The Carved Block: Three Seasons in Three Months

We’ve been in Salida now for about three months! Here’s a short update. I've gone on many small adventures, and I will summarize a few.

This round in Colorado feels a little different. Partly because I’m older and wiser, but also because the climate has shifted. When we first arrived in February, the Sawatch Range had very little snow, and the temperatures were very warm, frequently in the 70s. The La Niña conditions that had kept the snow away petered out and a couple storms moved through in early March. Still, Monarch Mountain didn’t have the base to sustain the rest of the season (due to persistently above-freezing temperatures during December–February, when the snow usually accumulates) and the resort closed at the end of March. I was bummed, but grateful to get in three stellar ski days! The first was a true powder day (actively snowing), the second was a classic bluebird day (sun came out after the storm), and the third was a slushy spring day. The last one was my favorite – when the snow is a little soft and slushy, you can really set your edge, lean in, and rip down the mountain.

Sometime in late March, a heat wave moved through and melted just about all the snow on Mt. Shavano and Tabeguache Peak, and I decided to go for a spring 14-er adventure (usually only possible June–September). I woke up around 3:30am, drove up the 4WD road to the trailhead and started hiking by about 5am. I had just ascended above treeline as the sun rose over the Mosquito Range to the east. Photos below.

Most of my adventures fall somewhere on the spectrum between casual weekday workout and epic alpine traverse. I don’t always know when an adventure might make the jump, given the ever-present allure of turning an out-and-back into a loop. For example, a couple weeks ago, a short lap at Methodist Mountain turned into a massive loop up to the Rainbow Trail and then down a mountain bike trail called “Gutz” that was more something to be survived than to be enjoyed. Last Saturday’s adventure was similar: I had picked out a little trail to some alpine lakes, but I knew that a route up to the crest of the Sangre de Cristos might be possible.

After a tense drive along the steep and rutted Kerr Gulch Road that leads from Highway 50 near Howard up to the base of the Sangre de Cristos, I arrive at a pleasant alpine meadow trailhead / dispersed camping area. Almost immediately after I start ascending the trail, I see a fat lion track on a patch of snow. It’s clear from the lack of human prints that I am the first person to stroll into the Stouts Creek basin since the last snowfall a few days ago. The thin aspen and lodgepole forest takes on a spookier vibe as I get the sense that a big cat is following just beyond my peripheral vision.

This primal fear and alertness is an integral part of the wilderness experience. While it would be comforting to see another set of human tracks, the sense of being the lone visitor in a predator’s territory brings its own peace, humility, and reverence.

I cross Stouts Creek and then ascend a trail along the south-facing slope of the drainage. The snow patches become more frequent with increasing elevation, so eventually I diverge from the trail higher up onto the dry talus above. Coming over a rise to the first of the two Stout Lakes, I am startled by a wolf! Or at least I think it’s a wolf, based on the size and shaggy gray hair. Surprise gives way to relief as I process that this creature is not a lion, and is very afraid of me. After reviewing many photos of wolves at home, I decided that this guy was maybe not that fierce, and must have been a coyote. We all know there are severe consequences for mistaken wolf identification. But for the remainder of my walk, I believe I’ve just seen a wolf.

Standing at the cirque lake, I scan the surrounding ridgelines for routes upward – mainly I am looking for gentle slopes and dry rocks that are large enough that they will hold. To the north of the upper lake is a bench, above which several gentle slopes lead up to the ridge above. I set my sights on a good route and continue on. After a short uphill jaunt, I make it to the snow-free ridge that I follow north to the summit of North Twin Sister. I look southwest out over the vast San Luis Valley, north to Salida and the Upper Arkansas Valley, south to the snow-draped cliffs above Stout Lakes. 13,012 feet, with 4750 feet of gain. An epic adventure indeed.

For those readers who might be concerned about such off-trail adventures, I will offer you a counterexample. The week following the North Twin Sister adventure, I go back to the Sangres – this time heading to Hunts Lake. Sitting above Hunts Lake is another 13-er, Hunts Peak. When I get to the lake, I go through my usual route-searching exercise, both visually and by analyzing the contours on my Gaia app. But this round, I decide that the slopes are too steep and the rocks are too loose – it’s a no go. The world above treeline is a fantastic place to choose your own adventure, but some peaks just don’t have good access. I am very risk-averse and enjoy solid ground.

Spending all this time in the Sangre de Cristos, I am noticing the devastation wrought by the bark beetles. Past climates limited them to a single reproductive cycle each year, but warmer weather has allowed them to complete two or three, leading to a massive population explosion. They bore through the bark and lay their eggs in the phloem, eventually starving the tree and leading to mass spruce, fir, and ponderosa pine mortality. In the Sangre de Cristos, where the slopes are steep and the winds are fierce, these trees eventually fall over en masse. As a result, many of the forests are essentially impassable, trails are littered with fallen logs, and aspens have taken their place. Once the beetles destroy all their hosts, their population will eventually decline, and the spruces, firs, and ponderosas might return once again.

The casual weekday adventures are pretty good too. I ride my mountain bike at S. Mountain and Methodist Mountain trail systems once or twice a week. The S. Mountain trails were initially very intimidating, with lots of rocks and roots and tight curves along cliffs. But over time, I have developed the muscles to charge up and down these rocky stretches, and learned how to make hairpin turns. It’s good to be on a learning curve again.

Some other adventures that are pictured below: