STRAWBERRIES AND BANANAS
We set out on a dayhike the
next morning. It was my birthday, and I
couldn’t think of any way I’d rather spend it.
Originally I had planned to spend two of our three days in the area
climbing 14ers. We were camped a few
miles down the road from Redcloud, Sunshine, and Handies Peaks. All of those mountains exceed the magical
14,000’ elevation mark, and draw climbers from all over the world. However, Myron was still acclimating to the
altitude, and Christy’s knee hadn’t really improved despite several leisurely
days in a row. I decided to pull back
on the ambition level, but planned to save Handies Peak for our final day
there.
Instead, we decided on a
modest dayhike in the Uncompahgre Wilderness west of Lake City. This wilderness features two more 14ers,
Uncompahgre and Wetterhorn. We weren’t
planning on climbing either of them, but figured we’d get some nice views
anyway.
We drove into Lake City,
where we picked up route 20 toward Engineer Pass. Route 20 is a dirt road, but the lower portion is generally
passable to passenger cars (Engineer Pass requires 4WD). However, the unusually wet summer had
rendered even the best parts of this road badly rutted in places. After a few miles, we turned right at a fork
in the ghost town of Capitol City and headed up along the North Fork of Henson
Creek. The road conditions rapidly
deteriorated. We slowly lurched our way
up the road, as ruts, potholes, and exposed rocks threatened to batter the
underside of the Xterra. For not the first
time, I expressed relief that we weren’t in my Corolla! Even in the Xterra, the rest of the drive
was grueling. By the time we reached
the fork to the Matterhorn Trailhead, I was ready to make an appointment with a
chiropractor.
We took advantage of a small
parking area at the fork, as there was no advantage to driving farther. In fact, I was relieved that we’d made it
that far without flattening a tire or loosing something important off the
bottom of the car.
We gathered our gear, and
began the hike continuing up the same road.
The route I had planned required a short road-walk, followed by a hike
up a trail along Mary Alice Creek. Once
above treeline, we’d reach a 4-way junction.
From there, we could make a loop using the Wetterhorn Basin and Middle
Canyon Trails. After completing that
loop, we’d return by way of the Matterhorn Trailhead and access road. The double-loop would make for an
interesting figure-8 route that would require minimal road walking and no
backtracking.
After about a half-mile we
crossed Mary Alice Creek and found the trail on the opposite side. We quickly realized that this trail is not
one of the more heavily traveled routes in the area. Typically, the trails that provide access to the 14ers and other
high peaks are trampled, while other paths are overlooked. This path was a bit brushy, which was
tedious since the vegetation was wet.
We were all soaked before we had gotten out of sight of the road. The trail generally stayed close to the
creek, and we rock hopped the stream once along the way. At times we passed through dark spruce and
fir forest, while other areas featured grassy meadows. At one point, I discovered wild strawberries
growing alongside the trail.
After a fair climb we
reached treeline and an area of confusion.
The map showed our trail continuing straight up the drainage to a
junction with the Saddle Trail.
However, the obvious path began switchbacking up the hillside to the
right. When in doubt, I prefer to stay
on the obvious trail. Plus, it was
gaining elevation, so it appeared that it would still take us where we wanted
to go.
Several switchbacks later,
we left the last of the trees behind.
The steady climb continued, until an obvious pass loomed ahead of
us. We finally reached it, and were
rewarded with a spectacular sight. From
the pass, we had a fantastic view across a lovely basin to the towering spire
of Wetterhorn Peak. Dozens of other
peaks were scattered beyond Wetterhorn, including Matterhorn and
Uncompahgre. The vibrant colors added
to the view. The grassy meadows were a
brilliant green, and the red rocks of the peaks contrasted nicely with the
occasional patch of snow. It was a bit
early, but it wasn’t a view we could rush by.
We stopped for an early lunch, which gave us a chance to enjoy the vista
and ponder exactly where we were.
Our location didn’t seem to
match any likely spot on the map. The
trail we had followed turned to follow the ridge to the southeast towards a
minor summit. Another trail headed down
into the basin to the northwest. I
thought we might be at the junction with the Middle Canyon and Matterhorn
Cutoff Trails, but the topography didn’t match that spot on the map.
The good news is that you
aren’t lost unless you can’t find your way back. I didn’t have any concerns about that, so we decided to wing
it. Well, actually I decided to wing
it. Now that I look back on it, I’m not
sure I fully disclosed my uncertainty to Myron or Christy. At least Saucony didn’t care. She’d follow me just about anywhere.
After lunch, we descended
slightly past a cliff and into the basin.
We were still well above treeline, and the jaw-dropping views of
Wetterhorn and the high tundra continued.
Beyond the base of the cliff, the path we were following continued to
drop towards the basin floor. I wasn’t
real sure I wanted to go down there.
After all, we’d worked hard to get up where we were. That’s when I noticed an obvious trail ahead
of us traversing the headwall of the basin.
I eyed that trail, consulted the map, and concluded that it must be the
Wetterhorn Basin Trail, where we were supposed to be. We seemed to be off-route to the east. We could’ve continued cross-country to regain the trail, but I
was pretty sure the correct route was just across the ridge to our left.
Somehow I convinced Myron
and Christy to follow me, and we climbed off-trail through the meadows towards
a non-descript pass. The pass looked
like an easy climb, but the terrain was steep, and there was no trail. Fortunately, I was right. At the top of the ridge, I spotted a trail
sign below. We hiked down to it, and
regained our bearings.
Now we were at the 4-way
junction I’d been looking for. Earlier
we’d had lunch at an unnamed pass on the ridge just northwest of peak
12,431. Unfortunately, we had killed a
lot of time and energy getting reoriented.
Plus, heavy gray clouds were rolling in. Afternoon thunderstorms seemed likely, so we decided to shorten
the hike. We’d eliminate the Middle
Canyon / Wetterhorn Basin loop. This
would change the route from a figure-8 to a figure-0, but that was ok. The area was beautiful, and I was just glad
to be there.
Before we left, I wanted to
see the view from the pass just above us on the Middle Canyon Trail. Christy wasn’t feeling that ambitious, so
Myron, Saucony, and I followed the trail up past a snowfield to the
divide. The view here was nice, but
nothing compared to our lunch spot.
After a brief pause, we retreated to rejoin Christy at yet another pass
overlooking Wetterhorn Basin. The view was
similar to our lunch spot, but we had shortened the hike, so I didn’t see any
reason to rush back to camp.
During our break we were
treated to some entertainment. As we
relaxed, we spotted a large group of backpackers far below, hiking up the
basin. The group was off-trail, and it
wasn’t immediately clear where they were going. This was simply because they really weren’t going anywhere. The long line of perhaps a dozen hikers
would shuffle forward a few steps, before everyone would begin milling about. Some would sit down. Others would wander around in small
circles. Then, a burst of activity
would result in another 20 yards of progress, before another bout of apparent
uncertainty. What were they doing down
there? All I could be sure of was that
we were witnessing the slowest hike in recorded history!
Someone produced
binoculars. Oh Lord, what were we
coming to? We took turns checking out
the action, or inaction, and speculating about what was going on. I focused in on a solitary figure wearing a
bright yellow 2-piece rain suit. This
fellow, whom we referred to as “Captain Banana”, seemed to be the leader of
this bizarre expedition. As we watched,
a map was produced. Uh-oh. That can’t be good.
Captain Banana consulted the
map, while a couple others looked over his shoulder. Just beyond them, I noticed people taking their packs off. Many folks sat down. One actually curled up in the meadow and
appeared to nap. Would we be witness to
a mutiny?
Finally the map was put
away. Hikers were roused, and packs
were donned. The group shuffled forward
another 20 yards. Then they stopped
again. Now what? Oh dear, the map was back out.
At this point, we were
borderline hysterical. I’m really not
sure why this was so funny. Personally,
I blame the altitude. All I could think
of while watching this unfold was it would make a great sporting event for late
at night on, say, ESPN 9. The ideal
commentators for the event would be Eric Idle and John Cleese of Monty Python
fame. The broadcast may have sounded
something like this:
Eric: We’d
like to welcome viewers that may just now be tuning in to our coverage of “the
slowest hike in recorded history”! We
won’t bore you with the details of what you’ve missed. Instead, we’ll get right to the action. John?
John: Action,
what bloody action? They’re just
milling about again. Oh, wait, what’s
this? They’re moving again.
Eric: Really,
they’re moving?
John: Yes, wait…no.
They’re down. Captain Banana’s
got the map out again.
Eric: It looks
to me like he’s got it upside down.
John: Yes,
you’re right, that’s very observant of you.
Eric: Well,
that can’t help, can it?
John: No, I
suppose not. Perhaps we should go down
to our field reporter. Perhaps he can
shed some light on what’s going on down there.
Graham?
Graham: Well
John, it’s certainly quite puzzling.
Clearly, Captain Bananas’ leadership is in question. In fact, he’s in danger of loosing control
of the mission. It’s a good thing the
group is well-provisioned. If they end
up having to eat each other, I think we all know who’s going down first.
John: If they
had ice cream, they could make “Bananas Foster”.
Eric: Graham,
do you think you can get a little closer to the leader so we can listen in on
what’s being said?
Graham: I’ll
just slide over here and eavesdrop a bit.
Captain Banana is currently in a heated debate with another hiker.
Captain Banana:
Let’s just take a minute here and figure out where we are before we rush
off again.
Other hiker:
Actually, I was thinking that it’s time to split.
<Awkward Silence>
Captain Banana:
Perhaps we should just camp here?
Other hiker:
It’s only 2 in the afternoon.
Clearly it’s time for us to peel on out of here.
<Awkward Silence>
<Snicker.
Giggle.>
Captain Banana:
What, you think that’s funny! Perhaps it’s time I made an example out of
you!
Graham: As
you can see John, there’s considerable dissension in the group. In fact, yes, this is turning into quite a
melee. A fracas, even. Look out!
Was that a cow? I’m getting out
of here. Back to you John.
Eric: I can’t
wait to find out how this will turn out!
John: Neither
can we. Now though, we need to pause
for a word from our sponsors. Don’t go
anywhere, you don’t want to miss this carnage!
We tired of this after an
hour or so. I felt a little bit bad
about it, but they were a long way away, and off-trail. If they couldn’t see the obvious trail
traversing the head of the basin from where they were, I wasn’t sure how much I
could’ve helped them anyway. We
eventually packed up, and began descending towards a stream and treeline. The trail was faint, but we were able to
follow it all the way down to the creek.
Eventually we lost it, but crossed the stream to find it on the far
side. Before long, we reached a
junction with the trail to the summit of Wetterhorn. A few minutes later, the rain finally came. At least we knew that the crowd up in
Wetterhorn Basin had rain gear!
A quick hike led out to the
Matterhorn Trailhead. From there, we
descended on the 4WD road, which wasn’t much worse than the road along North
Henson Creek. We passed a campsite at
the trailhead, and reached the car less than a mile later. From there, we just had to endure another
brain-jarring drive back to Lake City.
That evening, the rain cleared off long enough for us to grill steaks
for dinner. Afterwards, Christy
attempted to bake me a birthday cake in our camp stove oven. The good news is that half the cake came out
great. The other half was carbon, but
we were able to share the edible parts.
The meal brought an end to an enjoyable birthday in the Rockies.
Back to Colorado
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Please remember to Leave No Trace!