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Day 6 – More High Ground, a Sheep Herd and a Race for more Food!

Featured / Matt Gibble / 1 Comment

I set the alarm for 4:30 am. I wanted to be out and down trail early and quickly today. My routine was getting better, even working in the dark and taking care of morning bathroom duties I was on my way by 5:10. It felt a little strange leaving camp without saying goodbye to my campmates, but everybody hikes their own hike and it is the accepted way. They all knew I was knocking out big days and I had told Ron that my hope was to get to Lake Molas Campground before the country store closed at seven o’clock in the evening. I had 25 solid miles to cover, but I knew that I’d be climbing 1,400′ in roughly 2 1/2 miles right at the end. I didn’t want to flame out for some odd reason and I really didn’t want to have to rush to get to the store.

Getting to that store was going to be pivotal. I had enough food to get through today and for dinner tonight, but nothing really after that. If I can’t get the food I need at the store I’ll have to go into Silverton, which will require hitch-hiking and losing valuable time. It will probably mean I’ll finish Sunday instead of Saturday. That means driving directly back to Denver the same day; something I really don’t want to do after being on trail for nine out of ten days. I knew I am rolling the dice hoping to re-supply at the store. Everybody is telling me that they only have snacks there, but I had seen photos somebody had posted of the shelves of the store that had Knorr rice packets and instant mashed potatoes. That is all I need to get through to Durango.

As I start in the dark I immediately notice flecks of debris in my headlamp. Weird. But then I smell smoke and I know that the southerly winds are blowing smoke up from forest fires down in the Durango area. It smells like a campfire and at this altitude it doesn’t make it any easier to breathe. I pass three tents in the first 30 minutes and am surprised by how close I was to three more groups of hikers. All are quiet, zipped up and still asleep. The sun begins to brighten the sky and the smoke does make for a beautiful sunrise. I attempt to catpture the scene in the slideshow below.

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Per my normal morning routine, I hike five miles, stop, make coffee and breakfast, chow down, move on. Even pulling my stove out and heating water it is only a 20 minute process. It’s good to have some initial miles under the belt when I do this.

Moving from my breakfast spot down the valley I look for wildlife but only see some ravens or crows feeding on some kind of carcass below me. A few minutes later I hear the bleating of sheep and then realize what has perished. This is the second herd of sheep I have come upon in the last two days. This one has five dogs and a sheepherder. As I move above the flock on the trail, the Peruvian sheepherder begins whistling and working the dogs. Two of the dogs are herding dogs, border collies from what I can determine. The other three are Akbash, turkish dogs bred specifically for protecting herds of sheep. Akbash, translates literally as “white head”. I took some video and even though it is from a distance you can see the dogs doing their job along with their sheepherder. I find it amazing. (You can read a very recent article on the sheep operation here) It reminds me of days when I lived in Romania and seeing very similar operations. I mention the paint pony in the video, which you actually can see on the upper, right side.

 

 

I finish out segment 23 and unceremoniously begin segment 24 crossing Stony Point Pass. I gaze up at Canby Mountain – 13,478′ – which is in direct vicinity of the headwaters of the Rio Grande River, where I had breakfast just an hour or so before. The view to Canby Mountain contains a field of fireweed. The fireweed has been a show stopper this whole trip and this morning it is in its full glory as the early morning light shines upon Canby in the background.

 

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A field of fireweed lies in the shadows as Canby Mountain is lit in the morning sun.

 

I quickly change into lighter clothing and plan to begin to make better time on trail.  I be-bop down the trail. It’s undulates and not long after I look behind me and see another hiker. I think to myself, “Where did he come from?” I’m shocked somebody is right behind me. I’m used to having the entire landscape to myself, occasionally catching or passing people, but nobody has caught me in a week, so this seems strange. I sense I must be lollygagging and I have a lot of ground to cover, so I set a quicker rhythm. As I crest and descend the next few rises I look back not seeing the person. I come to a big view looking down into a valley and can see a pair of hikers preparing to leave  their camp. They are far off but I can see what they are doing. I move down the switchbacks, at times, even jogging a bit. Once I arrive in the bottom, I look behind me and see no sign of what I am now wondering was perhaps a ghost. Weird.

Throughout the morning I pass many more people, some filtering water, others still at campsites. I cross paths with a gentleman coming northbound and we meet on the high tundra. He is a veteran backpacker. I can tell by his demeanor, knowledge of the trail as he tells me about the reroute that occurred here many years ago, and the weathered nature of his backpack. I like him a lot and we discuss the fickle nature of the high San Juans, that even on a “perfect” day with no threat of bad weather, one still feels very vulnerable and always on the lookout for clouds that may seem amiss. He is another that I rather enjoy my five minute chat with, and we go our separate ways.

For the whole of my trip up until now I have been concurrently on the Continental Divide Trail as well as the Colorado Trail. The CDT runs from Mexico to Canada, the longest of the “long trails” in the lower 48. But I come to the spot where it heads south toward Wolf Creek Pass as the Colorado Trail heads west toward Silverton.

 

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By all means, take the arrow that is the CT!

 

I soon come to where I am looking down into the Elk Creek drainage. And when I say look down, I mean look down! I can see some hikers below me and I am so glad that I am not hiking up out of that drainage. The number of switchbacks is amazing and the side of the mountain is steep. In the photo below I have attempted to edit it so that you can see not only the trail switchbacking down the mountain but also how the trail feeds into the drainage below.

 

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Foreground switchbacks and trail wayyyyyy down below. Don’t fall!

 

As I drop into Elk Creek the highlight of my time along this trail is watching the water flow over this patch of moss that is in the creek. It rolls along in rivulets over the moss like water running off of suede. It is mesmerizing and if I wasn’t on a schedule today I’d love to sit and watch it for a long time. I’m grateful for seeing it now.

 

 

After lunch as I get going again it is 1:30 in the afternoon. I have about ten miles to get to the campground. I should make it in time, but my left shoulder is bothering me. Specifically, it is my Levator Scapulae muscle and it is not happy. I feel as though the often narrow trail that is lower than the surrounding tundra has at times caused me to overuse my left trekking pole and compromise this muscle. It is uncomfortable enough that it is making me slightly cranky. I stash my poles and focus on covering ground.

I eventually come to a significant point in the trail, the Durango to Silverton narrow gauge rail line and the Animas River. I walk the rail line for a very short stretch, then cross the river on a nice bridge. Immediately I begin the crazy switchback climb. It is steep and it goes up in a hurry. I decide that I won’t take a break for 30 minutes, forcing myself to find a pace I can manage and grind through this thing.

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The view from the switchbacks. Mount Garfield is the high peak, 13,074′. Look into the valley and you can see the Animas River and just to the left the narrow gauge railroad that goes from Durango to Silverton. Yes, I came from down there!

 

I finish the grind up the mountain and shortly take the trail that goes to the campground. I arrive with two hours to spare! I can get a shower here for $5.00 which will get me a five minute shower! I am so excited! I enter the Country Store, a very small store and expectantly look at the shelves of items that they carry. There…is…only…snacks. My heart absolutely sinks. I have covered 52 miles in two days with the purpose of finding a re-supply here. I look to the young lady behind the counter. “Don’t you have any instant mashed potatoes or rice packets.” I admit that I’m a little overwhelmed and having a hard time taking in all of the food that is here, sort of like re-entry after being in a foreign country.

She nods her head over to the side of store and toward the floor. “There is a free hiker box under that bench, look in there.” I pull the cardboard box out from under the bench and begin to rummage through the items. I find two dehydrated Mountain House meals; Chicken Teriyaki and a Breakfast Skillet, 600 and 750 calories respectively. I find four packets of instant mashed potatoes, 400 calories each. I’ll only need two of these. I grab Honey Buns, Grandma’s cookies, Slim Jims, candy bars, orange cheese and peanut butter crackers, Pringles and other items. I want to patronize the joint so I inquire about a tent space for the night. I have no interest to head back to the trail tonight after I grab my shower. Before I call it an evening I make an additional trip back to the store for a microwave burrito and more snacks, to be sure I’ll have enough calories to make it three more days. I have dodged a major bullet, but I’m reminded of what so many before me have always said about thru hiking long trails. “The trail always provides.” And for me, I am very grateful that is has. In more ways than I can count.

Day 6 mileage – 25.4

Day 6 elevation gained – 4,635′

Total trip mileage – 160.1

Total elevation gained – 27,219′

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Lake Molas and the oasis, Lake Molas Campground beyond the lake

 

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Day 5 – The Literal High Point of the Colorado Trail

Featured / Matt Gibble / Leave a comment

On my zero day in Lake City, CO (population of year round residents 350), I ate well, reorganized my gear and looked around their local museum. Lake City’s claim to fame is Alferd Packer and his cannabilistic exploits of 1874.

Tuesday morning my pack was loaded with only two days worth of food and I had intentions of resupplying with more food at Lake Molas Campground. I wanted to get there in two days and the store at the campground closed at 7:00pm. I need to cover 52 miles before then to remain on schedule to finish by Saturday, when Pam will pick me up in Durango. My hope today is to cover close to 30, so I wouldn’t be racing the clock into LM Camground.

The first few miles of trail flirts with a walk in trees but opening up to expansive parks (meadows). I walk up on a cow elk in one of the parks. We eye each other and I reach for an elk call that I purchased in Lake City. I slip the diaphragm call into my mouth and give her a little chirp. It calms her down but she moves across from left to right in front of me. She chirps back and then barks once, then twice, exactly like a dog barks. This indicates that she knows something is awry and she trots off into the edge of timber. I give her a few barks back and then a longer squeal, bordering on a bull bugle.

About 500 yards away I see two more elk that I had not noticed before and they are running toward me on a string. They veer off a bit to the cover of an island of trees and I wait for a few minutes as they emerge from there, now settled down and feeding in the park. Some mountain bikers come along and stop to view them as well. Eventually I grow bored and need to move on, the elk grow weary of my movements and trot back in the direction they came from.

I move on and come to Jarosa Mesa, a transition area from a subalpine ecosystem to alpine tundra. After the mesa I now move above 12,000′ elevation and it is here and higher that I will remain for the next 36 miles. The CT creates a ribbon of trail through the tundra and even at this altitude there are wildflowers. The dominant one that I see is Fringed Gentian, and it causes me to drop to the ground and take some time to get more interesting photos of this late season star in the world of mountain wildflowers.

 

Fringed Gentian

 

The expanse is great in my view ahead as I walk on the high tundra. Because I got back on the trail early this morning, I expect to see other hikers, having been told before my zero day that there were a number of them just ahead of me. For now, I follow the trail, being able to see ahead for over a mile, sometimes more.

 

A single ribbon of trail beckons in the high tundra.

At times, the weather is serene and calm and it’s hard to imagine just how high I am. As I crest yet another high point, I begin to dip down and can see dots in the distance on the trail. There are at least two people. After a bit, I realize there are three, one heading in my direction northbound and two others heading southbound. I wind down in elevation, north a bit and then back south, now catching a lot of wind because of the contour of the mountains. I chat with a really nice guy who was the one I saw coming northbound. We speak for only a few minutes, exchange information and as I leave he strikes me as the kind of person I would have liked to talk to longer,

Finally, I reach the high point of The Colorado Trail. Everybody takes their photo with this sign. I do a few silly shots of myself to document that I was here. Except for the sign itself, there is nothing extraordinary about this spot. It isn’t even really on top of a mountain or even a hill; just on the contour and 63 feet below Coney Peak.

As I descend into Carson Saddle I catch up to a father and his two college aged children who are hiking the trail. They are from Spokane. After we exchange pleasantries I meet another duo hiking together.

A few miles later I stop to filter water, heat up water for lunch and am resting up after a solid day so far. I had seen two bright orange backpacks quite a distance ahead as I was approaching the creek. The Spokane trio stops at the creek as well and then we are joined by a man that comes along in the opposite direction asking if anybody has a dog. We all shake our heads no, look at each other and then the gentleman is followed by his wife, who has two llamas in tow. “$55 dollars a day! They carry the heavy load and we just have small daypacks. We leased them out of Silverton and we are camping in style” he exclaims. The couple are from Lawrence, KS and ask one of us to take their photo because the outfitter would like some shots of his llamas. The pair of animals are as gentle as can be and I’m glad I’ve seen them because I see their tracks for the next day and I would have wondered what made that kind of track.

I love her smile!

 

The Spokane trio leave before me, but after I get on the move I pass them up the long pass toward Cataract Ridge. The climb below Carson Peak is a grinder in the afternoon sun, and I, who typically abhors sunscreen is lathered up today because there is no respite from the high sun here in the alpine tundra.

 

I find myself often looking back into valleys as I climb the mountains

I hit the top of the saddle in pretty good time and realize that my body is adjusting well now to both the high altitude and the constant elevation gain that I face every day. What was once a mental hurdle is no longer so. I am cruising along, enjoying the bluebird day and fact that there is no threat of bad weather in these high mountains. That is a welcome relief.

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Hoodoos are more common in Utah, so they seem a little out of place this high in the San Juans

I quickly come up on Cataract Lake, one of the most photographed areas of the Colorado Trail. I have a big view of the lake and can just make out a large bull moose in the water. It’s amazing how he sticks out to the naked eye. He is large, jet black and I can see his large paddles even from such a great distance away. He must be massive looking up close. I snap a few photos of the lake. Can you see him there?

 

Where is the moose in Cataract Lake?

 

Cataract Lake is a popular place to camp and it is tempting for me to stop here and do so as well. But it is too early in the day, so I decide to make dinner and filter water instead. There is a family of three here and I have heard about them in previous days. I understand that they are from China and I say hello. I converse with the father and he tells me he his son, who is playing at the water’s edge is seven years old. They have come from Denver and took the more difficult Collegiate West route. I am impressed by their effort and the little boy is doing well carrying his weight.

They move on and I finish my dinner while relaxing at the small lake which lies just west of the larger lake where I saw the moose. The Spokane trio comes along just as I finish up and I wait to leave until they arrive.

They strategize about water, how much to carry and their plan for the rest of the day. I like watching them work together. They are now a well oiled machine having come so far together, 380 miles in about a month. The father and son always discuss their decisions and I love how the father, Ron, interacts with Travis, his son. There is an easygoing nature about all three of them. They are challenged by their journey, but they move as a team, a family unit, on the trail.

We talk about campsites for the night and I realize that because I have seen so many people today and visited quite a bit that I am not going to hit 30 miles today, nor do I see it necessary to do so. I decide to go about two more hours and they tell me that a young couple will be camped at the area; that they have been camping with them and they decided earlier to camp there together. I ask if it is okay if I join them for the night. Ron says sure. I am happy to camp with others tonight especially since we’ll all be in the open tundra.

I’m off before they leave and I tell them I may very well be asleep by the time they roll in to camp. I sense I will sleep well tonight.

My favorite scene of the trail thus far. I love the benched layers of green leading up to the high bowl left of Half Peak.

Of course there is more climbing to tackle and it is now taking a toll on me. The high energy I had earlier in the day begins to wane. After 22 miles, it is about persevering. As I come through another rise and round the trail I am treated to a marvelous site. I check the map and see that I am looking at Half Peak, 13,841′ high and the 86th highest peak in Colorado. It is the 8th highest in this range, hence its prominence when I first see it. Yet, I am more taken aback by the greenscape that is on its western edge. I’m reminded of mountains I’ve seen in Austria and Switzerland. If I had more time, I’d love to climb the green plateaus on its western edge and camp there. It looks fascinating and the layers of the mountain mesmerize me, especially in the evening light. It stands out as the most amazing mountain I’ve seen yet on my trek. I immediately fall in love with it, and it makes my heart skip a beat, its massiveness causing me to feel  insignificant in the scope of this big, bright, beautiful world.

I traverse around the mountain and keep looking back at the mountain to gain different perspectives as I distance myself from it. A couple of marmots sit upon a rock and seem to enjoy the evening view as well.

 

Not a bad view to look back upon as I reflect on my day

 

I keep looking for a tent, ready to finish my day. Finally I see one and arrive at about 7:00. I’m ready to stop and I’ll need an early start tomorrow to make it to my destination campground in order to resupply for the rest of the trip. I introduce myself to Andre and Brooke and joke about having a reservation for one. It’s old man humor and I catch them off guard. I put my tent up in an area with surprising deep, lush grass at 12,500′. I have never slept this high before and just before dusk Ron and his son and daughter roll into camp. I welcome them and sure enough I am not great company at this point, having worn myself out for the day. The group of five catch up and discuss details for their next day. I quickly drift off to sleep and am surprised as I wake in the middle of the night how calm it is up at this altitude. It’s amazingly serene and I sleep fairly well. It had been a great day in Colorado’s high country meeting new friends on the trail.

 

Day 5 mileage – 28.7

Day 5 elevation gained – 5,725′

Total trip mileage – 134.7

Total elevation gained – 22,584′

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Day 4 – Enter the San Juans…Enter Big Mountains and Big Views!

Featured / Matt Gibble / 4 Comments

Sleep did not come well. While dry, the dampness of the Cochetopa Creek was severely affecting my ability to remain warm. Most of my gear was working well, but this whole year I have had a challenging time staying warm outside on cold days. I would be grabbing a silk liner I had placed in my resupply box to help on colder nights.

I relented against trying to sleep and began to pack up in the dark. Getting out of an even somewhat warm sleeping bag is akin to jumping into cold water. The first thing I always do is roll up my sleeping pad. “If you want to get warm, start working” was my daily morning mantra. Because I was up early, I went ahead and made a cup of coffee while I gathered everything together. I was out of camp at 5:00 and walking through wet willows in my rain jacket and pants to avoid getting wet first thing in the morning.

Undersides of wet willow leaves reflect upon the light from my headlamp

Walking before first light on a trail that I have never traversed leads to anticipation of what the dawning of the day will bring. I am like a child at Christmas as the sky slowly brightens revealing what is hidden behind nature’s veil.

As the day brightens I’m surprised to not see any wildlife with exception of a single doe a few hundred yards off feeding in willows. I crest the saddle and 14,014′ high San Luis Peak rises above me, an easily attainable 14er if one is inclined to scale it. Indeed I can see a figure on its peak, arms spread wide and a shrill cry lets loose from the silhouetted body.

 

San Luis Peak looks more like a gentle rise, but is another 1,400′ higher at 14,014′

 

 

I am amazed by the huge bowl that is now in front of me and I begin to descend into an amazing area. Again, I scan for wildlife but do not see any until I round further across toward the next saddle and then spot what at first, I think are elk, but as I take the time to sneak over an edge to get a better look I realize they are mule deer, with some beautiful large bucks in the group.

Each time I cross over a pass or a saddle and get new views I try to determine what route I will be taking. Often, there are numerous trails, not just the Colorado Trail, so it can be a game, guessing how I might traverse the landscape in front of me. At times, I am disappointed that, yes, the trail is going to go straight up that steep mountain, and at others, I am relieved that it bends around a contour shoulder.

 

 

The Colorado Trail angles up from the left toward the saddle, you can barely make it out.

 

The sun plays back and forth on the mountains, lighting up an eastern facing side but then as I cross over the saddle and descend down the west side I get to see the sun crest another hillside and a brand new light display play out in front of me.

 

I cross over into another area that dips down into more willows; shrubs that flirt with treeline. As I come around a bend in the trail I meet a woman standing and brushing out her hair. She is the first person I’ve come across that I can talk to today. We stand and chat; she is hiking the full length of the trail. “I’m not a hiker, I’m not a backpacker, but I’m out here doing my best.” I inform her that since she has now traveled over 300+ plus miles she qualifies as both of those things and she is doing a phenomenal job. She tells me she is enjoying meeting friends along the trail and seeing all that it has to offer. She hails from Albuquerque.

I cross San Luis Pass, the official end of segment 20 and immediately begin segment 21 without much fanfare. I find a nice new sign that is posted paying tribute to a group of volunteers that have helped to maintain this section of trail. I shall like to note here that the Colorado Trail is a non-profit foundation that is maintained by and large by volunteers and teams of volunteers that raise money, maintain trails, survey needs and generally make it a wonderful place to trek. Many individuals “adopt” sections of trail that are maintained with a group of others to keep it passable and in good shape. It is an amazing movement to support the nearly 500 mile trail.

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The day is filled with ups and downs, literally, ups and downs. I climb a side of a mountain to see another huge mountain in front of me. It is now quite exposed a lot of the time but I dip down into timber, walking through dark forest, seeing more deer and crossing creeks before climbing sharply, sometimes on switchbacks to gain more ground. In the back of my mind I am aware of the passing time and do not want to arrive at Snow Mesa, a long relatively, open, exposed mesa, too late in the afternoon. It will take a few hours to cross and I do not wish to dance with thunderstorms today.

I dip into the forest once more from the tundra. I see a tent that is set up in a really nice spot. I stop and gaze over by the campsite. The tent is zipped up and I don’t see any movement. At 9:30 in the morning it seems late for a backpacker to still be in camp. However, the archery hunting season will begin in the last week of August, so I think that it could also be someone camping up here and scouting for the upcoming hunting season. I refrain from shouting hello and continue westward.

I go down to a creek and immediately uphill again. This is one segment of the trail that I am seeing more downed trees and I have to navigate walking around them as many hikers have done before or crawling over top of them. The trail turns up again and I ready myself for yet another hill climb. Behind me, where I just came from, howls begin to emit from coyotes. It’s hard to tell how many, but it is enough that it sends a chill up my spine. When you don’t see anybody for a long time, then a seemingly vacant tent, followed by eerie coyote howls, the mind begins to play interesting games. The sounds of the mountains fascinate me.

 

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Looking south climbing up out of San Luis Pass

 

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Peak 13,111 – With 637 peaks above 13,000′ in Colorado they don’t all get names!

 

Shortly thereafter I meet some northbound hikers, a pair of young women who just got on the trail where I will be getting off today. I give them some insight into water, trail conditions, etc and then make my way up to the saddle.

 

 

 

It continues on this way and I am entertained throughout my journey today by repeated sightings of deer. Some of the ascents are steep enough that they require switchbacks and the degree of incline and higher altitude requires me to knock it out in “chunks”, stopping to catch my breath and recover before laboring on. The “saddles” that I am crossing are at elevations such as 11,857′, climb to “saddle” 12,247′, climb to “top of climb” 12,772′ and “begin descent”. After this last high point I begin the long crossing toward Snow Mesa and then across it, now 7.2 miles from the road and where I will get picked up for my zero day.

 

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The last seven miles of the day becomes a grind,plain and simple. I have pushed hard the last three days with the objective of getting off the trail to enjoy a nice rest day. In my excitement I realize that I did not drink quite enough water and should have stopped to eate something hot. But I also did not want to get caught up in a storm; and that sums up life on the trail. Many think it is just a walk in the park, with all day to look at puffy, white clouds, reflect on life and solve the world’s problems. But, in reality, at least for me and also others I have met over the years there is indeed stress. The biggest one, for most, is the threat of storms and avoiding them. The other is water and gauging water stops and needs accordingly.

Today, I lost some focus on that need and nutrition. Now, I labor a bit to get to the end of the segment.  I come to one last place on Snow Mesa where I can filter water and I do so for the remaining hike out.

 

snowmesa

 

As I get to the edge of Snow Mesa it is now a two mile drop losing elevation in order to get to Highway 149. I drop about 1200 feet in the last two miles and notice immediately that it is much warmer below 12,000 feet. After sitting at the pass for a bit, my wife, Pam and her sister and our great niece and her friend pick me up to head in to Lake City.

I am beat, tired, hungry and thirsty. I’m not great company, but enjoy my first shower in four days and eating at an outdoor restaurant. Back in the little cottage we have rented, I watch Law and Order SUV and pass out after an episode. It is a good sleep.

Day 4 mileage – 21.1

Day 4 elevation gained – 5,068′

Total trip mileage – 106

Total elevation gained – 16,859′

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Day 3 – Today is About Miles

Featured / Matt Gibble / 1 Comment

I realized that doing roughly 25 miles for the first four days was not going to work in order to get to Spring Creek Pass by Sunday. That plan meant I would need to climb 6,000’ in elevation on the last day. This left too much to chance in case I had a bad day or encountered a bad storm that I had to wait on since there would be exposed areas above tree line in the last half of that distance. I really wanted to spend two nights and one full zero day in Lake City with family. So I switched up the plan.

I’d go 30 on Saturday and then 21 on Sunday. It still meant that I’d be climbing 5,000’ Sunday, but five miles less equated to roughly two hours on flat or slightly uphill ground, definitely more if I had significant climbing.

I was feet on the ground at 5:55 and past the hiker’s tent that I had talked to the previous evening at the 1.7 mile mark. The trail was wide and easy to walk; more like a forest service road. It was downhill and it was quick. I used my trekking poles like a metronome to establish a pace that would propel me along quickly.

Within no time I came to a bonafide dirt road and would walk that for half an hour then turn onto a numbered forest service trail. In this stretch I encountered my first cattle and began mooing at them like I am prone to do. A few had calves and I was enamored with how cute they were. When I had turned on to the road I could see a trail to the northeast so kept moving toward it. But it seemed like I had gone pretty long and still was not to that trail. I came to a cattle guard. I then pulled up the CT app on my phone to verify where I was. In my playing with the cattle I had walked right past the turn off and was one half mile off course! Shoot! So much for making such great time.

I found my way back to the right road and was off and not quite running but making good time. Starting early would get me through this dry, exposed segment before it got too hot. This was classic Colorado cattle country, stuff that doesn’t make many postcards but holds its own unique beauty. I had read some less than glamorous reports about this dry, dusty section but I liked it.

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The typical view of segment 18

The day was about accruing miles, but I was still taken aback by the wide open spaces in this area south of Gunnison and north of Saguache and Creede, Colorado. I passed a big ranch that stood out in the valley and then saw a couple horseman ride up toward the aspens. This would be a wonderful place to view the aspens in autumn and made a mental note to come back here another time.

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Moving into segment 19 we move from lower sagebrush country to higher aspens

The small lake doesn’t seem to be holding any water, just cattle!

At 20 miles I was crossing the Cochetopa Creek, the only creek that requires true fording on the Colorado Trail from what I had read over previous years. This year, however, in a low snow year, and now in August it was anticlimactic and I was able to rock hop across it with barely getting my trail runners wet.

The above scene was almost apopolyptic. Old forest fire burn and crazy grasshoppers buzzing about! Sound up!

I was cruising into the Eddiesville trailhead marking the end of segment 19. I began to think about my neighbor, a 20-year-old young lady currently attending CSU who had completed the trail earlier in the summer. She told me about how she had run to this very trailhead and sought shelter in a toilet there to avoid a storm. It was looking like I might be repeating that performance with clouds building overhead. I arrived there at 3:30 and found a few cars and people milling about. Beside a couple of cyclists I had yelled hello to earlier in the morning, they were the first people I had seen all day.

I settled down by a rock in the parking area and proceeded to make myself dinner. The clouds continued to build and eventually rain fell. I fell back on an old adage from my days as a cyclist. “I’ll get caught in the rain enough times, I don’t need to head out in the rain.” I propped open the door to the toilet with a rock, threw my pack inside, sat on my seat pad and began reading while it rained gently outside. It didn’t last long and I was off on the trail for the evening part of my hike.

There was a small ranch in the valley and I thought back to a friend of mine who had photographed a cowboy who was an artist that lived in a valley somewhere in the last half of the CT. I wondered if this was the valley. It sure lined up with the story I had read, at the time. I made a mental note to inquire about this with my friend, Dave. I could see why the man would not sell his land to the USFS; it was a beautiful valley, completely surrounded by the La Garita Wilderness.

I forged ahead up the long valley, the miles now beyond 20+ and what I considered bonus miles. Everything I could log today would be less I would have to log tomorrow.

7:00 was my target time to stop for the day. I met up with a fisherman who was fly fishing the Cochetopa for the day and then a father/son duo from Golden who were backpacking and fishing. The clouds began to build and less than a mile from where I wanted to stop the rain and hail began. I reluctantly threw on a rain jacket and covered my pack, continuing on up the trail.

This presented a dilemma. Nobody likes pitching their tent in the rain. And really it is quite pointless at the end of the day. I have changed my thought process on quickly throwing up my tent, crawling inside and attempting to beat a storm. If I get the tent up before the storm and weather it while inside, I now have a wet tent to deal with in the morning. Especially if I have to camp in a valley next to a creek, one of my least favorite places to camp. Most campsites are set up next to water for the obvious reason of having water conveniently close by for cooking, etc. But I was not cooking in my camp on this trip, so dry camps were much more appealing. However, there was no avoiding a camp in the creek bottom on this stretch.

I decided to roll the dice and keep walking, knowing that most storms will pass quickly and while I’ll still be camped in a wet valley, at least my tent will be dry come morning and thus, be lighter to carry. Sure enough, the rain stopped, the sky brightened somewhat and a nice spot appeared to my left. I set my camp, having covered a lot of ground for the day. Tomorrow I would be seeing Pam and family by day’s end. I was ready for them and was excited to get some sleep before tomorrow’s shorter leg.

Day 3 mileage – 31.75

Day 3 elevation gained – 4,132′

Total trip mileage – 84.75

Total elevation gained – 11,791′

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Day 2 – Rain, elk, Soldierstone, 🌺, and rattling chains

Featured / Matt Gibble / 1 Comment

The rain falls gently throughout the night. The bull elk has moved to the north side of the huge meadow that I am camped in. The change in barometric pressure has caused him to become unusually vocal for this time of year; he lets out a weak squeal from time to time.

I’m concerned that my tent is sagging and damp with condensation on the inside. I like this tent because it is light and easy to erect with my trekking poles, however it does not like low, wet areas. The walls are damp enough on the inside that I’m alarmed that it may have lost its ability to shed water, being a few years old now.

Over the past four years I have spent up to 25 nights a year in the backcountry and it always amazes me, heading back out for a trip, it’s almost like I forgot how to do things. Not having the tent taut was a mistake and I mentally kick myself for the error. The alarm goes off at 5:00 and I contemplate my day. I linger a bit, but decide that it has stopped raining at least for now and I need to get moving. By the time I pack everything up, leaving the tent accessible to dry out later, it is 6:18, later than I would like.

I had not realized that I was so close to Sargent’s Mesa, a vast open area marking the end of the segment. Less than five minutes on trail, I see a cow elk grazing. I stealthily walk along and then see deer. Wait. I thought I saw an elk. The rain from the night silences my footsteps as I walk up the trail. Sure enough, three or four much smaller deer feed right along with the elk. This is interesting because while I have seen them in the same area, it is not often I see them literally feeding side by side. There are quite a few elk and I take photos and shoot some video trying to capture the vocalizations of the elk, who are communicative animals.

Two cow elk look behind for a second pair

Eventually, I need to get moving and the elk see me and eight of them move away from me. However, to the left of the trail are four more elk and they run off as well. In the distance I can see even more slipping in and out of the edges of the timber that abuts Sargent’s Mesa.

There is another diversion, one that I have planned on visiting. Soldierstone is an amazing memorial and tribute to those who served and served soldiers of the Vietnam war. It is a mere two tenths of a mile southeast of the trail. If you didn’t know to look for it, you would miss it. I walk through the shin deep, wet grasses to pay my respects to this monument. I recommend reading more about this memorial and the vision behind it. It’s a fascinating read.

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After an hour of watching elk and visiting Soldierstone I make my way down the trail. I am met by a younger woman walking out of her camp and then a couple who are packing up their tent getting ready for the day. I amble down the trail on this cloudy morning working my way through segment 17. It is largely an up and down amble for most of the day, and while it is a forest walk, wet in nature and rather verdant, there is not a lot in the way of water access. I forego walking off trail to a lake, doing well enough with my water supply. I don’t make great time, though, because I have to stop twice trying to take advantage of a soft breeze to dry out my tent. I “leapfrog” with the woman I met earlier in the morning who has been trekking from Denver for a few weeks now.

Passing Razor Creek I encounter numerous motorcyclists that are touring the area on the trails. This section of the CT is open to motorized travel and while some parts are a bit chewed up due to the machines, the people riding them are courteous and I have some brief conversations with a few of them. They are all nice enough and enjoying the backcountry; they just enjoy it in a way that is different than mine.

The area is rich with wildflowers and one mountainside is full of raspberries, thicket after thicket of beautiful raspberries. I know that the bears will need this for winter fattening, especially after such a dry season, but I help myself to one, maybe two handfuls to verify that this food will be safe for the ursus. 😉

Fireweed was abundant throughout the trail
Fresh fruit…a gift.
Asters or Fleabane?

It’s been a day of off/on with the rain jacket and it is beginning to wear on me. My right knee is also still annoyingly uncomfortable and it affects my mood. On my way down the mountain toward where I will stop for dinner I run into a mountain biker. He has a son who is bikepacking with a friend and is on his way up to meet them. We chat for a few minutes, laugh and talk bikes. As I make my way further on, my spirits are lifted by the encounter.

At Lujan Creek I stop at 4:00 after 21 miles to have dinner, filter water and check my feet. I brew a cup of coffee as well, and drink a bottle mixed with a Nuun tablet for electrolyte replacement. I spend an hour here. It’s 2.2 miles out to Highway 114 and then I will begin segment 18. It’s amazing what an hour does as I have a lift in my gait moving down the road.

I run into the father of the bikepacker again and he asks if I’d like a Pepsi or anything. I feel so good that I decline because my body feels wonderful. He takes out some of my trash for which I am grateful and as I cross the creek into the next segment I “camel up” with extra water because tomorrow will have even less access. I fill my Platypus bladder that I have brought along with an extra 2.5 liters of water. It will be added weight but lessen my anxiety about water availability. It is an acceptable trade off.

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Clouds settle between ridges

The evening walk is blissful even though it is primarily an ascent. I finish at a saddle, my idea of a perfect campsite. I have to unlatch the chain to a cattle gate and immediately set my tent in a great spot at 7:00 in the evening. I’ve already eaten and there is no threat of bad weather. I love dry camping. It offers solitude, a dry tent in the morning and is generally warmer for sleeping.

I’m reading in my tent when I am surprised by a backpacker. I didn’t think anybody was close behind me as I’d only seen three other hikers all day. We exchange hellos, chat about wet tents and he tells me he is going another few miles. He will be setting up close to dark.

Darkness sets in and I fall asleep while reading. I hear the chain rattle a little after 9:00 and I’m awakened from my initial slumber. I look out the tent to see only a flashlight and someone walking, looking at a map. I can’t even really see a backpack. Somebody is making a long day of it. I drift back off to sleep.

Again, I’m awakened by a noise. Out in the dark on the other side of the fence I hear the crinkling of a foil wrapper. I can’t make out a person but somebody is trying to eat something. Other hikers have been talking about the Colorado Trail Mountain Bike Race that started the previous Saturday. Roughly 100 riders have begun an informal, “unofficial” race that goes the length of the CT. They ride all day and sleep little. Some even ride through the night. Apparently the winner had already finished but many remain on their way to Durango. It seems that perhaps one of them is eating not far from my tent. It reminds me of my father elbowing me in the ribs when I was a child opening a hard candy wrapper in church, making a racket as Pastor Stoner was coming to the main point of his sermon. I want to reach out and elbow this cyclist as well.

But there is an additional racket. Clank, clankety, clank as now another cyclist is messing about with the gate. He mutters something unintelligible to Candy Wrapper. The Gate Keeper is perhaps 25 yards from my tent and now I’m awake enough to be curious about the whole scene. I wonder whether they even know that I am here lurking in the darkness.

As I take in the evolving scene, I am aware that I am a little gassy, not unusual for the first days of eating trail food. Immediately, however, my own little green cloud is overcome by a powerful, powerful stench. The air must be moving from Gate Keeper to my tent and I’m overpowered by stink so foul that I begin to gag. I have been around dead carcasses that I would have rather rolled in than be exposed to this pungent, foul smell. How could a human emit such an odor? Not quickly enough Gate Keeper finally passes through the gate and his headlight shines upon the mountain as he begins his descent down the trail.

I cough silently in my tent while Candy Wrapper continues to be about as popular with me as a fart in church, which I would have preferred to stinky Gate Keeper. I want to yell, “For God’s sake, man, open that damn thing and be on your way! The bears and I need our sleep!” Finally, finally, he, too, fumbles with the gate and in a less speedier fashion rides down the trail. Gratefully, I follow this scene with a fantastic night’s sleep, left to dream about bicycles, hikers and stink bombs.

Day 2 mileage – 27

Day 2 elevation gained – 3,921′

Total trip mileage – 53

Total elevation gained – 7,659′

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Back on The Colorado Trail

Featured / Matt Gibble / 1 Comment

This is the year that I am going to finish the Colorado Trail, the footpath/bicycle path that goes from south Denver in Waterton Canyon to Durango, spanning 475 miles through the Rocky Mountains. I began backpacking the CT in June, 2014. Since then I have completed 261 miles of the trail covering both the Collegiate West portion as well as the Collegiate East section. After knocking out a few segments each year and doing a ten day trek in 2015, I decided to finish out the remaining 230 miles from Monarch Pass to Durango. An earlier blog post this spring gives a little bit of the backstory as to why I decided to push through to finish this year.

The venture will be an aggressive one. I have ten days to cover 230 miles. It is not a given that I will complete the task. I have a specific start and finish date due to business and family situations. I plan on a rest or “zero” day in Lake City, meaning I have decided to take nine full days to complete the route. In short, I will need to walk the distance of a marathon each day to make it to Durango by Saturday, August 11th. Not just walk, but don a backpack averaging 25 pounds and climb an average of three to four thousand feet each day largely at an altitude of 10,000-13,000’. I have once again taken on a challenge of which will be outside the scope of anything I have done before. In 2015, I chose a fairly leisurely 10 day trip, stopping to fish with sidetrips, etc and averaging about 13 miles a day. This will be double that.

Starting off from Monarch Pass between Poncha Springs and Gunnison

I leave Broomfield with my good friend, Jamie, who has also completed half of the trail. We will walk the first five miles together, after which he will head north for a few days on trail he has not explored while I continue on toward my destination of Durango.

Our separation point is where the East and West portions of the Collegiate routes come together south of Highway 50 and Monarch Pass. I make myself a cup of coffee, we sit at 11,900’ on a calm day, devoid of any wind. Nearby are some other hikers chatting while we hang out. After ten minutes or so, Jamie and I do the fist bump thing and he descends down into Fooses Creek while I head south along the ridge of the Continental Divide. It is great beginning with him and hard to say goodbye. Going solo, well, is solo, and hence can get a bit lonely from time to time.

I am splitting the trip into two parts with the rest day in between. However, in order to afford this luxury I need to cover 104 miles in the first four days. Today, I only began at 8:30 so I am already giving away some good light. Yet, the trail is fast and smooth, allowing for pretty good time and miles covered. But I really need to ease into the trek and not go crazy on the first day.

Fleabane

I am on the trail well after the “bulk” of hikers that started the complete trail earlier in summer. Many are anxious to head out in June, and I, too, have done that in the past. But with an early start comes lingering snow fields. July is a great time to be on the trail as the wildflowers are peaking in the mountains, but with July, also comes monsoon rains and dangerous electrical storms. By leaving in August I am hoping to to avoid the heavy monsoons but still catch a good dose of wildflowers. I am not dissapointed early on, as I have good “eye candy” with wildflowers throughout the first day.

Come mid afternoon, I run into some motorcyclists traveling northbound. Parts of the trail are open to motorized travel and segment 16, which I am on now, is one of those segments. A group of four are riding some really nice BMW 1200 off-road touring bikes with panniers, much like Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman used in Long Way Round. Two riders pass by and then I come upon a third, walking the trail, one arm holding onto a nature made crutch of a stick. “How’s it going”, I ask.

“It’s been better”, he replies, “I think I broke my ankle.”

I carry an emergency transponder device with me so I can satellite text my wife, Pam, and it also doubles as a SOS device for emergency situations. “Do you need any help with anything?” thinking perhaps this guy needs emergency evacuation. He replies that he has all that he needs and seeing he has buddies with him, I move on down the trail. He is a pleasant enough chap considering he has a potentially serious injury and also that his other buddy is looking for their own lost GPS device that had bounced off another bike.

I continue to run into both day hikers and thru hikers. I keep a good pace, only stopping for a quick lunch and later to filter enough water for the rest of the day. I know that from many past treks I will average 2.2 mph overall for the day. I never want to fall below that number and know that on good sections of smooth trail I can move faster. The amount of uphill does not make as much difference to me as much as the condition of the trail. If it is smooth “all day” trail, I can motor along at a consistent pace. If it gets rocky, it will be my downfall. I don’t move quickly through rocky trail so I always try to make the best of the good trail when I have it. Below is a good example of “all day” trail.

All Day Trail, like I wish I had this all day to walk on!

I do encounter some tougher trail by late afternoon, but I trudge through it, my goal being a stream where I can filter more water, have dinner and then carry on for another hour or so. Sure enough, I arrive at Tank Seven creek with a good day in my legs. As I filter water above the creek, I can see other trekkers at a camp. There is a lot of laughing and talking going on; backcountry thru hikers enjoying a beautiful evening and nice camp. I yell hello to them and they let me know that they have space for another tent. I reply that I’ll be going further, but after I heat and pour boiling water into my food pouch, I cross back over the creek and join them while I eat.

We exchange names and hometowns and within five minutes we are all laughing and joking. “Walking Man” is probably about my age and I quickly find out that he has hiked the Appalachian Trail as well as the Arizona Trail. The other two are an older couple, very easy going and immediately likeable. All three started in Denver and are going through to Durango. It is what I like about this trail. We are all here for the same reasons, we love to hike, camp and experience trail life. I’d really like to stay and linger but want a few more miles today. I bid them goodbye and am on trail again by 7:00.

I walk another hour, moving into Cameron Park and just beyond. It is the “golden hour”, the time of day just before sunset when wildlife is beginning to move about. Sure enough I see four mule deer, two of them majestic bucks as I move into the open park. I’m forced to show my hand as I move through and they bound ahead of me. I see one of them later and she poses for a nice photo.

The whole day has been smoky, from the fires in Northern California. It has kept the sun off my body, but now night is quickly approaching. I come upon a huge open meadow and quickly make camp, pitching my little single wall, one man tent. I’m sleeping at 11,300’. As I settle into my bag, I acknowledge that while my body performed ably during the day, my legs are throbbing, especially my right knee. This is slightly disconcerting because I felt this same thing earlier in the spring after an aggressive run. It did not resolve quickly then; I hope this is not the case now in August. As dusk turns to dark, a bull elk lets out a squeal above me high in the meadow. I already miss Pam, as is always the case, the first night out on a solo venture. Sleep is fitful and it rains during the night off and on. I keep waking and remind myself that I am dry and somewhat warm. I’ll take care of wet gear once it is daylight, which will come after my alarm goes off in the morning.

Day 1 total miles traveled – 26

Total elevation gained – 3,738’

Spring

/ Matt Gibble / Leave a comment

Dormancy wanes as the bloom bursts forth, another life form taking nourishment from that which gives life and sustenance; giving, taking, re-birthing, the cycle springs forward.

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Comanche National Grasslands – Picket Wire Canyon

Featured / Matt Gibble / Leave a comment

The choice was either Utah or Southeast Colorado. My wife, Pam, got to choose and she had been to Utah three years ago on spring break, so SE Colorado it was. Again, she was entrusting her trip to the husband; she is easy that way.

The Comanche National Grasslands encompass a huge area. To be exact the grasslands are 440,000 acres or 692 square miles. Much of that is high prairie grasslands where antelope play and tarantulas live and do their own special thing each fall. (I plan to make that trip one day as well!) There are, however, amazingly beautiful shallow canyons that contain petroglyphs, pictographs, Spanish ruins and the top allure to Picket Wire Canyon, dinosaur tracks.

Looking down into Picketwire Canyon.

Looking down into Picket Wire Canyon from the rim above

It is an easy four hourish drive to La Junta from Denver. Head east to Limon and then south to melon country. It’s worth stopping in La Junta at Lucy’s for either a late breakfast or early lunch before heading the remaining half hour to Picket Wire Canyon.

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A view of the canyon while camped on beach like sand

We arrived there early afternoon, set our tents, and each of us went about our business. It was Pam, J Rubble, his 11-year-old son, The Dude, and myself. I took a little nap and then did a cursory tour of the area refreshing my memory from two years ago when I was here with J Rubble. The landscape is marked by juniper trees, cholla cactus and plant life emerging from winter dormancy.

I did find this sign as I made my way to the trailhead.

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Be prepared, or prepare to die

Apparently there was a bit of a problem here last summer, which is another reason this is a good area for early spring or late fall. It’s an easy 800 foot descent into the canyon and then you follow the Purgatoire River for about as long as you want to. Two years ago we hiked to Rourke Ranch, just under 10 miles one way. Unfortunately you cannot camp in the canyon itself (likely due to the great chance of death) so it is day use only. After a great dinner of venison steaks and brussel sprouts we all got a good night’s sleep and chance to test out the waterproof capabilities of our tents as it rained heavily through the night.

The next morning we took our time having breakfast and headed down the trail mid morning. J Rubble and The Dude brought bikes for the nearly twelve mile round trip to the dinosaur track site. Pam and I headed along on foot. The trail is almost road like in nature, but the tread can be loose because of the sand. This morning, however, it was packed pretty firm due to the overnight rains and was even muddy in a few spots.

 

 

En route to the dinosaur tracks we stopped to check out the petroglyphs and Spanish mission and cemetery. There is amazing history in this canyon and I could easily spend many days doing a more thorough job exploring.

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The Purgatoire River in Picketwire Canyon.

The big draw is the dinosaur tracks, over 1200 of them to be exact. The area is home to the largest dinosaur track site in North America. The tracks are of Therapods (meat eaters) and Sauropods (plant eaters). They were from the Jurassic period 150 million years ago. Yes, that is not a typo. This was before the Rocky Mountains were formed. The area of Picket Wire Canyon used to be a huge, marshy lake bed. Apparently the dinosaurs had walked along the marshy, mucky edge of the lake leaving their deep footprints. The lake eventually dried out and the tracks literally turned to stone. There is an excellent article from the New York Times about the ongoing work being done in the area. (Hover over the images below for the captions and descriptions of tracks)

 

 

 

Sauropod tracks with my footprints next to them
Allosaurus tracks

We relax by the river and I heat water for coffee and tea as we soak up the sun on this fine late March day. J Rubble and The Dude have crossed the river in sandals while Pam and I are content to watch them play about. There is one other couple here, from Montana, according to the signed trail register, and they, too, are relaxing in the sun on the other side of the river.

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Lunch spot on the Purgatoire River

Eventually, Pam and I begin to make our way back, now with the sun higher overhead and warming our backs. The boys play leap frog with us on the bikes and later on we find them bedded down underneath a cottonwood tree. It seems that The Dude decided to climb the tree and had a bit of a mishap, falling out of it and scraping himself up

c185f342-a246-4ea7-9307-9aa97de38f61-70982-00000ccbe7d0c835

Oops!

pretty good on the belly. There doesn’t seem to be any internal damage and we make our way  back to camp.

After another good meal and windy night I awake the next morning to the sounds of turkeys gobbling and coyotes yipping in the Juniper filled canyon below. We’ll load up the cars this morning and make our way another couple hours south to the other part of Comanche Grasslands and Picture Canyon, our destination for the day and night.

Colleen’s Last Homework Assignment – My Eulogy for Her

Featured / Matt Gibble / 8 Comments

Blooming in my garden on the day of her memorial service

This could lend itself toward being a bit on the heavy side, so I’ll open with something a little lighter and allow us to laugh with our friend Colleen. Since Colleen’s death, a nagging question keeps coming to me. Is the entry to heaven now based upon a keyless entry system or does it require Colleen to actually have the keys, for if it does she is at the gates waiting upon AAA or Frank Ping to help her out in order to get in, for nobody loses keys like Colleen did.

I’ve know Colleen for over 20 years. I don’t remember ever actually meeting Colleen for the first time, but we attended the same church. Colleen was one of those people that you heard about first and met later. Then all of a sudden, I’m asking myself one day “Who is this woman? Who is this person asking me deep questions and making me think and look into my soul?”

My prayer over the past days has been how I will speak about a dear person, a dear friend. It is my humble intention today to give great honor to Colleen, and also to Jesus Christ, of whom she was a steadfast, devout follower. It is a tremendous honor to speak about Colleen to all of you, because if you are here today, she taught you something. Colleen was a teacher, she was also a student. She sought out learning and went about teaching. If you are here today, you loved this incredible woman. I hope that you will hear something that resonates with the Colleen Kanemoto that you knew and loved. I’d like to share about the friend I knew.

Exactly one week before Colleen’s passing I was having breakfast with her daughter Grace. “Mom said she wants you to speak at her service.” This was news to me.

A few days later, her husband, Tom, called me and we had a similar exchange. “Apparently you two have had this conversation” he said.

No, Colleen, we did not have this conversation. And I have been left with the question of what exactly she wanted me to share with you all today.

Colleen was an integral part of Broomfield United Methodist Church back in the ‘90’s when I first knew her. She directed Vacation Bible School, was an employee, and then a teacher at Apple Tree Christian Pre-School. She had always wanted to work with children, to be a teacher. I’d like to share some thoughts from some of Colleen’s pre-schoolers.

  • She made us learn without knowing we were learning.
  • She wasn’t afraid to get dirty, she didn’t get upset about play-do in the carpet or spilled glue on the tables or beans from the playground in our pockets.
  • She pushed us super fast on the tire swing. I remember learning about butterflies in her class. They grew in our classroom and she would show us their progress everyday and explain what was happening.
  • Mrs. Peketz always made sure that we crazy 3-year-olds were happy and learning, despite the fact that we were surely little devils.
  • She kept her patience and always had something insightful to say in any situation.
  • She never stopped smiling. Like ever. Even when we were annoying.
  • Ms. Colleen was always an optimistic person, and showed her love for every single kid that she taught.
  • She made preschoolers believe that anything was possible.
  • I remember how contagious Ms. Colleens’s smile was in the classroom, the way she would tell students stories, and then smile. It just allowed her students to always be happy, laugh and love learning.
  • I personally believe that those smiles and laughs have carried with me throughout my entire academic career 13 years later.

I gathered these reflections from four teenagers, 17 and 18 years old and in high school and college.

Colleen made more than a half dozen trips to Romania to serve children there, and we think she made her first trip in 1997. She, along with her kids, Sam and Grace stayed with my family for a month in the summer of 2004 when we were serving as missionaries there. She held babies, brought suitcases full of crafts and loved on the kids. Colleen had a heart for the children of Romania. I’d like to share something from two of the children that she knew and loved.

“I remember the summers in Romania, the crafts you were doing with us and how we used to play with your kids. While the tears are rolling down my face, I remember I’ve never seen you sad. You were always smiling, what a beautiful smile! I pray for your family to be strong and follow your example of loving Jesus. I will always remember you.” That Romanian child is now 26 years old, a university graduate, speaks three languages fluently, happily married and has a daughter, Sara.

“For me Colleen was a very good friend because she taught me to smile no matter if I’m sick or well in my life. I’ve learned to move on no matter what the hardships will be through life. Colleen loved so many children and devoted her body and soul to the children’s mission. The first time she came to Romania she was like a mama to me.” This was shared by a 28 year old woman who was 13 and living at Ana’s House in Romania when she first met Colleen.

Colleen volunteered her time at the Boulder County Homeless Shelter handing out blankets and she was a volunteer at all of the different churches she has attended since I have known her. She was a lover of the outdoors, and enjoyed solo hikes in the area of Fern Canyon and was known to ascend Bear Peak, the highest peak in the area of the Flatirons. She then shared the beauty of some of those same trails with her students on field trips, moving at a pace to where a child could explore, imagine and learn. She took many full moon hikes that always included a time spent listening to her friend Earl play his flutes in the dark, star filled, moonlit sky. She learned to paddleboard and enjoyed doing that on Union Reservoir and didn’t let dropping her phone to the depths of the reservoir diminish her passion for SUPing. I believe she loved english lavender.

She was an avid reader of books and she often shared those books with me; philosophical books, spiritual books, books that explored the amazing extraordinary walk with Christ. Colleen was one of the most spiritual people that I have known.

When she was living alone a group of us would regularly attend church together, then gather back at her cottage for a meal, filling the space with stories and laughter and memories, both old ones that we all cherished and new ones that we were creating; just living in the moment, each of us pausing in our lives to love each other.

She was there in a moment of tragedy six springs ago, at the core of a small group of us that had to bury a friend that died much too early. I’m grateful that our friend DJ was there to welcome her and give her a first tour of heaven.

She loved to ask questions and learn new things. A few years ago she sat at my kitchen table late into the evening listening to a Romanian describe Apiology, the study of bees. We all laughed and laughed as the study of the sex life of bees was described in two different languages, Colleen asking questions about the lives of these amazing winged insects. “Wait, hold on a minute!” she would exclaim, wanting further clarification on a scientific point.

Colleen was the mother to two beautiful children, Grace and Sam. I’ve had the privilege to watch these two grow from toddlers to teens to amazing young adults. She was tremendously proud of both of you, of who you are and what you are becoming as adults. I know many people have told both of you this over the last days, weeks and months, but I need to tell you as well. Your mother was an amazingly courageous, faithful woman full of strength and resolve. She loved you both very, very dearly.

Colleen had a great love in her life and whom she desired to know at a deeper level every day that she lived. She would go away to spend time with this love at personal solitary retreats in the mountains of Colorado. Over the years I saw a transformed Colleen who sought to understand God’s heart and know Jesus ever so intimately. I can not stand here today and not tell you about Colleen’s faith, her love of Jesus Christ. If I didn’t speak to this I truly believe she would make her presence known in this room and say “Matthew, how dare you not speak of my faith today.”

David, of the Bible, was described as a man after God’s own heart. I did a little looking around online and found something from Ron Edmondson. He uses the following words to describe the heart of David as seen in David’s own writings.

  • Humble
  • Reverent
  • Respectful
  • Trusting
  • Loving
  • Devoted
  • Recognition
  • Faithful
  • Obedient
  • Repentant

Each one of those words, I believe, describes Colleen’s heart for God as well. I’d like to share something from Colleen that is directly from her blog that she wrote as she moved through the process of cancer and reconciled that with her faith.

“This has been a journey that hasn’t tested my faith, it’s allowed my faith to lead me, encourage me, and offer me peace in the chaos that comes with this new normal. Oh, I can lose my shit every so often, but I have a place to return to once I blow my nose and wipe the tears. It’s a place of peace and comfort and relationship. I cannot explain how my science-loving brain and Jesus-loving heart work together, but I feel blessed, and it has nothing to do with answered prayers, miracles, or prosperity. I don’t worship God the magician, I have this unexpected relationship with God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that I inexplicably chose one night when I was 7 and sad but praying in a way no one had taught me to do- just crying and conversing as if he were my dad. I am “at home” with Him every day and experience love, peace, and comfort. I’m good with that.”

Toward the end of her life Colleen found another love. She told me about this man she had met and their second time together at some gathering or little party. They were sitting on a curb in the street chatting and they had wonderful conversation, and for Colleen, I know this was of utmost importance, for she loved to have deep conversations about all things regarding the world and life. Colleen met Tom Brown, her Prince Charming, and she was madly in love with him. Tom, while your time was cruelly cut short with Colleen, you gave her the happiest of days, and filled her heart with love and joy. She lived happily ever after and she worried more about you than she did herself in the last eight months of her life.

In closing I have something to share with all of you that are grieving this loss of Colleen and the abruptness with which her life was cut short. I know that many people have regrets that they could not see Colleen toward her end days.

I have had the tremendous privilege to have been her massage therapist for 16 years. We’ve travelled internationally together and she had been a rock for me during some very difficult times of my life. When it became clear that her time on earth was short, I had so many questions for her.

“Are you excited to meet Jesus?” “Are you scared, frightened or anxious?” “Do you feel a sense of freedom or relief that you’re leaving this state of affairs of our current world?” These were just a few of the questions that I had for her.

But each time that we met I sensed in my gut that Colleen needed space, that she did not need to give me answers to my questions. And again in the final days of her life, I so desperately wanted to know what it was that she wanted me to convey to each of you as we come together to celebrate her life. On the night that she passed, I truly felt that she was teaching me that I only had to rely on my own faith, to speak about who she was, what she loved and how she lived.

Colleen was a teacher, at heart. She taught children face to face and as adults we have so much to learn from her. As you struggle through your grief, because, let’s face it, we are all struggling with this passing of this wonderful woman. I beckon you to look deep into your own heart, much like Colleen did as she sought out her heart, and ask just what exactly has she taught you through the relationship that she had with each and every single person sitting here today. If you aren’t learning something from Colleen, you’re not doing justice to the life that she lived.

Colleen’s life was cut dreadfully short, but she did not, under any circumstances, live her life in vain. She lived her life fully and to the fullest. She shared with me last fall about a positive attitude. She said to me, “It’s not about having a positive attitude, it’s about living positively.”

Two days before she passed Colleen sent me a text.

Colleen: I have another night at the hospital…

Me: Want any company or are you beat?

Colleen: I’m fine

Me: Okay, love you!

Colleen: ❤️U2

And I think she wants each of you to know that too.