Pawnee Pass September 26, 2010

I bagged my first pass and the Continental Divide by foot on September 26, 2010. I’ve driven over both but wanted to hike over them. It was a time of adventure, rescue, and perilous encounters with dangerous wildlife.

It was a ten-mile hike round trip to the top of Pawnee Pass at 12541 feet with an elevation gain of 2419 feet. Patti didn’t feel too well so I went solo. I know, you really shouldn’t do that climbing a mountain. But it was such a great opportunity with the weather being so nice. And the path was heavily traveled, so if I got into trouble, someone would be around eventually.

You get to the trail head by entering the Brainard Lake Recreational Area. A few miles north of Ward, the rec area is on the west side of Peak-to-Peak Highway (SH 72). I arrived at the parking lot before 7:00 AM. There were two other cars already there. So someone was up the path I was going to trod. I was not alone.

I started out walking a little fast so I slowed down a bit. That’s when I heard it. Something was in the bushes next to the path following me. I turned around peering into the gloom and saw nothing. So I figured it was my imagination. I began walking again and the noise in the brush was shadowing me. I gripped my trekking pole ready to do combat like a gladiator of old.

And then I saw my nemesis; the predator at my side. It was a three-striped ground squirrel measuring some eight inches long. He might have been ten inches. I don’t know. He was a beast. Stalking me for half a mile. Or maybe not. Maybe it was a group of ninja rodents tag teaming or running a relay after me. Maybe for their size it was more of a marathon. Anyway, once they were found out they left me alone. Or so it seemed.

The little buggers just went into stealth mode. The ground squirrels showed up again when I took a break at two miles. I was still below timberline and being followed. I can’t say they were the same group, but their hungry little eyes looked familiar. Anyway, I must have been pretty bad pickings because I never saw them after that.

I made it above timberline before I felt less and less energetic. But I kept slogging along taking breaks as I needed them, seriously wondering if I bit off more than I could chew.

Then a backpacker came down the trail in pretty bad shape. He and a friend had been camping on the eastern side of the Divide. He had fallen and blew out his right thigh on the way back to the trail head. He could barely walk. His friend was offering support, but the trail was so narrow and steep that there was only so much the friend could do. They just couldn’t walk side by side. So I gave him my trekking pole to at least give him some support down the slope. I heard that he got down OK and to the hospital. He was lucky to be camping with someone.

Eventually I made it to the pass. One of the three people who passed me was there taking a break. He gave me pointers on what to see and how to get on the peak. And of all things, he was from Lafayette--fours mile from where I live. What a small world.

There is no official trail to the top of Pawnee Peak. But others have made a faint path to mark the way. So up I went to the top, or so I thought. It was a false summit. And to make matters worse I had little energy to keep going.

Now, I could keep at it and make it to the top of the peak and have no reserves of strength to make it down. Or I could get back to the pass while I still had the steam to do it. What to do? I really wanted to get to the top; I’d planned on it. Just one more stupid slope and a walk along the top of a ridge and I’d be there.

Just then the wind started to blow pretty hard. I had previous experience with the wind up in these parts. Less than three weeks previous I was literally blown off my feet at Blue Lake located near the base of Pawnee Peak.

On top of this, I had read a book the night before about 14er disasters. The book included a chapter about solo hikers getting in trouble.

So what was it to be—reality or the dream? I did the smart thing and got myself off the side of the mountain; slipping and sliding, wishing I was at the bottom already.

Once I descended, I stumbled over to the east side of the divide to look down at Pawnee Lake and the 23 switchbacks one traversed to get there. Pretty amazing view.

My energy gave out as I sat back down at the official Pawnee Pass sign. While eating trail mix and relaxing, I had to try hard not to nod off. A nap really sounded nice even though it was like a party the way people were showing up.

I finally began to feel human again, so I set off back to the car. It was much easier going downhill and a much better time. Go figure.

I had gone a quarter mile and I met Rich, another cello player from the Longmont Symphony Orchestra. Of all the places to meet. He and his friend were off to climb Pawnee Peak, cross a saddle, and then climb Mount Tor. They had decided to do this that morning on a whim. What?! Seemed pretty crazy to me. I wish I could have done it. Oh well. It was still unreal bumping into him. One more of those “what a small world” moments on this hike.

A little ways on I watched a couple trail runners and their dogs go past me up to the pass with their tongues hanging out--their dogs of course.

And then the most amazing thing happened. A small flock of ptarmigan were next to the trail eating. I had hoped to see some of these birds, not having seen any for 20+ years, but never dreamed of seeing six right next to me and just doing their own thing unconcerned about my presence. Wow. I stood there taking pictures till the batteries in the camera gave up the ghost--wouldn’t you know it. I had more but couldn’t get to them.

A guy came down the trail and I pointed out these wonderful birds. They still had their transitional brown and white feathers on. Soon they would loose the rest of their brown feathers making all their feathers white in time for winter. He looked at me like I was mad and picked up this pace as he hurried past me down the path. You know, when the opportunity arises, you just have to stop and check out the birds.

I was pretty uplifted. What a blessing. The next two miles went by pretty quick. I reveled in the beauty on the way down that I missed on the way up.

My next stop was a captivating shady spot beside a very melodious stream. My Facebook friends know of my love (obsession) with how running water looks and sounds, especially waterfalls. So this was a great spot to take a drink, eat trail mix, and take a lot of pictures. It was a nice break.

I finally made myself leave and go back down the path. Then, a deer jumped out into a clearing beside me. The light was streaming down onto the yellow grasses and aspen as they waved in a faint breeze. She was wrapped in a halo as she looked at me and slowly walked off. Magical doesn’t do justice to the moment.

My time up and down the trail was a little over eight hours. I was not very elated or anything besides being tired. Eventually it dawned on me what I had accomplished. Pretty good for a middle aged hiking guy. I made it. I beat the pass with time to spare to get to my grandma’s house for chicken wings. What a day!