Colorado 14'er bagging: June 25th 2007

We were up and away early to take advantage of the cool morning. From the park we only had a short drive to the Lake Como road - rumored to be the roughest road in Colorado. Helen forced her Outback another mile and 700 feet past what the guidebook felt was prudent and several parked Ford Explorers. Thankfully, the sun was still behind the mountains immediately ahead of us as we started walking the rocky and shadeless road.

The sun was just cresting above the peaks and threatening us with higher temperatures when we hit taller trees and shade around 10,000 feet. As we climbed up Helen insisted that her car could have made it higher while I kept promising boulders the size of kitchen appliances on the road ahead. Eventually, we agreed on a point of impassibility for her vehicle and grew silent as we individually dealt with the heat.

Shortly after we encountered a stream crossing which Helen again showed finesse in crossing with dry socks and I didn't. I cared less today than yesterday morning about wet feet and took off my pack to return to the stream and soak a bandana to drape around my neck.

Then suddenly we found ourselves taking a break at Lake Como and admiring the view of Little Bear (another 14'er) and counting the trout swimming in the lake. A few other tents were scattered around and some parts of the lake were a little trashed (maybe from 4x4 vehicles?) so we decided to head higher for a more peaceful campsite.

We hiked up to Blue Lake for amazing views of Ellingwood Point, one of our objectives for the next day. However, we'd also topped out above tree line and the afternoon looked hot. I decided to search around and see if any of the shunted trees around the lake could provide shade and flat spot of ground.

However, before leaving we noticed marmots carefully surrounding us. The larger and bolder began to creep forward and one tried tasting my trekking pole straps and looked determined to abscond with it. A couple rocks and fake charges scattered the horde, but we knew they'd be back. I left Helen with a pile of rocks and our bags circled like wagons at Fort Marmot, while I left to scout out the camping possibilities.

I returned with no success, but Helen had kept the critters at bay. We re-shouldered our loads and headed back down to where we hoped the natives would prove friendlier. Less than a quarter mile away we found a great site with some shade and cushioned pine needle ground not far from a stream.

With the whole afternoon to kill, we set about negatively conditioning the marmots with pine cones and small rocks and taking an enjoyable siesta. My only regret that afternoon was breaking a boot lace and having to press one of the drawstrings from my pack into duty. I just hoped it would hold up until we had hiked out.