Backpacking, Part 2

After all the excitement of our attempts to leave for the trip, we did actually make it to the trailhead sometime around 2PM. In actuality, that was much earlier than we had gotten to the trailhead our last backpacking trip. I think we got there about 6PM that time, and I made it to the campsite just as dusk was falling.

When Kris and I got to the trailhead, the rest of the group had already taken off, leaving one behind to let us know to catch up. That we did in about a mile or two. Then, as a group, we took off for Bob and Betty Lakes, where we'd be spending the night. It was about a 6 1/2 mile hike or so, with around 3000 feet of elevation gain. Not so simple with all your gear on your back.

After stopping a couple times to let squalls pass, we actually did make it to the campsite. Predictably, that close to the divide, it was cold and windy. We set up camp quickly, and tried to settle in. And, after some difficulty with making numb fingers tie knots in monofilament, I braved the wind and threw a few casts into the water.

Quite to my surprise, my second cast landed me a little brook trout, which I promptly released.

It would prove to be the only fish caught that trip.

The wind proved a bit much, and I ended after that minor feat with an impressive line snarl for my trouble. I opted to call it quits, make dinner (mmm ramen . . .) and head for bed with the sun.

Sleep was hard to come by. Throughout that night, the wind was gusting at, I'm guessing, between 40 and 60 mph. My little Halfdome tent handled it well, but I did not get much (read any) sleep. And me being me, I woke up earlier than everybody else.

It was a gray, cold day.

Our plan was to scout up the Continental Divide (or High Lonesome) trail, which we were hoping to follow the next day to hop over to Devil's Thumb Lake. But after looking at the divide, or at least in the general direction as seen above, we opted out of that plan, and decided to head down valley instead, following the view below.

Much more inviting. There were, however, a number of rather pretty, if small, wildflowers near our first campsite.



Actually, there were quite a few more than this, but I liked these.

This little guy was our camp mascot. Fortunately, he never found his way into our food supplies. That would have made it all the more annoying up there. This was something like my 8th attempt to take a picture of him. Every other time, just as I was focusing in on him, he disappeared. I think he was just waiting till he could pose properly . . .

A pic of the rest of the gang. Left to right: Kris, Luke, Lelah, Rachel, Phil. (Click the picture to enlarge).

Shortly after that pic, and another mile or so onwards and downwards, I realized I had left my little tackle box up at the first campsite. So, naturally, I told the rest to go on, and ran back up the mile and a half and 800 feet of elevation to go get it. And, right in the middle, I got nailed by a hailstorm, fully vindicating our decision to leave and head down.

Not much more to report after that. We made it down to our campsite for night two, off the trail and by a creek under some large evergreens. It proved much more comfortable, if much buggier, than the previous site. And, following a failed fishing expedition to Lost Lake, we opted to sleep (for 11 hours) and head out in the morning.


It's a cheesy shot, I know, but they all lined up on the bridge so nicely, that I couldn't resist taking a shot. This is the last 20 feet or so of hiking, right by the trailhead. Left to Right: Lelah (rather hidden behind Rachel), Rachel, Kris, Phil, and Luke.

Not the most successful of backpacking trips ever. But as Calvin says, in an impersonation of his dad, "being miserable builds character." It wasn't all miserable, but we certainly had some character building on this trip . . .

The Start of an interesting trip.

Last Thursday, I headed up to Indian Peaks with five friends, and high hopes, to do what was planned as a four day backpacking trip. The trip did not start well.

Before we even got out of Boulder, my friend Luke's dad called, saying his bike broke and he needed a couple tools. So we promptly delivered those, and were on our way only a half hour late.

And we opted to stop for lunch at Chipotle for burritos, a bit of a tradition on these trips. As Kris and I were walking back to my car after lunch, we heard the unmistakable "screeeeeech THUNK!!!" of a car crash. And, sure enough, two seconds later, we got a call saying "we've been in an accident." Fortunately, nobody was hurt, which is even more fortunate given that the woman who hit Luke was pregnant (8 months or so?).

Any way, we headed off up the canyon, but right as we turned onto Canyon, we got passed by three emergency vehicles, which we proceeded to follow up the canyon to Nederland.

But we didn't reach Ned right away. One of the emergency vehicles was a dive team, which stopped at the reservoir at the top of the canyon. The number of police, fire, and rescue cars at the reservoir was astounding. We ended up stopped for about half an hour as what we hoped would be a rescue was under way.

We finally did get to the trailhead, despite the delays, but Kris and I were wondering if the trip should even continue, or whether there would even be a trailhead, given the array of mishaps that had already happened.

Turns out, the trip went ok. The tableau at the reservoir was a search and rescue operation for a fisherman at Barker who had jumped in after his pole. His friend had jumped in after him, but had to let him go after the fisherman started pulling his would-be rescuer under. Regrettably, the search and rescue did not involve a rescue in time: the fisherman had succumbed to the cold and drowned soon after jumping in.

Moral of the story: if your rod falls into water that cold, don't go in after it. It's not worth your life. Hypothermia can strike within minutes in water of that temperature, and the muscles will seize up long before then.

More on the rest of the trip in the next post.