In the Malarial Swamps of Colorado
"Wanna try some of this? It's just dehydrated vegetables with a heaping dose of chili powder. Not too bad really."
"I'll stick with this Mountain House. Funny how it has 150% of the recommended amount of sodium yet I feel like it needs more salt."
I had finally arrived at the point in my life where I felt it would be prudent to strictly limit my salt intake. As the great vulgarian Sam Kinison once remarked, "if salt and sugar kick your ass, then the game's pretty much over". My attempt at healthy backpacking meals would lead to exceptionally violent flatulence, but for the time being we were trying to extract what little pleasure we could out of the situation. We had found ourselves camped out in a section of trail too far from the pond to have any redeeming aesthetic qualities, but close enough to harbor several colonies of mosquitoes overjoyed by our presence. We had about 10' of trailside real estate to set up a tent in marginally flat terrain. Scarfing down our disappointing grub with one hand while swatting away insects with the other while trying not to think about the fact we chose to backtrack to such a place on blistered feet, we were exactly right where we wanted to be.
Achieving Escape Velocity
Since last year's excursion to the golden heights was such a success, we decided to execute another 24 hour multisport Freedom Sprint. After weeks of staring at maps, making excessively nerdy spreadsheets, and greatly exaggerating our abilities and ignoring constraints we decided on a mid-June ascent of Waterton Canyon via bike and then backpack around Indian Creek. Our preparation was flawless, and the late start from last time would be a non-factor as this time we would hit the trail bright and early. As usual, fate would have other ideas for us.
A freak power outage at ML's sons' school left us in an ominous state of limbo from the very get go. Hemming and hawing, we decided to cautiously get on the drive knowing full well we may have to abort mission before we properly got underway. As if that were not enough hanging over our heads, the dreaded specter of COVID-19 made its presence known in the caregiver situation, which was a lynchpin to our escape plan. Suddenly our entire excursion was in grave jeopardy, necessitating an intense and interminable strategy session at a gas station.
After much handwringing and teeth-gnashing, we were on our way in earnest, but with less than a pleasant taste in our mouths (in my case it was due to an off-brand caffeinated seltzer). We finally arrived at the Safeway parking lot which would serve as our base of operations. Since we were already off to a late start, we decided we may as well have lunch at the fast Mexican place located next door. Unfortunately, the food was lousy enough to be disappointing, but filling enough to make us unmotivated to get on our bikes.
A half a day late but with still plenty of bright Colorado daylight (fortunately it was near the summer solstice), with heavy guts we shoved off out of the parking lot and into adventure.
Waterton Canyon: A Pleasant Uphill Cruise
Waterton Canyon is a beautiful stretch of the Colorado trail that is deservedly quite popular. The slope is gentle, the trail is wide and well maintained, and there is a lot of wildlife. We were lucky enough to see several bighorn sheep amble close by.
In an attempt to remove some of the time spent fumbling between one activity and another as experienced on the previous trip, we decided to make things easier on ourselves by simply biking with gigantic backpacking backpacks strapped to us. Yet another idea that sounded great as we sat comfortably at our desks daydreaming and not dealing with extreme awkwardness and back pain.
Nevertheless, the weather was a bit warm but very pleasant as we reached a bike rack under cover near the picturesque dam. A ranger station was nearby. While resting at a picnic table we saw a geezer ride up wearing a parka on this cloudless 90 degree day as if he were going to spend a rainy late November afternoon in the stands of Lambeau Field watching a Packers game. Some folks would believe the bike rack would be an ideal place to leave bikes overnight: clearly meant for bikes, out in the open for rangers to keep an eye on them, and located right before the road deteriorates into a challenging trail for bikes. ML, on the other hand, believed it to be a thief magnet and the worst place imaginable to leave our trusty steeds, so off we trudged up the canyon looking for a place suitable to lock up for the night.
After scouting back and forth we found the "ideal" spot: steep, inconvenient, and overgrown with various poisonous plants. Only a lunatic would want to steal bikes from that location. With bikes fully secure, we hit the trail on foot.
Hiking Indian Canyon at a Blistering Pace
The Indian Canyon Trail was exceptionally maintained and graded as it is meant for mountain biking. I was grateful for the moderate slopes and soft tread after a year of dealing with the knee buckling, boot shredding steep and rocky trails of the NY Hudson Valley Palisade and Shawangunk ranges. Being a Thursday we largely had the normally busy trail all to ourselves.
Hours passed blissfully, until ML began to develop blisters on both his feet. Gradually the pleasant stroll through the CO woods became a painful trudge. Luckily, we were nearing our objective for the evening: The Indian Creek Campground, where we were to spend two nights, the second with ML's elated family as we'd spend an idyllic time in a beautiful campground.
No Vacancy
The blisters were quickly becoming a big distraction for ML as we hobbled past the equestrian campground into the camping area devoid of large herbivores. Another advantage of starting this trip on a Thursday was that the campground would surely be empty, allowing us to snag the best site.
Unfortunately, many other folks had the same idea. To our sinking dread we discovered site after site was occupied as we marched around the rather forlorn looking campground, each site looking more pathetic than the last. We came to the rather grim discovery that every single site was taken; our entire plan was crumbling under our raw feet.
One site remained ambiguously open: a small site with a sign indicating that it is for the camp host. As seasoned campers we found this situation to be odd: typically the host has the nicest, largest site and is permanently occupied by someone spending months on end there. This one didn't so much as have a single camp chair lying about, and was barely big enough for a Prius, let alone a 45' RV a typical host would have. ML had the guts to ask the neighboring site if they had seen anybody there, they indicated that nobody had ever been there that they know of. However, these people looked as if they could have been right out of a remake of Deliverance and seemed as shady as a palm tree, so we had to think fast as the long summer daylight was rapidly running short.
We had two clear choices: continue further down the trail into the unknown making tomorrow shorter, or backtrack to an attractive pond we felt was a mere few hundred yards away. We initially went with the former, bolder plan, but soon realized that we had no water with none likely to be had for quite some time. Rather disgusted at our haste, we backtracked to the campground for water, then reluctantly went back the way we came. I was confident that the pond with ample flat land was a mere hundred yards away, and I still felt that way as we ended up going 3/4 of a mile back into the swamp. Quite certain this alleged Shangri-La of backcountry campsites was simply a shared delusion, we threw our ever-heavier packs down on the site of the trail to share our sad dinner with the mosquitoes.
Slow Stroll Back to the Canyon
Soon after sunrise a pair of typical Colorado early birds walking past our sad little camp at 6am, proving once again it is the only place in the planet where people consistently wake up earlier on their days off. Since the mosquitoes were not about to take off, we hurriedly packed up and headed back to the campground to regroup and at least have a civilized place to sit down.
The equestrian camp seemed half full at best, so we realized our folly in not poaching one of those sites the night previous. Surely those folks had enough things to worry about than two hobbling dirtbags with a Eureka Spitfire. With no clear place to stay, we hatched a plan to get back to the car ASAP so we can rendezvous with the rest of the family and proceed from there. As a side note, ML was in complete "tape delay" radio silence mode for the duration of the trip as his beloved Celtics had played in Game 6 of the NBA Finals the night before. Thus, all the majestic peak bagging detours we had planned in the comfort of our homes were hastily dismissed.
The rest of the loop was pleasant enough, and once again we had the entire trail basically to ourselves, a rarity on a beautiful summer day in Colorado. It wasn't exactly a fine stroll as the high temperature reached 98 degrees that afternoon, with the mid-June sun poring its rays deep into us. It was a case of one battered foot in front of another until we finally arrived at the canyon.
We quickly realized that we were fools for not using the bike rack, for we had to slog further uphill to get to the bike stash. It was the last thing we wanted to do at the moment. After much wrangling, swearing, and dodging poison ivy we hauled our bikes and prepared for a leisurely, tranquil descent back to the car and a job well done.
Waterton Canyon: A Miserable Downhill Struggle
That pleasant cruise we had longed for was short-lived. After perhaps a half mile at most ML heard the most dreaded noise you can hear on a bike tour: a slight hiss coming from beneath your feet. Yes, the flat fiend had found us yet again. If there was any consolation it was a very beautiful place to spend the next 20 minutes fumbling with a tire, well aware of the fact you are already running far behind schedule.
Just as we were about to resume our journey a young lass rode up to us and asked us what we were doing with these monstrous backpacks on our backs (we had forgotten how ridiculous we looked). After we explained our mission, she was quite in awe of our hardcoreness and admitted that she wishes to do something like that someday. That was precisely the morale boost we needed at the moment, for we were out for more than just a walk in the park.
The morale boost would be short lived as another classic bike touring foe came tearing out the canyon in the form of a fierce wind. ML couldn't believe that the wind would have the gall to go up the canyon; didn't it realize it was supposed to go down the canyon? For some reason he was really struggling with the wind, whereas it hardly had any effect on me. In fact, there were moments when I could simply cruise along where ML had to pedal furiously to keep pace. My bike had large knobby tires and was altogether too small for me, so I should have been the one to suffer.
Just when we needed it most, another unexpected morale boost came slowly bouncing up the canyon in the form of a little old lady cruising along on a mobility scooter. She had a delirious smile on her face, as if she had just escaped from assisted living and is going to enjoy the day outside come hell or high water. She clearly did not care whether or not the batteries gave out on that contraption, which would place her in quite a precarious position indeed. We imagined her to be the happiest person on the trail today, and her pure enjoyment for the outdoors despite her circumstances is a great lesson for all of us.
But that spirit was short lived, as the trail seemed substantially longer than what he breezily accomplished just the day prior. The last mile in particular was the worst as it involved a steep climb on a busy road with very little shoulder. The Safeway parking lot seemed to be receding in the distance. The final few hundred yards through the lovely housing development next to Safeway was full of loud and sincere cursing. The car finally appeared, and (as it often is) was a far more beautiful sight than any majestic sheep-filled canyon could possibly be.
Freedom Camping the Right Way
Even though the multisport adventure may have come to a merciful end, we still had a night of camping ahead of us. We didn't have a dedicated spot at this point, so we had to improvise. Fortunately, ML had some potential great car camping spots in mind as we motored up a road that shall remain nameless. At a nondescript pullout we surveyed the area, and it held promise: Plenty of flat open ground, little evidence of camping or hooliganism, and reasonably close to home. He dropped me off to secure the spot and start a fire while he fetched the rest of the family.
Thoroughly satisfied with my ability to start a fire after a brief downpour with wood found on site, ML returned to explain his downhill struggles were a direct result of an engaged brake pad, thanks to haste during the flat change. We pondered this hilarious-now-but-not-at-the-time situation while in the midst of a truly fantastic car camping spot. If you have spent your life east of the Rockies and have never had the pleasure of true freedom camping with a car, your life is not anywhere near complete. To have the space and solitude of a backpacker with the creature comforts of home (2 burner tabletop stove, enormous teepee tents, and a Walmart shit bucket) is a joy on earth.
Alas, there was a small hitch: unbeknownst to us (or did we intentionally not read any of the signs in the childish hope that if you ignore something unpleasant it will go away?), we were in direct violation of the fire ban that recently went into effect. The local Fire Marshall Bill paid us a friendly visit to inform us of our misdeeds, and we quickly complied. Dousing out a perfectly fine fire gave me the same sense of sadness I would feel if a gorgeous new Porche were to get totaled rolling out of the lot.
Later that night, a fierce wind came out of nowhere and rattled the old Spitfire pretty hard for what seemed like hours on end. Suddenly, the fire ban went from an annoying restriction to a rather wise move.
A Bad Day for Competition
ML could not enjoy the moment to the utmost, for at the back of his mind he was wondering if his beloved Celtics were still in the running for their 18th NBA championship. As soon as we returned to the house ML turned the game on. I did my best to distract the boys while ML spent the next two hours swearing at the screen showing him disturbing images of a season slipping away. The game finally concluded, morale down the drain, but at least he could resume contact with the outside world.
In order to lift his spirits, ML proposed a game of frisbee golf. The last attempt was rather cutthroat and involved a lost driver, but this one was more cordial and successful, despite it being rained out before the halfway point due to typical Colorado summer thunderstorms. We called it good and wolfed down an immense Indian feast that refreshed out moods.
Epilogue: Unexpected City Day
ML agreed to take me to the airport despite the fact it was probably the last thing he wanted to do on Father's Day, but at least we got to give it a proper celebration of breakfast in bed. As it turns out he could have just stayed in bed for my flight was ultimately canceled for vague and dubious reasons. Nevertheless, I relished the opportunity to have my personal 24 hour blitz of freedom, solo style in Denver. Too late to attend the Rockies game, I wandered around aimlessly in the "Rhino" district, which may or may not have been the inspiration for South Park's genius SODOSOPA parody.
After an exciting night of watching a cornhole tournament on ESPN2 in my hotel room, I needed to get a final lungful of fresh Rocky Mountain air before the tedious journey on multiple legs of public transit to get back to the Hudson Valley. Luckily the Rocky Mountain Arsenal Wildlife Refuge was a brisk walk from the hotel, so I indulged in a quick poke around. The sky was clear, the wind was brisk, and the trails were inviting, but I had a plane to catch (I hoped) so I couldn't stay long. But as with any good adventure, despite the shortcomings and frustrations it left me was a desire to explore further.
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