Trip occurred 7-9 June 2009, Lost Creek Wilderness Area, Colorado.Dale and I spend two nights in the Lost Creek Wilderness. We hike in a measly 2.5, maybe 3 miles. I feel like I could go further, and am heartened by that. (Our first day's hike for the PNT will be 5-6 miles, though we'll be averaging more than that later). We find an established, if little-used campsite high on a knob of a hill, set into the trees. It offers easy access to water below, and an open meadow on the slope of the hill provides a beautiful view down the valley. I am excited to spend a couple nights here. And I acknowledge that we're not really doing much backpacking on this shakedown...it's really to get out, get a little hiking in, test the gear, and relax. I hope to see some cool animals. There's a chance for bear, elk, deer, coyote, fox, possibly mountain lion and maybe even moose!
Both evenings we are sent into sleep by the haunting, undulating winnow of common snipe. The fat-bodied water birds make the sound when wind flutters through their tail feathers during their courtship displays. In the morning we are greeted by active, adorable baby pine squirrels cavorting around the trees. Our camp is surrounded by pine squirrel middens (think “big squirrel pantry”). At first we get chattered at constantly. Then the active rodents seem to accept our intrusion and scurry up and down trees and across the cone-strewn forest floor without much regard for us.
(See the chickaree squirrel in this picture?)
The second day I wake rested, if a little sore. I am very glad not to put on a full pack. I'll have to have a better attitude about that when we start the PNT when we'll need to break camp nearly every day. Dale and I go on a short hike and lay back in the sage while sun alternates with clouds and flurries of the light, round snow I've always known as graupel blow through the valley. Rock formations rise from the dark, pine-cloaked slopes in hooked curves and rounded humps. No moose appear and no fish rise from the creek. It is quiet, peaceful and quickly chilling. We head back to camp just in time for the sun to emerge fully. We pump cold water from the snow-fed meadow stream. Later we take a nap in sun-speckled aspen trees. I savor this time. We will be working much harder for our rewards in a few short weeks.
The next morning we pack up camp and hike back out to the trailhead. We've spent two nights in the field and have learned these things about all the gear we've brought with us:
Most of our gear is in good shape. Old, perhaps, and heavy compared to more current materials, but durable.
We will, however, need to find Dale a pair of hiking pants.
- I need a couple less-worn pairs of wool socks to mail to myself half-way through the hike.
I would really, really appreciate a chair cover that will let me convert my Therm-A-Rest pad into a chair. (I've coveted Dale's for years, and never justified the cost for my own...until now).
Don't trust the durability of collapsible, soft-sided Nalgene bottles around pokey sticks or fire cinders. (Thank goodness for REI's generous return policy).
Those hard-sided, non-PBA, “indestructible” bottles are not, in the end, infallible.
You get what you pay for with inexpensive nylon rope (we snapped the cord of our hanging bag and will need new rope for bear-hangs).
We are glad we will be using mostly freeze-dried vegetables. The ones we dehydrated taste okay, but are chewy and strange.
You can't make tortillas if you forget to bring butter.
Powdered eggs have come a long way since we ate them at camp as kids. The ones we're bringing are MUCH better!
Silk sleeping bag liners are fabulous! Our old, tired, smashed-down bags have been given new life thanks to
Jag Bags. We woke to ice in our water bottles on the first morning but were toasty warm in our liners. Plus, they are from New Zealand which somehow makes them feel sexier. A little sense of luxury in the woods is not such a bad thing...
Merino wool base layers are going to be worth their high price – especially for three months of usage.
One more trip to REI should do it for us. I hope. (In fact, we took several more trips. I'm a little embarrassed by how much time we've spent in outdoor stores this month. Then again, we have been in Iowa for a long time...
So, two nights in the wilderness and I am feeling pretty good about our upcoming adventure. I am disappointed we did not see any big animals (those elusive charismatic ones), but know there will be plenty of other opportunities. Our car is still parked at the trailhead and we hope the muffler will hold up on the bouncy ride back to the paved road. We're about halfway out, discussing what we learned about gear when I round a corner and slam on the brakes.
Elk!
Four of the large deer-like ungulates are staring right at us from either side of the road. They're all cows (females), all sleek and shiny. I haven't seen an elk since returning to Colorado. My heart does a little flip. Elk play a central role in my recently completed thesis manuscript. After all the time I'd spent buried in that project, and in memories of a long-ago elk study, I can't help but feel a certain connection with these large creatures, though not in a spiritual, totem kind of way. It's more like running into an old friend on the street. Your paths cross, maybe only briefly, and when you part you find yourself smiling for no reason the rest of the day.
This is a perfect opportunity for a picture of our elk encounter. Of course neither of us thought to pull out the camera. I, for one, was too enamored and giddy to even consider it. We did get pictures of the next few critters we came across though!
When we hit the sage-flats near the end of our dusty ride out we stop to snap some shots of pronghorn. They are a bit too far away for a good image, though the next antelope is much closer, and does not move as much.
Along the final stretch of dirt road (the worst of the ruts, as a matter of fact), with the highway in sight we get stuck behind a long horse trailer. We end up feeling glad we did, because at five miles-per-hour we can't miss the golden eagle perched on a pronghorn carcass right next to the road. We weren't fast enough with the camera to catch the eagle sitting on its dinner, so you get a shot of the raptor as it winged away. Immediately the magpies arrive. Shortly after that crows appear overhead. Curious, soft-eyed cows came to the other fence and stare at us, and the scene across the road. It is all quite tranquil, despite the somewhat gruesome scene.
The pronghorn certainly wasn't there when we arrived three days before. We speculate on how it died. (Not by eagle talon, by the way. They'll take young pronghorn perhaps, but not adults. They will always stop by for a free meal, of course). Pronghorn are fast, fast, fast. They co-evolved with the North American version of a cheetah a long time ago, and never developed the muscles to jump up or over things. Just those muscles for running. So there aren't many predators who will take a full-grown antelope. Fences however, can be deadly. Perhaps the pronghorn got tangled in the barbed wire and scavengers dragged it to its current resting place. Maybe it was simply sick, and keeled over right there in the farmer's field with cows watching on.
I want to jump out of the car and poke around the dead animal's insides a little. But the growl in our bellies suggests finding our own food would be a more worthwhile use of time. So Dale and I turn north on Hwy 285, drive out of South Park (yes, that South Park), and head back toward civilization. We only have a short time in the mile-high state before the next leg of our journey takes us to Seattle. And from there, the PNT!
Jake looking both ways before using the toilet at Clarence Creek
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