Tennessee Pass

Day 12


Miles hiked today: 6.2
Miles from Denver: 143.3
Elevation: 10,424 ft
Segment 8
Landmarks: Camp Hale, 10th Mountain Division, Ski Cooper, Tennessee Pass, Leadville

VIEW MAP

My Dad is having it rough because he hasn't been able to keep any food down. He ate one oatmeal packet this morning, and put some Propel packets into his water for sugar. We slept in and broke camp in the full sunlight. The day dawned clear and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. I am really glad we camped at Camp Hale; it was pretty cool to wake up and look across at the empty stares of a hundred gaping bunker doorways.

It was time to make for the car at the top of the pass, which was six miles away and a thousand feet up. It was cool as we walked through the thick forest, although there was a sign as we left Camp Hale that said to beware of tree cutting operations. This was the beetle blight again, and they are aggressively trying to cut down the affected trees to save the rest. The forest floor was littered with the shattered remains of about half of its trees. It was like walking though a logging operation where they didn't actually haul away the logs. This went on for several miles.

At one point, the trail crosses US 24, then continues for another 3 miles to the top of Tennessee Pass. My dad had had enough. He hadn't been able to eat anything the entire trip, and it just didn't make any sense to try to go any further. I knew I could move at 3 miles an hour, so I took the keys and told him I would be back in an hour and a half.

He didn't miss out on much. There was a beautiful meadow for a bit, then the trail joined some logging road all the way into the parking lot. The most interesting thing was a coking furnace that was in ruins, and several spots that to me looked like old lime kilns. I made it to the car in record time, and in the meantime my dad had dried out my tent, so it was a pretty good deal both ways. We were soon on our way to civilization in the form of Leadville, Colorado, an old mining boom town that was once the most wealthy part of the state, but no longer. The town sits above 10,000 feet, and prides itself on being the "2 mile high city." There is a lot of great western history here, a lot of great 1880s architecture and a lot of character, rounded out by a slightly depressed economy, plenty of low rent housing and cheap diners and dollar stores. In other words, this is a spectacular hiker town. Anchoring its reputation to the trail is the Leadville Hostel, which is legendary on the CDT and CT, run by a guy named Wild Bill.

We first stopped at the Golden Burro, which fittingly elevated the humble burro to its proper place as the animal that made all those gold and silver rushes possible. Inside the restaurant is the "Brass Ass" Saloon. You can probably imagine the place already. I smashed a giant plate of chili cheese fries along with a bacon cheeseburger. It was a battle hard fought, but I won in the end. More importantly, my Dad was able to put down some food for the first time in 3 days. We did some errands and he dropped me off at the hostel, on his way to see family upstate. It was great to spend a couple of days with you on the trail dad! And thanks for all the food..





The hostel indeed lives up to expectations, and I enjoyed great company as the hostel is filled with long distance runners, gearing up for Saturday's 100 mile race from Leadville up and over Hope Pass and back, all within 30 hours. This is a huge event, and there are some really talented runners in town to see if they can win the event. It will be interesting to see, and it looks like I might even be in that exact area on Saturday.

Camp Hale

Day 11

Miles hiked today: 13
Miles from Denver: 137.1
Elevation: 9,320 ft
Segment 8
Landmarks: Guller Creek, Janet's Cabin, Searle Pass, Elk Ridge, Kokomo Pass, Camp Hale, 10th Mountain Division

VIEW MAP

My Dad and I awoke to a perfectly clear sky and dry tents, with no condensation. This is only the second morning when I didn't have condensation on my tent, so I had a good feeling about the weather today. Last night there were these strange flashes of lightning, which must have been a few mountain ranges away as we had a clear sky. We were moving by 8, but already there were some light, whispy clouds coming over the ridge to the west. I did not have a good feeling about the weather any longer.

Today was a crucial day. Ahead of us lay Elk Ridge at 12,280 feet, which involved a walk above tree line for about 4.5 miles. This is no small thing on a stormy day, as being up there when there is any kind of lightning is a bad idea. If we couldn't get over the pass today, we had tomorrow, but we would need to do 17 or so miles tomorrow to do that. Also, my Dad has only until tomorrow, and his car is parked on the other side of that pass. Behind us lay only retreat and defeat, and an inevitable do-over for me. It is a balance between being bold and making good decisions.

The rain was coming down by 9 am. We only had a few miles to walk until we reached tree line, and decision time. This was not a thunder storm, but a slow moving rain storm that looked intent on parking itself directly overhead. The trail left Guller Creek, which we had been following, and switchbacked up the mountainside on its way to tree line. We could see, a thousand feet above us the gateway to Elk Ridge, which is called Searle Pass. Still hopeful that this storm was not serious, we started up the switchbacks. That is when the first rumble of thunder came. It sounded far away. I spotted a flash over the ridge, and then counted 18 seconds. 3.5 miles away. My Dad caught up to me at the edge of the trees, and this time we both saw a bolt just over the next ridge. 15 seconds, 3 miles. It was time to move to lower ground.

We ended up sitting under some pines for shelter from the rain, as we pondered our options. We would need at least 3 hours to cross that ridge, which simply wasn't safe as long as this storm was here. On the map was Janet's Cabin, which is a part of the 10th Mountain Division hut system. These are locked cabins that you can book ahead of time for large parties, which contain many amenities much like the huts in the White Mountains in New Hampshire. I reasoned that if this cabin had a covered porch, it could save us from hypothermia. The problem was according to the map, we should have passed the trail for it when we left Guller Creek. We had seen its broad roof from a mile away, so I decided to do some bushwhacking and find it.

As the rain kept coming down, I pushed past sage, bushes, downed trees and marshland. I was now completely soaked top and bottom by the time I finally found the cabin. It was quite the sight, to be in such a remote area in such a situation and stumble upon such a massive building. It was 4 stories tall from the back, and looked like it could sleep, feed and entertain dozens of people. There was a small building out back which turned out to be the wood fired sauna! Of course everything was locked, but that oh-so-important covered porch was indeed there. Even better, it was on the east facing side, out of the wind.

I had left my dad with the packs, and by the time I got back it had been a half hour. He was getting a little concerned. We shouldered packs and headed back down to bushwhack up to the cabin. I had figured out that the proper way to get to the cabin was from the ridge above, which was exposed to lightning and we had heard several more peals of thunder. We ran into another hiker on our way to the cabin, who eventually joined us up at the cabin. It was a glorious thing to be able to change into all dry clothes and sit out the storm. The guy who joined us soon left in what looked like a break in the weather, but it only started raining again and I realized we would be here a while. We put down sleeping bags and took a nap. By 1:00 pm we awoke, and the weather was breaking. We had traveled 3 miles the whole day, and it was time to move.

This was one of those days I won't forget about this trail. Being on top of a mountain above treeline is an amazing thing, and it is even more incredible when there are clouds everywhere, distant peaks are ringed in whisps of smoky cloud, and you are always keeping one eye on the ridge to the west. The walk along Elk Ridge is a glorious one. We could see the more jagged section of the Tenmile range in all its glory, and even see highway 91 below speeding past a strip mine. We saw pikas, a small mouse-like critter that only lives among the rocks at such high altitude, and a little later I spotted my first marmot of the trip. Marmots look like big groundhogs with a beaver's tail, and they also live above the rocks at high altitude. They live in groups and are often sitting up on a rock making sounds like a dog toy being squeezed. They are also not too shy around the camera, or at least not observant enough to notice how close I got. One of them kept stuffing more and more grass into his front teeth, and the longer he was at it the bigger the bale of grass in his mouth grew.

We were up on the ridge for about 3 and a half hours, and as we finally cleared the top and the path down lay before us, our welcome had expired. Dark clouds lay on the horizon. As I waited for my dad to catch up, I spotted first a solitary man far below riding a horse, and hitch it near a solitary camper trailer in the middle of square miles of empty space. He must have been 1,500 feet below, and there was not a tree or a stream for miles around him. Just as I was puzzling at his presence, I heard the strange sound of bleating sheep. Sure enough, there on the next ridge was a herd of sheep, huddling together at 12,000 feet, as if for protection. The man must be their shepherd. I also realized that they must have an instinct to climb higher and higher in the storm, something a man on horseback would be foolish to try to stop during a storm. Several of these sheep probably die up here every time a thunderstorm comes through.

We made our way down off the high ground, and just as I was approaching Kokomo Pass, which loomed like a gateway to the next mountain chain, it started to rain. It really wasn't too bad, and there was no thunder. It probably lasted 20 minutes, long enough for us to make it safely to tree line. We had done the hardest part now, and it was now late afternoon so it was time to make for Camp Hale.

Camp Hale is a very special camp spot, and we were determined to make it there. Camp Hale is where the 10th Mountain Division was trained during World War II, the only elite mountain troop division trained with skiing and technical climbing skills in the history of the United States Military. The camp was started in 1942, and in 1944 the division departed for combat agains the Nazis in Italy. They were deployed in a technical climb up Riva Ridge in the Apennine Mountains, compromising the German position. They were instrumental in the 5th Army's drive up to the Po River, and suffered 25% casualties. They led the way in breaking the German Gothic Line. And here we were camping in their old base!

The place where Camp Hale is situated is really remarkable, as it is so large and so flat. It must be two miles across, and situated at 9,000 feet, surrounded by peaks. There is a spot on the map that says "CAUTION: UNEXPLODED ORDINANCE IN THIS AREA." There are no structures left at Camp Hale except a long row of bunkers, but it is impossible to miss the evidence of berms for training, water supply dikes, and many other strange shapes in the landscape that we had no guesses as to their purpose. We pitched our tents right next to the row of abandoned bunkers, each one a dark cold cavern, home to birds and critters. They are a striking relic to the era, and it was really a treat to be camped in such a historic spot.

Spent and beat, we looked forward to tomorrow; a short 6 mile walk to the car, and a night in Leadville for me. My dad has been unable to keep any food down on this hike, and I'm sure after a long day like today he is running very short on energy.