Day 19 – Brainard Lake, Day 3

Miles traveled: 0
Hours on Road: 0
States covered: 1 –Colorado

On yesterday’s hike I was beginning to think that Wilson was trying to kill us. Now I’m convinced of it.

We awoke at 2 a.m. to prepare for our hike. Jeff was already not going. Cal said in no uncertain terms, he did not want to go. He had spent the entire hike the day before keeping up with his Uncle Wilson, who blew all the rest of us away, so he had proven himself a worthy hiker and did not feel the need to prove anything else. Parker did not want to go either, but he also did not want to be considered a sissy, so he came along. Wilson, Trey, and Truman were rearing to go. Parker’s final words to his dad before we left were, “This sounds exactly like a horror movie. I think we’re on a suicide mission, Dad.”

The hike to the top of Mt. Audubon is four miles in which you climb almost 3000 feet in elevation. The first mile is through woods, the second mile is switchbacks that also go through woods, though the trees are smaller owing to the higher elevation. The third mile and a half is through boulder fields, and the final half mile, which has the greatest elevation gain, is over Volkswagon-sized boulders.

Wilson and I had coffee before we began, and the boys had cereal. We had packed water bottles the night before, so by 2:50 we were on the trail. Wilson led the way. He had a flashlight and bear spray. Trey followed Wilson, he also had a flashlight, Parker followed Trey, and I took up the rear. Parker and I did not have flashlights, but I had my airhorn and a large knife, as well as two trekking poles. We didn’t need the flashlight because the moon was so bright; it was full, which was the whole point of doing this hike at this time. Our entire trip had been planned around being in Colorado for the full moon so we could be at the top of a mountain on the continental divide under a full moon as the sun came up.

It wasn’t easy to enter the woods. Parker was thinking “wolves,” Trey was thinking “mountain lions,” and I was thinking “bears.” I pounded my trekking poles onto the ground with each step so I could make a little noise. Wilson suggested that Trey sing, so he did. The wind was howling so loudly that our noise didn’t make much of a difference.

We did well through the woods, stopping every now and then for some water or to take off a sweatshirt. I made a casual glance behind me once in a while, just to make sure some vengeful bear wasn’t sneaking up behind me to take us down, one by one.

When we left the woods, the switchbacks began. It was just dark enough that, although I could see the path for my footing, I really couldn’t see to the side. Amen for small favors. I started to slow down a little on this part of the hike. I blamed it on my 20-pound backpack. I had stuffed it with enough water for five of us, but we needed enough for only three of us. At one of our many stops, I emptied one of my water bottles into the camelback that Trey was wearing. He’d been careful to avoid dehydration by guzzling almost all the water he’d been carrying. We paid for that on the way down, when he had to stop and pee every five minutes.

Parker’s attitude began to improve as the hike went on. I think he was just feeling too tired and ill (he was getting a headache) to stay angry. As we rounded a corner where the boulder fields started, the wind blew down on us with such force, I almost lost my footing. I was feeling loopy from the altitude anyway, but this wind was making me feel almost dizzy. Wilson guessed that the temperature was probably 35 degrees F and the wind was probably blowing at 35 mph. Not a great combination when you still have almost two miles to go.

Over the boulder fields, we stopped frequently, and once we started again, I would lag behind within 10 feet of the rest stop. My trekking poles were helping immensely, but between the footing, the wind, the cold and the altitude, I was nearing my limit. No one else seemed to be struggling, which only made me feel worse. Wilson said that he needed the rests, as well, but I think he said that only to make me feel better.

I realized I wasn’t the only one suffering when, at one of our rests, Parker laid down in the middle of the stone-covered pathway, curled up in the fetal position, and fell asleep within five minutes. Wilson had said we could rest as long as we needed to, but falling asleep on a stone path?? Wilson said we were like the characters from the Wizard of Oz, falling asleep in the poppy fields, only instead of poppies, it was stones. By the time we got going again, the sweat that had built up on our underclothes had gotten cold, and it was just too much for us to carry on. We made it about 2.5 miles, just under 12,000 feet, but we decided to turn around. Things were only going to get worse farther on: more wind, more cold, steeper incline.

Though we turned around, we had gotten a wonderful view of the Denver area all lit up. It was just about sunrise, too, so we got to witness that. Trey commented that he had never known how big and orange a sunrise was, so something was gained on this hike.

Though the trekking poles helped immensely in the descent, I did turn my ankles frequently, so I commented that it was a good idea that Jeff and his bad ankle had not come. By the end of the hike, Trey said he rolled his ankles 17 times!

We started the hike at 2:50, and we returned out of the woods at 6:50. We saw one woman with her two dogs up on the switchbacks, which I could see on the return since the sun was out. They were excruciatingly steep. We also passed a group of Boy Scouts who we were convinced would never make it to the top. When we got back to camp, we all went to bed. Trey, Parker, and I slept until 9:30. Wilson had been awakened earlier by Truman. Jeff said that after we’d left for the hike, he could hear the wind howling through the trees and pictured Trey getting blown right off the mountain. He wasn’t too far off base.

Wilson had been calling Trey “the energizer bunny” since Saturday, but after this hike he changed it to “indefatigable Trey.” The boy just never stops. If his body isn’t going, then you can be sure his mouth is. One conversation on their ride to Brainard Lake had gone like this:
Wilson: How do you picture Ward to look like?
Trey: Messy.
Wilson: Did someone tell you that?
Trey: No. It just sounds like wart, and warts are messy.

Andrea was coming to visit us at noon, so Wilson had to pick her up at the gate to the park since we can’t have three cars at our campsite. While he did a few things around the campsite, Parker, Trey, Jeff and I headed to Ward to pick up some ice and some water. Somehow, we got lost. We had passed through Ward just before turning up the road to the park, but we took a right out of the park road and drove for miles, not seeing a single house. When we passed a sign that showed that Ward was in the direction from which we had come, we knew we’d done something wrong. We turned around and started driving back toward camp, wondering where we could have erred. I decided that maybe Ward is magical and can be found only by driving from this direction. When we started seeing houses that we hadn’t seen going the other way we started to think that my idea was not that crazy. Maybe Ward is like Brigadoon and comes out only every couple of hundred years. What really must have happened is that driving down the mountain, all the houses are blocked by hills and trees; going up the mountain, you can see the houses.

To get to Ward, we should have turned right out of the park road and taken an immediate left, where it said “Ward Post Office.” Hey, most of us got up at 2 a.m.

Ward is the smallest town on the face of the earth. The tiny little store that is the focal point didn’t have much, but it had what we needed. We got the last water jug they had as well as the last two bags of ice.

Andrea brought Taffy and stayed for several hours. We had a great visit. We played a game of “Last Word,” where everyone has a card with a letter on it, then a topic is read aloud. Players must shout out something that has to do with that topic that also begins with the letter they have in their hand. Then everyone continues to shout out things that have to do with the topic and also begin with the letter of the word that the first person shouted out (did I say that right?). The last person to shout something out before the buzzer goes off moves forward on the board. It’s amazing how blank you get when you have to think of something quickly. Trey kept getting Bs, and he kept shouting barbeque.

When it came time for Andrea to leave, Wilson decided to go with her. We didn’t have any more hikes planned, and he was exhausted from all the hiking we did and the lack of sleep he’d gotten. Truman’s a great dog, but he doesn’t let his tent partner sleep much at night. We helped pack him up, and they were on their way.

I kicked the boys’ butts in about 10 games of Banagrams. Cal ended up quitting because we wouldn’t accept “ZE” as a word. Parker was later sorry he wouldn’t allow that as a word, since he couldn’t figure out anything else to do with his Z. Parker may not be good at word games, but he did manage to finish his 436-page book, Lone Survivor, in three days. He’s pretty impressed with himself. Now he’s all set to start high school.

We were going to go to the local inn for dinner but then decided to use up the food Wilson had left with us. We had grilled potatoes and grilled zucchini, which had come from Wilson and Andrea’s garden. We mixed the zucchini with cous cous and, viola, a great dinner.

We’re all filthy messes. The dirt we already had on us has been covered by dirt. We’re hoping to find showers and a Laundromat at or near Great Sand Dunes National Park, which is our next stop. Until then, we have a 4.5 hour car ride in which we may have to socialize with civilians who may be less than pleased with our apparent lack of hygiene. They’re going to love us in McDonald’s if we stop along the way to post my blog.

The new neighbors we got were fine the first night, but this night they were playing loud, obnoxious, hillbilly music (sorry, Rod) while we tried to read. They had already run their generator most of the evening, spoiling the otherwise peaceful nature of the area. I expressed my usual outrage to the family and then went out searching for anyone with authority in the campground who could tell them to turn it down. I was hesitant to do it myself since the couple looked similar to the parents of the deformed killers in “The Hills Have Eyes.” By the time I got back from my unsuccessful drive, the neighbors had turned down their music and the kids had fallen asleep.

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