My first real autumn in six years
It occurred to me, as I sat this morning, eating my breakfast on the banks of the Animas River here in downtown Durango, that this trip has gifted me with my first proper autumn since I left St. Louis. The trees are turning and the leaves are falling and the breeze leaves you cold when the sun isn't directly on you.
I spent Tuesday night camped out above Jacks Canyon and woke the next morning to find no fellow climbers. Partnerless, I decided to go down and check out the canyon anyway at least for the hike and scenery. As is ridiculously common for me, I completely botched the approach and wound up bushwhacking (i.e., massively contributing to erosion) into the canyon. Disoriented, I wound up hiking the wrong way through the canyon, along the river bed. Along the way, I was cursing Jacks Canyon as just some BS backwater climbing hole for folks that can't be bothered to drive to a proper crag. I worked my way along, from wall to wall,fighting thorny plants that leave microscopic tines in your skin that I named Deathbush, and many varieties of bristly stuff that left my fleece covered in brambles (I collectively named those Crapplant).
After getting fed up at finding cliffs with no recognizable routes or bolts, I decided to climb back out of the canyon and work my way back to camp. I had hiked up the canyon pretty far so it took me a while to find camp again, all the while still completely turned around. When I got back, I check the clock and found that I had been out for 3.5 hours and probably covered 5 miles or so.
I had a nice lunch back at the car and consulted the guidebook. I realized my error and this time found the much more obvious trail that I had completely missed earlier. Much to my embarrassment, the rim of the canyon was literally 1 minute walk from the campsite, where it had taken me 10 minutes earlier. I walked down into the canyon on the good trail and 5 minutes later found myself amongst some really quality rock. Not having a partner, I just checked out some routes, and bouldered a little bit on the starts. I found some of the 10a, 10b starts to be manageable for my level.
I should mention that the conditions in the canyon were perfectly in line with my autumn theme. The trees were peaking yellow and orange and the air was crisp and breezy. I sat in the canyon for an hour or so reading and writing, soaking it all in. Pictures are up on the smugmug gallery, I need to adjust the contrast at some point, but I think you'll get the idea.
Leaving the canyon, I decided it was time to move on, so I packed up and headed out to Albuquerque. The drive went smoothly and scenic-ly and I rolled up to Rob's house around 7:30. Rob took me and his GF Erica to dinner at an excellent New Mexican restaurant and I found myself really enjoying the company of a familiar face for the first time in a week. The next morning, after a slow start, Rob and I got breakfast and tried to take the tram up Sandia Peak, but it was closed. Instead, we had lunch (and the best Mac and Cheese I've ever had) and chatted until it was time for him to go to work. I took my leave very grateful for his hospitality and headed to the climbing gym in ABQ to get a workout. Climbed for a few hours and then hit the road for the easy drive up to Durango. Rolling into town, I got that giddy happy feeling of coming to a familiar place after a long absence. This is my fourth trip or so to Durango and I keep finding myself happily back here. This feeling is keen in my mind as I consider where I might wash up when my travels are over.
This afternoon, I'm going to start driving up to Indian Creek. Matt at the climbing shop said that there should be plenty of friendly climbers out there this weekend for me to hook up with. I'd like to get in this evening so that I can get a campsite established and be ready to go tomorrow. After getting thoroughly spanked on the cracks there for a few days, I'll think I'll go out to some of the desert canyons nearby and get some hiking in while my mangled hands heal. After that, it's up to Moab, which will be my next opportunity to contact the outside world.
Till, then, then.
I spent Tuesday night camped out above Jacks Canyon and woke the next morning to find no fellow climbers. Partnerless, I decided to go down and check out the canyon anyway at least for the hike and scenery. As is ridiculously common for me, I completely botched the approach and wound up bushwhacking (i.e., massively contributing to erosion) into the canyon. Disoriented, I wound up hiking the wrong way through the canyon, along the river bed. Along the way, I was cursing Jacks Canyon as just some BS backwater climbing hole for folks that can't be bothered to drive to a proper crag. I worked my way along, from wall to wall,fighting thorny plants that leave microscopic tines in your skin that I named Deathbush, and many varieties of bristly stuff that left my fleece covered in brambles (I collectively named those Crapplant).
After getting fed up at finding cliffs with no recognizable routes or bolts, I decided to climb back out of the canyon and work my way back to camp. I had hiked up the canyon pretty far so it took me a while to find camp again, all the while still completely turned around. When I got back, I check the clock and found that I had been out for 3.5 hours and probably covered 5 miles or so.
I had a nice lunch back at the car and consulted the guidebook. I realized my error and this time found the much more obvious trail that I had completely missed earlier. Much to my embarrassment, the rim of the canyon was literally 1 minute walk from the campsite, where it had taken me 10 minutes earlier. I walked down into the canyon on the good trail and 5 minutes later found myself amongst some really quality rock. Not having a partner, I just checked out some routes, and bouldered a little bit on the starts. I found some of the 10a, 10b starts to be manageable for my level.
I should mention that the conditions in the canyon were perfectly in line with my autumn theme. The trees were peaking yellow and orange and the air was crisp and breezy. I sat in the canyon for an hour or so reading and writing, soaking it all in. Pictures are up on the smugmug gallery, I need to adjust the contrast at some point, but I think you'll get the idea.
Leaving the canyon, I decided it was time to move on, so I packed up and headed out to Albuquerque. The drive went smoothly and scenic-ly and I rolled up to Rob's house around 7:30. Rob took me and his GF Erica to dinner at an excellent New Mexican restaurant and I found myself really enjoying the company of a familiar face for the first time in a week. The next morning, after a slow start, Rob and I got breakfast and tried to take the tram up Sandia Peak, but it was closed. Instead, we had lunch (and the best Mac and Cheese I've ever had) and chatted until it was time for him to go to work. I took my leave very grateful for his hospitality and headed to the climbing gym in ABQ to get a workout. Climbed for a few hours and then hit the road for the easy drive up to Durango. Rolling into town, I got that giddy happy feeling of coming to a familiar place after a long absence. This is my fourth trip or so to Durango and I keep finding myself happily back here. This feeling is keen in my mind as I consider where I might wash up when my travels are over.
This afternoon, I'm going to start driving up to Indian Creek. Matt at the climbing shop said that there should be plenty of friendly climbers out there this weekend for me to hook up with. I'd like to get in this evening so that I can get a campsite established and be ready to go tomorrow. After getting thoroughly spanked on the cracks there for a few days, I'll think I'll go out to some of the desert canyons nearby and get some hiking in while my mangled hands heal. After that, it's up to Moab, which will be my next opportunity to contact the outside world.
Till, then, then.
posted by Scottley at 12:36 PM
4 Comments:
You getting lost? Come on man, it's not like you climbing Mission Peak, errh... Anyway, love the blog so far. Please keep it up. It will become one of your personal treasures that only grows as you add more to it. Plus, I get some vicarious thrills as I await my next move!
I heartily endorse the comments of the wooden chair man. (he'll never move. he's got his house, his harley, his wife, and his home DIY, he's all but bolted to the floor)
Loving it, have fun in the creek!
Vicarious, indeed. I have a fond but wistful memory of Moab. Overnighting at a campground outside Moab with my parents, I was about 12 years old when I spotted the very cute daughter of the folks who ran the campground. She was about my age. Too timid to walk over to the screen door from where she was looking at me, I never got a chance to see her again before we left the next morning. The rest of the trip was a 12-year-old's version of "coulda woulda shoulda".
Maybe she's still there somewhere, Mr. Scottley...
Autumn! Amen. This trip up north has had many colored trees. I had no idea how starved for it I was!
I'm glad you're blogging.
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