Pawnee Pass

I set off to a popular set of trailheads collectively referred to as Brainard Lake in the Indian Peaks Wilderness. The hike started very gently rolling by Long Lake and soon opened up to views of the divide all around. Wildflowers were just begining to dot the meadows--my favorite being the indian paintbrush.



As the path split towards the divide and away from Lake Isabelle around 10,500. I began to leave the rushing streams and verdant meadows for familiar granite strewn hillside.

Columbines.

Pawnee Pass.

Above I have the view back to the east and my steps to reach this height with a beautiful vista of all the mountain lakes in the valley. And just above is my tribute to Ansel Adams.

My beloved paintbrushes just started to redden and extend to the sun.

Lake Isabelle--glacially fed.

Marmot!

Long's Peak Attempt--Keyhole Route (14,259 ft.)

In order to celebrate the end to my first round of training, my classmate, Jon, and I decided to summit Long's Peak. Long's is one of Colorado's numerous 14-ers or 14,000 ft peaks--and it was the closest to us, sitting high up in the western horizon visible anywhere east or north of Boulder.

In order to summit and return to below treeline before 12-2 pm you have to start hiking around 4 am. Not knowing what we'd find or how hard the 7 mile hike straight up would be, we left Boulder around 1 am and started breathing and walking methodically around 2 am.

At about 5 am the eastern sky started to glow pink and the faceless rocky trail began to appear, along with a massive amount of earth which we were attempting to climb. By the time we saw the sun we were slowly approaching the boulder field which lay in between us and the keyhole notch we'd soon clamber over to get to the back side of the mountain.

The mountain was soon ablaze with alpenglow. I later realized this would truly be the highlight of this trek, and not touching the summit. At dawn we began to orient ourselves and take in the astounding scale of beauty we'd walked among for hours in the dark.

Here we saw the massive eastern face of Long's reflecting the dawn. Now as we hopped along the house sized boulders we aimed for the keyhole (pictured below) as we passed through terrain only to be described as pure fun.

At the keyhole the hike became more technical and a bit frightening. Near the notch the hiking gave way to climbing. The view from that point (somewhere in between 13-13,700ft was shocking. We had a eagle's view of the rocky mountain national park to the north and the frozen lakes and peaks quietly resting behind Long's.

]The giant's shadow.

The "narrows"--the trail, not just the steep western slope of the mountain. Here is where we were inclined to listen to prudence and turn around. From this point we hiked on as long as we could until the trail became laden with ice--spelling doom. We saw a few hiker's with winter climbing gearheading back and they said they were unable to get much farther than we had. The season for an ice-free Long's should start around mid-July until the first snow storms in September, we'd started around mid-June. Our hike, while not extending to the top, was still so full of wonder.

Long's from about 10, 500 ft. It is the tallest peak on the right.

The climb back was basically a delusional experience having started so early and having already had such a vast experience. Seeing so many hikers getting started on dayhikes in the area began to play with my sense of time and I was truly confused when I turned on my car to find the time to be only 10:20 am. After 14 miles and about 10, 000 ft of gain and loss we drove home and slept away the rest of the day.

Arapaho Pass, Indian Peaks Wilderness

Having been here since October without hiking in the backcountry it was nice to finally set out. I had intended to camp a couple nights looping together two trails with a leg along the continental divide trail, but I ran into a lot of snow.

The trailhead for Arapaho Pass trail begins under treeline, but quickly thins to an alpine landscape. Deciding to scrap the camping, I still wanted to see if I could get up to the divide.

A view of the trail up to the divide. The trail had 3-4 snowfields still intact but the full sun made the snow soft and yielding.
Mt. Neva is the taller mountain at the left. At the sign post two trails met and I met the ridge of the pass at about 12,000 ft.
Looking south at Mt. Neva, quickly snapping photos while being blasted with wind.

West over the pass. Above you can see the rock shelter set up to hunker down against the gusts. It's perfectly calm behind them as they were set below the ridge as well, but as soon as I stepped up the winds were howling. A couple days before we had recorded gusts around 100mph with a late spring storm. I can't imagine what it was like up here.

Being up at this altitude reminded me of hiking Kilimanjaro and just how harsh alpine conditions can be. Accordingly seeing small life exist here was just astounding and fueled my desire to take these photos below.

Below is the view from the pass heading east back to the trailhead--stunning.

Views from Bear Peak; above 8,000 ft

Wildflower found along the Mesa trail below Bear Peak.

West: View of the Continental Divide. You can spot a passing rain squall in the right corner.

Northeast: View of Boulder and Boulder reservoir.

Northwest: View of the Divide with the intensifying squall moving east.

Southeast: View of the plains extending easterly [ Denver seen by eye, but perhaps not caught by the photo].

Cheyenne (Photos from late Winter)

Denver Botanic Gardens

All of these shots come from the Tropical Conservatory as the outside gardens weren't quite as colorful as the rainforest yet. The grounds are absolutely beautiful and I look forward to going again during the summer.

AT notes #6: Damascus to Pearisburg, VA

5/12

Today was a zero day to help assuage some of the shin and heel pain I accrued from the long days since I got back on trail. I did some reading, chatting, and eating: Burritos again with a milkshake afterwards.I also decided to stay in Damascus because rain was soaking the highlands north and I wanted to make sure I'd have a clear day to walk among the wild pony herds in the strange canadian landscape of the Grayson Highlands.

Mt. Rogers, the tallest point in VA., is a short blue blaze off the AT in the highlands. During a trip during the fall I'd walked up there at night to summit and found it completely surrounded by trees--no vista at all. Knowing this I knew I could pass it now for the rich views throughout the highlands ahead. The Grayson highlands comprise the last stretch of significant elevation until northern Mass. and I intended to wait for a clear day to truly celebrate this land.

5/13

I made some phone calls from this payphone in Damascus that requires no money--truly magical. Sidestep was kind enough to wait for me as I talked at length with Heather before she left for work. We then set off along the trail as it led out of town. The AT here overlaps with the Creeper Trail, an railroad gauge converted to bike path that leads from Damascus up hill to Whitetop Mt. As we walked out of town the AT quickly turned off the Creeper trail and led up into the hills. The forecast called for clouds today and sun tomorrow--perfect set up for the highlands.

The rest in Damascus was helpful but I still needed healing, and worse I'd felt strong pain in my shin. The forest extended on and at times I caught sight of the Creeper Trail running parallel and flat. I'd felt that the two trails should just be united especially since the elevation changes seemed unecessary when there the Creeper Trail was flat and undulating and already there. Eventually the trails united for a spell. It crossed a bridge where the photos below were taken.

The trails again diverged as we went up to our campsite at Lost Mountain. Sidestep and I found spots for our tarps under the cover of a grove of hemlocks behind the full shelter. I went to the privy and I found that someone had written the entire "Lorax" and I gladly stayed a little longer to read a bit despite the obvious sensory limitations.
5/14

Up with the sun, Sidestep and I traveled on towards the highlands. We followed the trail up through a field of cattle, past an abandoned brick house (which we thought should be converted into a hostel) and up the trail bordered by a green forest floor. By mid-morning we had ascended to Buzzard Rock to gaze over the hills and flatlands that extended southwest. The canopy had ceased and the hills were just grass, trail, and rock.
As we approached Elk Garden and the road there we found a small sign. On it was written, "Trail magic ahead, Tinkerbell." Naturally this quickened our pace as trail magic always does, and it had been awhile since we were blessed with gifts for our journey. Tinkerbell turned out to be a very tall man. He had some egg/sausage biscuits he'd baked, along with some fresh fruit. He'd thru-hiked the year before and we actually knew some mutual hikers. We thanked him and crossed the road and stile into Grayson Highlands.

We shared the trail with some cows for awhile and then the trail took us up to the ridgeline of the highlands beginning withThomas Knob. From there the trail continued a long the ridge to this large rocky outcropping. We climbed to the top to enjoy lunch with a wide vista of infinite forest below (no pics--batteries died). The trail became a climb over boulders of granite and saddles of grass in between. And finally we got to visit the wild ponies who populate the highlands, left as the vestige of European settlement in the mountains who've long departed.

This was one of my best days on trail and I loved every minute of the beauty before us. The day consisted of long walks through wide open meadows and the constant warmth of the sun.
We walked through the entire highlands and set up camp late. We could see a thunderstorm approaching the highlands from our vantage point well below as we sat by a campfire fueled by the wood some lovely person had left. As the rain started to fall,we retreated to our tarps and prepared for a stormy night. This storm was particularly vicious as my tarp blew in on me all night despite the extra stakes and tight pitch. There was also leak over my head and feet, but there was nothing I could do except curl into the fetal position until the morning.

5/15

Moving out into the damp morning Sidestep and I talked about the pizza we'd order tonight. Partnership shelter where we were bound is close to the highway and the area's recreation headquarters is there also, with phone service and showers. To be able to do these things from a shelter along the AT was indeed novel and glorious.

The rain came again and with it damp cold. The pain in my shin now was almost unbearable and yet I labored on. After 10 miles we came to a road. I could barely walk and Sidestep felt sick. We walked towards Troutdale, VA with no other choice. The rain became hail and no one would pick us up. I remember seeing bikers pedaling uphill getting pelted with frozen precipitation and thinking they definitely had it worse.

We started cursing cars and feeling pretty desperate. Finally a van pulled over just as the clouds gave way a bit. The driver turned out to be the trading post owner (the only grocer and restaurant in town). She offered to open if we needed any supplies (as it was Sunday), but we felt adequately supplied as this stop was not planned. Pulling up to hostel at the Baptist church we surveyed our new digs. The two room house was a spartan floor with a few chairs, a port-o-john outside and showers in the backof the church...the best part was the heat--we had the place warm in minutes. How quickly our luck had changed.

After we showered and took care of drying gear we began to wonder what next. At that time Rael, a man I met at the hiker hostel in GA where I began this journey, showed up--now with a huge beard. I recognized his sharp northern speech first and eased into conversation where we uncovered our past meeting. He'd expected never to see me again because I was hiking pretty light, but here we were again in much different context.

I delayed thinking of the big questions of how serious my injury was until after dinner. Dinner came first from a local gentleman and his wife. Locals in Troutdale often drive by the hostel on Sunday when the trading post is closed and offer a warm meal. Two such offerings came to us: one a meal of country ham, biscuits, and cobbler; the second was beef stew and biscuits--and we ate both. Both were fantastic and so graciously provided. We all got a chance to speak with the preacher who initiated the building of this hostel for thru-hikers. He took great care to make sure we were well and comfortable--stopping by several times to check on us.

5/16 -- 5/17

The next few days consisted of resting and eating every meal at the trading post. Thru-hikers continued to pour into this tiny burg to escape the nasty weather. We'd heard of an inn outside of town and decided to treat ourselves to a night with a bed and some TV. The Fox Hill Inn (above) was a quiet old bed and breakfast atop a green hill with views of the sloping mountains around. I spent the day reading and testing the strength of my leg.
Still unable to hike out, Sidestep and I devised a plan to make the long hitch to the next big trail town: Pearisburg. The goal was two-fold: to allow my leg time to heal by skipping the 110 mile section; and to catch up with friends who were likely there preparing to hitch back south to Damascus for Trail Days (the major AT festival).

The hitch was very tricky involving first the short hitch from Troutdale to Marion. Once in Marion we were located along I-81 and could hitch to the Pearisburg exit about 70 miles north and from their 30 miles northwest to Pearisburg. A complicated hitch, but possible with a good smile and attitude.

Coming out of Troutdale was easy, we found a ride at the Trading post. But in Marion we stalled for awhile. A brother and sister section hiking had the same plan so we joined thumbs in Troutdale for the journey.

The first hitch from Marion was only two exits. And the next only 20 miles. Now in Atkins we looked for the perfect hitch. Waiting in front of McDonalds at the exit we danced, smiled, and waved our sign made in the process of hitching. It now read: "AT hikers going North on 81 or Pearisburg," as we had marked out the towns we already reached. We caught the attention a student at Va. Tech who ultimately decided to give us all a ride the whole way, which was well out of his way. We scored and knew it thanking him profusely.

In Pearisburg we picked up packages at the PO and found the hiker hostel at the Catholic church and some familiar faces.

5/18

I woke this morning sleeping on a picnic table outside a hostel in Pearisburg.The sun was seeping through the fog surrounding me on this hill overlooking a mountain ridge and bright green grass. There I met with folks I had known since the early days and inquired about my friends. It seemed they intended to make it here before Trail Days but had hitched in early to Damascus to get a campsite.
I knew the end to this hike was near, but I still entertained the notion of setting off again in a few days. Now recumbent for several days I felt the need for the movement that walking around town and down the hill from the hostel to walmart couldn't satisfy. I eventually destroyed my fears of not making it to Maine, of not hiking every mile and I embraced the moments before I would leave the trail for now.

(So pimp, with so much food to figure out what to do with)

5/19

I told Sidestep I'd have to rest long enough to stop hiking this hike. And that today I'd be traveling home. I arranged a ride to Blacksburg where there was a bus that would take me to Roanoke; there I would board the greyhound traveling home to Norfolk and my parents. I phoned them and Heather the night before as soon as it was final in my mind. So quickly I found myself at home 2 months after I'd flown out to Atlanta.

5/20...The floor in my headquarters room, where I had done all the logistical work was still full of boxes bound for places like Hanover, NH and Rangeley, ME. I eventually cleaned all of this up during the few weeks I stayed at home. I was eager for my next adventure. I found myself home in time to go to a friend's wedding and catch up with old friends. I convinced them briefly I had come off trail and hitched the 6 hours back home just for the wedding. It was a beautiful celebration.

Most of the 500 miles I've seen is a corridor that expands ever-forward and when it ceases to reveal a lake, a river valley, or bald mountain vistas, you stop and and really treasure such a gift. And accordingly, I treasure my experience and look, forward to finishing the hike as I set off from Troutdale into those loving hills again.

I caught up with my friends north of Roanoke as I drove out to New Mexico. I spent the night with them and enjoyed all of the benefits of a thru-hiker zero day: swimming, wiffle ball, beers, and food. I donated all of the food I bought for the other 2 months I expected to be on trail to them. They used this food to help them get farther north. They all stopped hiking in northern Va and Penn. and either went home or on other trips out west. We still keep in touch now that they live in Reno and me in Boulder. I expect to see them sometime this spring. We'd talked about hiking the PCT together in 08' and it sounds promising.

Now winter here in Colorado I look forward to the mountains here this summer. I've begun planning small trips along the Colorado Trail and other wilderness areas near Boulder.

The rhythm of walking everyday in a new place along a strip of trail extending from foot to horizon is when I feel all, and thus celebrate my spirit.