Sunset in the West Elk Mountains of Colorado
Oh, Joy! to the mountains goes I! I shall relegate the strict adherence of time to a forgotten corner within the deepest recess of my cavernous cranial-bearing noggin. I have nothing to do for the next four days beyond finding a bit of solitude and treading lightly in body and soul. Care had been provided for the elder dog, Lady, aka Little Girl Dog, a former hiking companion now busy living out a gracious life of moderate activity. My backpack and the dogs’ panniers were stowed with the provisions needed for the forthcoming hike. The car was parked and I double checked that the interior light was off before locking up. And now we begin the adventure, the two faithful German shepherds, Leah and Draco, bouncing around with vitality, running, almost galloping, from one fascinating olfactory sensation to another in the trialhead parking lot.
All is well, and we start hiking. Although the pack was heavy, my strides were quick and widely spaced. The forest was calm and peaceful in the mid-morning glow of early warmth. We are on a north face of West Steuben Creek and the forest is dense and has a thick carpet of low vegetation. So green, greens of all shades define the world around me. The conifer boles are sometimes bare of moss and add grays and burnt oranges to the palette. The mosses are a shade or two away from day-glow green and I laugh all the more knowing how complex the microscopic lifeforms are structured.
Hiking along the first half mile or so, Draco especially wants to investigate the rampant squirrel activity. Leah helps to instigate by acting as Draco’s pointer. She darts over to a tree, looks agitated, looks at Draco, returns her gaze to look head-up back towards the offending rodent and then, on cue, the boy runs over to add to the heightened hysteria. I allow this once as I hadn’t quite incorporated the canine mindset to assimilate into my own. We have ten or more miles to go and must climb over some five passes and a couple of low divides to reach our general destination. So, no more exciting chipmunk conniptions and with that mindset I put the shepherds in heel. It’s hard to be a dog.
The hike through the forest is damp and there are seeps and small springs throughout the forest. The trail has been built up into a causeway of sorts and works admirably well. Especially here, so close to the trailhead, there are many folks out and about. We cross our first live water, a small tributary of West Steuben Creek, and encounter the sign announcing our entrance into the designated West Elk Wilderness. We cross the creek and are now on a south face but the forest is still thick. Emerging from the forest near our first trail junction we enter a large meadow that is the headwaters of the small tributary crossed earlier. I have been here many times and it is an old, familiar and friendly opening in the mountain forest. So green!
We could continue on over a small pass and drop down to West Elk Creek but instead we turn north towards another trail that will drop over a different pass and then leads to a point farther north on West Elk Creek. I like this trail, and on my return know that I can come back via the other pass should I like to. We cross a small pass and fall into another small tributary of West Steuben Creek. There is a fine view of the South Baldy Mountain’s southeastern face and it is vision of Rocky Mountain alpine splendor. So Greeeeeeeeeeeeeen! I want to jump with joy! Oh, and the snow near the top of the slope just heightens the sense of near disbelief I am feeling while strolling past this extravaganza of summer in the Rockies. I chortle to myself as I carefully descend a steep section of trail rife with loose gravel.
Inevitably, the trail leads past some snow melt and becomes a bit squishy. My feet are damp, but no matter in my mind because I am focused on the abundant collection of wildflowers that are blooming profusely in every direction. I barely notice crossing over the next small pass into West Beaver Creek and turn to the west towards the saddle between South and Middle Baldy Mountains. Good gracious. The Alpine sunflowers are in bloom. They have whiskers of sorts to protect them from the cold and have thus earned the sobriquet Old-Man-of-the-Mountains. They are everywhere. Laughter emanates from my throat and I am not conscious of it. It just comes.
I cross over the saddle, pass number three, and begin the long fifteen hundred foot drop to West Elk Creek, which is busily churning the mighty Rocky Mountains and grinding it down to silt. This creek is larger than most in the vicinity and is thus deeper and the farther we descend the higher the serrated cliffs grow. These volcanic mountains have been eroded into some unusual formations and throughout the West Elk Mountains can be found all manner of hoodoos, spires and cap rocks resting atop rickety pillars of crumbly stone. We quickly re-enter the sub-alpine forest that had been briefly left behind while crossing the alpine passes and have entered into a small opening dominated by Corydalis. The trail is not really visible, so thick is the growth, and must be felt by foot, step by step. The shepherds are within ten feet of me but are not visible in the least. Cool.
So far, all of these trails I have hiked off and on for years. The last time I came down here to West Elk Creek the forest had been blown over by a huge wind storm and the trail was a jumble of two to four foot diameter trunks criss-crossing at odd angles and occasionally creating a barrier ten feet high. I was a bit apprehensive about what I might encounter, although that was nearly half a decade ago. I am relieved to find that some good souls have come through with a saw. The sawing is a feat of its own, but nature’s destructive forces steal the show as I gain a broader vision of the swath of felled trees. Wow.
Hiking up West Elk Creek and the shepherds are keeping up easily. I believe that they are bored and would relish and opportunity to run off in some direction and explore whatever scent grabs their attention. I have given them a bit more latitude they are allowed to go out about ten feet with the caveat that there will be no agitating at rodents. They comply, but barely and I must issue a few verbal warnings. They are heeded. Good dogs!
The view upstream is a classic Colorado high-country scene. West Elk Basin beneath West Elk Peak. Green. Streaks of snow. Towering rock. The constant and pleasing white noise that is gradually grinding the mountains to powder. Puffy white clouds sailing along in an otherwise deep blue sky. Flowers, flowers, flowers. Yes, life is good. I have seen this specific scene a handful of times before and it has passed into the pantheon of special places.
The trail will now climb out of this deep, narrow canyon. Somewhere along the way the trail crosses the creek and I know that I have never passed this way before. Within the last half mile or so I passed into my own personal terra incognita. Map in hand I begin to climb the pass, some five hundred feet of switchbacks. At the top is a thick sub-alpine forest where we find a place to set down beneath the sheltering canopy and enjoy a snack. Draco and Leah are happy for the food and I devour my morsel.
Perusing my map, I determine that the fifth pass is about a half a mile away. Ah, there it is, across the meadow. I can see the trail I will climb. We are now in a small tributary of East Soap Creek. The verdant layer of vegetation has continued unabated. The grasses are high and the trail is barely visible. The blue flax announces itself with a color that replicates the sky above. We reach the fifth pass and I peer over to the sixth. The wild beauty continues as I stroll along through forest and meadow both interspersed with trickling flows of clear, gurgling water. The sixth is really more of a divide to get from another small tributary to the main stem, but I still climb some one hundred feet to the summit.
Now I am in the East Soap Creek drainage. I have only seen this area from far away on the high ridge that runs north from Bonfisk Peak as well as one time when I was on a revealing peak west of West Elk Mountain. For many years, I had wanted to visit this area but due to its remoteness I had demurred for one reason or another. The grassy meadows continued unabashedly with the parade of vibrant green. I am not the only soul here to appreciate the grass and as I turn a corner I almost walk into three bull elk contentedly grazing away.
The elk don’t take notice of myself nor the dogs. I have kept the shepherds close at hand just for this specific reason and my diligence has paid off. The dogs do great, sitting at my heel while I snap off a few photos. Their noses are twitching and their countenance is one of intense focus. I crouch, almost hidden in the tall grass and we sit and watch the ungulates go about their business for the next quarter of an hour until they finally get wind of us and move off into the forest and away from our path. I walk the dogs over to where the elk had stood and Draco and Leah become all business, sniffing around with great interest and concern.
There is one, last pass to cross just beyond where we stop to watch the elk. I am beginning to feel a bit fatigued as we make the summit. Nonetheless, I can’t help myself when I spy a knoll a quarter of a mile off that affords a fine view of the thick vegetation below. I climb up and drop my pack. I soak in the view, admiring the land around me, a very remote and wild place. The greenery continues to astound. The peaks and ridges tower over the verdure and lend beauty to the landscape. I am ready to hike down into the valley below and find a place to set up my tent for the next three nights. Hello, Soap Creek Basin!
Down and down we go, through the thick north-face sub-alpine forest. We cross over a stream and I am amazed at how tall and dense the grasses are. I have no idea where to put up my camp and spend the next forty-five minutes trying to find a suitable location without relief. Finally, I follow a game trail up and away from the maintained trail and come upon a fine location up and away from the valley bottom. I am fairly exhausted from the travels and I know that the dogs are tired as well. However, when I remove their burdens they start running around at full speed, chasing one another and rough-housing. I set up the tent meanwhile.
There is still enough light out with these long summer days that I have plenty of time to eat a fine dinner of Tom’s Stew. I have set up my food cache away from the tent just in case any bears or other critters decide to investigate the scents that emanate from the stash. It is high in the forest canopy, hanging from a branch and should be impervious to any attempted raid. After supper, we take a sunset hike up to a rock that looks out over the western expanse of the West Elk Mountains. The sunset is glorious and we all sleep well that night, ensconced in the safety of our mountain perch.
Rocky Mountain Hiker 