Adam L. Reiner – Splitboarding, mountaineering, and lifestyle in the Colorado Rockies

This post is a test of a live feed into Facebook.

As I have told many, I have not just been spending the low-key fall months in Colorado by watching football and waxing my snowboards.  Instead have been been preparing for a week long primal hunt in the mountains, known to many as “Elk Camp”.  I’ve spent hours reading as much information as I can about the ecology of the Wapiti, and twice as much about the topography of the West Elk Mountains, near Gunnison, CO.

In addition to the literary education, I’ve also been working on the “hunting master checklist” as produced by our venerable party leader.  I’ve gathered up most of my equipment from my other gear ensembles:  camping and backpacking, climbing, snowboarding, and mountaineering.  Last Saturday, I felt ready for a “trial run”, and accompanied my friend Scott on a morning hunt for a doe in the steep terrain up Avalanche Creek, south of Carbondale.

We had planned to get out as early as possible and climb to a vantage point to set up and glass before dawn.  I spent the previous night packing, and tried to turn in early. Much like the restless nights before many spring mountaineering missions I’ve done, I was too anxious to get much sleep.  I awoke at 3:30 AM and shortly after, Scott had arrived and we were on the road.

It was the middle of the night, but the full moon lit up the entire sky.   We did not drive far, for the convienence of living in Carbondale is that you are less than 20 minutes away from a dirt road and trail head in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness.  We parked the truck at a quarter to five and got the packs ready.

“Check your GPS,” Scott said, “What time is sunrise?”

I turned on my new Garmin E-Trex and laughed.  “7:20″.  We had at least two hours to hike about a quarter mile to the first vantage point.  We started up the dirt road, but did not follow it far, before turning left, into the scrub oak and sage brush, and bushwacking straight up the south flank of Mt. Sopris.

For this trial run, I had my 65 liter backpacker’s pack from REI.  I had used it many times before to pack trad climbing nuts and cams, and rope, as well as full camp gear into Rocky Mountain National Park to attempt the big alpine climbs like the Petit Grepon and the Sharkstooth.  I had weighed that pack to almost 70 lbs. on one of those past trips.  On today’s adventure, I guessed that same packed weighed no more than 20 lbs.  However, the purpose of such a large pack when Elk hunting is the intent that you will be packing out much, much heavier than you packed in. (try at least 100 lbs. heavier)

Inside my pack (or person), I had survival essentials:  three forms of flame (matches, butane lighter, flint & steel), 100 ft. of cord, two emergency blankets, first aid kit, map, compass, head lamp, GPS, extra batteries, multi-tool, folding knife.  I also had toilet paper and cat-hole shovel (which came in handy very early in the morning!).  In addition to my basic clothing, I was wearing insulated coveralls, and insulated carhart vest, a fleece “blaze” orange vest, Mountain Hardware softshell, hat and gloves.  Lastly was a large buck knife exclusively reserved for skinning a deer (should my partner have been so lucky to shoot one).  I also had a blatter of water, and my camera and binoculars easily accessible while wearing the pack.  For sustenance, I had some trail mix, two Clif bars, and a few packets of green tea, along with my Jet Boil.  (I did not carry my rifle, for I did not have a hunting tag for this season and didn’t want to have to do any explaining should we run into a kindly DOW Officer)

Within 1/2 hour, we had climbed up about 800 vertical feet to a very large “bench” on the slope.  This was to be our first glassing (or spotting) area.    Scott set up the tripod and affixed his new spotting scope, while i took out the binoculars.  I checked the time.  We still hade over an hour before sunrise, but i took a peek through the binoculars anyways.  The moon cast little shadow, and after a few seconds of scanning, realized the attempt was futile, so I took a seat in the cold darkness and waited.

In Colorado, it is coldest just before dawn.  While we had both worked up our body heat while making the strenuous hike in multiple layers, sitting still for more than ten minutes had made me feel colder than ever.   This is when the Jet Boil proved to be worth the extra weight in the pack.  I fired it up, and within a few minutes, I was sipping hot tea, feeling much more comfortable and warm, as we sat in silence, scanning for any movement.  (although we were not totally bored, as we pointed the spotting scope to the full moon and each took a turn checking out the topography of the celestial body, only to be partially blinded for a few moments after.

It was a strange silence, other than the rushingwater of the creek, far below.  However, just before dawn, the birds started to wake up.  One by one, they would announce their presence, chirping and cawing, as if to call the sun up.

When light finally started to creep in, I was getting anxious to see a deer, or any large wildlife.

“They should have been moving around for food much earlier than this,”  Scott said, sounding discouraged.

We did not see any deer that morning, but it was not long before we saw other humans.

Actually, in the early morning light, you can pick out “blaze orange” without even looking for it.  However, by the time these guys rolled up in their trucks, we were high above them, perched and ready for the hunters to pressure the deer up the hill, and right for us.

The first guy parked his truck and walked back down the road a bit (away from us).  Then he crossed the small Bulldog Creek and sat down under a large evergreen tree next to the water.  He was less than 50 yards from his truck.

“What’s this guy doing?”  Scott laughed.  I had no idea.  Did he know something we did not know?  Was a whole train of mule deer about to cross the road right in front of him, allowing him to pick off an easy kill and be home in time for Church?

Not long after, the hunter’s “secret spot” was spoiled by a white half ton pickup truck lumbering its way up the road.  I had to laugh!  Another hunter popped out and started stalking the tall sage brush near the road.  Neither person made an attempt to climb the steep hill that we had climbed earlier.

After glassing for a while in light, we saw no signs of deer.  So we packed up and headed farther up hill, tracking as we went along.  The most obvious sign to look for is feces.  Although we found a few traces, nothing appeared to be very fresh.  Shockingly, we encountered a few very large piles of dung, which could only be attributed to a local black bear.  “This is definitely his territory,”  Scott said.

From our second vantage point, we took the optics out again.  This time, I could look far to the southeast and see the snowcapped mountains of the 13ers and 14ers in the core of the Elk Range.  Down below, the two hunters were now standing in the middle of the road and talking to each other!  I did not want to be so preoccupied with the comedy scene to miss any movement in the brush, so I strained my eyes through binoculars for any sign of a deer.

Sadly, we returned to the vehicle not having seen any deer.  It was an incredibly frustrating experience.  I did leave the day feeling very confident in my equipment setup.  Unlike the casual day hunt for deer, an elk hunt has been told to be a truly epic experience, and a much more committing adventure.  I figure we will be hiking at least 5 miles and 3,000 vertical feet a day, to look for elk in the deepest woods and the highest peaks.    Returning to camp empty handed one night just means we’ll be hiking a little bit farther and higher the next morning.

(for more about big game hunting, I recommend Jay Houston’s website, “Elk Camp“)

Because of the low morning light, I don’t have many photos.  However, quickly after the morning adventure, I drove down to Denver.   Here are a few photos of the drive.

About every three weeks, I make an early Monday morning drive from Denver to Aspen.  I’ve been doing it since last winter, racing across Interstate 70 in cold and icy blackness, to arrive in the Roaring Fork Valley just at sunrise, and joining with the regular commuters for the battles on Highway 82.

In the summertime, a second option is available in Independence Pass.  I’ve driven this route at least a half dozen times, and I never cease to enjoy the solitude and natural scenery for the two hours away from the interstate.

Independence is a serious pass, with tight switchbacks and some very narrow sections where a descending truck must stop in place to let an ascending vehicle through.  But it is all paved and easily navigable in the summertime.

In early October, I took a risk heading up for the pass.  I felt that it may be my ‘last chance’ before CDOT would close the pass for winter.  I knew that a storm had hit the mountains on Saturday, but I hadn’t seen the conditions of the pass in any news report.  I based my final decision when I saw the sign at the Copper Mountain exit of I-70 that read “Independence Pass:  OPEN”.

For most of the drive up the pass, the road was all clear.  However, during the last few miles, above treeline, the conditions turned to blown over snow, with ice beneath.  I pulled over and locked the hubs on my truck, then transferred over to 4 wheel drive and continued my climb.

At the top of the pass, the entire road was a sheet of ice.  I pulled into the parking lot and saw a group of people struggling to load motorcycles onto a truck.  “What were they thinking?”  I thought, for they were crazy to be up here on bikes in this condition.  But perhaps they, like me, were not expecting the icy conditions.

“Do you need some help?”  I asked.  They responded affirmative.  I put on my hat and gloves, and carefully stepped over across the ice in my hiking boots (how I wished I had my Sorel rubber boots!)

After helping them out, I got back in the truck and sat for a while, contemplating the danger of an icy descent down to Aspen.  I watched a large CDOT plow truck scrape at the top layer of snow.  However, he was not dropping Magnesium Chloride (or “Mag” as Colorado drivers term it) to melt out the ice and allow tires to grip the pavement.  Finally, I figured that my trusted truck could handle a very slow and cautious descent.

As I crested over the pass, and could see the road below me, I was struck with a scene of chaos.  There was a line of vehicles, all struggling and spinning out as they tried to climb the steep eastbound slope towards me.  The sheet of ice prevented any traction for 2WD cars with summer tires, and many motorists were just stuck on the side of the road, unable to climb any more but too scared to turn around and go down.

First I encounted two irishmen in an old F150.  One guy was driving, and spinning one rear wheel uncontrollably, while the other had tried to push.

I pulled up in front of them and explained their futility.  For even if they could gain some momentum by pushing, there would be no hope of the tire ever gripping the road and making it to the top.  I offered to tow them up.

“Oh, God Bless ye!”  they said.

I wasn’t entirely confident it was going to happen, but I just had to try.  I brought my truck directly in front of them, almost until both our front bumpers touched.  Then I pulled out a 6 foot tow chain that I have (that saw a lot of use last winter!) and hooked it up between us.  Getting back in the truck, I shifted into reverse, and eased off the clutch, to take up the slack in the chain.

I had expected a bit of resistance, and was suprised to feel very little.  My truck had no problem pulling a half-ton pickup up the mountain, and my brand new BFG All Terrain tires never once slipped on the ice.  Slowly, I drove backwards, while looking out my rear window to stay in the lane, and towed the guys to the top.

At the top, the man came out and embraced me in a big hug.  Both of them thanked me many times.  One pulled out his wallet.  I said it was not necessary, but he shook his head, and said “This is for da beers.”  ( I wasn’t sure if he intended for me to buy some beer, or find a bookie and bet the money on “Da Bears”!)

For the second time, I left the summit and attempted a descent into Aspen.  This time, a front-wheel drive sedan was stalled perpendicular across the road.  There was a long line of vehicles trying to get around him, and many people out trying to push the car off to the side and out of harms way.  Again I parked my truck and walked down and encountered a middle age woman.

“Would you like me to tow you up?” I asked her.

“Oh!  Do you have a tow truck?”

“No, just my F-250, but it can do it.”  This time, I was extremely confident in the abilities of my vehicle.

“Please!  My husband will be so grateful.  I will go tell him.”

Again, I drove down and hooked up both front ends, and towed the small sedan all the way up the pass in reverse.  This couple (tourists in a rental car, i later found out) were so excited that they even took a photo of me and my truck, and called me their “Guardian Angel.”  Again, I was offered money, and when I refused, I was told “Sometimes miracles can happen.  This is not like the parting of a sea.  It is a miracle that you just happened to be here when we needed help.  Consider this a donation to your church.”

By this time, the CDOT truck had dropped the Mag and started to thaw the ice.  The cars were now making it up the pass without help.  I made it down a few hundred feet and found dry pavement again.

Once again, I am so proud of the power of my truck and new tires.   I hope that it comes in handy many times this upcoming winter.   To me it was second nature.   I have the means to help people out in trouble, so I do so, without question.  Although I arrived a few hours late for work, it was well worth it, to see the smiles on those grateful faces.Some people may have called me stupid or gullible, but I got much more reward out of the good feeling up on the pass than I’ve ever felt at a job, current or past.

Pyramid Peak 01, originally uploaded by Adam Reiner.

I took this shot coming into work this morning. This is Pyramid Peak, the only 14er visible from Highway 82 near Aspen. It is only October 7, but an early storm has dusted the entire mountain with snow.