comical traffic jam. The many hooves obscured the muddy trail, creating numerous new paths and destroying plants in the fragile meadow.

A gentle rain misted down as we hiked on and on and on, hoping in vain to find camping away from the lightning prone ridge. The rain again strengthened into a downpour and, as we descended to a saddle, I slipped on the muddy trail, smashing a rock against my shin that cut a hole in my rain pants.

We finally set up the tent on the saddle, right next to the trail. In my haste to set it up quickly to keep out the rain I managed to puncture the mosquito netting with my hiking pole (which also serves as tent pole). But we were finally protected from the incessant rain, happy to be warm and dry at last.

Day 23: Spring Creek Pass to Ruby Creek Cirque

I woke to the sound of thunder slowly lumbering across the sky, punctuated with quick, bright flashes of lightning. Secured a few hints and zipped up the tent flap just as the first drops of rain began to rhythmically tapping the tent.

It rains in Colorado. A lot. Most of our days on the trail have been marked by some sort of rain. With Colorado's monsoon season just beginning, I know there will be a lot more rain to come.

We returned to Spring Creek Pass and started hiking on soggy Jeep track, stepping over the many large puddles in our path. Maaaaa! Maaaaa! Maaaaaa! As we slowly climbed to the top of Jarosa Mesa, we began to hear sheep. Rounding a bend, we saw a huge flock spread across the hillside, grazing on and near the trail. The sheep quickly scattered, darting nervously out of our path.

A solitary man strode down from the Jarosa Mesa following the sheep, a simple rifle casually swung over one shoulder, two sheepdogs bounding down the hillside in front of him. The Peruvian shepherd spoke to us in a mixture of halting English and Spanish. Then, with a shrill whistle he quickly called the frenzied flock back to order, his hardy sheepdogs darting down the hill to round up the stragglers.

Reaching Jarosa Mesa, we began moving from rock cairn to rock cairn as the trail petered out. From time to time we briefly rediscovered the trail only to have it peter out again. Grazing sheep have created a myriad of tracks across the rocky mesa, more or less obliterating the track of the Colorado Trail, which has faded into the rocky meadow.

A mass of black clouds tethered ahead. Thunder rumbled in the next valley as we climbed above treeline onto a high ridge. Bright flashes of lightning danced nearby. Feeling a gust of wind, I realized the storm was heading our way. With many miles of high, exposed trail ahead, I started looking for an escape route.

A sharp bolt of lightning touched down near the trail, less than a mile ahead. Spotting a grove of trees near a rock outcropping a few hundred feet below the ridge, we left the trail and headed down to shelter amid regular rumbles of thunder and bright flashes of light.

We quickly set up the tent, nestling it in the grove of trees, and enjoyed a relaxing afternoon of reading and napping while the storm raged on. When the storm stopped, we scampered up the colorful, lichen-covered rock outcropping. We surveyed the Ruby Creek Cirque and valley below. Bright colors lit the evening sky as the sun faded into the distance.

 

Day 22: Stream to Spring Creek Pass

Crash, crack, crash! We woke to the sound of rocks tumbling down the steep hillside above, a low rumble punctuated by crashes, scrapes, and cracks of rock hitting rock. As the rock settled, I became aware of other sounds, the steady clipping of deer or elk moving across rocky ground. 4:00 am.

Not long afterward, I heard the gentle pitter patter of rain on the tent and relaxed back into sleep. Although we had wanted to climb San Luis Peak, we would not climb if there was any chance of inclement weather because the guidebook warns that San Luis Peak is notoriously prone to thunder storms and lightning strikes.

Birds warbled a morning greeting as I woke again. Dark clouds already gathered near San Luis Peak, but the warm rays of the early morning sun illuminated the rocky hillside above our camp. Although both hiking poles had been securely stowed underneath a tent flap, I found one slightly gnawed pole lying across the trail.

We climbed up the grassy hillside covered with wildflowers up to the Continental Divide, a grassy ridge surrounded by taller, rugged ridges and mountains. We stayed high, imbuing and traversing through alpine meadows strewn with soft, fuzzy white beargrass, pink paintbrush, yellow daisies, thistles, and a riotous variety of colorful wildflowers.

Pikas chirped angrily, then darted into rocky holes as we passed by. Marmots waddled up the trail. Rat-a-tat-a-tat! A chorus of woodpeckers echoed throughout the valley as they jackhammered into the large stands of beetle-killed pines.

A few warning spits of rain quickly transitioned into a torrential downpour. Thunder rumbled overhead. Then, just as we reached treeline, we felt sharp stings as pea-sized pellets of hail pelted our bodies. With lightning touching down on the exposed ridge ahead, we quickly retreated below treeline.

When the downpour slowed to a drizzle, we climbed back onto the ridge. Streams of water coursed down the rocky trail like the headwaters of an infant creek. Water seeped into our shoes and squished out with every soggy step.

From the high point, we descended to the grassy expanse of Snow Mesa. Over 12,000 feet in elevation, the Mesa is bordered by lofty mountains and deeply carved canyons. We passed through meadows strewn with wildflowers, past a large pond, and across several streams trickling down from the mountains. The gassy expanse seemed to go on forever, and we walked several miles before making any noticeable progress.

Dropping off the Mesa, we descended into a canyon to the trailhead at Spring Creek Pass on Highway 149 near Lake City. We will resupply and return to the trail tomorrow.

Day 21: Saddle to Stream Beyond San Luis Peak Ridge

A few dark clouds hovered near San Luis Peak. Overhead, wispy white clouds dotted a deep, blue sky. The first golden rays of sun transformed the fading meadow into a rich, golden field.

After a brief stop at a natural seesaw deep in the aspen forest, we continued down the Colorado Trail to the lush, green Cochetopa Valley. The Cochetopa Creek meandered lazily through the valley choosing the path of least resistance. Wildflowers dotted the grassy meadows lining the creek, including a new variety of white lily we had not seen before. Anxious pocket gophers scurried into waiting trailside holes as we passed by.

Beaver dams choked the creek at frequent intervals, forming swampy ponds stretching across the valley floor. Large beaver lodges or mansions evidenced a thriving beaver population, as did the many gnawed aspen trees lining the trail. No beavers were in evidence as we passes through.

Dark, angry clouds gathered overhead by 10, and within the hour the sky opened up and it began to pour. Thinking the storm would pass through quickly, we casually tossed on our pack covers and rain jackets and hiked on. Twenty minutes later the rain had soaked through our him nylon hiking pants and showed signs of abating. Water squished in our shoes with every step. Thunder rolled slowly across the sky.

Stopping under the shelter of a dry pine tree, we pulled on our dry rain pants over our already soaked hiking pants, knowing our body heat would dry them out in time. Although pine and fir trees tend to provide better shelter in storms than aspens, many of the fir and pine trees in the Cochetopa Valley have fallen victim to bark beetles. We hiked well past our usual lunch time before finding another large pine tree with long, full branches to provide shelter from the storm.

We reached the Cochetopa Creek crossing in late afternoon, but with the Data Book stashed away in a dry spot, I wasn't sure if it was the right one. Nevertheless, I started looking for camping because we hoped to climb San Luis Peak the next morning. Although the Data Book indicated there should be camping nearby, we could not find any. Before we knew it we had reached the saddle on the San Luis Peak ridge.

With the threat of thunderstorms, we did not want to camp on the ridge. But as we continued on the other side, my heart sank. The trail traversed a steep, grassy hillside, high above treeline with no camping in sight.

Two miles later, we finally found camp in a small stand of scrubby, beetle-killed pines. Peeling off our wet, cold outer layers we slowly recovered feeling in our frigid extremities. Warm dry socks soon covered toes wrinkled like raisins from a day in sopping wet shoes. Tomorrow we will brave the storm again, but for now, warm, dry sleeping bags have never felt so good.