Eat More Beans

We've lost touch with our children. This is all they do. Ever. We actually took away Clash of Clans, since it required constant maintenance from Quinn, but installed Minecraft on our home computer in trade. 

Quinn starts middle school tomorrow and Abbey has been in marching band camp for the last couple of weeks. So summer is over and it's only the middle of August. But that's no surprise, because there's really not much that goes on here that actually makes any sense.

For example, my parents came out and brought their oldest and youngest grandchildren. We rode our bikes to a flood control structure to play. We also went to the zoo, where we truly belong, and we rode a real Galloping Goose, although not at the zoo.

And we had a tornado a week before they came. Funnily enough, we'd had a woman from southern California out to my office for a job interview, and on our way out to lunch, she commented on the tornado shelters in the Denver airport. The idea of being in tornado country seemed to worry her. We assured her that it was very rare to for a twister to hit Denver. Later that afternoon, I took this picture out my office window while she was sequestered in one of those tornado shelters at the airport.

And while I'm on the subject of bad weather, I'll share a few pictures from a recent bike ride on the Bear Creek Trail, which starts in Lair o' the Bear Park just west of Denver. We like to do our trips to the mountains early in the day to avoid the classic afternoon thunderstorms -- of which we've had plenty this year. But last weekend Abbey was working an ice cream social at the zoo in the morning, so we picked her up at noon to go dodge lightning bolts in the mountains. It was really fun. And scary. Despite the weather, the park was packed when we arrived, so we had to park our truck quite a ways down the highway and ride up to the park. It was raining when we started; Quinn and I hid under a tree to get out the rain waiting for Cindy and Abbey to catch up and captured the photo below. We had split up when riding through the crowded path along the creek.

You don't have to go far to leave the crowds behind. There's something of an exponential decrease in the number of visitors with increasing distance up the trail. Usually we try to ride up this staircase in the photo below; I've come close, but never made that final turn. With damp rocks and wet, sandy tires, this was not a good day for riding up steep rocks.

Abbey just can't quit marching.

Who need's traction?

But when the lighting got really close, we turned around and headed down. So it was a short ride, but we were trying to squeeze it into a short window of time between the zoo and Quinn's evening Colorado Honor Band Concert. Quinn has a healthy fear of lightning, so it was a little hard to keep up with him once we made the decision to get off the mountain.

Now it's time for bed. School starts tomorrow, and Cindy has to be at the bus terminal at 5:15 a.m. 

Buffalo Creek Again

We're purposefully pushing ourselves to extend the length and intensity of our rides so that we get strong enough to ride more of Colorado's classic mountain bike rides. As the dad, and, as the Rocky Mountain National Park ranger named me, "the group leader," I have to be careful to make sure that I'm not pushing too hard. No one would thank me for that, but so far, I think we're all on board with the concept. And since I'm no longer running, I need to do something to stay strong and stave off love handles and beer belly.

So for today's adventure, we stitched together a Buffalo Creek area ride that would give us more than 20 miles of riding and about 2,000 feet of climbing. It worked out well and we all had a great time. Click here to see our route. We started up the Buffalo Creek Road, a mostly closed road that follows Buffalo Creek upstream for about four miles, while gaining an easy 500 feet of elevation. At the top, where the Gashouse Gulch and Mount Baldy trails depart to the north, we stopped for butterfly break.

We followed Gashouse Gulch Trail uphill through a large burned area until we reached Redskin Creek Trail, and re-entered the forest. Even though we'd started at 9 a.m., the sun was hot and we were relieved to find shade in the forest. This area burned about 20 years ago, yet there are almost no new trees sprouting up. It's a stark landscape, dominated by gravel, grasses, and small shrubs. The round pink lumps of granite add texture. It's wonderful.

Redskin Creek Trail connects with Gashouse Gulch Trail at about mile six. We'd just reentered the forest, having climbed about 1,000 feet in the sun. Redskin Creek Trail wound quickly down to the Creek, descending about 150 feet. It was a really nice smooth, roller coaster sort of flow trail. A pleasant surprise.

But before we got going on Redskin, we spent a little time slurping water and being silly.

Redskin Creek Trail took us to the Colorado Trail, which we followed back to the east for about eight miles. It climbed, mostly gently, for about 1,000 feet, and then began to descend. The Colorado Trail is really nice. Most of it is within the forest, running along the north-facing slope above Redskin Creek. The trail is mostly smooth and gravelly with lots of roots and a few rocks to keep it interesting.

By the time we finished our eight miles on the Colorado Trail, Quinn was beginning to feel a little dizzy or light-headed. We weren't sure exactly what the problem was; he'd had plenty of water, we'd had a good snack along the trail, and it wasn't overly hot. Still, I was worried about possible heat exhaustion, so we stopped at a picnic table at the Little Scraggy Trailhead for fairly long break so he could cool down and, we hoped, start feeling better. He had a snack and rested, and improved somewhat, but still didn't seem to be quite 100% when we got back on the trail. Since the rest of the ride was downhill, I figured he be alright. And he did indeed improve, but was left with a bit of a headache.

We went north from the Little Scraggy Trailhead on the Buffalo Burn Trail. The view out across the valley was incredible, with puffy clouds moving in as predicted.

When the lightning began, we felt too exposed on Buffalo Burn and the Nice Kitty Trail, but that just helped us pick up the pace towards the valley.

Abbey is lost in the forest of skeletons on Nice Kitty Trail.

Nice Kitty is a new trail, but is fairly similar to other Buffalo Creek trails. Lots of smooth flowing trail punctuated by interesting rock obstacles. Quinn took this one easily, of course.

We did not get struck by lightning. The bridge at the north end of Nice Kitty Trail takes us across Buffalo Creek and connects to the Buffalo Creek Road, just about a half mile up from the parking area. Of course, we hit the parking area just as the rain hit, so we spent some time sweating in the truck while we waited for the rain to pass.

It was another great trip, ending up at about 22 miles, just under five hours, with about 2,000 feet of total climbing. Very fun; very pretty. As for Quinn and the dizziness, our best guess is that he was just getting tired and hungry. So next time, we'll try to feed him more often, but otherwise we'll just keep at it and see how it goes.

Dakota Ridge

Dakota Ridge Trail is one I'd ridden alone a couple of years ago (click here to review), and found to be quite challenging and almost fun. It's one of the north-south hogback ridges that comprise the first wall of mountain on the west side of Denver. Riding it is just as challenging as you might imagine it would be to ride along the fracture-surface of a mile-long, broken slab of limestone jutting up 300 feet out of the ground at 75 degree angle.  In terms of distance, I'm sure I was able to ride more of it than I walked -- or dragged my bike through -- but in terms of time, I'm not so sure: it's possible that I spent more time bike-dragging than bike-riding.

So I thought Quinn would enjoy it. Cindy and Abbey were busy, so on 13 July 2014, Quinn and I rode the ridge from north to south and then returned by way of the much smoother Red Rocks Trail. I screwed up the Garmin track, so I have no link to the route, but it was similar to that of my previous ride at the hyperlink above.

This is the view from the north end of the north end of the trail, looking south and a little west, towards the mountains of Southern Colorado. Here the trail is smooth.

But it doesn't stay smooth.

I'm not sure what to call them, but these log-ramps are common on the heavily-used Front Range trails. They are good fun, up or down.

It is possible to ride this stuff, if you're young and strong and Quinn and crazy. But it's best to wear a lot of padding.

This was a nice smooth climb, reminiscent of some of the trails in Moab.

The views were incredible in both directions. We had a lot of fun, and finished unscathed, but for a few small bruises and scrapes, including those that spanning the space between my chin and my nose; fairly minor once I dug the sand out from under my upper lip.

Independence Weekend in Fraser

We are staying so wonderfully busy that it's nearly impossible to make time for updating this blog. This summer Abbey is volunteering at the Denver Zoo, which seems at times to be a full time job, excepting the pay, of course. And she's keeping up with her trumpet, mellophone, and singing and guitar playing, as well as spending too much time texting boys. Quinn is spending too much time with his phone, too, although in the form of gaming more so than texting. He is continuing trombone lessons and playing in the Colorado Honor Band. And learning to ride wheelies. Cindy and Abbey have been running, and we're all trying to log as many miles as possible on our mountain bikes so that we can comfortably do some more ambitious, longer, higher elevation rides this summer and fall.

So I've failed to post a few significant events. One was this Buffalo Creek ride with Heather, Chris and Cailan. It was the same loop I'd written about here and here. It was especially notable because Chris and Cailan rode our black Fandango tandem. I forgot my camera, but Cindy caught this one with her phone:

But that was back on May 10th, and this story isn't about that. This story is about our Fourth o' July trip to Winter Park and Fraser....

It was sort of last minute, or last week, when we decided that we ought to get together for the extended weekend and do something fun in the mountains. We scrambled a bit to figure out we could do that would work for all of us, and wouldn't break the Cindy-doesn't-drive-a-bus-during-summer-so-we're-short-on-funds bank account. We ended up renting a townhouse in Fraser for a couple of nights and riding the now-familiar Winter Park trails. No lift-served rides this time, to Quinn's dismay.

For the record, here's what we did:

• July 4th: First a Blue Sky area loop with some "D" trails mixed in. Then, after dinner, a loop around Creekside and Flume. All of that was caught on a single GPS track: Click her for the Garmin link. It includes the drive to the house, so don't think the 50 mph max was done on my bike.
• July 4th: Another loop, nearly in the dark, around Creekside and Flume.
• July 5th: Devils Thumb Ranch. This was new for us. Sort of interesting, a private ranch with cross country ski trails open to bikes during summer, but not likely something we'll do again.
• July 5th: After some lunch back at the house, Elk Meadow, Sunken Bridges, Zoom, and Chainsaw. This was nice, but Zoom is really getting rough. We heard from a local that there's a secret, rogue, alternative trail that is better designed and may soon replace Zoom altogether.
• July 6th: To wrap things up, the Tipperary Creek loop. This trail is becoming Cindy's nemesis.

It's getting to be time to replace my old camera. Most of the pictures on this blog, and the original scaqabout were taken with a Canon Powershot A1000 that we've had for years. Not sure if this is really possible, but I think it's not focusing as well as it used to. And now it's lens cover is sticking half-way closed. So I'm probably going to need a new camera, but I'd rather get a dropper seatpost.

Amos came with us on our first loop, Blue Sky, but his pads weren't up to the abuse and he was limping on injured feet by the time we were done. We think he had a blast, but after that first ride, he spent the rest of the weekend hanging out in the house with Sharon. Poor guy could hardly walk, so he didn't seem to mind staying behind.

Devil's Thumb Ranch had some really nice scenery, and some of the the trails were good, but many of the trails had not really been built beyond a rough cut into the hillside for skiing, and others seemed to disappear into the forest, grass, and marshes. This is Quinn and Heather taking in the view.

The Elk Meadow Trail was nice. Plenty of cruising through forest on smoothly flowing trail.

Sunken Bridges, obviously. Lots of caddisfly and mayfly larvae in this little pond. Some other critters, too. Cailan may remember all of them.

Heather and Abbey finishing out the ride on the last bit of Chainsaw.

After a few miles of gentle climbing on a gravel road, the Tipperary Creek Trail climbs right at 1,000 feet in two miles. It's a smooth trail, so it's not terribly difficult, but it tops out at over 10,000 feet. So before we started the big climb, we stopped at the sign for peeing and a snack.

This is the first crossing of Tipperary Creek. It was nice and easy this time, but last summer, you might recall, there was quite a drop from the trail coming into the water, and Cindy took a chilly splash.

It's a beautiful valley. The sunny meadows are hot.

We were all impressed by Chris's strength and determination in climbing Tipperary with Cailan on the tandem.

The second crossing of Tipperary Creek at the top of the steepest two miles. The cold water was a welcome refreshment for our overheated bodies.

The descent from Tipperary back to Flume and on down Creekside to the parking lot is speedy. At the top it's very loose and very steep. Rather hazardous. Cindy took a nasty, scary spill at cruising speed, bruising and scraping most of her surfaces. She's OK now, still sporting bruises and scabs and either a bruised rib or a pulled muscle in her back, but she seemed a bit shaken up at the time. 

And then we engulfed a delicious high-calorie lunch at Elevation Pizza in Fraser before heading home.

Estes Cone Backpacking

This was our third consecutive weekend in Rocky Mountain National Park, and our first backpacking trip in Colorado. In fact, the last time we did any backpacking was before we left Seattle back in 2006. Recently, Abbey had been asking to do some backpacking, so this spring we marked out a couple of weekends on our summer calendar with that in mind. This was the first. We wanted to do something fun and easy for our first time out, so last weekend when we were in Rocky Mountain NP we stopped in to the Backcountry Office and inquired about possible sites that might make good options for us. We didn't necessarily expect any sites to be available, as permits are required for backcountry camping in RMNP and can be reserved in advance, but the ranger pulled up a couple sites that could work for us and were available, so we made a reservation for a site called Moore Park.

We started making some preparations for backpacking during the spring; mostly that meant thinking about what gear we had and what we might need. The only significant item we had to buy was a new pack for me, as our oldest packs had begun to degrade and we'd gotten rid of them a while back. So we had picked up a new one for me a few weeks ago during a sale at REI. We had a couple of smaller, not quite so old packs that fit Cindy and Abbey, and a large daypack that squeezed down just small enough for Quinn. We also had to put a new cartridge in our water filter and replaced the o-rings in one of our old MSR stoves. The National Park Service requires that backcountry campers store food in bearproof canisters, so on Friday, after taking Abbey to her volunteer job at the Denver Zoo, Cindy stopped by REI and rented a canister for the weekend. With that, were ready to hit the trail.   

We packed up Friday night, and left the house before 7 a.m. on Saturday. That got us to the Longs Peak Ranger Station at about 9 a.m. On summer weekends, the Longs Peak Trailhead parking apparently fills up by 3 or 4 a.m. with the vehicles of climbers getting an early start for the ascent of Longs Peak. So we were lucky that someone was leaving as we arrived and we got a spot in the lot. In the photo below, Quinn and Abbey have their donned their loaded packs while Estes Cone, our eventual destination, stands tall in the background. 

Our campsite at Moore Park was an easy 1.7 miles from the trailhead. This made for a short hike, but we thought that was perfect, given that, due to our recent inexperience in backpacking, this was largely a trial run. Cindy and I new from much not-so-recent experience that tackling an overly ambitious trip could make for a lot of misery. Why do that?

We began on the trail that leads to Longs Peak, but soon our path diverged, turning north. Our trail was quite rugged, rutted, eroded, and loose. I wondered for how many years it has been a trail. It has probably suffered not only from age and heavy use, boots and hooves (but no tires), but from the heavy rains that had flooded the region the previous fall; the same rains that washed away so many homes downstream. 

On the way to our campsite we passed an old gold mine beside a creek and decided to return for further exploration once we had set up camp further down the trail. We found Moore Park and posed for a group photo, still wearing our packs, in front of the large rock that formed the focal point of the campsite.

We set up camp, filtered some water to fill our bottles, and then returned to explore the mine.

There were no open shafts at he mine (so we still have Quinn), only the decayed and well-trodden remains of a cabin and an old steel boiler tank. There was a large pile of dirt that probably covered the entrance to whatever mine might have existed, and of course lots of coarse refuse or tailings that had been allowed to fall into the creek. It was almost felt like I was doing a pre-investigation site visit for work.

Quinn is awesome and indestructible. Here he's pointing out that he's really not endangering himself by climbing out on this log over the creek because he can easily leap from the log to that little clear spot on the ground beside the creek. No Mom, it's fine...

After checking out the mine, we walked the 1/2 mile or so back to our campsite and sat around for a while bored and wondering what to do, noticing that word of fresh blood had gone out to the local mosquito battalions. So we decided that the best thing to do would be to walk part of the way up the trail towards Estes Cone, say half way, just to Storm Pass to see what we could see. On the way, this time with Longs Peak in the background, Quinn explains that it's just fine for him to climb on this rock. No Mom, I'm not gonna fall, so it doesn't even matter whether there's a steep cliff there or not.

 

Storm Pass was didn't exactly live up to it's dramatic name. It was was well below timber line, and while we could see some of the surrounding mountains through the trees, the pass was wide and flat, not the least bit dramatic, although there were zillions of mosquitoes. It was hardly worthy of a name at all, except that several trails intersected there. "Mosquito Intersection" might be a better name. That said, storms started rolling across Longs Peak to our south when we reached the pass, so perhaps that  justifies the name. We made a quick retreat back down the mile or so of trail to our campsite. In the photo below, Quinn and Abbey, in a rare moment of peaceful coexistence, await the passage of light rain. What's for dinner?

A package of Spanish rice, two sleeves of Ritz crackers, a block of cheese, and four cups of hot chocoloate comprised our backcountry dinner. No campfires are permitted in RMNP. After cleaning up from dinner we stashed our bearproof canister of food and trash under a tree at the required distance of 70 adult paces from our tent. Long before dark (it was the summer solstice), we crawled into the tent to escape the onslaught of bloodsuckers. Our tent is supposed to a four-person tent, but that must assume some amount of layering. There's not actually enough room to lay our four sleeping pads side-by side - but that makes for some nice, cozy family time. We all brought books, but Abbey fell right to sleep while Quinn tossed, turned, and talked until well after dark.

Along with the sun, we were up by 5 a.m. Sunday morning. Excepting Quinn, that is, who never enjoys an early start. Abbey felt a little rough in the morning, so our breakfast of oatmeal and hot cocoa was staggered and more leisurely than planned. That was fine; we'd gotten up earlier than planned and were not climbing Longs Peak. We were climbing Estes Cone. We packed up all of our gear, took down the tent and rain fly, loaded our backpacks, and stashed the bear canister in the woods. With the campsite looking just like it did when we arrived, we left three of our packs leaning against the big rock when we set out for Estes Cone. We'd put jackets snacks and rain gear in the fourth pack, which we would carry with us on our trek up Estses Cone, but we planned to come back and pick up the other backpacks on the way out.  

We followed the trail back up to Storm Pass, but this time took the rough trail up Estes Cone. It's only about a 1/2 mile from the pass to the peak, but it's a steep scramble. We sat on pile of giant boulders at the top, and soaked up the views of Longs Peak, Estes Park, and everything around and in between. The views from the trail and from the peak were awesome.

Q & A on the Estes Cone:

After scrambling around the cone for a while, taking in the view and testing our climbing skills, we walked down, stopped by the Moore Park campsite to pick up the rest of our gear, which had not been destroyed by bears or any other animals while we were away, and finished the short hike back to the trailhead. It was a fun and successful trip.