Frenchman Creek/Colorado Trail

After climbing Mt. Princeton, we backpacked for 3 days around Mt. Harvard. The drive to the trailhead quickly turned from a paved road to an "improved road," which, by Colorado standards, means a dirt road with a low enough grade that it's not hardcore enough to be considered a 4WD road. Improved has nothing to do with the pothole situation or other qualities that us Easterners would consider important in a road. Eventually, the improved road forked onto a legit 4WD road, which our guide book accurately described as "steep and narrow." Katy's grandfather's Jeep was once again clutch, saving us a good 2,000'/2 miles. We managed to avoid destroying the car, which was a nice bonus, although there were a few close calls when we bottomed out on large rocks. Fortunately, Jeeps are designed to love that kind of thing.

The hike in along Frenchman Creek Trail was relatively unexciting. We managed to miss the junction with the Colorado Trail (CT) and went about 15 minutes past it before running into a young couple from Colorado Springs coming down from Mt. Columbia (at 10:30am... talk about an early start to the day). They told us we had passed the trail junction, and we hiked with them back to the CT. The CT had a fallen tree on the trail about 10 feet past the junction, diminishing our embarrassment about missing the junction.

The CT was well maintained, although it was littered with an absurd amount of horse manure since horsepacking the CT is apparently pretty popular. The hike was mostly through a densely wooded coniferous forest and culminated with a 2,000' descent to Pine Creek, where we camped for the night, at the most beautiful campsite in the world (right), an alpine meadow overlooking snow-capped Mt. Oxford (14,153') and Waverly Mountain (13,268').

Bottom line: Uneventful day of hiking. Most beautiful campsite in the world (although I haven't been to the Maroon Bells yet, so I can't compare). [Picasa]

Mt. Princeton

After rafting, we drove Katy's grandfather's Jeep up a sketchy 4WD road from the base of Mt. Princeton Rd. near Buena Vista (8,000'), past a radio tower at 10,800' and camped for the night at 11,000'. We woke up at 5:15am the next morning and hit the trail at 6:35am. We're not exactly morning people - this was our shortest time from wake up to trail for the trip. While hiking above the tree line in Colorado, it's a good idea to give yourself enough time to get below the tree line by 3pm or so to avoid afternoon storms. We followed Mt. Princeton Road up past several switchbacks and snowbanks, and hiked through our first snow of the trip at the intersection of Mt. Princeton Rd. and Mt. Princeton trail (around 12,000').

The Mt. Princeton Trail is pretty much at the tree line, and the brush line is not too much higher, around 12,200'. From there, the last 2,000' are a scramble through a talus field to the summit at 14,167' (1 foot taller than Mt. Yale). Fog obscured our view at the beginning of the climb, and the sun only teased us occassionally during the first half of the climb. Fortunately, things began to clear up as we hit the final ridgeline (13,000') with an awesome view westward to Mt. Antero (above). The last 500 feet or so (elevation-wise) to the summit were brutally strenuous - steeply sloped, and not a whole lot of oxygen to help you out. We summited at 10:25 am. The view from the top was breathtaking (literally - more on that in a bit) - we could see about halfway across Colorado in all directions. 10:30-11 is peak summiting time, so we shared the summit with about 10 other people and a few dogs. We hung out at the summit until 11:15, eating lunch and taking photos with Alex's Princeton 2008 banner.

The descent was much more challenging than the ascent because all three of us were affected to one degree or another by mild acute mountain sickness (AMS). It turns out that hanging out for an hour above 14,000' does not so great things for bodies acclimatized to sea level. According to the OA Guide to High Altitude (and personal experience), symptoms of mild AMS include "headache, dizziness, fatigue, shortness of breath, loss of appetite, nausea, [...] and a general feeling of malaise." We also experienced some mental status changes (i.e. becoming disoriented and/or irritable). I'm not exactly sure what went through my head at the time, but I decided I was getting down the mountain as fast as I could, without paying much regard to where nebulously defined trail was. It turns out that following the nebulously defined trail would have been significantly easier than cutting my own shortcut through loose rocks, but that thought didn't cross my mind in my altered state, and Katy and Alex, in their altered states, didn't think to stop me before it was too late.

Around 13,500', I was the first in the group to begin experimenting with ibuprofen, which quickly became our group's crack. In any case, headaches and morale quickly improved as we went below 13,000'. The rest of the descent was uneventful, but chilling at a coffee shop at 8,000' has never felt so good. To read more on AMS, check out the by Rick Curtis.

Bottom line: climbing 14ers is tough but worth it for the views. Mild AMS is a bitch - ask your doctor about Diamox. [Picasa]

Arkansas River Rafting

Our original planned trip included a four-day backpacking loop in the Maroon Bells/Snowmass Wilderness, described by expert Coloradoan Denali B. as "the most phenomenal 4 day backpacking trip in the United States of America." However, when Katy called the local rangers, they informed us that the trail was covered in 6 ft of snow and we should bring our backcountry skiing gear. Which, of course, is non-existent, not to mention our lack of skills. Due to record snowfall last winter, most of Colorado is still covered in significant snow. Most of this snow is melting fast, which makes whitewater rafting really spectacular.

We signed up for a full day of rafting the Numbers, with Four Corners Rafting, a company run by Katy and my WFR instructor, Darren Stokes. The Numbers is a series of class IV-V rapids labeled 1 through 7. Unfortunately, Numbers 1 through 6 were closed to commercial rafting due to the high water level - the river was flowing around 3400 cubic feet per second (CFS), and the Numbers close around 2400 CFS. In the words of our river guide Jesse, "The Numbers is class VI right now." His description of class VI whitewater: "If you raft it and survive, it becomes a class V." Instead of the Numbers, we rafted a series of rapids up to class IV, starting with Number 7 and winding 24 miles through Wildhorse Canyon, Buena Vista Falls (an 18-foot drop) and Browns Canyon.

Four Corners had only one boat on this trip, and the other four people in our boat signed up for a half day only, so lunch and afternoon boating was a private trip with the three of us and Jesse. This was much more relaxed and fun than my last whitewater rafting trip on the Riviere Rouge in Quebec, where we were part of a fleet of 20-something boats.

Bottom line: rafting the Arkansas at high water level is awesome. A good way to acclimatize a little before ascending 14ers. [Picasa]

Royal Gorge

Alex and I arrived at Denver International Airport around 10am, where Katy was waiting for us with her grandfather's Jeep. We had no specific plans for the rest of the day besides getting settled at a commercial, drive-in campsite somewhere around Buena Vista and eating food. So, I suggested we take a sightseeing detour on our way from Denver to Buena Vista and visit Royal Gorge bridge, the world's highest suspension bridge. This sounded like a cool enough idea, but I hadn't fully researched this tourist destination to find out whether or not it was worthwhile.

As we approached the turnoff for Royal Gorge, we began to see a series of giant billboards, advertising "Royal Gorge: turn left in x miles." The last billboard, advertising a left turn in 1 mile, was followed immediately by an ordinary road sign saying "Royal Gorge, 1/2 mile." This was the shortest half mile in the world, followed by the longest half mile along the Derek Zoolander highway, which seemed to have no left turns. Finally, after going along the Zoolander highway for about 10 miles, we found somewhere to turn around and eventually found our turnoff, which was not a big road with a giant billboard as we had expected, but more of a driveway with a small faded sign. It turned out this was not even the main road in but the back road, because the Royal Gorge Bridge is the archetypal "bridge to nowhere" - the road is a small, barren loop diverging from the highway in the middle of nowhere. Construction began a month before the stock market crash in 1929. Go figure.

As we drove down this back road, the road narrowed and became poorly maintained while we slowly disappeared into the Colorado desert. I was convinced that we were about to come across a group of pickup trucks containing some dead Mexicans, drugs, and 2 million dollars (see: No Country for Old Men). Eventually we saw a dilapidated sign foreshadowing the appearance of an "admission plaza," which, after driving deeper into the desert, we concluded might be the rusty gate we passed through. Lo and behold, out of nowhere, pops up a Disney World style admissions plaza, asking for $23/adult! Apparently, it would cost us $69 to cross from nowhere to nowhere! Having come this far, we weren't easily deterred, and tried to negotiate with the ranger, who let us know about a $7/person rebate if you spend less than an hour in the park. For $16, we got an hour of glorious suspension bridge crossing, carousel-riding, and all of the amenities of Disney World meets the Colorado Desert.

Bottom line: Royal Gorge is pretty, but not worth $16/person. Good way to see more of Colorado, though. [Picasa]