Meador Manor

Meadow Near Williams Creek (click image for slideshow)

After a sleepless night at the lodge, I was determined to wear myself out today to earn a good night’s rest before leaving Pagosa Springs tomorrow for Santa Fe.  I had half a waffle at the lodge, joined at the table by a lady who was in town for a Shaklee conference.  Like my female dinner companions from Thursday evening, she waxed on about how yesterday was her first visit to the hot springs and how wonderful it was to bound from pool to pool, cool off with a dip in the river, and then jump back into a warm pool.  I’m more enthusiastic about hiking than swimming or wading, so I’ll save a dip in the hot springs for a future trip.

I then headed north on Piedra Road toward the mountains.  After many miles of gravel road I reached the Williams Creek trailhead at the very end of Forest Road 640, mine being the fifth auto in the lot.  This Saturday I would see almost as many hikers, and definitely more horses, as I encountered at Piedra Falls two days earlier.  I’ll describe the trek out away from the trailhead, using shots from both the morning journey out and the afternoon return as needed for better light.

The trail started out with a steep rise which made me thankful for my trekking poles.  For a long time I could hear but not see Williams Creek gurgling far below to the east, beyond which one great peak or another would show in breaks in the tree cover again and again.  Eventually the trail popped out along the edge of jagged eroded bluffs on the western side of Williams Creek with a heavily eroded side creek channel.

Part of this hike had been described as a visit to a “walled garden” and soon I saw what they meant, as mountains to the west and a long hill to the east channeled me down a treelined path strewn with wildflowers.  Amidst towering birch trees were many examples of larkspur, Queen Anne’s lace, and more.  Sadly many of the pines were dead or dying – a gentleman along the trail would tell me there is a fungus killing them off, leaving dead pines with hanging mosslike filaments.

Then ahead I could see an opening into a great mountain meadow.  Surrounded by trees and mountains and strewn with wildflowers, it was a tremendous sight.  I actually scampered along the trail, much like Dorothy Gale and Friends amidst the poppy fields on their way to Oz.  Instead of poppies, I was enchanted by buttercups and bluebells.  The trail wound on to a stand of tall plants with long green leaves and spikes of white flowers, and beyond them was a long line of birch tree mountain sentinels.  I met several hikers in the meadow, including the fellow who knew about the tree fungus and said his daughter was out here last August and the entire lower part of the meadow was a vast field of daisies.

The trail then reentered the forest and wound its way down to Williams Creek at the three mile mark.  There was no easy path across the creek without getting my feet soaked, so this seemed the right spot to have a snack and then reverse course back out across the meadow to a trail junction I had passed earlier.

I encountered four horses with three riders on my way back, no surprise given the many times I had dodged horse presents along the trail.  Then I turned down the Indian Creek trail to enjoy some yellow beauties and wild roses.  After half a mile, this trail also led across Williams Creek.  This time there were more logs and rocks to make a dry crossing, but instead I fully extended one of my trekking poles so I could plunge it into the creek bed for balance, set the all-too-short timer on the camera, and dashed out onto a log for a self-portrait.

My leisurely pace on the way out meant that this seven-mile hike would take me 3.5 hours plus another two hours of round-trip car time from Pagosa Springs.  The usual afternoon storm clouds were building, so it was time to go.  That was when I had my iPod moment of the trip.

Since I purchased my first iPod, the miracle device that allowed me to take my music library with me everywhere, each of my big summer trips has brought an audiovisual moment that I will always remember.  It happens when the sound in my ears perfectly matches my feeling of joyful release at the majesty of nature that I am experiencing.  The first time was when I was out on Mount Rainier in Washington for the first time, sliding across the snow in short sleeves and tennis shoes.  The iPod was on shuffle play and the boisterously silly MMMBop by Hanson came on and had me capering about the snow like a madman.  The most recent iPod moment had been last summer when I listened to the incomparable Rufus Fears telling me the story of Goethe’s The Sufferings of Young Werther as I glided through a misty coastal forest at Cascade Head.

Today I had two successive iPod moments.  I had started the hike listening to some horribly boring lectures on archaeological theory, which I had happily abandoned for some Agatha Christie short stories about the mysterious Mr. Quin.  But for my return journey today I hit shuffle and as I bounded through the birch trees I was inspired by Yoko Kanno’s orchestral stylings for Call Me Call Me by Steve Conte.  I was no doubt grinning like an idiot all through the piece, only to then find my trekking poles scissoring along at high speed as I bounded downhill to Golden Earring’s fabulous Radar Love.  I don’t expect it to make any sense to anyone else, but now whenever I hear those songs I’ll be back on the trail at Williams Creek.

My playful mood coming down from that natural high left me gathering pine cones at one point on the return, creating my own little pine cone forest in a tree stump beside the trail.  It beats graffiti.  I also stopped to take a close look at the whorls amidst the remains of a large dead tree, and finally popped out at the trailhead to find that five autos had now become two horse trailers and nine autos.

My car hurtled out from under the lowering clouds towards sunny Pagosa Springs, with sprinkles wetting the gravel road as I passed a picturesque lake.  I made my third visit to JJ’s Restaurant beside the San Juan River, having my third delicious meal there.  While it had been in the 60s and 70s during my mountain hike, it was 86 down in Pagosa Springs.  But that did not deter me on this final day to hike.  I hiked two miles up and along the western slope of Reservoir Hill above Pagosa Springs, finding a cabin used for festival registrations and a number of antenna towers.  I zoomed in for the view of the San Juan River winding through downtown and one last view of a mountain peak in the distance, complete with guy wires.

Nine miles of hiking was enough for the day, thank you, so I headed back to the lodge to edit and post the photos, and since my lunch was large and late, I’ll head to McDonald’s for a salad for dinner.

Tomorrow I venture south to Santa Fe, New Mexico and the next day is a long slog from there to Oklahoma City.  So tomorrow’s Day 7 will be my last post from July Escape 2010.

Click here for a slideshow of today’s adventure

Day 7 of this adventure–>

<—Day 5 of this adventure

Near Wolf Creek Pass (click image for slideshow)

Today was the first real vacation day, with me rising for a continental breakfast at the Microtel and then leaving for the Pueblo Riverwalk downtown.  I parked and strolled to its far end, Pike Park, where I found a pretty flower or two.  Streetside I found a fun set of fountain sculptures depicting boys playing with water hoses, but sadly the taps were shut off.  At the far end of the short 1/4-mile riverwalk was a separate small power plant reservoir with fun paddleboats.  But at 9 am there was no one to hire them out.

I strolled back down the opposite bank of the riverwalk and enjoyed watching some kids playing in the surprise splash fountains that randomly shoot up into the air out of the sidewalk.  I then sat in the shade near the Union Avenue bridge, taking a still shot of the reflections of the water.  Then I heard a low scraping scream of metal and a thump followed by a continuous car horn.  Walking toward the sound, I soon heard the wail of sirens and sure enough, by the time I arrived at the intersection of Main and Grand, the fire department and an ambulance were there preparing a victim for transport.  A sad start to the day after such a peaceful stroll along the Arkansas.

I later learned that the Pueblo Riverwalk is the original channel of the Arkansas, but the main river was diverted to the other side of the railroad tracks after a disastrous 1921 flood that destroyed about a third of the city and changed its history forever.  It flooded the grand old depot to 11 feet deep and wiped out the entire livery area of the city where many saddle shops once flourished, never to return.  I found this out when I left the riverwalk and drove back to the depot, visiting the Southeastern Colorado Heritage Center, which has a variety of amateur artifact displays, including saddles and a papier-mache horse from a saddle shop.  The horse floated miles downstream in the great flood and was rescued and relocated to a new building, only to almost be lost to fire a few years back.  The fire department couldn’t save the building, but they did manage to rescue the horse, which was relocated to the Heritage Center and named “Lucky” by an area schoolchild.  Lucky, indeed!  And sorry, but no, I did not take a photo of the poor bedraggled horse.  You’ll have to go see it for yourself…if you’re desperate.

While at the depot, I couldn’t resist shooting Depot Diana again.  Since I shot her frontside the previous evening, I decided to shoot her backside in the morning.  There is some strange logic in there somewhere.  Today I could venture inside the depot, which is rental shops and offices with a large rentable events room.  I liked the wood interior with its period details, and sauntered into a pastry shop for a tasty warm cinnamon roll.

I actually toured the Heritage Center after the cinnamon roll, which bought me enough time to then head back to the riverwalk for spaghetti at Angelo’s.  It was decent food, but I confess I wasn’t too hungry after my cinnasnack.  Then I hit I-25 for the roll southward.  Yesterday I listened to the entire book Murder at the Vicarage – the first of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple tales – while enduring the feed lot gauntlet.  So for today’s far more scenic drive down I-25, zipping past the Sangre de Christo mountains at 75 mi/h, I listened to an old rock album by 4 Non Blondes.  The wailing guitars fit my mood as I rocketed down the road, turning off to traverse La Veta Pass at over 10,000 feet and then down across a wide level plain to reach the San Juan Mountains and cross the Continental Divide at the 10,863 foot high Wolf Creek Pass.

I drove three miles on a gravel side road there to reach the Lobo Lookout, which provided a nice panorama or two, and then crossed the Divide and began a five-mile 7% grade descent.  This steep decline inspired C.W. McCall of Convoy fame to write the song back in 1975.  Wolf Creek Pass tells about some truckers in a 1948 Peterbilt who lose control and go careening the vertical mile down into Pagosa Springs to land in a feed store, having lost a few crates of chickens along the way.   Yes, I listened to it on the web and no, I don’t recommend it.

I happily interrupted the steep descent at the South Overlook, which provided a tremendous panorama of the valley below.  I scrambled up a short side trail to pose for the camera, and then shot down the mountainside a bit farther to Treasure Falls.  You couldn’t get a very close look at them from the highway, so I took the 1-mile loop up to the base of the falls.  Climbing 337 feet to 8,437 ft altitude, I could feel my heart pounding and my chest heaving in the rarefied air.  A bridge partway up afforded a nice view of the falls, but I’m glad I clambered all of the way up.  For there, as the falls smacked into the rocks above a pool at their base, the rising mist created a beautiful rainbow in the afternoon sun.

I admired some flowers on the welcome descent to the car and then drove on to my lodge.  Then I drove into Pagosa Springs to get the lay of the town and scout out dinner.  The day began and ended and I had both lunch and dinner along a riverwalk, for I selected JJ’s Riverwalk Restaurant and Pub along the San Juan riverside.  It was a great choice, featuring a splendid French Dip sandwich made with slow roasted prime rib and savory au jus – best meal of the trip thus far, complete with folks floating merrily by on the river, which reminded me of a similar scene in Bend, Oregon last summer.

Even better, I happened to walk down the side of the building toward the parking lot, only to discover a sign indicating I was at one of the trailheads for the Pagosa Springs Reservoir Hill Mountain Park.  Aha!  I shot a photo of the complicated trail map, to aid me in my perambulations, and set off.

I couldn’t locate the trailhead across the highway, so instead of taking some gentle switchbacks up the tall hill I had to stroll downtown and then ascended over 300 feet right up the hillside in the first five minutes of climb.  That really drove home the effects of the high altitude – I was truly winded by the time I reached the tank.  I actually passed a fellow collapsed on his back on the trail, hiking stick by his side, and panted a wheezy hello as I clambered onward.  I could tell he was just napping – I think he took the easy way up and was resting before the descent.  So I did not kick him…for I was too winded.

I liked the view of the mountains and the town below from the water tank’s height.  Clambering on, I came across a clever chainsaw tree carving, including an adjoining bench with critters along its backside.  I then climbed up to the peak at 7,525 feet where there was a splendid view of the San Juan River, and I could see my car parked over 700 feet below me.  I took a long series of switchbacks down the hillside to my car and returned to the lodge.

There I’ve been writing this blog and editing photos without benefit of the internet for reference, as there is no WiFi signal in my room and AT&T has no data network in this area.  But I should still be able to post, for I can walk to the other end of the lodge and pick up a WiFi signal from the porch above the office.

Okay, now I’ve spent an hour out here in the dark on the porch in the cool night air, slowly uploading and linking.  Lest you think it romantic, my butt aches from the hard wooden chair and I’m thinking that for tomorrow’s post I’ll try to find a WiFi cafe in Durango and will likely keep things short.

For tomorrow I get up bright and early – too early for the lodge breakfast, in fact, as I have to drive an hour west to Durango to catch a train.

Happy trails…or should I say tracks?

Click here for a slideshow of today’s adventure

Day 3 of this adventure –>

<– Day 1 of this adventure