It was overcast and cold as Jackson and I loaded our gear onto the Durango / Silverton steam engine train in early August 2010. Passengers were filling every car - the open air cars, the first class car and the cafe car. It seemed everyone in town was going to Silverton for the day. Of course, Jack and I knew we were not going to make it there with the rest of our fellow passengers. We were going to jump off in the middle of the San Juan Mountains.
The ride was slow and cold sitting in the open air car as we followed the Animus river upstream past green and rocky scenery. Cinders from the engine blew in your eyes and hair and the cold mountain air forced us to zip our coats up as far as we could.
The young boy who mooned the train from his apartment balcony across the river made us laugh as we sipped our hot chocolate.
The train passed walls of rock almost close enough to touch and the view on the opposite side was of the river and waterfalls and steep drops. The Durango to Silverton train is slow and half rocks you to sleep as it twists and turns into the mountains. After about 45 minutes we made our first stop at a foot bridge across the river. The bridge led to a path into the woods and up into Chicago Basin, a mecca for mountain climbers and backpackers. The second stop was our destination.
Jack and I were quiet as the train neared the second stop. I was thinking about the cold, damp weather and the 5 days in the mountains with only the things we had stuffed in our packs. I wasn’t sure what Jackson was thinking about; he was quiet. This was his first real backpacking trip. He didn’t know we would be climbing for miles and neither of us really knew what the weather would bring.
Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on us as we stepped off the train in the middle of the Weminuche wilderness at the second stop. Several passengers asked what we were doing, looking at us as though we were a little crazy leaving the safety of the train and about to be left in the middle of the woods.
It was so green and wet and chilly standing by the train looking at those faces looking back at us. I was excited by the anticipation of starting this trip I had planned long ago. 14 years, 363 days old, Jackson was full of quiet confidence. Well, he was quiet anyway. I'm generally optimistic but I was a little concerned about everything going well for Jack’s first serious backpacking trip.
Now we were alone - for five days.
Jack seemed ready for an adventure; if not this backpacking trip, then an adventure of his own making. He was looking for new experiences. This backpacking trip was to become quite an adventure; we just didn’t know it yet.
So, as we were looking at the trailhead and the slender dirt path weaving its way into the woods, we noticed that four of us had stepped off the train. Mark and Gwen were just a few yards away and they looked confident and strong and happy, despite what the trail looked like to me. People you meet on the trail are almost always the coolest people you can run into. Sure, there are the random hard-chargers that have little time to talk, but, for the most part, backpackers are great people with big hearts, strong legs and backs and always ready to share some peanut butter and a story.
Mark and Gwen were and are the kind of people who make you feel good about yourself, confident about your goals and lucky to be next to them. Their smiles and optimism made me feel confident. I was in need of that.
As the train pulled away, the people onboard all waved and shouted “good luck” and “stay warm and dry” and all sorts of advice that we would apparently need. They must have been those big-hearted kind of people too.
The four of us talked and took snapshots of each other, then started up the trail into the woods. I was worried about our pace and making sure Jack was comfortable; we poked along. As Mark and Gwen began to distance themselves from us we said we'd see them up the way.
It rained on us for the next 4 miles.
Jack and I had new boots and a long way to go before we met up with the south bound version of the train that had just left us, so I was taking care to make sure our feet were comfortable and not blistering. We slowly made our way to our first camp, but there was no Mark or Gwen. We were alone in this campground that could easily host 30 people. Beyond this camp was a long stretch of trail that was above tree line, so we decided to stay the night.
It took 30 minutes to make camp and cook dinner. Jack was zonked before he could get comfortable in his sleeping bag. We were both asleep before the sky turned dark.
First day - 6.5 miles and 2,400 feet of climbing.
The next day’s sky was just as dark and seemed heavy with rain. As we reached tree line it began to rain and continued raining off and on all day. We crossed the continental divide for the first time after 4.5 hours of climbing to where we met a young deaf woman day-hiking all alone. Her goal was 20 miles that day. We shared some trail information and were off to find Mark and Gwen.
By the end of the second day we realized all the creeks were bank to bank. The final crossing was so deep we took off our boots and I carried the gear to the far side before coming back for Jack. As we made camp and started our stove, Mark came from somewhere in the woods and said, “Welcome”. They were camped about twenty yards away and it was good to see them again. They had spent the first night higher on the mountain at a windy and stormy camp.
Jack was fully recharged after a quick dinner as I visited Mark and Gwen to ask if they had any ibuprofen and tell them the next day was Jackson’s birthday. Seems I always forget my lighter or ibuprofen or something small and important. Turns out they were nurses and were more than ready to help out with medication and advice.
Knowing Mark and Gwen were just beyond the edge of our camp made me feel confident and I was comfortable with the trip ahead. I felt these wilderness nurses could save us from ourselves. And, they were fun to be around.
I love the company of good people, especially in the outdoors where teamwork can come in handy.
We stayed up a little later that evening talking about the next days’ trail and wondering about the weather. We wanted sun and dry boots and were happy to eat and get off our feet. We slept well after the tough day.
Day two - 10.5 miles, crossed the continental divide twice.
The next morning I made Jackson some hot chocolate for his birthday breakfast and just as he stuck his head out of our tent Mark and Gwen came over singing “Happy Birthday”. He got a kick out of that. We all agreed today would be a better day. At least it was dry for now.
Blue skies stayed with us for about half the day as Jack and I were able to walk downhill for the first time. Six miles of downhill was a luxury we had not experienced to that point. Just as we turned up the trail toward the final summit dark clouds came on us so fast that we had to dive under a Spruce tree to avoid the rain and grab a snack. It's pretty neat how a giant Spruce tree can be the perfect natural umbrella. We sat there in the dry waiting to see if the rain would stop. It wouldn’t.
Mark and Gwen were just a little way up the trail on the way to Columbine pass at 12,680 feet. We caught up with them and decided to hike together. The trail switchbacked up the valley and ran into the edge of a small but angry creek of overflowing run-off. There was no easy way across and the water was cold and deep. There were only a few stacked rocks to balance across the rushing water. Looked like a great way to end up wet.
Our group decided to use our hiking poles to balance on the rocks just above the water and help each other from both sides by having a hand ready to grab anyone who might have to jump to avoid landing in the water. As each of us made it across we'd breathe a big sigh of relief. None of us landed in the creek, giving us some confidence as we headed toward the next stream crossing.
Now a team four, it had taken all of us to cross the growing streams. The old African proverb is true. “If you want to go fast you go alone. If you want to go far you go together.” By the end of the day we had crossed two more creeks, maybe crazier than the first. As the rain came down, the creeks got fuller and faster and wider. I'm not sure Jack and I could have crossed those fast flowing streams alone. We sure were wet and tired by the third night's camp where hurriedly set up our tents on the trail, huddled inside to get warm and dry and get some rest.
That night, Jack was able to find a radio station with a small hand-crank receiver he had packed so we sang along and joked as the rain pounded us to sleep again. Getting water and cooking food and sleeping in the rain were becoming easier and almost comfortable.
I was surprised at Jackson’s resilience. He seemed to be able to handle all of the things we were throwing at him. He had become a champ and an equal partner in this adventure.
Day three - 8 miles and slight elevation gain.
Unfortunately, the next day we were in the middle of thunder storms right after breakfast and we hadn’t gone a quarter of a mile before we had to hide under a huge boulder from lightening.
After about an hour we decided we would just have to keep going, but as we passed other camp sites we noticed people were still in their tents. We were miserable and secretly wished we'd stayed in our tents too. Columbine pass was a 5 mile and 2500 foot climb.
The uphill trail had become a small stream coming down the mountain right at us. We walked up a stream of water for almost an hour to the overflowing high mountain lake just below the pass. Staying dry was not an option anymore, Jackson was soaked and looked a little rough around the edges.
Mark and Gwen looked at Jack from time to time, commenting that he looked cold and we needed to watch him. I worried because his hands and face were cold but his bright blue eyes showed determination. Not once did he question our plan or complain about the cold or show fear. He believed we would keep him safe. He was quiet and just kept climbing; the climbing probably kept him from getting too cold.
When we reached the pass, the look on his face was pretty special. It seemed the sky was clear on the West side of the pass and the Chicago basin below looked inviting. His big smile told me he was happy and proud of himself. That smile made me feel good as well. We were both relieved.
It was a two-day, downhill hike to the train from here. So we enjoyed that last sunny day camping in Chicago Basin, drying our clothes and tent - and toes. While we were lying around eating the rest of our food, a group of goats came trotting right into and through our camp as if they owned the valley.
The Chicago Basin is beautiful with tall peaks all around, creating an amphitheater at night when we were lying in the open looking at the stars. Somehow, it was as if the past four days of rain, thunder, lightening and crazy water crossings hadn’t happened.
Day four - 6 miles of downpour and 2.5 miles of the most welcome blue skies
We arrived at the bridge and waited for the train. Then we rode back into Durango with all the folks who had spent a relaxing day in Silverton. The ride rocked us into comas as we collapsed into our seats. For the first time in days we were seated and dry, surrounded by people.
When we got to Durango we agreed to meet for pizza where we ate some of the largest slices of pizza I have ever eaten. Jack had two. Our gang of four had bonded and, indeed, gone far. More importantly, we became good friends. To this day, I reach out to Mark and Gwen and occasionally enjoy a beer when we are in the same town.
I owe so much to them, their cheerful and positive attitude and helpful approach to me and Jackson. Jackson’s first serious backpacking trip was 39.5 miles, crossing the continental divide twice. It also included some great new friends - our nurses in the wild.