Satellite image of route (click to enlarge). Campsites marked in red.
Trip report video. Be sure to view in full-screen mode. Set 30 minutes aside, turn down the lights, and enjoy the show!
Preface
This particular trip was the trip of all trips that I planned on doing once I first started backpacking. Prior to that, for me, it was a place of legend and legendary mountains. In the heart of my favorite mountains in the state lies the state’s largest wilderness area, and up until 2009, a wilderness I never set foot in. This particular semi-loop was something I felt I had be in better shape for during my first backpacking season in 2008. I didn’t do it in 2009 because it still seemed like a formidable challenge given the amount of nights I wanted to spend (about six), and I wasn’t quite sure how to pack all of the food. I guess more than anything, I had other trips planned out during wildflower season and I just pushed this one out. No doubt it was going to go on 2010’s calendar, whether it was to be a solo trip or with someone. I definitely did not want to do a trip of this magnitude solo even though it is a well-traveled route. However, if no one was available, I was itching to go and I was going to take it on by myself if it came down to it.
Well, thankfully, my good hiking friend, John, was available. I knew I could count on you, man! It was a trip he had been wanting to do for many years as well, but one thing or another, he never had. So, we were both very much eager with anticipation. I bought our Durango and Silverton Railroad tickets about four months in advance. There were only two other seats spoken for by this time. I had only been on the train once, which was when I was about six. Still, I remember the trip well, but had really been wanting to do it again for a good number of years; probably since I went on it the first time! It is the quintessential mountain railroad. Truth be told, as our trip neared, I was looking more forward to the train ride than anything else!
As the calendar page turned to July, I was getting rather nervous for the trip, and honestly didn’t want to go all that much. The reason? Lightning. This place strikes more fear in me than most others, even though I had only been once before! Because I have seen many nasty storms over these mountains in years past when I’ve been in other parts of the San Juans, and because they seem so remote, the very real feeling of being out there in the storms had little appeal. My previous one-night trip here in 2009 was enough to justify my fear. It would have been a perfect trip if I just stayed on the train for its round trip! This place is occasionally referred to as the storm factory, so you should take the weather seriously; with geographic names like Electric Peak, Storm King Peak, Stormy Gulch, and Thunder Mountain, all features which we'd be circling around, the only two names that might give one hope for survival are The Guardian and Sunlight Peak!
The trip
I had already been out for a week in the San Juans on the first part of my wildflower trip and had one backpacking trip under my belt. It was amazing that I came out of that one alive, too! Either I must be completely ignorant to do another backpacking trip right after the experience in the Uncompahgre Wilderness four days earlier, or I have short-term memory; I believe the former. John had driven from Denver on Saturday and we met in Durango. We picked up our train tickets for the next day, though we didn’t have to then. We ended up camping in national forest land about 25 minutes north.
Departure day came and we were ready to do this. As it turned out, it was only until about then was I ready to do it. I wouldn’t say excited, mind you, but I was ready. The morning was beautiful and we parked on a side street about six blocks from the depot where I had scoped out the day prior; it was away from the pay zones. For me, the walk was full of anticipation to the depot. The day had finally come that I had been waiting years for. It was no doubt going to be an epic trip, assuming we’d survive the thing.
We arrived at the station at 7:45 for an 8:15 departure. Man, I was really looking forward to the train ride! Did I say that already?! And then the boarding call came. John was the first person to load a pack up on the car for gear, then me. Then we got on our gondola. Even though the train wasn’t moving, I was already loving being on the car and the whole experience. Maybe I need to do this trip again! As I write this, I’m actually getting teary-eyed with joy because that’s really how much this part of the trip meant to me. Oh man, that was awesome! Book your tickets today! I took John’s picture, then I had him take mine. Then a guy who was to be sitting next to us offered to take a picture of both of us. We heard our engine come around. I got out to record it backing up and hitching to our train. This was going to be fun!
Then, it came. 8:15 sharp and the train began to roll out. They weren’t kidding around at all about the departure time! We were rolling through town and we were actually finally doing this thing! To me, the train seemed to be a big event from locals and tourists alike in town as many stopped to watch and waive. Then the into the hills we went, then finally getting into the mountain gorges of the Animas River. This was everything I thought it was going to be an more. The little kid in me came out and it was like being in a toy train. John felt the same. Even as I witnessed the lull in many passengers after the ride grew longer (kids started going to sleep; parents were sitting down looking like the excitement wore off), I was still mostly fresh of enthusiasm. John and I stood the whole way. We passed the Needleton drop-off and pick-up point (one train a day does so; same with Elk Park). We then rounded Mt. Garfield, the western-most mountain in the Grenadier Range, and we knew our time was coming. Shortly later, people were walking through our car with packs on going to the front. Then we had our call, “Anyone getting off at Elk Park, move to the font.”
The train stopped, and quickly a guy began to unload all the packs. And almost as quickly as the train stopped, it was moving again. They don’t allow enough time for second thoughts, that’s for sure. I recorded the train moving out of sight, and then it hit everyone in our group—we were on our own, and there was only one option left! There were fifteen of us who got off here. There were two ladies in the group set up for day-hiking, though I’m not sure where they were going to go; four others had arranged to go horse-riding and picked up their rides here; that left nine of us who were going to do the backpacking around the loop. John and I had a bite to eat and were the last ones to head up the trail. The train stopped at Elk Park at 11:30. It was noon when we were settled. It was time to hit the trail. We had about seven miles on tap for this first day. The trail immediately goes uphill in earnest and we passed two en route to the trail register. The other guys in front of us were going to do this in four and/or five days, if memory serves based on what they wrote in the register. We hadn’t really talked with anyone else who got off with us, save for taking each others pictures at the start. The trail kept going uphill, though a bit easier than the initial grade. We ended up passing the remaining five people and never saw any of them again. It was amazing that I could pass anyone, let alone doing it while having a pack on my back! It started to sprinkle, which was very nice. The hiking weather was perfect and the rain (sans thunder) helped even more without feeling at all cool. We passed a couple solo guys as they were coming down another steep section. We talked with the second guy briefly, who surprisingly said he didn’t have any lightning the last three day since he had been out. He said something along the lines of the moisture in the plants (from the daily rains the region sees) keeps it at bay. Wow, really? Is that how it works?! I forget exactly how he worded it, but we both thought he had a screw loose upstairs. I don’t care if he majored in weather, that explanation wasn’t going anywhere. Other than that remark, he seemed normal! Regardless, it was encouraging that he didn’t have any lightning, though even that seemed virtually impossible to me in the heart of monsoon season.
We arrived at the beaver ponds 3.5 miles in where I think many make this their first day’s destination. We stopped here for about a half-hour for lunch and to take a break. We were surprised that no one had passed us going uphill at this point. Vestal and Arrow peaks come into view just prior, and though they are two of my favorite peaks, their profiles from this window don’t do a whole lot for me. Our destination would be just below this side of the Continental Divide where I knew it to be a tremendous wildflower spot. The weather remained perfect for hiking as the light sprinkle—actually it was more of a mist, which is rare for these parts—came and went. We ended up passing a few more people on their way down and passed a couple of gals on their way up. I’m guessing they started from the Molas Pass area, but didn’t ask. We stopped about two miles prior to our destination to have another bite to eat as the morning’s servings had long since been burned up. It was another 30-minute stop. It was tough getting up and going this time, but there was more work to be done. As we gained more elevation, the mountains around White Dome were becoming more pronounced and imposing, and the views growing ever nicer.
We finally arrived at our first destination and talked to an older gentleman where we would camp just of the trail right near the miner's cabin. He and his wife were in the process of doing the Colorado Trail non-stop. I forget how many days that they had been out. It made our little loop hike seem like just that—a cute little hike! I began to walk the alpine shelf directly above to take some pictures , and I didn’t have a whole lot of time to work with. I had to take advantage of the cloudy conditions that I had been hoping for at this particular spot and would have to resort setting up the tent in the dark. I took a number of pictures of various groupings of flowers, which were in abundance. I had wanted to hike over the divide from the Kite Lake side the previous year for a day trip, but the day I was to do it, I just couldn’t get motivated. Fear of a storm for one thing, but I had just completed the Maroon Bells loop a few days prior and the following day was going to be my backpack into the Weminuche. Anyway, after I was done shooting, I went down to where John had set up camp and proceeded to set my tent up and eat a meal. I was ready for a good night’s sleep after the day’s work. After I crawled in the tent, my greatest fear began to show its ugly head. The tent flashed a number of times. Thankfully, all the lightning stayed well clear. It appeared to be in the Mt. Eolus area based on where the clouds were lighting up. The closest the thunder sounded was about 15 seconds (3 miles). No doubt close, but relatively easy to manage through. This wasn’t an area I would care to be in during a storm, though we could’ve gone down the trail a little ways in the canyon below if it got too close.
The second morning came and I peeked out of the tent for sunrise. It was a heavy and dark gray overcast. I think I snoozed the alarm a few more minutes when I peeked out again. There was some color shining through, then by the time I could get my shoes on, Peak 2 was lighting up. I hurried and got the camera and tripod and found the closest spot I could find, for I knew that the light could be gone any second. The color indeed started to fade just as I got set up, then made a magnificent rebound and really lit things up for a bit. Ideally, I would’ve been in position to have flowers in the foreground, but being that I’m not a morning person, it’s all I can do to get out of the sleeping bag at this hour, especially when things look as bleak as they did. The alpenglow was magnificent, then faded away after I got some shots off. Going into the trip as I was planning our route and where we’d camp, day two was the most important day weather-wise. We had to get over the Continental Divide about 500 feet above, then down to the Kite Lake drainage, then back up over Hunchback Pass. We had a day or two to play with in case we got stuck somewhere, but I didn’t care to spend a day around Kite Lake being that you can drive there. Ideally, I had hoped it would be possible to make the next camp at Sunlight Lake basin, but that proved way out of our abilities.
After I was done shooting sunrise, we packed things up and hoped that any storms that would develop would be after noon to give us time going over the two saddles. We made the ascent to the top of the divide along the numerous switchbacks. Being that there were numerous switchbacks, that meant the uphill grade was rather manageable and I didn’t have to stop for breaks save for a couple of times. We got to the top and the clouds were perfect. They were of the clearing storm variety where they hung in the valleys below. I took a number of shots up here, then we proceeded down the hill to Bear Creek. I wasn’t expecting the distance to be as long as it was here going down. It started to rain on us a little before midway down, though the skies were non-threatening. We got down to the Kite Lake road, walked up it a few hundred feet, then picked up the Hunchback Pass trail. The rain had stopped for the duration going up to the pass. We made it up uneventfully, but unfortunately, the clouds were so thick and low that we couldn’t see any distance out in front of us. I really wanted to see the view and the peaks of the Grenadier Range, but that would have to wait for another time.
We started down Hunchback Pass and almost immediately we were pelted hard with sleet, then as we lowered even more in elevation, the driving rain. Our pants were soaked. Then, after the rain quit a short while later, our pants would feel like they were starting the drying process when we walked through wet willows brushing their way across the trail and started the process yet again a number more times. There are a couple of really nice campsites on the way down which were occupied. We would look for a site closer to the Sunlight Creek confluence with Vallecito Creek for our start up that drainage the next morning. The base of The Guardian (the eastern-most peak in the Grenadier Range) showed itself a few times, but unfortunately that was all we could see. I saw it from a higher vantage point the year before, but I really wanted to see it from here, as well as the view up the Stormy Gulch drainage, but it was not to be. I really underestimated the length of the descent from Hunchback Pass to the base; it seemed like it was never-ending. It was a long ways down, and I’m glad we weren’t going up it. We stopped for lunch about ¾ of the way down at a waterfall. There was a brief storm that went through and we had our first round of lightning of the trip, though the closest strikes were one to two miles away. After the rain let up, we waited around for the sun, which finally made a long-awaited appearance. It was the first sunshine of the trip, and it was welcome at this point, and we used it to dry a few things out. We stayed at this spot for the better part of two hours before we continued our way down the hill. We reached the Red Rock Creek crossing at the base, which would be our first stream crossing. We both put on our water crossing and camp sandals. The creek was cold and very refreshing for the feet after the long day’s work. We continued on a couple more miles where we found an open site along Vallecito Creek near the Sunlight Creek confluence. We were rushed in setting up the tents because could see and hear it coming. Just as I finished with the tent, it started to storm, and storm hard. There was a downpour with very close lightning strikes with accompanying piercing thunder; there were a few within a mile. It was going to happen sooner or later, and I began to shake nervously. Man, I really hate storms! They’re just so full of hatred and have a “I will kill you” sound to them! Thankfully, the storm eventually passed and the heart rate returned to normal. We cooked our meals and wouldn’t set the alarm clock for the next morning as there wasn’t a sunrise picture opportunity. It would feel good to sleep in.
The third morning came and we took our leisurely time getting ready. Vallecito Creek was close to camp and was certainly more of a river at this point—about 100 feet wide. We scouted the previous day for a place to cross, but it seemed to be the same width everywhere and any place seemed as good as the next. The crossing was just over knee deep, though the flow was moderate. We kept our sandals on and we shortly came to Sunlight Creek. We crossed it and followed the trail up. While there is no official trail that goes to Sunlight Lake, I believe it is traveled with some frequency, as I knew going into this that there is a trail there. It is cairned, however, in three key places, we were not able to locate them. Our way up this 3.5-mile drainage was very laborious and very, very long. At one point, we missed what were relatively distinct cairn markers where we should have crossed Sunlight Creek. I really wasn’t expecting the trail to cross it again at any point, so I made the erroneous decision to keep going to the right. We went up a very steep hill along what we now know was simply a well-defined game trail. They usually aren’t as wide as this one was. We probably ascended a good 300 feet, but more importantly, expended all that energy—energy we really needed because we had a very long way to go. The trail ended up dying out where we looked at the map and GPS trying to figure out our next course of action. We agreed we’d head back down and see if, by chance, the trail did cross the stream. Sure enough. We crossed and continued uphill again. We lost the trail again further up in some willows and went back and forth and all around for the better part of another hour before John finally picked it up again, which was well left where we would’ve expected. It looked like it was going up a different drainage, so I didn’t even think to look there; we needed to go 90 degrees to our right. It turns out the trail made a round-about way of getting there via switchbacks. The rest of the route was straight forward and we eventually made it up to Sunlight Lake a little before sunset. We didn’t plan our ascent at all right. I wanted more time here before sunset, but I made do. John set his tent up when we arrived and I had to start taking pictures. The flowers were really nice in the spot where we settled in at, and shortly after I started firing away, a family of seven mountain goats came wandering right through. I took their pictures and recorded some video. Sunset colors didn’t look like they were going to happen, when all of a sudden the clouds above Jagged Mountain started going crazy. I hurried and set the tripod up again, though unfortunately, I didn’t get flowers in the foreground as I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough time to get set up for that. When the colors faded, I set my tent up. Since the time we had arrived here, I was trying to look for a possible route up the rock wall to the south, as I had planned to shoot sunrise from the upper unnamed lake, since that is where the best views are from. I really didn’t see anything that stood out, so I’d have to wing it. I set my alarm clock for a painful 4:00 start so I could be at the upper lake for sunrise.
The alarm clock sounded way too early, but surprisingly, wasn’t too difficult getting up in the darkness this early. I started walking about 4:10. Based on my brief calculations the previous day, I figured going up the wall on the south side of Sunlight Lake was definitely out; that didn’t look doable at all. I hoped that I could somehow find a way as the ridge tapers down, and basically take more of a ramp-like approach. Surprisingly, my instincts were dead-on. I immediately found cairns and a very easy way up. The upper lake sits 500 feet higher on its own shelf. I passed and noted one good sunrise possibility at a rock-filled tarn that I would later return to, though I should have stayed and am still kicking myself for bypassing. Instead, I carried on towards the lake. I had plenty of time to scout around before the sun rose. There were no clouds, so I had fifteen minutes longer to find what I wanted. I went a little ways around the south shore, but ended up at the lake’s outlet when the sun finally rose. It was a nice composition, but I really wish I stayed at the first tarn I came to. After alpenglow transitioned to full-on sunlight, I went over to the edge overlooking Sunlight Lake. I stayed up here quite awhile taking in the view. John was eventually up and out and we exchanged waves. The sun was beating down and was rather warm out. After I got my fill of the views, I headed back down.
Since we had planned to be here for two nights anyway, I figured I’d shoot at the tarn I missed the next morning, but that assumed it wasn’t going to be overcast and whatever else that might prevent the opportunity. This was the spot I most wanted good pictures from going into the trip, thus allowing two days for two sunrise attempts. I got back down and John asked what my thoughts were for the day. He knew we planned for two days here, but like me, is a bit uncomfortable above tree line if a storm comes. His feet weren’t feeling that well due to blisters and he preferred to go down, but said he’d stay if I really wanted to stay. I battled with the decision on what to do for a little while and had breakfast over it. It was a tough call. It was certainly his trip as much as it was mine, and you have to be willing to compromise at times. On one hand, I really, really wanted the sunrise shot that I missed, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to be up here, either, if a storm came. What helped my decision along were the puffy clouds with a slight gray to them immediately over the ridge! I told John I wanted to stay, but I didn’t care to be up here with any electricity. After I was done with breakfast, I started packing down. The clouds seemed to be building in earnest and by the time my tent was in its sack, I knew we were making the right decision. As we headed out, there was quite a bit of dark gray over Sunlight and Windom. We weren’t even down to tree line yet, which isn’t all that far from the lake, when it started to lightly sleet. Then some distant thunder. Yep, no doubt the right choice! Had we stayed, we might be packing up right about now or running down somewhere for cover. I stopped to put my rain jacket on because I knew it was going to come pretty soon. It actually stayed fairly tame for awhile until we got about halfway down the drainage, and then it just let loose. Lightning was following us down the drainage while it had been raining pretty good. Three strikes in particular got progressively close. All were real close, but the thunder made us jump as we were walking as fast as we could. I ended up falling backwards on a slippery log traversing a brook, but thankfully not hurt. A little further down, I had my eyes down on the trail when, WHACK, I hit my head on a tree crossing the trail. Man, this was not a fun time at all! The fingers of death keep striking all around us are bad enough, but coupled with my own idiot moves is downright depressing! We eventually made it down to Vallecito Creek as the lightning moved on eastward, though it continued to lightly rain.
We had about four miles to go along the virtually level grade before taking a right to head up the Johnson Creek drainage. But not without one more thunderstorm to endure first! Thankfully, we were in good tree cover running parallel with Vallecito Creek, but it’s never comforting enough. We crossed the Vallecito Creek bridge at 5:13, then immediately after were faced with a very big quandary: it appeared as though you have to cross Johnson Creek, but the river was really raging here and just didn’t seem right. We walked in circles and walked further upstream to find a crossing point, but there was no good solution. It was a bit of a pickle to be sure. We discussed our options for about a half-hour. We really wanted to get a little further up the trail before the day was up, but truth be told, I wanted to camp here for the night to see if Johnson Creek’s flow would decrease over night. I wasn’t sure if this was its normal flow or if this was due to the day’s rains. It did not look safe at all to cross and looked deep, and I couldn't recall this being mentioned in trip reports I had read. John was determined and eventually went for it. He took the seemingly unstable and very slippery log-crossing route. He took it very slowly, but he arrived on the other side safely. I don’t know what I would have done had he fallen off. Now we were a raging current apart and I still didn’t feel comfortable to cross. I knew I couldn’t do the log route. It looked way too easy to fall. Crossing sans backpack seemed dicey enough; add the $6,000 worth of camera gear I was carrying made me more apprehensive four times over! Eventually, I gave in and started to wade in the current. I took it very slowly sidestepping facing the current and using my trekking poles as feelers along the rocky bottom. The water level got to my lower thigh, and actually was pretty easy. It wasn’t difficult standing up in; something I would’ve never guessed looking at the water. I made it across in great shape and perhaps most importantly, the camera stuff, too! My feet had been hurting for awhile—tired more than anything, but we carried on about a mile upstream where we found a great campsite.
We unpacked and got everything set up. We had nowhere to be the next morning, so we could sleep in. I found that portions of my sleeping bag were wet, which was very disheartening when I laid it out. John lent me dry wool socks since he had a spare; I never bring spare socks. This helped tremendously. I had my down coat on, but even then was fairly cold. I didn’t think it was going to be much of a problem trying to tough it out without the sleeping bag, but it was a lot tougher than I imagined it would be. I ended up using the dry upper portion of the sleeping bag around me, which helped a little, but I could still not get to sleep until 4:00. I thought the sleeping bag was wetter than it actually was, and in hindsight,could have slept in it and would have been much better off. I'm not sure why I didn't even try. It was really only the foot portion that was wet. I initially thought that it got wet as I would take the backpack off throughout the course of the day and sit it on the wet ground. Being that the sleeping back compartment is at the bottom of the backpack, this would make some sense. However, I haven’t had that problem before. As I thought about this more, I’m almost thinking that this portion of my pack likely sagged down enough on the last stream crossing that did the trick. At any rate, it was a very rough night.
The fifth morning came and we were still in our tents when BANG, out of nowhere a loud clap of thunder hit. I saw my tent flash about two seconds before, and when you see your tent flash when it’s daylight, that gets your attention! In fact I saw the reflection on both sides of my tent; it really looked like it went through it. It is not supposed to storm this early in the morning! What gives?! And storm it did. We had rapid-succession lightning for a little while, which was crazy enough. I don’t remember how long it lasted—probably a half-hour or a little less. That storm was rough on the nerves even though we were in a pretty thick canopy of trees. After the storm cleared, we waited around camp hoping for sunshine, for we had a lot of very wet things from the previous soggy day. The clouds would open from time to time, then finally a big patch of blue opened up and we had everything spread out all over the place. It looked like a yard sale. Things dried very slowly or not at all in some cases. My sleeping bag felt like it was making progress in the hot sun, but after I put it away when it was time to head up the trail, it felt virtually the same as it had previously.
We started up the trail and paralleled the gushing Johnson Creek all the way up. Organ and Amherst mountains began to take shape on the opposite side as we gained elevation. These would be the next mountains I wanted to be in position for at sunset going into the trip. We ended up fording two or three more creeks in this drainage, which I had not read, or at least recalled, an account of previously, so they came unexpectedly. We found a couple campsites in isolated stands of trees, but we figured we’d go higher towards tree line and find a place. Wrong! There were no suitable spots as the terrain was all at a steep angle. We got to the point where we didn’t want to re-trace our elevation gained again, so we would try to find something in the tundra. All we needed was a midnight storm and we would’ve really been beside ourselves! As we passed some flowers as the sun was getting ready to start casting some good light, I told John to find a spot further up-trail and I’d find him when I was done shooting. I had a pretty good sunset to work with, and this was the third of three spots that I was really wanting a good picture from going into the trip. Ideally, I was hoping to be high enough to have flowers as the foreground, but figuring we’d be camping lower, I was preparing for anything with Organ and Amherst in the frame, so it worked out perfectly. After the colors faded, I headed up the trail in the fading light and John was waiting at Columbine Lake’s outlet, though he hadn’t set up his tent. I was actually hoping that he hadn’t because I was going to tell him I was up for continuing over the pass 500 feet above instead of risking a midnight storm. He was actually hoping for the same thing. I took a couple more reference shots of Columbine Lake, then we prepared for the midnight march up and over the pass and somewhere into Chicago Basin to camp.
We started the very steep ascent of Columbine Pass. One thing about steep ascents, it does seem to get the elevation out of the way quicker even though you have to take more frequent rests, but I only had to rest a couple of brief times. Apparently, the trail builders didn’t believe in switchbacks, as there was only one. As we were on the final leg to the pass immediately ahead, we saw what appeared to be two commercial jetliners flying in formation. The back plane was about a plane’s length behind the first and half a width offset. These were no military jets, and we both thought we had seen it all. This trip had just about everything! We wondered if the mother ship was soon going to land. John checked with his dad upon returning home who used to be a airline mechanic. Best he could say is that they were military-owned planes doing some kind of practice run, but no civilians would have been on board. I would certainly hope not, for that would give people a good scare on board.
We arrived at Columbine Pass in pitch dark. We could see Columbine Lake reflecting below and we could make out the profile of "South Eolus," which looked rather impressive in its star-lit silhouette. I didn’t bother setting up the tripod to take any reference pictures. They wouldn’t have been much good anyway and we didn’t want to spend all that long at the top. We saw a number of headlamps below in an apparent array of city lights. A number of people still awake were definitely looking up at us probably wondering what the heck. So, both of the passes on the trip we would have to forego views of, oddly enough. We started down, but just as we did, I wasn’t sure where the trail was. Not really a good feeling as your on a narrow shelf on a long mountainside looking down. I figured it had to be straight ahead, but if that was the trail, it was super faint. For about a twenty-foot section, the trail is kind of washed out and there is no lip or shelf. To top it off, the mountainside is very small gravel-sized scree; in other words, a bit loose. I walked at an angle touching my right hand on the slope to keep my center of gravity proper. I don’t think John went to such an extreme, but we both made it fine. For such a well-used trail, I thought that was rather odd. It definitely got my attention. We continued all the way down in the basin, briefly slipping a number of times on the wet clay-like surface in a number of areas still saturated with recent rains.
We got into the basin proper and passed a few tents. Never having been here before, and well aware of its over popularity due to the three fourteeners here, I was simply hoping we could find a place to camp. I had no idea how long we’d have to search, and the midnight arrival wasn’t helping to see where all we could go. We looked into a couple of areas without success before landing where we did. It turns out that it was a perfect spot, mainly in terms of the view it afforded, which we wouldn’t be able to see where exactly we ended up until the following morning. We were right at the Twin Lakes trail intersection. At last, we could now relax for the remainder of the trip. We would be in the trees from here on out, and I will tell you, that was a pretty big relief. I know I was feeling unbelievably well at this point, especially since I could sleep in again.
We both slept in until late morning, which felt tremendous. We awoke to clear skies and a majestic view. I have seen pictures from the basin, but I wasn’t expecting it to look nearly as good as it did. It was a very impressive headwall made up of Windom Peak and a false summit of Jupiter Mountain. We were very, very lazy on our sixth day. Going into the trip, I was tentatively planning on hiking up the 1,500 feet to Twin Lakes, but that was too big of a mental hurdle. The fact that I got good pictures of everything I set out to on this trip was a tremendous sense of accomplishment and finality, especially all that we had been through. I was just going to be lazy and hang around camp and not do a thing. I took a number of pictures from late afternoon through sunset while the clouds' shadows danced their way along the peaks and ridges.
One final night, and the sixth one. Tomorrow, we will be on the train and back to safety and, oh, what a story we would be able to tell now! After a good night’s sleep and being able to sleep in again, we started packing up under the overcast skies. The train doesn’t pick you up at Needleton until 3:15, so there was no hurry. There is eight miles to go and all downhill. As we started down the trail, we passed numerous tents. I was surprised that they weren’t all closer up, but that probably also meant that most other spots were filled. I was even more thankful we were able to find the spot we did going virtually blind. It started to lightly sprinkle for awhile, then it stopped. Then it rained briefly halfway down. We were making good time with plenty of it to spare. As we leveled off at the base, we heard the train go by on its way to Silverton just a little ways ahead. If only we would’ve left fifteen minutes sooner, I could’ve taken pictures and video of it. It sounded awesome as it whistled and clicked down the tracks. We arrived at the pick-up point with a few hours to spare.
At 2:45, we heard a train coming from Silverton quietly, if that’s possible. No one seemed to see it until it rounded the bend and headed straight for us. I wasn’t even prepared to see it not knowing the full train schedule, so I didn’t get any pictures, unfortunately. Then our train came around the bend at 3:17. What a sight it was! We were home free. We boarded, though my ticket faded after the first rain on Hunchback, but thankfully still let me on. The ride back to Durango was enjoyable, though we didn’t have optimal seats like we did on the way up in the back of a car. It was a long but relaxing ride back to Durango being able to cement into memory this wonderful trip. We got off the train at 7:00 and we both ended up making the six-hour drive home even though neither of us were planning to do the whole drive. Oh, what a trip! What a trip indeed!