A long time ago I found a most effective treatment for anxiety/depression, be it from stress, loss, a broken heart, negative thinking...whatever. And no, the most effective treatment is not a pill and doesn't come in a bottle. For me, and most likely you, the best treatment for sorrow, despair, and regret is to get outdoors and get moving.
Thus, Bobbie and I returned to our beloved mountains with a vengeance, pushing harder, longer, and steeper, till we fell into bed exhausted to the point where sleep overwhelms worry.
Over the past couple of years I've been in a quandary regarding whether or not this blog had run its course, and, like a suffering pet, maybe the time had come to put it out of its (my) misery.
It's not like we're doing anything all that new, anymore. The initial wave of fulltime Rv wanderlust is a little like "puppy love," and, in most cases, it just doesn't last.
After exploring coast to coast and border to border, we've settled (matured?) into a deep, but simpler three-state rut of Rv travel and outdoor recreation. It's a good rut, though, one we have come to love and still look forward to, something familiar and comfortable like that tattered old pair of jeans you always reach for next to a stack of brand new ones, or an old pair of boots that fit your feet like a glove such that you can't bear the thought of breaking in the new ones.
The thing is we've pretty much seen, heard, done about everything that interests us. In doing that we discovered what it is that still drives us to get out of bed every morning, and where to best do it. The "what" is to get outdoors and get moving. The "where" is Colorado, Utah, and Arizona. This is not puppy love, it's a "marriage."
Like that old tattered pair of jeans and/or worn out boots, our three-state forays to mountain and desert playgrounds are comfortable. That's not likely to change, either, because how does one improve on perfection? Why gamble on someplace new when everything you love in life is either sitting beside you or right out the front door?
So where does that leave this stale old blog? Not sure, really, but it's highly probable that posts will be fewer and farther between. You've seen and heard this shit enough already. If something interesting and/or new comes along, I'll do my best to put up a post...like the one below, for example.
But first, in order to set the "stage" for this post, you might need some background. Rather than do an entire post, this Facebook Link should catch you up and provide info as to the "where" and "why" we were trying to scout an old, seldom used backcountry pack trail.
As the Facebook post will show, we finally found the obscure pack trail (having failed a couple times 30 some years ago). Now all we need to do is "scout" it out enough to see if our "mission" is possible or impossible.
A warm sunny day found us sweating up Weehawken Trail's steep switchback grind. The grade finally eased up where it split off from the Alpine overlook trail...enough that my t-shirt went from dripping wet to comfortably damp.
From there on (since it had been 30 years, more or less) Weehawken felt like "New Dots," and I was enthusiastic to be scouting out new territory for our Hiker Babe group.
A little over three miles "in-country," Bobbie found a small cairn where the pack trail continued on from the other side of Weehawken Creek. That trail dead-ended after a quarter mile, so we backtracked till we found a lesser trail that pointed us straight up a mountain. Ugh...probably just a game trail but you don't know if you don't try. Here we go again.
Near the mountain's base, our trail abruptly turned and, with lots of ups and downs, followed a contour line that increasingly gained altitude. The trail was faint and we kept losing it, but with determination and coarse corrections we pressed on, hoping to rise above an entrapment of thick, view obstructing timber. We needed to see something...a landmark, of sorts, like the massive, recognizable block-summit of Potosi Mountain.
Unfortunately, the unsightly deadfall filled forest was unrelenting. Frustrated, I scrambled up a steep bouldered wash in an effort to gain a vantage point above the trees. The drainage led to the base of a collection of towering hoo doos. Cool. A Photo Op!
Slipping and sliding, I finally made it above the forest enough see Potosi's grand basin. Clinging to an exposed root of a long-dead bristlecone, I studied the basin for a probable route around Potosi's south face. A slope of tundra/scree pointed to a saddle below the peak. According to a prior Google Earth research/flyover, this saddle should lead to the Bimetallist Mine Trail, which would land us down at a trailhead on Camp Bird Road. We could leave a vehicle there to get us back down to Weehawken's Trailhead. Perfect. The Hiker Babes are going to love this!
But, just to be sure, Bobbie and I thought a little more "do diligence" was in order for such a long backcountry hike that pushes 13,000 feet. We decided to hike top-down, take the pack trail from Bimetallist Mine to Potosi's basin...just to confirm my assumptions.
The photos below are from that reconnaissance hike:
After considerable log-hopping, bush-whacking and blood letting, we re-found the trail to Bimetallist Mine and it was quite agreeable...till it disappeared.
Bimetallist Mine dormitory
Bobbie negotiates cross country hoping to cut the elusive trail. The Jeep road to Imogene Pass in background
Stay tuned for Part II, as "Wrong Way Corrigan" misleads his group down the wrong drainage.
mark and bobbie :)