Part Fifty Nine

​     September 26th                  Zerkle Wilderness, CO                      (Go to Pt 1)

Sitting serenely atop the bluff, absorbing the grandeur of the glowing landscape below, it suddenly occurred to me that it was September 26th.  Or was it the 25th?  No, I ran the days through my head and it was definitely the 26th.  Well howdy-doody, it was my fuckin’ birthday!  I was 22 years old.

From the bluff I could see what appeared to be the main, ranch complex in the valley below. I knew I was going to have to proceed with caution because, even though I was following a seldom used jeep trail buried under leaves, a few miles back I had run up against a locked, steel gate, clearly signed with the various ways trespassers caught on ranch property could be prosecuted.  No vigilante stuff like, ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On-Sight’, just a large-lettered list of prosecutorial consequences, in the extreme. ​

Click on the map for a larger image

Naturally, I had to climb over the gate and, fortunately, as I continued along the jeep trail I was able to stay in the forest, well east of the ranch buildings and primary road into the compound.  Unfortunately, about a mile or so beyond the buildings, the jeep track I was following deserted me and turned east up a side valley.  

I stopped and reviewed my map which showed the main, access road into the ranch turning into Forest Service road several miles further to the south, so I struck out cross-country, angling south and west for the primary, access road.
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When I finally did come out onto the road, I wasn’t exactly sure if I was still on ranch property or if I had already crossed over into the National Forest, but I was pretty sure I was still on ranch property.  I walked the road south for another half hour or so, through lit-up aspens, then across a brushy meadow to a clearwater stream where I stopped, it was around 5:30 in the afternoon.  

Ranch property or no, I was done for the day and pitched my tent.  I emptied my pack, fluffed out my sleeping bag, then got water from the stream and was just about to light the stove for some soup when a truck appeared on the road just beyond and came to a slow, rolling stop about 50 yards away. ‘Ah, shit.’

A weathered man got out of the truck, walked over to my camp, took a look around, and with feigned curiosity in his voice asked, “What are you doing?”  “Just camping for the night” I replied.  “Well, you can’t camp here.  You ain’t huntin’ are you?” He asked.  “No.” I replied. Then I asked, “How far to the Forest boundary?”  To this, the guy sort-of snorted and said “See that bend in the road down there? It’s just past that.  But you can’t camp here.”  “Mmm… yeah, okay.”

Without saying anything more, the guy just stood there and watched as I stuffed away my sleeping bag, took down the tent, loaded everything back into my pack and started off down the road. A few minutes later I rounded the bend he had pointed out and sure enough, there was the locked, steel gate protecting the south entrance to the ranch. Dang-it, I’d set-up my camp within spitting distance of the property line.

By now it was dusky with the clock quickly ticking down to dark when I found another tent site not too far beyond the gate and had my little camp back-up and running in short order. The ranch had the water locked-up on the other side of the gate, so it was a really good thing I had filled my water bottles at their stream before getting thrown off the property.

The next morning brought clouds and a chilly wind that was about to blow many of the aspens clean of their leaves.  I continued down the Forest Service road, eventually reaching a few scattered cabins called Columbine, then past Hahns Peak and down to Steamboat Lake.  

Down at the lake, I was more exposed to a wind that was right in my face, making the further trudge down to Pearl Lake take forever. After an eternity, I eventually made it to the lake where hunters with campers and RV’s were parked at nearly all of the available campsites. Luckily, I was able to find a good camp on the far side of the lake beyond the motorized sites. 

Looking over my map the next morning, I could see where I wanted to go, but aside from a circuitous, round-about route on the main road to a forest service road, there was no trail or woodland jeep track that would take me from Pearl Lake to the Zirkel Wilderness Area trailhead I needed to link-up with.  

If I stuck with the road down to Clark, I’d then have to double back on a Forest Service road to reach the trailhead I needed, and that was going to add another six or seven miles to my day, so I decided to go cross-country through the forest, around the base of Farwell Mountain to Hole-in-the-Wall Canyon, relying on the canyon to take me out to where I needed to be.

Navigating through the forest and finding the canyon turned out to be surprisingly easy, and the canyon led me down to the Elk River where I was able to pick-up a short piece of Forest Service road that then led me to the trailhead.
 
From the trailhead sign, a well-used and maintained path climbed steadily up into a shallow valley then continued on up to a lake called Three Island, just a short ways below the Divide. The lake was scenic enough but it was too cold and windy to sit outside, so I lounged in the tent and cooked my meal in the vestibule. 

The next morning was murky with low lying clouds swallowing the mountains and clinging to my skin with damp chilly.  I was now in the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness Area where motorized vehicles were prohibited, but the remanence of an old jeep trail meandered up from the lake to connect with the Continental Divide at the top of the ridge.

Once on the ridge, the clouds had me pretty well socked-in which obscured much of the surrounding landscape, but my pack was riding lite and the rolling, alpine terrain along the Divide made for relatively easy hiking.  
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The clouds lying on the ridge were surreal at times, acting as visual, white noise that scrambled any sense of direction; I could have been walking circles without knowing it, and probably would have had it not been for the trail I was following.  Around noon, though, the clouds lifted enough to reveal some pretty stunning views back to the north.

I made it to Summit Lake at the top of Buffalo Pass toward the end of the day, arriving tired and hungry.  I had expected to see hunters at the lake but there was no one else around.  I staked out the tent then sat with my boots off for quite some time, hungry but lacking the motivation to go get water or light the stove.  ​

Finally, before it was too late, I rousted around and managed to get a meal put together then, after eating, I was really ready to snooze, so I crawled in the tent feet first, straight into my sleeping bag. I laid back and closed my eyes. I would be heading down to Steamboat Springs in the morning and, so far, I was feeling pretty good about winging-it alone.  
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I wasn’t feeling a forlorn loneliness or anxiety about being stuck with myself, and the terrain, the hiking, and the weather had all been pretty glorious – so far.  Worming into my bag that night I almost felt a sense of exhilaration about going solo. But then, I had yet to see the real jaws of Colorado.

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Go to Part 60

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The CDTC was founded in 2012 by volunteers and recreationists hoping to provide a unified voice for the CDT. Working hand-in-hand with the U.S. Forest Service and other federal land management agencies, the CDTC is a non-profit partner supporting stewardship of the CDT. The mission of the CDTC is to complete, promote and protect the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a world-class national resource. For more information, please visit continentaldividetrail.org.

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