Spectacular campsite

The next leg of our trip was a trifle scary for me, a point-to-point long ride to meet the pack at a remote campsite. Last year, a plan like this one went dreadfully awry. Tomorrow, I'll tell you about my adventure as I pedaled through the wilderness. For today, here are a few snippets.

Near the middle of my journey, more than 10 miles from anything resembling a road, I passed through a series of creeks and waterfalls. Wildflowers, including Columbines, abounded. I dropped my bike and soaked up the beauty.
Butterflies did the dance of life in this nectar-laden paradise.
After a long and hard ride, I met the pack at our truly spectacular campsite with a view of the mountains that awed us all. The Duo sat in the sunset light with part of the panorama behind them.
While lounging in our campsite that night, we watched fiery meteors burn up in the Earth's atmosphere leaving white hot tails in the sky. What a show!

Climbing through the San Juans and the terrifying R

After a night sleeping in a lush, moist, and verdant basin, we awakened to more rain pattering on the van's roof. Yet again, we hung out in the van waiting for a break in the aerial assault before heading out for our adventures. R chose an acrobatic pose for eating his breakfast. Isn't it uphill to the stomach in that position? Our boy makes me laugh every single day.
I decided to ride on jeep roads that day because they'd let me access alpine passes that I'd otherwise never see. From my first pedal stroke, the road pitched up toward the sky. Fortunately, I love climbing mountains on my bike. In fact, I must confess that I love going uphill better than going downhill. After my sleepy muscles woke up, I settled into a steady pedaling rhythm to slowly ascend toward the first mountain pass.

The weather still looked threatening, to put it mildly. However, I adored the clanging contrast of the ominous skies with the late-summer mountain meadows.
The view from the pass was amazing.
Very few jeeps were on the roads yet but one friendly driver insisted on taking my photo next to the sign for the pass.
I didn't linger for long on the windswept and cold pass. I hopped back on my bike and started the spine-rattling descent before Raynaud's Syndrome could take possession of my fingers. After a very brief and fast flight downward, I hit bottom and was climbing again. At the start of the next climb, I saw two classic Colorado sights. The first was a mine, still being worked by a crew of men using shovels. I thought that we'd left the environmental disaster of searching every mountainside for precious metals behind us. My thoughts were bolstered by the chalk white creek flowing below the mine - the chalk color was a sign of cadmium, a mining by-product, poisoning the water. This poison hurts birds by preventing them from producing sufficiently thick shells to protect their embryos. (Zoom in to see the men working near the middle of the photo)
Then, less than a mile further along, hundreds of sheep dotted the green mountainside. Sheep grazing on public lands was a driving force in the extermination of wolves and grizzly bears from Colorado.
I put those sights behind me as the climb grew steeper and rougher.
Very few motorized vehicles attempted this ascent but one put a smile on my face. As a blue jeep passed me, the cowboy driver slowed (yes, we have real cowboys out here), pointed his index finger directly at me and said, "You are the toughest mofo out here"! When I told the Runner about this encounter, he reminded me that the jeep driver didn't even know that about 6 months earlier, I'd had to cajole a nurse to allow me to walk half the length of a hospital corridor. And, she allowed it only with the stipulation that the Runner push my IV cart for me. The body's ability to heal itself is astounding.

As I neared the next pass, an endless green meadow with three watery jewels in the middle stretched out beside me.
When I reached the pass, I felt like I'd ascended to the tippy top of the world. I gazed out across an ocean of mountain peaks.
Then, I turned the corner and was faced with this!
I thought to myself "No, it simply isn't possible that *anyone* could go up that mountain". It turned out that the sketchy trail up the mountain was too unstable for me to ride it so I turned back. Looking at the photo, I think that it's kind of funny that I even tried.

After hail started falling, I realized that it was time to turn toward my rendezvous point with the rest of the pack. Before descending, I scanned the panorama.

And then focused on gorgeous spots within it.
As I descended, I stopped to enjoy a slope laden with wildflowers.
And then, when I was almost on the valley floor, I looked back at what I had climbed. Whew, the view made me tired.
Finally, a quick question provoked by today's canine adventure. Exactly how terrifying does R look whilst wearing a muzzle?
A woman took one look at him and started screaming hysterically like she was being attacked by a mountain lion. I am not kidding. He doesn't look *that* terrifying to me.

You may wonder why a peaceable dog like R is wearing a muzzle. It's to prevent him from eating shrooms - I have an addict on my hands. Fortunately, K completed her 12-step program last year and can now run muzzle-free in mushroom season.

If I can make my computer behave, I shall include bear video and photos very very soon.

Tranquility

The memories of tranquil moments in the mountains carried me through a hectic day. We went to the vet today - no news on our dogs' pancreatitis and UTI yet - but we saw lots of other crises unfolding. I think that being a vet must be one of the hardest jobs in the world on some days. It made me give my dogs a hug and thank goodness that their issues are curable.

Today, visions from the mountains danced through my head. On our recent trip, we headed straight for the San Juan Mountains after our brief stay near my mountain biking nirvana. Along the way, we saw a bear cub, born last winter, lope across the road to catch up with her mom who had already disappeared into a towering aspen grove. The cub was a miniature black creature who looked cute but determined. I wished her well and hoped that she'd live to raise her own cubs someday.

At our first campsite above Lake City, harebells nodded in the evening light.
The next morning, K and I had our first 'adventure' together, exploring a section of the Colorado trail that led high up onto a plateau near the Continental Divide.
I pedaled and K ran through lush green grass, Rocky Mountain rocks, wildflowers, and looming storms. The storms eventually led us to flee down the mountain to safety. The storm clouds behind the rust mountains painted a dramatic picture.
Last summer, K and I had a long and arduous day when we got lost on the Colorado Trail because I didn't know that it had been re-routed. During our ride on this day, some prankster had put up a fake Colorado Trail triangle and even constructed a misleading tall cairn of rocks. Fortunately, I had the route firmly painted in my mind (plus a good map and GPS unit in my backpack) so I didn't fall for the tricks. I wonder what would lead someone to maliciously try to lead people astray?

After our wonderful ride, we drove toward Silverton, stopping to camp in a lush green basin below a 14,000' peak.
We reveled in the still-blossoming Columbines and the whistles of marmots as we hiked up the basin. I felt lucky to be alive and in paradise.

Wildlife action plus more mountain trip photos

While I was away, the action was thick and furious at one of my wildlife cameras. I'll show you, chronologically, the animals who passed the camera over that time.

First, Mama Mule Deer led her fawn across a wildlife trail. We've seen this pair in this exact spot before.
Uh oh, where did Mom go?
An alarmed looking young buck crossed the trail. I believe that this is the buck who used to travel with an older buck who carried a big velvet rack of antlers. The older buck disappeared on the day that a mountain lion passed this spot. I'd say that the youngster has good reason to be wary.
In fact, a hulking strong bear was in the vicinity. I suspect that this boar is the one who I've dubbed "Scarface". He visited the den soon after my favorite sow and her yearlings departed.
This bear visited every one of my wildlife cameras posted over a large radius in the forest over the course of a few days. My cameras are currently focused on bear "hot spots" so I don't think that he tracked me but that he simply visited all the hot spots.

The boar closely investigated each camera. Here, he knocked the camera to the side, leading to wavy-looking trees.
After the ursine examination, the camera almost righted itself so it remained useful while we were gone.
Later, he mauled another camera, leaving it pointing in a ridiculous direction. I have funny video from that "ursine investigation" that I'll post soon.

A few days later in the same spot, the spotted fawn sped across the corridor so fast that he looked like he had streaked fur!
It took 15 minutes for the fawn's mother to appear in the camera's view. She stood, sniffed, looked around, walked slowly back and forth, and eventually followed the path of the fawn. I hope that they found each other again.
Finally, the young buck warily walked through the intersection again.
Someone asked me how I get the animals to come into the view of my cameras. They thought that I put out food bait to attract them. In fact, I do no such thing. I've spent a ton of time in the forest over the years, carefully looking for signs of animal activity. I make educated guesses about what species left the signs and then put up a camera to find out the real answer.

Based on animal signs, I expected mainly black bears and mountain lions plus an occasional mule deer to appear on this camera. While both have appeared, deer are the most numerous species who use this "game trail". I learn something new every single day.

While the animals at home busily went about their business, I enjoyed euphoric mountain biking high above treeline. The weather made timing my rides dicey. We awakened to rain on our first couple of mornings and waited in the van for a break in the drenching. K cuddled in the sleeping bags with only her chocolate head exposed.
R impatiently gazed out the window thinking "rain, rain, go away".
Once the rain abated, K and I headed out for a ride, enjoying the mystical sight of clouds floating around us rather than over us.
The trail that I rode that day, called the Monarch Crest Trail, is simply ecstasy on a bike. Expansive views spread in every direction and the smooth trail undulates along the Continental Divide. On a weekday, it's not too crowded, and I can relax into an easy rhythm of pedaling at 11-12,000'!

On the day that I rode it last week, the dark clouds seemed to envelope the alpine world. Fortunately, it was too early in the morning for lightning, for I am not yet ready to die, even if it is while riding my favorite trail. There are too many wild places left to explore, both literally and figuratively.

When I reluctantly turned back toward camp, the mountain that guards over our meadow appeared on the horizon leading the way.
The reddish mountain glowed in the sunset that night.
As I watched the sunset, I pondered why visiting these mountain oases is so important to me. I realized that just knowing that such peaceful and wild places exist makes my soul sing and gives me a calm confidence about my life. At times of stress like while I waited on a gurney before my spine surgery in January, visions of my favorite meadow washed over me, reminding me that the peace of the natural world awaited me when I was ready to return. I'm so happy and relieved that I was able to return this summer.

Meadow oasis

"Sunny with a few clouds" described life pretty well when I wrote my last post. We'd just found out that R had pancreatitis and K's recurring urinary tract infection was very nasty. We had planned to head out of town but weren't sure if taking two sick dogs far away from their fabulous vet was smart. So, we hung out at home and waited to see if the dogs' health seemed to go north or south. Fortunately, it seemed to go due north for both (more tests this week will hopefully confirm our impression). So, with a long list of every vet hospital on our route, we headed out in our LabMobile, the high clearance 4WD camper van that lets us "car camp" while sleeping on a comfortable mattress that keeps my finicky spine happy.

We traveled through tumultuous weather into the high mountains of central Colorado. Although I felt confident that the Duo was mending, I hoped that the ominous skies didn't have hidden meaning.
As we approached our destination, blue sky opened over our heads and a rainbow dove into the valley below us. It was close to our dog S's birthday so I thought of it as his rainbow bridge to us.
We camped in a Subalpine meadow surrounded by 13-14,000' peaks in the distance. It's one of my favorite campsites on Earth - peaceful, filled with wildlife and flowers, and close to beautiful trails. K expresses joy by wriggling on her back. As soon as we set foot in the meadow, she dove into the grass.
The tumultuous weather followed us to our oasis, and stormy skies loomed as we took the first short hike of our trip. K perched on a rocky pinnacle to survey our meadow.
R scanned the meadow's edge for wild animals. We always keep our dogs on leash in this lush meadow because it seems so obvious that we are visiting the home of the deer, elk, marmots, bear, and lions.
During our trip, we took lots of mountain bike rides and hikes, although very carefully. Both of our dogs are wild mushroom addicts, and the never-ending rainfall this summer has produced a spectacular mushroom crop. We can't trust the Duo to roam even the slightest bit during rides or hikes without sampling the local fare. In fact, when K was 2 yrs old, she suffered severe mushroom poisoning, sending us careening down a mountain from our remote campsite in the Elk Mountains. Fortunately, we found an emergency vet who saved her life. So, we know that the risks are real, and thus, the Duo spent more time on leash or in "heel position" than usual. Sometimes, we even muzzle them to prevent mushroom grazing but that has the bad side effect of making people very afraid of them. There's nothing more mortifying to gregarious Labradors than to have people shy away from them!

These mushrooms grew out of the side of a live tree next to a tumbling stream!
The sun set on our first evening in our favorite meadow with a faint rainbow arcing up out of a fiery mountain.
I plan to write more about our trip in coming days but that's all for now. We gradually made our way to the San Juan Mountains, including the peaks, passes, and lush valleys above Silverton and Ouray. It's the wildest part of Colorado, and we loved it!

When we arrived home, I checked the wildlife cameras that are within 100 yards of my house. Whew - there was a flurry of action on the tiny trail that leaves our house to go into the forest. Coyotes marched past at 6AM, 11 AM, and 4 PM on various days. In the dark of night, a deer fled from something so fast that the camera caught only his hind end. On his next passage past the camera, he posed with his velvet antlers in the camera lens.
Then, just last night, a bobcat sauntered past the camera with dinner in his jaws. I believe that the rabbit who I frequently see on this camera nourished a bobcat last night. It's sad for the rabbit but it is the Year of the Bobcat.
This morning, K and I triggered the camera as we finished our bike ride. I have so few "action" photos of my girl and me that I'll treasure this one!
Notice how closely she's "heeling" next to my bike. I trained her to heel on the right of my bike when she was a puppy. It's very useful on busy trails or when mushrooms seem to be sprouting everywhere!