Gore Range Trail: September-October 2009
Two years have passed and I am preparing to fininshing up another season of backpacking. I have yet to write about my monumental trek along the 56 miles of the Gore Range Trail with Jenni, Clayton, Ty, and Sunshine. So much and so little transpired in the course of 5 days across the length of a mountain range that I've never been able to put into words, and still struggle with today. Others may never know the beauty of the elk bugeling at sunrise while savoring a few moments of warmth in a sleeping bag greatful to have survived another frigid night or the satisfaction of being truly self sufficient women breaking trail through the season's first snow above tree line. In no way is the following the complete story because that is something that lives on in our hearts and carried with us on the trail every day that we hike and every night that we sleep in our tents, but it will serve as a reminder of the journey and our peace, fear, strength, and determination. Fifty-six miles may not seem far, but I cannot count the verticle feet, water crossings, and changes in weather and emotion during the course of 5 days that felt like scarcely long enough to forget civilization and its trivialities.
One:
We had studied the maps. We knew where fresh water supplies should be and how many miles we had to make daily to return safely, on time, with adequate food. Some days would be long undulating hikes with 500-1000 verticle ft. pitches one after another after another, while other days we would put in fewer miles, starting earlier, and summiting one intense mountain pass during a window of clear weather and descending into the valley on the other side for the night. We chose camp sites in advance with great ambition and pushed onward daily to achieve our goals. The first morning we were up at sunrise, sleepy, but excited. Being up at the crack of dawn is not as daunting when you are headed on an adventure vs. headed to work. We loaded Jenni's trusted 4runner and she drove us to the trail head. We still we're sure how we would recover her vehicle at the end of the trip from the northern trailhead, our starting point, at the end of a 4 wheel drive road, she was the only one with a large 4 wheel drive vehicle. We passed by deer lazily grazing at dawn and after turning off the highway Jenni navigated us past hunting camps over the rough road which was slick with the first snowfall of the season. The dates of the trip had been set, and reset, and set again, and we were determined despite a cold front which brought temperatures 20* below the average for this time of year. Laden with exta layers, a full week's worth of food, & a full day's supply of water, we were off. We hadn't seen people since leaving town and would not see them again for quite some time.
The trail was tricky to follow at times. Not many people hike the northern segment, it lies the furthest from town and down the road in the worst condition. There were no other footprints in the snow beside ours as we wove through the forest, and we were relieved to occasionally spot some sort of sign or trail marker. We chatted and laughed and picked our way amongst the pines. It didn't take long to develop a certain method, rythym, routine, and the long hatch paired with a short hatch axed in a tree marking the Gore Range Trail, became a symbol for home, home where we were living for the next few days, and home where we were headed, on the right path.
After the first few miles Sunshine started whining and crying and being a general pain in the ass. I feared that bringing my faithful four legged friend along may have been a mistake that I would now be stuck with and forced to make the best of for another 50something miles. She is usually so good on hikes that I had no doubt she would be fine. Besides, what did she have to complain about? She was a dog running around in the woods chasing squirrels every 20 feet. I suppose it was cold and snowy, but she loves the snow, and I suppose her pack was loaded down, but we all were. As we got to the creekbed it became clear, this was not a complaint, but a warning, something wasn't right. There in the snow, were fresh lion tracks, far larger than those of my 75 lb. dog. Who were we kidding, this was not our home, it was the lion's home, and we were merely visitiors. I have lived and played in the Gore Range for years now, and while it is my home range, I have come to respect that it is larger than me and belongs to none other than itself; it is the rocks and the trees and the waterfalls and the mountains and the animals and you cannot separate out one part from the other and no one thing owns the Gore, but we canl all, for a time, be part of it.
We emerged on a high point with the valley laid out before us looking spectacular. We were exhaused and ready to make camp, less than a mile to go, but we had made a mistake, more of an oversight, while there may have only been a mile left there was another ridge to climb up, and down, between us and our selected campsite and our next water source. We pushed on, knowing that our timing had to be right for the high passes later in the trip. We trudged down, then up through private ranch land to a ridge with multiple paths where we tested our skills with a compass to figure out which one would not lead us astray. We selected carefully, becoming more and more confident of our decision as we descended again, this time to our campsite. The sign for Slate Creek was a blessing and a tease, for the creek was nowhere in sight, but we knew we were close. As darkness settled in we each found a role either building a tent, gathering firewood, or pumping water, as our longest day drew to a close and led into what would possibly be our longest night.
One:
We had studied the maps. We knew where fresh water supplies should be and how many miles we had to make daily to return safely, on time, with adequate food. Some days would be long undulating hikes with 500-1000 verticle ft. pitches one after another after another, while other days we would put in fewer miles, starting earlier, and summiting one intense mountain pass during a window of clear weather and descending into the valley on the other side for the night. We chose camp sites in advance with great ambition and pushed onward daily to achieve our goals. The first morning we were up at sunrise, sleepy, but excited. Being up at the crack of dawn is not as daunting when you are headed on an adventure vs. headed to work. We loaded Jenni's trusted 4runner and she drove us to the trail head. We still we're sure how we would recover her vehicle at the end of the trip from the northern trailhead, our starting point, at the end of a 4 wheel drive road, she was the only one with a large 4 wheel drive vehicle. We passed by deer lazily grazing at dawn and after turning off the highway Jenni navigated us past hunting camps over the rough road which was slick with the first snowfall of the season. The dates of the trip had been set, and reset, and set again, and we were determined despite a cold front which brought temperatures 20* below the average for this time of year. Laden with exta layers, a full week's worth of food, & a full day's supply of water, we were off. We hadn't seen people since leaving town and would not see them again for quite some time.
The trail was tricky to follow at times. Not many people hike the northern segment, it lies the furthest from town and down the road in the worst condition. There were no other footprints in the snow beside ours as we wove through the forest, and we were relieved to occasionally spot some sort of sign or trail marker. We chatted and laughed and picked our way amongst the pines. It didn't take long to develop a certain method, rythym, routine, and the long hatch paired with a short hatch axed in a tree marking the Gore Range Trail, became a symbol for home, home where we were living for the next few days, and home where we were headed, on the right path.
After the first few miles Sunshine started whining and crying and being a general pain in the ass. I feared that bringing my faithful four legged friend along may have been a mistake that I would now be stuck with and forced to make the best of for another 50something miles. She is usually so good on hikes that I had no doubt she would be fine. Besides, what did she have to complain about? She was a dog running around in the woods chasing squirrels every 20 feet. I suppose it was cold and snowy, but she loves the snow, and I suppose her pack was loaded down, but we all were. As we got to the creekbed it became clear, this was not a complaint, but a warning, something wasn't right. There in the snow, were fresh lion tracks, far larger than those of my 75 lb. dog. Who were we kidding, this was not our home, it was the lion's home, and we were merely visitiors. I have lived and played in the Gore Range for years now, and while it is my home range, I have come to respect that it is larger than me and belongs to none other than itself; it is the rocks and the trees and the waterfalls and the mountains and the animals and you cannot separate out one part from the other and no one thing owns the Gore, but we canl all, for a time, be part of it.
We emerged on a high point with the valley laid out before us looking spectacular. We were exhaused and ready to make camp, less than a mile to go, but we had made a mistake, more of an oversight, while there may have only been a mile left there was another ridge to climb up, and down, between us and our selected campsite and our next water source. We pushed on, knowing that our timing had to be right for the high passes later in the trip. We trudged down, then up through private ranch land to a ridge with multiple paths where we tested our skills with a compass to figure out which one would not lead us astray. We selected carefully, becoming more and more confident of our decision as we descended again, this time to our campsite. The sign for Slate Creek was a blessing and a tease, for the creek was nowhere in sight, but we knew we were close. As darkness settled in we each found a role either building a tent, gathering firewood, or pumping water, as our longest day drew to a close and led into what would possibly be our longest night.