Running Ragged

The hardest part of any backpacking trip is just getting out the door. At the end of a long week of work, the inertia of the couch can sometimes overpower even a well-intentioned desire to go outside.

Such was last weekend's dynamic. With thick wildfire smoke and record-breaking heat making life in Montrose unbearable, some sort of outdoor trip was almost mandatory. Our normal backpacking weekend rhythm consists in driving to the trailhead on Friday evening, camping out, and getting an early start on Saturday morning. But in this case, Steph had just gotten home from a four-day work trip, and the idea of spending an entire weekend away from home held very little appeal. So we mixed things up a bit. We enjoyed a slow morning at home on Saturday, not even leaving home until mid-morning. Inefficient perhaps, but just what the doctor ordered.

Day 1 

We moseyed over to a lakeside trailhead at the edge of the Raggeds Wilderness near the town of Crested Butte, arriving around noon. The trailhead was a zoo, with hundreds of people wandering into traffic as they absentmindedly inflated their various watercraft. We jammed the car in a tiny, very unofficial pull-off, and tried to escape the chaos as quickly as possible. 

We wandered our way through a nonsensical network of dirt roads and private cabins and up a steep hillside. Signs of civilization faded away, and soon we leveled out on a old abandoned trail through the woods. After a quick dip in a marshy lake, we resumed our climb through the labyrinth of jeep roads.

We'd planned to follow a jeep road all the way up to a high ridge at 12,000', but that plan quickly unraveled when we turned a corner and found the road completely washed out. But undaunted, we found perfect off-trail hiking conditions up a shoulder of the ridge, and soon found ourselves on top of the world.

From atop our lofty perch, we caught sight of at least a half-dozen fourteeners. July weekend notwithstanding, we had the whole place to ourselves. We wandered along the rolling ridge, gawking at the amazing views for the next couple hours. A few cumulus floated by, just enough to add some interest to the photos. Could life get any better?

 

We walked toward the jawdropping Ruby Range, the mountains growing larger with each step. We glimpsed a dramatic hanging lake, walled in by sheer cliffs high above the valley below. The remainder of our trip would be spent circling the Ruby Range. Such a treat! 

After a several miles of pure bliss, we dropped down off the ridge on a steep trail. Vaguely scratched into the side of a precipitous slope, the trail involved more than a bit of tedium as we chose each footstep with care.

By and by, the steep terrain gave way to a delightful glacially-carved shelf that made for easy passage and limitless wandering. We arrived at a gorgeous lake right at dusk. There were already a couple of tents set up, but there were plenty of opportunities to space out. We ate dinner more as an act of will than anything else and fell asleep quickly.

I took a few photos of the area the next morning, the beauty of the lake fully revealing itself in the bright sunlight. We followed the trail down off our friendly glacial shelf and and up into a neighboring basin. A warm morning soon became a sweltering hot day. By 8am, I'd already doused my shirt with water to stay cool. 

The entire basin resembled a series of giant steps. Glaciers had scoured it into various flat shelves , each more spectacular than the next. A few hardy pines added to the ambience. Despite the forbidding appearance of the pass ahead, it never got too steep, and soon we were at the top.

To the east lay the dramatic peaks of the Elk Mountains - the same spectacular views we'd been staring at for the past day. To the west, we glimpsed the more subdued West Elks. The West Elks are lovely mountains in their own right, but often get overshadowed by their more ostentatious neighbors. 

We descended the past and stopped for a few minutes to make snow angels. Because this past winter was so dry, only a few tiny snow patches remained. Frolicking was therefore mandatory. Plus, a snowball in our hats made for an excellent natural air conditioner.

As we made our way around the back side of the Ruby Range, we dropped down into the trees. We still caught occasional peak-a-views of the mountains, but the beauty was a bit more muted. Thankfully, the wildflowers were in peak bloom, and we often stopped to admire them.

It was hot. We stopped frequently to re-wet our shirts. And the miles started to drag. In truth, 23 miles with almost 7,000' of gain was probably a bit aggressive for a day-and-a-half weekend where neither of us was at full strength. But did I actually check the vertical gain before I suggested this hike? Not a chance. Poor planning strikes again.

The last couple miles of the day had us both griping. We followed a very nice mountain bike trail around the remainder of the Ruby Range and back to the car. Unfortunately, what mountain bikers consider "very nice", hikers loathe. It was excessively circuitous and included nearly as much downhill as uphill - great for managing momentum on a bike, but torturous for weary-legged hikers. Having hiked a couple of 'bonus miles' on the unmapped twists and turns of the mountain bike trail, we finally, at long last, arrived back at the car. 

It wasn't a perfect weekend. We got a late start, my planning left much to be desired, and we both were dragging by time we got back to the car. But it was still a terrific weekend outside. And it sure beats 100-degree smoke!