I'm no Gambler

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run

"The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers

Yesterday, I left Carbondale with the idea of summiting nearby Mount Sopris. (12,965 feet). With a  70% chance of thunder-boomers and lightning as the forecast, I was more than a bit concerned. However, after my usual two pots of java for breakfast, I was feeling game on. 

As I made my way through the green ecozones, all was fine. The sun was shining, the wind was gentle and temperature was set for cotton instead of fleece. Perfect. By the time I got above tree line, conditions began to change. 

To the east of me, the valleys of the Maroon Bells/Snowmass Wilderness were beginning to fill with cloudy and wet stuff. I felt a few drops of moisture myself. It wasn't my sweat either. With half an Empire State Building of uphill ahead of me, I made a decision. It was time to head down. 

Despite Sopris' minuscule size compared to its neighbors, it's an extremely steep endeavor. The mountain's flank is composed of rock slabs strewn about in a haphazard state. The odds are "flip a coin" whether the unforgiving surface slides or not. The descent is tedious and slow. There is no quick exit off of Sopris. 

One can always second guess a hiking decision. Would I have been able to complete the climb safely? Possibly.

Did I make it back alive for another Happy Hour? Definitely. 

I made the right choice. Sopris is not going anywhere. 

Please try and make the Right Choice when you are in Wild Places. 

That's not my handwriting in the last photo. 

Hiking with a Viking...

I met Paul the Pilot (AKA Paul the Polly-Anna), on a long ago Ride the Rockies Bicycle Tour. He rode an antiquated Schwinn Le Tour bicycle. His metal steed was clunky, unresponsive and oppressively massive. Paul is a large, lean, headstrong, "Type A" Scandanavian. He muscled his bike up the passes, laughing at the Bike Nazis he left in his wake. He's a tough dude. 

I mentioned the newer, lighter bikes that were available in stores called Bicycle Shops. His answer, "This bike is fine. Why buy another one?" 

You know the saying, "You can always tell a Scandanavian, you just can't tell them much."

Now Paul is gainfully unemployed, recently divorced and taking the same heavy handed approach to backpacking. 

On our three-day, 28 mile journey in the Maroon Bells/Snowmass Wilderness of Colorado, Paul's concession to lightweight gear was leaving his Grand Piano behind and settling for a Baby Grand instead. Out of his Mount Everest Expedition pack came a pound of raisins, a heavy two person tent, (for himself), a container of liquid coffee creamer, a spice rack, a large plastic 7-11 coffee mug and other extraneous add-ons. I was surprised there was no portable sauna. I feared placing my puny backpack next to his. It might have eaten it. 

Now is a good time to mention, the hiking loop contains four passes over 12,000 feet too. 

So...just like that bicycle tour from so long ago, Paul employed brute strength to make his way up the passes. He still managed to leave most younger, better equipped hikers in his wake.The one and only reason I was ahead of him was my mini backpack was half the Wells Fargo Bank vault weight of his backpack. He's still a tough dude.

Then again, what can one expect from a region who brought the world such notable Bad-Asses as Eric the Red, Roald Amundsen and Fridtjof Nansen. I hear they eat lutefisk too. That's fish soaked in lye. 

At least our hiking conditions were to Paul's liking. Cold, wet, damp, cloudy and plenty of white death (snow) to traverse. Perfect for the newest Scandanavian Bad-Ass. 

This Cold Weenie survived the ordeal. In fact, a wonderful time was had by all. 

Cheers from Carbondale, Colorado,

Jeff

America's Greatest Invention...

Wilderness Areas, followed closely by National Parks.

Sure, Jazz, the Blues, Democracy and baseball are up there, but the notion of "Let It Be" land use is our Nation's best idea. (Besides the Internet, which I happened to have invented.) 

What a concept! A piece of land valued for what it doesn't have. No mining, no logging, no ranching, no motorized vehicles, and best of all, no subdivisions. 

For the past week, I visited four designated Wilderness Areas-Indian Peaks, Mount Zirkel, Sarvis Creek and felt compelled to visit the Cradle of Wilderness. I'm talking about the Flat Tops Wilderness (Colorado's second largest preserved area). 

All great ideas start with a visionary. The lovers of Wild Places (like myself) can thank U.S Forest Service landscape architect Arthur Carhart for his epiphany. His bosses sent him to remote Trappers Lake (in the year 1919) to come up with a game plan to build a few vacation cabins along its shore. When young Arthur saw the lake, and the volcanic amphitheater leaping from its shores, he filed this report to his supervisors.

"There are a number of places where scenic values are of such great worth that they are rightfully the property of all people. They should be preserved for all time for the people of the nation and the world." 

Thank you! Arthur! I couldn't have said it any better. 

Now I'm at a campsite scattered along the outflow of Trappers Lake. While I quietly quaff my IPAs, my neighbors seem to whisper in their conversations. Maybe they are showing reverence to the beauty that's around them. 

On today's 11 mile hike to Wall Lake the only sounds I heard was the wind whistling past the burnt snags from the 2002 Big Fish Fire. (I heard my heavy breathing too, but we won't go there.) 

Shortly after Mr. Carhart's proclamation, another visionary saw the light. Aldo Leopold fought for America's first Wilderness Area-the Gila Wilderness of New Mexico. He won that battle, but in reality, we all won.

Here's a plethora of photos from our Treasury of Just Trails. In the last photo, there's Paul, Robin and Jenny overlooking Gilpin Lake in the Mount Zirkel Wilderness. Contrary to popular belief, I don't go solo all the time. Oftentimes I go fishing for companions, but I usually come away with an empty creel. 

As Jeff Shakespeare once wrote, "Tis better to go-eth alone, than never to go-eth at all." 

Enjoy America's best invention. I do.

Cheers!

Jeff