A Colorado State of Mind

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Between a Rock and a Steep Place

Black Canyon of the Gunnison is like a smaller Grand Canyon without the crowds. Sheer walls of black granite rise up 2250 feet from the Gunnison River, and similar to the Grand Canyon, a very long drive separates the north and south rims. Unlike the Grand Canyon, you can literarily walk up to the ranger station and obtain a permit on the same day as you wish to hike down into the canyon. This is exactly what my dad and I decided to do- hike 2000 feet down to the Gunnison River within a miles distance- an extremely steep and precarious feat. Prior to being handed your free permits, the rangers take out a large binder for you to review- a collection of pictures depicting all the dangers and possible ways to die or be seriously hurt on the voyage to the bottom of the canyon- from rockslides, drop-offs, mountain lions, hypothermia, and dehydration to less severe but still annoying poison ivy, stinging nettle, sunburn, scrapes, bruises and twisted ankles. They seem to do their best at trying to talk you out of this foolish hike, but I think that is just to scare off the weak and timid. Dad and I started our trek around 8 am, the trail starting with a slight grade and then quickly changing into a steep and treacherous scramble. At times the "hike" down is so steep you must use a 100+ foot chain to lower your body down the canyon walls, virtually repelling. We would hear rock slides above us and wonder what sort of creature was capable of loosening the large rocks. Every step had to be calculated, with all possible dangerous outcomes considered, and decisions would have to made, as should I veer to the left and risk a misstep and one hundred foot tumble, or should I stray towards the slightly less steep right, while trying to avoid that large dangling stinging nettle branch (a plant that is covered in hollow stinging hairs which act like hypodermic needles, injecting stinging histamine into your skin if touched). I quickly noticed my sweat was not just a result of the physical exertion, but from a constant nervousness and fear, similar to what I've experienced while rock climbing on steep portions of those man-made rock climbing walls. It was not what I'd consider a relaxing walk in the woods. But, we did make it to the bottom, rinsed our dusty feet in the cold rushing river, had lunch, rehydrated, and started our trek back out. Climbing out was much easier for me. It was steep and exhausting, but at least I felt fairly certain my body was only going to follow as far as my next foot placement. About five hours later, dirty, bruised, and stinking, we checked back into the ranger station to let them know we had made it out. We gazed out from the visitor center, down into the canyon, looking at the only view the majority of visitors would see- from the top. That day, we were warriors.

Blue Mesa Reservoir, near Gunnison

Summer Storm

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

Looking Down

Yes, we hiked down there!

The Painted Wall

At the Top

On the way down, holding onto the chain for dear life

At the bottom!

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

I'm Talking About a Little Place Called Aspen

So where are you headin?

Aspen.

Hmmm... California! Beautiful!

Late last 4th of July night, we decided to ditch our back breaking plans to xeriscape our yard over the next 3 days and instead take a trip- to a place where the beer flows like wine, where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I'm talking about a little place called Aspen.

I found an awesome deal on a ski condo in Snowmass Village and so we packed up food from our fridge, loaded up the car, and we were off!

Reaching Aspen from Colorado Springs is relatively easy in the summer when Independence Pass is open, crossing the continental divide at 12,095 feet. The view from this high altitude road (not to mention the lack of oxygen) is breathtaking, and quickly after descending you are driving through deep canyons and thick aspen groves- it's no wonder how this place got its name.

While Aspen sounds like an pricey trip, it certainly doesn't have to be, especially in the summer when the same luxury condos rent for a third of the ski season rates. Once we arrived we parked our car and didn't drive again as there are free buses to take you anywhere- into town, around ski village, and to the Maroon Bells Snowmass Wilderness.

Maroon Bells is a must for anyone's bucket list. Living in Colorado it is easy to become a bit jaded when it comes to mountain scenery, but the Maroon Bells quickly reinstituted my sense of enchantment. As our bus pulled up the driver let us know that this is one of the most photographed spots in the country. And then I heard families and kids sigh in disgust- we had just driven into a thick cloud covering the Maroon Bells producing a heavy downpour. There was no there, there. It was a somber mood as all 36 passengers trudged off the bus in the rain, some joking that they should just stay on and take the same bus back to town. We quickly shuttled into one shelter that could barely cover us all and waited. Already I was regretting my clothing choice- no rain gear and a cotton (cotton?!) long sleeve shirt over a more practical nylon running shirt. Already I was feeling cold and damp. We waited with the others, every one tourists no doubt, mostly determined to have a good time despite the rain.

Then it happened- the sun came out (although it was still raining). As we all huddled together, this breaking news event was announced by many, meant as an act of encouragement to others who had become disheartened. We watched in amazement as a pocket of clearing mist opened up and grew in size right over the Maroon Bells. The sight was breathtaking. The rain stopped, and one by one we all left the shelter and ventured out to begin our exploration. The next few hours were spent frolicking around Maroon Lake and then after a 2 mile hike Crater Lake, enjoying our picnic lunch, taking in the views, and dreaming of continuing on the trail to Maroon Pass, further into the wilderness and loveliness.

We boarded the packed 4 pm bus along with many of the same people who we had rode out with. Everyone had clearly had a good time. As the bus pulled out another downpour began and the Maroon Bells disappeared once again... I suppose sometimes timing is everything.

Driving up to Independence Pass

Thru the clouds...

To the top

Maroon Bells

Maroon Lake

Hike out to Crater Lake

Crater Lake

Sideways in Santa Barbara County

It was time for a change of pace. And as my turbo prop landed in dreamy Santa Barbara the change was definitely noticeable. I had left a high and dry 90 degrees and landed into a humid mid 60's with a sea breeze carrying salt and tropical delights. As I cruised north on the 101 in my upgraded Mustang convertible, with crashing ocean waves and swinging palm trees in my view, my body in shock from the heady dose of abundant oxygen and moisture at sea level, I thought "We're not in Colorado anymore, Toto".

The plan was simple- retrace the steps of Miles and Jack in Sideways while avoiding any arrests or serious damage (I didn't spring for that extra car rental insurance, you know). We would stay at the Windmill Inn in Buellton, load up on a hearty Dutch breakfast in the morning, have picnics by day in the vineyard hills, walk (not drive!) to the Hitching Post at night, gorge ourselves at AJ Spurs another night and drink lots of good pinots and syrah (we were not going to be drinking any $%#%^$&* merlot!).

California is sensory overload. The smells are intoxicating and ever changing as we zip past vineyards, forests and coastline. The shrubs out here are rosemary- rosemary! If there is a more fragrant herb in this world I would be hard pressed to find it. Hints of eucalyptus, lavender, lilac, and pine also make regular appearances. The tastes are enchanting- a syrah with nuances of crushed violet, mineral, and rich berry, a chardonnay that hits your tongue like a vanilla teardrop from the sky, and multi-faceted pinots that transform in your mouth like an Everlasting Gobstopper. The sights are undeniably, well, California, and the sounds are mostly the quiet musings in my mind, minus a light breeze or call of a bird. This is why we come to California.

So, I suppose in the end our trip turned into what it was that Miles was hoping for on his trip with Jack- we drank a lot of good wine, ate some great food, played some golf (okay, we didn't really play golf), and enjoyed the scenery. Well done!