White-water Rafting in Idaho Springs, Colorado

My very wonderful parents got me a pair of whitewater rafting vouchers from Clear Creek Rafting Company for Christmas last year, and I finally used them today with Dean. We took the beginner class; I recommend the intermediate class because the beginner class we took was a little lightweight, even for two people who’d never done it before. Still crazy fun, even though I didn’t get to fall in (was secretly hoping).

Quandary Peak, Colorado

The second day of my Breckenridge hiking weekend, I awoke at five, hit the snooze button twice (like I was putting off getting up for work or something instead of an exciting hike up a fourteener, phwaha), and prepared myself breakfast. While I was eating, I was looking out the mesh door of my tent, and about halfway through my meal, I heard a rustling sound, which surprised me, because I was nowhere near any sort of trail in the area - why would someone be walking by? Why? Because that someone was a BEAR, toddling on its way not five feet from my tent door. I squeaked loudly and then immediately fell silent and froze, like a mouse. The bear stopped and surveyed my tent when it heard me, but thankfully nothing seemed to register (why didn't it smell my food?) and it moved on with its bear day. Thoroughly shaken, I waited ten minutes to make sure it wasn’t coming back, and then hastily threw everything together and moved quickly back to my car.

I was able to leave my camping accoutrements in the car, so I had a relatively light pack for the day. It was rough; I’m embarrassed, frankly, at how poorly I did. Happily, I did not experience altitude sickness, but I was so slow, I don’t know what my excuse was. No matter how slow I went, I still summitted, bagging myself a new altitude record in the process (up from 14,264 feet to 14,265 feet!).

Happy fourth, everyone!

My plan for the descent was to glissade down the Cristo Couloir, but found the snow far too soft for safe sliding or easy self-arrest. I did watch some folks armed only with large sticks slide successfully down much of the couloir, but there again is that paradox - am I just cowardly or are they ignorant? All I could think about was the possibility of breaking my tailbone on a rock beneath the snow. I cut over and picked my way slowly down the side of the mountain on the loose scree. This did offer some pretty unique opportunity to interact with a herd of fearless mountain goats, who did nothing more than stare at me blankly as I plowed my way through the meadow they were grazing in.

This was not nearly as fun and cute as people think it is when I tell them. These are animals and they're strong as, well, goats. Plus they have horns. It was actually pretty scary.

I was just pulling out of the trailhead parking lot headed home when I was flagged by a group of sad-looking people standing around. “Are you going to Denver?” they asked. Yes, I was. Well, their ride had lost her keys somewhere on the Quandary hike, and now they were stranded, would I give any of them a ride? I ended up agreeing to give two of them a ride back (the other two found another ride, and besides I couldn’t fit another person with my pack and all my camping junk still piled unceremoniously around my car from the bear encounter this morning). So I ended up driving Ginnie and her boyfriend back to their respective living places in Golden and Capitol Hill, and that was my good deed for the weekend. That and picking up a hitchhiker called Smiley on Saturday night, too.

Upper and Lower Mohawk Lakes in Breckenridge, Colorado

What a crappy awesome weekend! Absolutely nothing went right, but I still had a blast! I drove out to Breckenridge to do a little mountaineering over the long weekend; my goal was to push myself, and I certainly did that.

After some last-minute paper-polishing for class, I got to my first trailhead at Spruce Creek very late. Anticipating this, I planned a little night hike for myself - it followed a northern fork of Spruce Creek Trail until it met up with a four-wheel-drive road, which I would follow until reaching Upper Crystal Lake, where I would make camp. Early the following morning, I would summit Crystal Peak, do a little scramble to Father Dyer Peak, and depending on conditions, possibly scramble across to Mount Helen as well.

What *actually* happened (get used to hearing that) was that I sniffed back and forth over several miles of trail trying unsuccessfully to find the fork. I’m not a sweet trail-finder in broad daylight, so I was piss-poor in the dark. The trail I could find was helpfully marked with reflective blue diamond blazes and led to the Mohawk Lakes. So I went with it because I was exhausted.

But before I could sleep, I became nauseated from not eating that day, and it was all I could do to set up my tent (kudos to Big Agnes for making a tent that even a vomiting person can set up!) and collapse in it. The next morning, I awoke weak but refreshed.

I made my way up to the Mohawk Lakes very slowly; as I trudged up the path, I began to hate everyone who wasn’t also carrying a 25+-pound pack (which was everyone, except for some poor parents forced to tote their toddlers in those special baby backpacks).

The way to Upper Mohawk Lake involved crossing two snowfields. I find the more I learn about mountaineering, the more of a coward I am. I couldn’t believe how people were carelessly crossing these snowfields, while I walked across the fields with my (borrowed) helmet on and my (borrowed) ice axe in hand. I didn’t need them to cross, but I sure would’ve needed them if I fell. Admittedly, I probably would’ve done it, too, if I didn’t happen to bring equipment.

This is a picture taken just as I was approaching the upper lake. You approach from below the lake, and the shore is practically level with your eyeline as you walk up. It was like this perfectly clear crystalline pool held in place by magic or something, because you feel like by all means it should be pouring over.

On the way back, I did a fun glissade down one of those aforementioned snowfields between Lower and Upper Mohawk Lake, earning myself brief pseudo-celebdom among the picnickers at the bottom.