I love the lyrics to the song “Glorious” by Mamuse. So even though I’ve used them before at the beginning of a different post, I’m going to share them again.
I’ve got good friends to the left of me And good friends to my right Got the open sky above me And the earth beneath my feet Got a feeling in my heart That’s singin’ All in life is sweet – Oh what a day!
If you’ve read the ‘welcome’ page, you know that the genesis for this blog was a moving experience I had as a young man in the mountains. More precisely, it was the realization that the experience was somewhat diminished by not having anyone with whom to share it. To say that has changed would perhaps rank as the most colossal understatement of the ages. The quantity and quality of friends who have shared adventures since then almost defies description. In fact, as I gathered photos for this post, I realized there are so many friends, and so many adventures – they realistically won’t fit in one post. This, then, will be just the first in a series of photo essays to celebrate those whom I am privileged to call friend – and just a few of the adventures we’ve shared.
Boundary Waters (early 80’s)…I met the Backer boys in high school. We forged bonds of friendship doing what any self-respecting mountaineer wannabe living in the Midwest would do – we camped in the middle of winter – in northern Minnesota – in weather cold enough to freeze solid a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. Thus was born the concept of “stupid fun.”
Neatly organized pack…Check! Broken ski pole splint…Check! Wool knickers…Check! Practically ready for a trip to Everest.
Aftermath of a Warren face plant. BTW…skis were my idea. Everyone else wanted snow shoes. Thanks guys!
Mike, Dave, Dan, Phil, Warren…successful south to north crossing of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area!
1985 Mt Robson… By the time we set our sights on Robson, Dan and Warren had already climbed Rainier as teenagers (what were their parents thinking?). I had lived close to lots of mountains in Alaska. We had several BWCA trips under our belts. Yep – we were ready for the big time.
It’s all fun and games until one of those beasts jumps on your back!
Warren, Dave, Tim and Dan sporting the latest in climbing gear and clothing.
Mt Robson from our climb to the top of Mt. Resplendant. Unsuccessful summit attempt on Robson, but super successful climbing adventure.
Studly Noob climbers. We didn’t even know what we didn’t know – and we still had fun.
The journey – and the views along the way – are just as important as the destination.
A New Life (1985)…Two weeks after Robson I said “I do” to an amazing new chapter in life with my best friend and adventure partner. One of our first (and still favorite) adventures was a seven week long, 2,500 mile bike ride up the east coast and into the maritime provinces of Canada.
The bike trip was a microcosm of marriage…lots of figuring things out.
For those who know me now, there was a time when MY hair was longer than Sharon’s.
Lots of miles and smiles that summer.
One of our less successful dinner experiments – a true gastronomic nightmare!
Somehow this captures what life would be like living in the inner city of Milwaukee, working, raising three boys, you know…life!
Boundary Waters…Again (2002)…Life in Milwaukee was fun, challenging and filled with lots of good times with many, many dear friends. We watched our children grow from infants to teens and were fully immersed in that world. A new century seemed like a good time for a fresh start though. In 2001 we moved to a mountain town in northern AZ and were suddenly confronted with a whole new world – a world filled with new friends and opportunities for new adventures. Interesting that I kicked off this new chapter in early 2002 with an old adventure with old friends.
Can’t remember exactly, but I think that was a brochure for a beach front time share.
Seems like Dan keeps popping up in all these posts involving snow and puffy jackets.
Yep…still snows in the Boundary Waters.
The gear had improved considerably in 20 years. Much more comfortable than I remember.
Warren, Tim, Phil, Dave and Dan Boss after another successful trip.
Collectively, the four trips presented here amount to less than three months out of the 57 years I’ve spent on the planet so far. Only seven people are pictured in these photos. Seven people out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people I’ve met in the course of my life. A tiny fraction. And yet, when I look at these pictures, the flood gates open, the memories come pouring out and fill my heart. They make me smile and laugh. They make me grateful. And they inspire me. They inspire me to call, or text, or email a friend – to talk, to reminisce – and to plan another adventure!
I’ve debated writing this post for some time. My reasons for climbing are very personal. I find most mountains to be awe-inspiring. I love spending time in such beautiful spaces. I never tire of looking out at the world from high on a mountain, and I enjoy the mental and physical challenges involved in getting to those high places. Conversely, I’ve met plenty of folks whose only interest in climbing peaks seems to be so they can say they’ve done it. There seems to be little joy in the doing of the thing, only in having it be done in order to boast or humble brag. So my goal in sharing thoughts and photos from our 2015 climbing trip is not as a way of saying, “Look what I’ve done.” My hope is to share a little bit of what makes Denali “The Great One” and to hopefully inspire some awe along the way.
I’ve found that in talking about Denali, it helps to share some of the basics. The most commonly climbed route on Denali is known as the “West Buttress” named for a narrow ridge that is part of the route between a camp at 14,000′ and the high camp at 17,000′. The summit of Denali is 13,000 feet higher, and some 18 miles distant from the normal starting point on the Kahiltna glacier. (By comparison, Everest climbers ascend 12,000 vertical feet from base camp to summit). Because of the copious amounts of bad weather, distance and elevation, most teams plan for 3+ weeks on the mountain. For us, gear, food, fuel, etc. for that amount of time amounted to 110-130 lbs each. Most teams “double carry” on the mountain. That means climbers carry a load of gear and supplies a few miles up the mountain, drop the load and return back down to their camp. Next morning they break camp and climb back up to where they dropped gear the previous day and establish a new camp. This process is repeated all the way to high camp at 17,000′. This helps climbers acclimate to the altitude and allows for lighter loads. It is a tried and true method used on big mountains all over the world. It also seems rather insane! Rather than climb the mountain twice, we chose to “single” carry. This meant that as we moved from camp to camp up the mountain we carried all our gear, split approximately 60%-40% between our sleds (affectionately known as “dead pigs”) and backpacks. Obviously the additional weight made the climb more difficult, especially on the steep bits. The HUGE trade off was that we only climbed the mountain once.
My mountaineering career moved from the stuff of dreams to reality when I started spending summers in Alaska at age 17. The two great attributes of youth – stupidity and a sense of invincibility – fueled my early climbing adventures and dreams. I have a long history of dreaming about Denali. Even 130 miles away, on a clear day the mountain was visible from Anchorage. It loomed impossibly large on the horizon, and in a young man’s fancy. Shortly before his death on Everest, I actually wrote to Denali giant – Ray Genet – asking for advice on climbing Denali “alpine” style. Considering my “vast” experience at age 19, he politely told me I was an idiot for even considering such a thing. He was right of course, but still…
Thirty-ish years later, in 2009, events in my life and my climbing career coincided to present an opportunity to make a dream come true and attempt a climb on the Great One. Everything went according to plan and we moved up to high camp without any problems. In spite of possibly the best weather window in the entire history of mountaineering, personnel problems prevented a summit attempt. While it was a disappointment having to turn back with the summit within reach, I was content with the knowledge that I could have reached the top. I was content having been able to spend several weeks in one of the most stunning alpine environments on earth.
Dan and Steve would not be denied. May 2015 back at Kahiltna International Airport loading the dead pigs for another adventure on Denali.
I may have been content, but Dan wasn’t. Almost immediately, I suspect, he began plotting our return. When Dan suggested another attempt in 2015, I initially wasn’t interested. I knew I could have reached the summit on the previous trip and didn’t feel the need to prove anything to myself. The weather this time around was almost certain to be horrible. There were issues of time and money. Dan being Dan, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and enlisted the aid of our mutual friend Steve to help wear me down. Peer pressure can be brutal and I finally said yes. Spring of 2015 became a frenzy of training, choosing and sorting both gear and food, and attending to countless other details. Eventually we found ourselves, once again, in Talkeetna.
Unfortunately packing requirements for the flight to Anchorage are different than the packing requirements for our climb. Talkeetna Air Taxi provides large tent shelters for climbers to sort and repack gear.
All climbers are required to check in with climbing rangers in Talkeetna. They spell out all the do’s and don’ts for climbers. This is necessary because of dangers, and because of the large number of climbers who attempt Denali every year. The stats were not encouraging!
The first view of the Great One is very intimidating.
The 55 mile flight covers some very rugged terrain.
Arrival at base camp on the Kahiltna Glacier means more time organizing gear. The weather worsened during our flight in, and flights were suspended. We were the last ones in that day.
Heading into the gloom towards our first camp 5 1/2 miles up the Kahiltna Glacier.
Low clouds sometimes cause “whiteout” conditions. White clouds and white snow make it almost impossible to spot landmarks. Fortunately we had a good trail to our first camp.
Camp 1.
The weather worsened, with whiteout conditions. Already on day 2 we were forced to burn a ‘weather day’.
in 2009, this was the view from camp 1. Quite a contrast. Stunning weather and scenery.
Dan is the champion of waiting out weather days.
Patience is a big part of climbing a big peak. Nice to be tent bound with nice people. Lots of interesting conversation.
On day 3 weather was good enough for us to move farther up the glacier to Camp 2. It was not good enough for pictures however.
This picture is from the morning of day 4. Blue bird skies at last.
The views while climbing on Denali never cease to amaze.
Route finding (in good weather) is simple. Hike to the end of the Kahiltna Glacier and turn right.
After the right turn, continue hauling the dead pigs uphill towards camp 3
Climbers making their way up to camp at 11,000 feet.
Camp 3 – 11,000. It is always a bonus not having to build your own storm shelter.
This home away from home came with a ready made kitchen.
We took turns melting snow for our drinking and cooking water. This little chore usually took 2-3 hours a day. We carried 3 gallons of white gas to power our stove.
Another nice day means another day of climbing. A few years ago, the large overhanging ice blocks on the right broke off and avalanched, killing climbers on the path leading out of camp.
Camp at 14,000′
Dan once again taking over kitchen duty. Not a bad view though.
Getting to the camp at 14,000 is a major accomplishment. It means you’ve avoided the crevasses on the Kahiltna glacier, not been blown off the mountain at Windy Corner, and ascended 7,000 feet – just over half way to the summit. It is also where the climbing starts to get serious. It is 2,000 feet up a headwall to the West Buttress Ridge, which climbs another 1,000 feet to the high camp at 17,000′. In 2009 we watched as two climbers from Minnesota took a fatal fall down a couloir above camp. In 2015 we watched a helicopter airlift the body of another climber from the high camp. These are constant reminders that this is a serious mountain, and one can never take safety for granted.
Above 14,000 the lack of oxygen starts to become more noticeable, especially with a steep 2,000′ vertical climb.
At the top of the headwall there is 800′ of fixed rope. At this point we’ve cached the sleds and are carrying enough food and fuel for several days – enough for our summit attempt.
The rocky ridge is the West Butress. The little nub in the middle is known as Washburn’s Thumb.
Close up of Washburn’s Thumb with climbers visible for perspective.
CE55 Mountain Pant.
Dan making his way around Washburns Thumb.
Steve on the Butt – my favorite shot of the entire trip.
Home at 17,000′ feet. It literally feels like you are in outer space. In the background is Denali Pass (18,000′). The path up to the pass is called the Autobahn.
Looking 3,000′ down at 14k camp.
Yeah…
We spent a rest day at high camp eating, hydrating, prepping gear, chatting with other climbers and enjoying the atmosphere. The weather cooperated, so on day nine of our climb we set out for the summit.
Just above Denali Pass…our high point in 2009. From here on it was all new. The wind at the pass was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It was like some malevolent being intent on killing us.
The secret to success – no exposed flesh.
Pig Hill leading up to the summit ridge. My opinion…this is a very poorly designed mountain. Pig Hill was pure evil at almost 20,000′
Pausing just before the summit ridge. The wind was brutal…we actually discussed whether or not we would continue.
Little known fact. As we cross the narrow trail on the ridge, Steve actually caught another climber who had unclipped from the rope and then tripped. Steve saved this climber from what would have been a fatal flaw.
Summit of Denali – 20,320′ Temperature was -30 F with a steady wind in excess of 40mph. Estimated windchill -71F. Not a good day to linger.
Heading back to Denali Pass. Round trip from high camp to the summit was 5 miles, 3,300′ vertical and 17 hours. It was a long, glorious day.
Summit day was amazing. Until we were actually traversing across to the summit ridge though, I didn’t allow myself to believe it was actually going to happen. There are so many things that have to go right, and so many things that can go wrong. The weather cooperated. We had a good plan and a strong team. Dan was the same upbeat, reliable climbing partner he has been for the past 30 years. Prior to Denali, Steve had only climbed Rainier and Mt Baker. He overcame his initial hesitance and developed into a strong, confident climber.
The result of exposed flesh meeting -71F windchill
Even with everything going right, it was still a challenge. Dan ended up getting frostbite on his face, and was a bit hypothermic coming off the summit. Then when we thought we were going to get a rest day at high camp, we got word of a storm blowing in. We didn’t have enough food or fuel to wait out a big Denali storm, so we had to pack up and head down only hours after returning to camp. Then back down at 11,000′ camp, the storm finally caught us and kept us tent bound for four days before we could descend. We all reminded ourselves that we were there by choice and it was all part of the experience.
It is hard to believe that all this took place 3 1/2 years ago. In the years since, there have been other adventures and other mountains. And God willing, there will be many more adventures in the years to come. I’m quite certain though, that nothing will come close to matching our time spent on “The Great One.”
If you’ve read any of my posts since we’ve returned from Norway, you know that both Sharon and I developed a serious crush on that country. The historically good weather and amazing scenery were big factors of course, but so was the culture. It was so appealing to see so many people doing the right thing, the decent thing, just because that’s what you do as part of a community. We actually felt a bit guilty for bagging on our home turf as much as we did. At the hotel on our last night, I recall Sharon saying, “We’re going to have to fall in love with Flagstaff again.”
It has now been almost 4 months since we returned home from across the pond. While my feelings for Norway haven’t changed, I think I’ve fallen in love with Flagstaff again. A few weeks ago, friends from work met up for an off trail hike in the Grand Canyon. We hit the trail early on a Saturday, missed the south rim crowds, and within a few hours were enjoying the views from a seldom visited location within the park.
Allison looking uncharacteristically glum. Kevin looking characteristically grateful to be sitting down.
Swanson “rocking” it
Allison, Dave, Josh, Glenn
Try to relax Allison
Yeah….
Afterwards, we sat on the rim and enjoyed a celebratory libation. As we looked out over the expanse, recounting our adventure – we all shared the same thought. The Grand Canyon is a “bucket list” item for many people. No doubt many of the people sharing our view at the overlook were on a “trip of a lifetime.” Yet, because we live in Flagstaff, we were able to cruise up to the Canyon for the day and have an amazing adventure. Hard not to love that about living in Flagstaff.
The next weekend we joined the throngs downtown Flagstaff during the “First Friday Artwalk.” After some tasty pizza at Il Rosso, we met with several friends at Mother Road Brewery. As usual, the place was full of happy people enjoying a pleasantly warm evening. Next morning I was staring at a list of home repair projects longer than my arm. We decided to do the responsible thing, seize the carp and head to Sedona for a hike instead. Forty-five minutes after pulling out of the driveway, after a lovely drive through world class scenery in Oak Creek Canyon, we arrived at our trail head. We spent a beautiful morning enjoying the incomparable views of the Sedona area.
Yes – there are certainly things about Flagstaff that irritate. Entitled dog owners who refuse to believe leash laws on the trails apply to them. NAU threatening to swallow Flagstaff whole. Traffic on Milton stupid busy all year ’round now, not just on busy summer and winter weekends. But you know what – I still love Flagstaff. I love that I can run and bike year round on trails right from our door step or within a short drive. I love that I can ski on Friday afternoon after work, whitewater kayak on Saturday and rock climb on Sunday…which we did in March a few years ago. I love that every time we walk around downtown, we meet friends from work, or church, or from Sharon’s running group, or old neighbors, or from shared adventures. I love that I can look out our living room window to see a 12,633′ mountain surrounded by our little corner of the largest ponderosa pine forest in the world. I love that within a half day’s drive we can be mountain biking in Moab, boogie boarding in San Diego, or lost in the San Juan mountains of Colorado.
Don’t worry Norway! What we had was more than just a summer fling…it was love. But we also love our mountain home. Now that I think about it, there are quite a few places that I love. Maybe we don’t have to be ‘monogamous’ when it comes to places we love. Maybe Crosby, Stills and Nash had it right when they sang, “If you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with.” Maybe one of the secrets to happiness is to be able to love wherever you find yourself. Right now – I love Flagstaff! So, if you happen to be in our neighborhood, we would love to share what we love. And I hope you love wherever you’re at as well. Next summer when we start traveling, it would be fun to visit, to see what you love about your home town.
I’ve heard it before. That tone of disbelief and wonder and mild horror when someone finds an unrecognizable “science project” in a forgotten corner of the refrigerator. “What is this?” I heard the same disbelief and wonder when people asked, “You went all the way to Norway just to compete in a trail race?” Don’t worry – I wasn’t offended! The short answer is “No!” No, we did not travel half-way around the world just to run around on some mountains. It just sounded like the perfect opportunity to have some”stupid fun.” (“Stupid Fun” See definition here.)
The real story is that when our decision to travel to Norway was finalized and the dates were set, Sharon and I began exploring all that Norway had to offer. The thought occurred that it might be fun join some locals for a trail run. The Hornindal Rundt was the only trail race that took place during our visit, and also happened to be in an area we wanted to visit. So it was that many months later Sharon and I passed through “The Gate of No Return“.
Race check-in
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Hornindal Rundt (Round) bills itself as “Norway’s Toughest Mountain Race.” The pictures and videos of the event all featured lean, smiling Norwegians effortlessly trotting around the beautiful mountains and lakes of the Hornindal region. And, there was a trail. How hard could it really be? Not having done any other Norwegian mountain races, I’m not qualified to judge the veracity of the “toughest” claim, but it does boast some rather impressive statistics. The long course is 75 kilometers (46 miles) and involves 16,000′ feet of climbing and descending…10,000′ of that comes during the first 38k (23 miles) aka the “short” course.
I had decided to attempt the 75k distance. My rationale was that it was only slightly longer than a Canyon rim to rim to rim, with a bit more climbing. It seemed like it would be a stretch for me, but I was looking for a challenge. Sharon opted for the 38k fjelløp, also a challenge. While the race was not meant to be the main focus of our trip, we did spend a great deal of time preparing. We reckoned that any training would benefit us for all the other activities we had planned during our visit.
The race begins and ends in Grodås. Five minutes from the center of this pleasing little village, we found a convenient cabin where we planned to spend several days.
The view down valley toward Grodås and Hornindal LakeThe Knausen hytte.
We arrived on Friday with plenty of time to relax. We spent the day fueling up, sorting gear, hydrating properly, getting registered, taking in the english version of the pre-race briefing and just generally enjoying the ambiance of the event.
Sorting gear was tough. We had required gear and only one aid station at the 38k finish (1/2 way for long course)
Race briefing
Hornindal competitors
Two of the four Americans entered.
We were both going into the race with some uncertainty. We’d done a fair amount of hiking during our first week in country and generally felt great. Now on the day before before the race, after two rest days, Sharon’s legs felt heavy and tired. I felt rested and strong…yet completely unprepared. Even though I’d done something comparable before, and had trained hard, for some reason this race was getting into my head and I was filled with doubt. We both went to bed unsure of what the next day held in store.
In spite of our misgivings, we both slept well. We were somewhat less pleased with the sound of steady rain on the roof. We shouldn’t have been surprised. This was Norway and we’d been warned. Still, we’d had such good weather to this point, and there hadn’t been rain in the forecast! One could hope! We had the appropriate gear, but rain and cold had the potential to make a long day really long!
Our Norwegian warm up leader…highly entertaining
And we’re off!
Sharon and I started out together jogging slowly along the shore of Hornindalvatnet (Hornindal Lake) before heading up into the woods to begin our first climb. Fairly early on it became apparent that Sharon was not having a good day. Heavy legs and lungs made climbing a chore. This was tough mentally. It is hard not to 2nd guess and get down on yourself for the amount of hiking and resting we’d done. This was tough physically. Feeling good it was going to be a challenge to complete this course. On a bad day it had the potential to be misery. So like any loving husband, I abandoned Sharon and left her to suffer alone. Actually…she threatened unspeakable harm if I didn’t leave. That is a credible threat. Also, we’ve done a number of endurance things together, and we had talked ahead of time. Regardless of how we were doing, we had agreed we would each run our own race. Still, it was hard leaving, knowing that she was going to have a hard go of it.
For me, the Hornindal Rundt was everything I’d hoped for – and more. The scenery was stunning. The weather cleared and was perfect…even a bit warm. My favorite memories from the race, however, came from my interactions and conversations with the other participants.
“Bill Murray” look alike
“Bill Murray” and Evalina
The Amazing Adventure Moms. Carolina, Marit and Jeanette
Siv.
Michael dealing with stomach issues
Because the trail at one point didn’t cross the actual summit, “Bill Murray” added 1/2 mile to the run so he could tag a high point. After talking to Evalina for a bit and sharing that I wasn’t fast, but generally had pretty good endurance, she offered a memorable quote. “Yes – we are like diesel engine – slow but we run forever!” I met the three Amazing Swedish Adventure Moms. We recognized each other as neighbors at the Knausen Hytte. Every year Carolina, Jeanette and Marit participate together in one or two endurance events and were having way too much fun every time we passed each other. Siv and I ended up running/hiking together for several hours. Siv is a local and apparently either knew or was related to every person gathered along the course to cheer us on. I believe her family owned one of the farms we ran through as we came off one mountain and made our way up another. She was kind enough to fill me in on some of the history and life in this region. We ran together until she dropped me on an insanely steep climb, where I met Michael from Gothenburg, Sweden. We both stopped at a convenient stream to refill our water and regroup before finishing the death climb. We both helped each during some tough times coming in the 38k aid station.
Nice warm up mile along the lake.
Sharon on our first climb
A view back toward Grodas and the Hornindal valley stretch away behind.
Still smiling! Hornindal Lake in the background.
Typical “primitive” trail. Much of the course looked like this. Rough and vertical.
On the way to Gulkoppen, the high point of the course.
South from Gulkoppen overlooking the Innvikfjord
Local hikers enjoying a day on Gulkoppen.
Siv setting the pace
The last high point before 38K aid
Hornindalrokke “Hornindal Rock”
Returning to the valley. The cows were unimpressed.
As I said earlier, I’m not qualified to comment on the “toughest” label – but it certainly was tough. I was doing quite well until the last, steep, hot climb up Muldsvorhornet at around 20 miles. I rallied on the run down, but by the time I arrived at the 38K mark, I had decided to call it a day. The entire run had been a magical, amazing experience. It had also taken just under nine hours and had been very, very hard. The thought of heading out and doing it all over again on the 2nd half of the course was rather soul crushing. Physically I probably could have done it – but I felt like it would have just been a suffer-fest. Michael and the race director both did their best to encourage me to continue – and I did some serious soul searching. Ultimately I decided to stop while my memories of the race were positive. Fortunately, the race allows competitors to switch from the long course and get credit as a finisher in the short course. I’ll take it! Sharon arrived a bit later, gassed, a bit frustrated, but also happy to have stuck it out. In spite of stomach problems, Michael continued on and finished in just under 22 hours. Siv added another finish to her resume with a time of 19:40. Remarkable achievements!
At Hornindalbru, trying to decide whether or not to continue, one of the big considerations was, “Will I regret this decision later?” Now, almost three months later, I have no regrets. It was a great day, with great people, in a great place, that left me with great memories. Congrats to all competitors and all finishers. And thanks to the organizers for putting on a wonderful event. Of course, one does wonder, what if in 2019…???
Our plan was to have no plan…and everything was going exactly according to plan.
The only fixed date in our whole Norway adventure was “Norway’s Toughest Mountain Race” – the Hornindal Rundt – on Saturday, July 7th. With that event and a rest day road trip to the coast in the rear view mirror, the question was “Now what?” We went to bed having decided to drive to Ålesund in the morning, to see the city and spend time camping and hiking along the coast. As often happens though, morning came a bit early for me. I spent a few quiet hours pondering the possibilities contained in some tourist brochures and guidebooks. One guidebook offered an intriguing description of Mt Saksa in the nearby town of Urke. No need to rush off to Ålesund. Perhaps a detour was in order? On our way out of a town we stopped to congratulate Siv (we ran together for several hours during the race) on her Hornindal finish. Being a wonderful person, and a native to these parts, she suggested some hikes for us to consider…one of which just happened to be in the area near Urke…Mt. Saksa! That settled it. A visit to Urke was our new, no plan plan!!
The 30+ mile drive from Grodas to Urke was impossibly beautiful (of course). After a bit of a climb we entered a long narrow valley of steep walls, waterfalls, rivers, lakes, lovely farms, and eventually Hjørundfjord and Urke. Even if there wasn’t a dramatic mountain to climb, the drive alone would have been worth the trip.
The trailhead to Saksa was well marked and easy to find. We paid to park and after a quick check on gear and food, we set off up the trail. Almost immediately we met Sarah and Idun who had already stopped to adjust their gear and shed some layers. “Technical stop” they said with a laugh. We chatted with them for a bit, then continued on, leapfrogging with Idun and Sarah several times during the steep ascent. And when I say steep – I mean to say a casual stroll by Norwegian standards. In the realm of mere mortals, very steep. Something like the vertical gain of Flagstaff’s very own Mt. Humphreys – in half the distance. 3,500’ vertical in 2 ½ miles vs. Humphrey’s 3,300 in 5 miles.
With very little warning, we were suddenly on top with a rather agreeable group of hikers. A 9 month old girl was celebrating her first summit, accompanied by helpful parents and grandparents. Very soon after we arrived, Sara and Idun joined us on top, along with several others, all enjoying the grand view from the summit of Saksa. And what a view! Directly below us the impossibly blue Hjørundfjord split into two arms, ringed on all sides by rugged peaks jutting up from the water. A moderate breeze pushed some clouds around, but without any real suggestion of rain. This was what we had come to Norway to see.
A wee girl’s first summit
Idun and Sarah
Summit Victory pose
What we didn’t realize until a few days later, was that this was – literally – what we had come to see. Before we left for Norway, we watched an excellent Salomon TV video (Salomon Dream Trip Video). This video features a young woman who won her dream trip to spend a week in Norway, hanging out and running with Emilie Forsberg and Ida Nilsson. After watching that video, we both said, “I don’t know where in Norway that is…but that’s where we want to go!” Turns out we did!! No wonder we loved it!
We probably spent close to an hour at the summit, soaking in the views and just enjoying the moment. Sarah and Idun were kind enough to snap a few pics for us. They also introduced us to the brilliant Norwegian practice of bringing (and sharing) their amazing “Kvikk Lunsj” chocolate bars. There is something of a national obsession with these massive melkesjokolade taste treats – and rightly so. For the rest of our trip, we made sure to bring one along on every hike. (We still have a couple in the freezer!) It was a safety issue! After all, no one wants a repeat of the Donner Party!! We also watched with interest as folks buttered slices of excellent Norwegian bread and layered on a thick piece of cheese for a tasty and filling snack. Others brought out hard boiled eggs from their clever plastic egg carriers. Norwegians certainly know how to enjoy life in the out of doors.
By the time we decided to head down, we’d made two important discoveries. First – we spied a likely looking place to camp in the valley below Mt Saksa. The second was that Sarah and Idun were going to have dinner and a beer a bit later at a small restaurant/bar right on the edge of the fjord…and more importantly…wouldn’t mind our company. The prospective camp site materialized as hoped so we set up camp in a lovely spot and enjoyed a quick dinner. A short bit later we met up with Idun and Sarah.
Home for the evening
The Urke Kaihus
Idun and Sarah with their American students.
One beer led to another and the evening stretched on for several hours as these wonderful young ladies schooled us on the proper pronunciation of unpronounceable Norwegian words and place names. We also talked of love, life, aspirations, hard realities, hopes, dreams, differences between Norway and the US, travels we’ve all taken and places we’d like to visit. We talked on well past the time the bar had closed. Eventually we exchanged contact information, reluctantly said our good-byes, and went our separate ways.
Later as we lay in the comfort of our sleeping bags, we both agreed this had been the day that perfectly captured what we had hoped to experience in Norway. Siv, Urke, Hjørundfjord, Saksa, the Urke Kaihus, Sarah and Idun all combined to give us a memorable – no – a perfect day. Thank you Norway. Vi elsker deg.
Following our inquiry, the helpful young lady in the visitor center said “Turn right when you leave here, walk three blocks and then turn right at the (relevant landmark reference). Then walk four blocks and you’ll be there.” As we left, Sharon asked, “Did you notice what she said? She said ‘walk’.” Well of course! She assumed that since it was only 7 blocks, we would walk. Why would one drive such a short distance?? Clearly not a sentiment shared in all corners of the globe
Scene one is NOT likely to see in Norway
When asked, that same helpful young lady offered several suggestions for good hikes – hikes that she liked to do “for fun” in the area around Jotunheimen national park. And so it was that later that day, we found ourselves at a trailhead near the Krossbu lodge. Our plan was to hike to the top of, then along a ridge. Our local contact said she had gone for several miles along this ridge, and then bushwhacked back to the trailhead.
The trail immediately started climbing, and for the most part followed a boisterous creek. Before long we found that it was being fed by three attractive waterfalls. At the 2 mile mark we crested a rise and were confronted by a broad glacier sweeping down to its terminus in a lake. This was a real bargain hike with amazing views such a short distance from the trailhead. In spite of the fact that Jotunheimen is the busiest national park, there were only a few people scattered on the comfy rocks around the lake.
Leirbreen with Store Smorstabbstinden on the left
After resting for a bit we spied a likely route to the top of the ridge and began our climb. All the while a forbidding peak called Store Smorstabbstinden loomed high above us to our right. From the top of the ridge we were treated to amazing views of three separate glaciers nestled in amongst a jumble of peaks. I’d like to say I pulled up some brilliantly relevant John Muir quote to describe the beauty all around us. I’m afraid it mostly rendered us speechless. The best my overwhelmed brain cells could come up with was “wow!” Just “wow!” over and over again.
Leirbreen (Leir Glacier) from above
Store Smorstabbstinden and Storbreen (Stor Glacier
We sat atop of the ridge and drank in the view of glaciers and lakes and ridges and peaks and….wow! From our perch on the ridge we noticed that the ridge to the north would require some significant climbing over some slightly less “wow” worthy terrain. In the other direction, Store Smorstabbstinded still loomed, still looked like a bit of a challenge, but also began to call – whisper really “come on up!” It was faint, at first, but I definitely heard it. The longer we sat looking up at the summit, still 1,600′ above us…the whisper grew louder. Sharon heard it too.
The last few hundred feet to the summit of Store Smorstabbstinden
The middle third of the face presented some challenging route finding through some very steep rocks and cliff bands. The summit was spectacular! Even more so because of the challenge. We looked east into the heart of Jotunheimen national park. We were surrounded by the highest peaks in Norway, all with their own glaciers draped on their flanks. To the southwest we saw a high alpine wonderland and without speaking knew that we would camp there later that evening. Once again “Impossible Norway” came through. It didn’t seem possible that we could have found a better place, or way, to celebrate Sharon’s birthday!
The Queen on her Birthday surveying her realm
Even though it was already late, the sun was still high in the sky. You’ve got to love the northern latitudes in summer! And it had barely made a move toward the horizon by the time we made it back to the care at 8:30pm. It didn’t take long for us to find an impossibly beautiful campsite with impossibly beautiful views. While I set up camp, Sharon worked her one pot wonder magic. We capped off the evening with a visit to the lovely Krossbu Lodge for a birthday beer….an $18 apiece birthday beer. After a magical day, neither of us minded. A perfect end to a perfect day.
The view from our tent…it doesn’t suck
View in the other direction, including Store Smorstabbstinden
Krossbu Lodge
By the way, in case you were wondering…the phrase “Norge er ikke skapt for å sitte på ræva” means “Norway is not created to sit on the butt!” As this day proved, it most certainly is not!!
This may seem strange for me to say since we’ve only just met – but I’m in love. People told me that you could be dark and gloomy, but in the short time we had together I’ve only seen your bright, sunny disposition. The more we got to know you, the more you revealed of yourself, the more there was to love. The three weeks we spent together were magical…and not long enough. To quote the Bard, “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good-night til it be morrow.” I get it. I didn’t want to leave. I’m already counting the days when I can return.
Sharon(November 2017): “Hey Dave, do you think you can get – or are you willing to take – three weeks off next summer?
Dave: Hmmmm. For what?
Sharon: Not saying quite yet….
Who wouldn’t say yes to that kind of offer? Sharon is not entirely sure where the idea came from, but a few weeks later she revealed that she’d been exploring the possibility of visiting Norway. Normally, given my somewhat limited vacation time, I’m reluctant to put all my free time “eggs” in one basket. But just Google Norway images! I mean it! Stop reading right now, minimize this screen and Google Norway and look at some of the pictures that come up. After drooling over my keyboard for just five minutes I was trying to come up with a plan to spend three months there.
We celebrated Sharon’s birthday by climbing a rather techical peak “Store Smorstabbtinden”. One lexicon translated the name as “Big Lumpstick”. Hmmm. Stunning views. Perfect day!
Leirbreen (Leir glacier) on our way up the Big Lumpstick
One of many excellent free campsites we enjoyed during our stay.
Campsite along the Naeroyfjord, near the town of Gudvangen
Victory pose on top of Mt Saksa
Our new friends Idun and Sarah…and $50 worth of beer…gulp!
Jeg elsker Norge
The “We have to go!” decision was the easy part. The hard part was trying to figure out how to explore a lifetime’s worth of beautiful country in only three weeks. We started with a basic philosophical choice. Do we try to see a little bit of a lot, or a lot of a little? In other words, travel the length and breadth of the country and see as much (albeit superficially) as we possibly can? Or pick one region to explore in depth? That’s a tough choice to make. Every new Google search revealed a new, impossibly beautiful area that practically begged us to come and explore. Finally simple logistics helped us decide on a middle ground. Norway is simply too large. Imagine if California stretched from Mexico all the way to Canada…that’s basically the size of Norway. Neither of us wanted to spend multiple days simply traveling from point A to B to C, etc. In the end we based most of our travel in the northern part of the southern 1/3 of the country.
I’ll go into more detail in following posts, but anyone who has listened to us gush about Norway knows that we both absolutely fell in love with the country. Granted, we probably had the best three weeks of weather in Norway since the Vikings started collecting detailed climate information. And granted, we were just tourists traveling through, so our observations are, by necessity, somewhat superficial. But the bottom line is – we love Norway. We loved the people we met. We loved the culture. We both would love to go back. We both have said (not really in jest, or even half in jest) that if we didn’t have family here – we would seriously considering moving to Norway.
That’s all for now. Just wanted to throw a tease out there. I have several Norway installments planned. In part I’ve been waiting for my camera to join us back in the states. Near the end of our trip, I apparently put my camera on top of the car when we returned from a climb. I reached out to the kind folks at the Sota Saeter lodge near the trailhead, on the off chance that someone turned it in. I’m not sure what all took place, but a few days later Birgit emailed me to say that my camera had been found (slightly worse for wear and tear) ten miles down the road. Plans are currently underway for my memory stick to be sent. As soon as we get reunited, there will be stories and photos aplenty.
From time to time Sharon and I are faced with a philosophical dilemma. Say you’re interested in exploring a 30 mile chunk of the Grand Canyon. Does one a) carry just the basics of food and water and do it as a long day hike, or b) do you break the trip into less daunting distances by backpacking over 2 days? As you might have guessed, this is not a hypothetical exercise. For some time we’d talked about hiking the portion of the Tonto trail that lies between the Grandview and the south Kaibab trails…a distance of 29 miles from trailhead to trailhead. It would be possible to do it in one day, thus avoiding the hassle of backcountry permits and schlepping our camping gear. On the other hand, it would be a really long day. So…what to do?
The Tonto Trail from Grandview on the left to the s. Kaibab trail on the far right.
Eventually we hit on a solution. We got the necessary backcountry permit to spend a night along the trail and do the hike over two days…but we decided to make this an ultra-lightweight experiment. We’ve both had been moving in that direction for some time, but we decided to see how light could we go and still be comfortable.
Since this was just going to be an overnight trip, our first big decision involved food. We opted to leave behind the stove and cooking gear. Our plan was to eat a large breakfast before hitting the trail and bring our normal trail food during the day. For supper we would dine on several pieces of Fratelli’s pizza – purchased the night before and frozen. We’ve done this a number of times before. It is not ultra-lightweight, but it is ultra-tasty and much appreciated after a long day on the trail. Breakfast on day two would be bagels slathered with high calorie goodness. Bars and sufficient trail food would get us back to the trailhead.
With food taken care of, we had to make some gear decisions. Normally we sleep under the stars when traveling in the Canyon. This time around, the chance for rain was high enough to warrant some protection – but not high enough to lead us to bag the trip. Being close to the Canyon, we have the luxury of being fair weather hikers. Solution? We brought along the rain fly from my 1980’s era REI tent and a simple plastic ground sheet. The fly works beautifully with two hiking poles. Total weight – about 1.5 lbs. With food and shelter settled, it was just a matter of taking just enough temperature appropriate clothing – but no more than necessary. We also tried very hard to follow the lightweight maxim that all gear (if possible) should serve multiple functions. By the time we hit the trailhead, we had weighed, pondered extensively discussed each piece of gear that ended up in our packs. We were quite pleased with the results. With a full load of food and water (3 liters each = 6.6 lbs), we each ended up carrying 18 lbs. Nowhere near the minimal weights that some fanatics are able to achieve, but it was hardly noticeable. We also felt quite confident that we would be comfortable whatever conditions we encountered.
The Happy Hikers ready to start
Bit of a drop heading down the Grandview trail.
Lots of flowers in bloom along the trail.
Unable to walk and talk at the same time, Dave does his ‘turtle on its back’ imitation.Sharon “Are you OK?” Me “Yes, but I can’t get up.” Sharon “OK. Let me get some pictures first, then I’ll help.” Thanks Hon!
With the exception of a minor off-trail detour (see picture above), the trip down the Grandview to Horseshoe Mesa went quickly. We then dropped off the west side down to the Cottonwood campsite. Given that April is prime Canyon camping time, we weren’t surprised to see quite few folks there. As soon as we continued on the Tonto trail, however, we saw only one other group until we arrived at the Kaibab trail. As always, exactly the camper/hiker density we were hoping for.
I’ve always believed that there is a direct correlation between the weight of one’s pack vs enjoyment. As pack weight increases enjoyment decreases exponentially. On the other end of the scale, we were both enjoying our light loads and were able to move quickly. We were able to top off with water at the back of Grapevine Canyon, and expected that would be enough until we reached camp at Lone Tree Canyon. Everything was going according to plan…or so we thought. If you look at the map above, you may notice a small, unnamed watershed in between Grapevine Canyon and Boulder Creek. Since the Tonto trail is so pronounced, we didn’t bother bringing a map. As we made our way around that unnamed watershed, we made the mistaken assumption that it was Boulder Creek and we marveled at what good time were making. Thus, when we (in reality) came to Boulder Creek, we made the mistaken assumption that it was Lone Tree Canyon. This was quite puzzling because all our research indicated that there was good camping and reliable water at Lone Tree…and we found neither. This also mattered because we were going to needed water.
We puzzled over this for a bit and eventually the realization hit…we were actually at Boulder Creek. Practically speaking, this really wasn’t a big deal. We had plenty of energy and daylight left to hike the additional miles to Lone Tree. Psychologically though, it was kind of crushing. We were excited about how good we felt, and we had mentally prepared ourselves to be done. Now we had to saddle up and hike several more miles. It didn’t help matters that some clouds had rolled in and a cold wind had built up. We briefly contemplated stopping short and camping at a spot overlooking the river. In the end, we pushed on and were rewarded with a lovely spot at Lone Tree.
Heading toward the back of Grapevine Canyon.
A welcome sight along this stretch of the Tonto.
The inner gorge and the River.
Our shelter at Lone Tree Canyon.
Moonrise looking up Lone Tree.
Lone Tree was a fantastic place to camp. We had water. We had pizza. We were serenaded by love struck frogs. Even though it rained a bit, the wind died and our shelter performed flawlessly. We had covered twenty relatively painless miles, and were rewarded with yet another awe-inspiring evening in the Canyon.
Bluebird skies and perfect temps on day two.
Having crossed through Cremation Canyon, we entered the day use area near the s. Kaibab trail.
Back on familiar turf…the south Kaibab near Sharon’s favorite portion – the switchbacks.
A large band of heavy rain followed us up the Kaibab. Fortunately we made it before the skies opened.
Day two was much like day one, just warmer, lighter and of course…more uphill. Fortunately the pay off for a long day one was a much shorter hike on day two. As the day wore one we noticed that a large thunderstorm seemed to be following us. With our light packs, what could have been a wet, tedious hike passed rather quickly and we beat the rain to the rim. Thanks to the vehicle shuttle we had done the day before, we were back at our car in no time.
Not that we needed much selling, but Sharon and I both came pleased with our experiment and completely sold on the idea of going as light as possible. We had been able to cover a large portion of the Canyon with not much more weight than we would have carried on a long day hike…and we got to spend another wonderful evening below the rim. We also affirmed our belief that you don’t need to spend outrageous sums of money buying ultralightweight gear made of unicorn blood and baby seal tears to reduce weight. It was more a matter of knowing what conditions to expect, taking only the appropriate gear for those conditions, and being willing to leave behind unnecessary “what if” gear. If you have any specific gear questions, feel free to reach out. And as always, however you do it, we encourage you to get below the rim and Seize the Carp!
To stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon is to be amazed. To gaze into the depths and realize you are seeing only a fraction of a percent of the entire Canyon, is to be made to feel very small. Stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon in the middle of a moonless night, gaze into a sky filled to overflowing with brilliant stars, and you see “awesome” defined. Stand there and look into the vast inky abyss where the Canyon should be, and the feeling of amazement, smallness and awe is overwhelming. Especially since I was there to run and hike back and forth across that great gulf. Gulp!
A year prior, a friend suggested doing a rim to rim to rim. I believe I let out a snort of derision. I’ve never finished a rim to rim and thought – “Hey, I’d like to do that all over again!” However, preparing for, and completing a long race in Moab earlier in the year had expanded my idea of what is possible (and enjoyable). So after a Canyon bridge was repaired, a separated collar bone had healed, training, schedules and weather all finally aligned so that I found myself in the middle of that aforementioned moonless night, at the s. Kaibab trailhead on a Saturday morning in November.
An amazing sunset seemed to bode well for my little adventure.
Alpenglow on Yaki Point and the top of the s. Kaibab
After sunset, the clouds did look a little ominous…
All ready to catch a few hours sleep before setting out.
Only 42 miles to go….
All you need is a good headlamp and a flashlight to run the south Kaibab trail in the middle of the night.
In spite of a slightly less than optimal forecast, and some rain earlier in the evening, things started out well. Five minutes down the trail I was already peeling off a layer. The familiar territory along the south Kaibab passed quickly. After a quick break at Phantom to fuel up and top off on water, I headed north. It was along this stretch that I hit my only real low point of the day. After a relatively balmy start, a cold wind from the north was blasting down Bright Angel Canyon. KB gear and Gore-tex came to the rescue, but still, it was none too warm. By the time I got close to Cottonwood campground I’d been alone in the dark for 4-5 hours, I was just barely staying ahead of my fuel needs, and I was starting to hear things. Several times I turned around, trying to see whatever animal was stalking the oldest and weakest member of the herd. Turns out it was something in my pack making noise.
The big downer though was the water situation. From Park Service sources online, I had expected to find water at Manzanita and at the north rim trailhead. When I asked the park rangers upon arrival, they assured me that no, the only water was at Cottonwood campground. I was a little surprised, but glad I asked and planned accordingly. To say I was disappointed at finding a dry faucet would be a mild understatement. I had just finished the last of my water. There would be no way to climb 7 miles to the rim, and then 14 miles back to water at Phantom. If I couldn’t get water I would have to cut short my run/hike. I briefly went to an uncharacteristically dark place. But then a quote I recently came across seemed appropriate.
If there is no solution to the problem then don’t waste time worrying about it. If there is a solution to the problem then don’t waste time worrying about it
So, no need to worry. I figured I’d go at least to Manzanita and check for water there. It was only two miles farther. If there was water – problem solved. If not, it wouldn’t be a problem running back to Phantom. So with some fuel on board and a plan in place I felt much better. And, as it turned out, there was water at Manzanita as I’d originally expected – so problem solved.
From that point the real climbing on the n. Kaibab begins…and it was beautiful. Before long the first hint of dawn appeared behind me. Eventually, ever so slowly I could begin to make out my surroundings and I had a geeky “Lord of the Rings” moment. The cliffs and rock features took on the form of “Helm’s Deep” and I could almost imagine an orc army in the valley below. OK…maybe too much alone time! About a mile from the top, I met the first southbound folks and the sun kissing the highest pine trees on the rim pulled me upwards.
A few minutes before 8am, 7 hours, 14 minutes from the south rim.
Still smiling!!
There are few things as glorious as the view from the north rim at sunrise, especially after hiking through the night to arrive there. And, unlike every other crossing – I actually did feel like retracing my steps. So I spent a few minutes doing the Verizon reception dance to let folks know I’d made it, and headed back down. I’m not even going to try to try to describe an early morning run down the n. Kaibab…other than to say it was glorious. And, that you really need to do it. Not run necessarily, but in some form or other, travel that trail in the early morning.
This trail just calls out for you to hike or run down. It is amazing.
Looking back up to the rim.
In contrast to the cold, dark and solitary journey north, the south bound journey was passed in relative warmth under blue bird skies enjoying the companionship of an ever changing cast of fellow travelers. The only hiccup heading south came a few miles north of Phantom. Some knee and hip pain, likely the result of a tight IT band caused me to stop running. This was not as problematic as it may sound, since the slow shuffle that passes for my running is only slightly faster than hiking.
Getting close to Cottonwood campground the 2nd time and approximately 14 miles left to go.
Lovely trail along Bright Angel Creek.
Boat beach from the Black Bridge.
Had a fun, pleasant conversation at Phantom with Emily from Flagstaff. Sharon caught a ride with her to the Canyon, so I was expecting to run into her. Like many in Flag, Emily was rocking the Canyon trails in preparation for her first ultramarathon in late January. As I climbed away from the river I entered what I like to call my “Sir do you need help finding your walker?” mode. During several food and water rest breaks on the slow slog upwards, I had the opportunity to meet and chat with several other pleasant folks. People who, like Emily, were out enjoying the Canyon as it is really meant to be enjoyed…on foot, relishing the challenge and marveling in the scenery.
The familiar landmarks gradually came and went. Tip off, the switchbacks, Skeleton point, Cedar ridge, Ooh Aah point – and finally – the rim! A quick pic, one last look out at the Canyon, and another grand adventure came to a close.
Aftermath.
There is a lot of time to think during any endeavor that takes the better part of a day. In the week and a half since (with Thanksgiving in between), I’ve had some time to think more about that day and relive the experience. A few thoughts…
I am always grateful and feel very blessed to live in Flagstaff with such easy access to such an amazing place.
I am always grateful for my health and the ability to enjoy the outdoors in unique ways.
I am especially grateful for my lovely and amazing bride – who by the way, whilst I was out mucking about across the River – just (her word) hiked the 17 miles down the Kaibab, across on the river trail and up the Bright Angel trail in an amazingly short time. Sharon supports, encourages these silly pursuits – and gets after it in her own right.
A big shout out to Katie Procter. Katie did her own rim to rim to rim two years prior and offered some good advice. And then three days after my run gave me the benefit of her professional massage therapy. aaaaaaaaah! Check her out at the Body Shop – seriously. Katie Procter Massage
Challenge yourself. Whether its hiking around the block, or across town, or up a mountain or into the Canyon, it feels good to push back the boundaries of what you think you can do. And when you push back boundaries like that, your world gets bigger. Just a warning though – that kind of thinking is dangerous. If I can do this, you think…maybe I can do that!And who knows where that will lead. -Seize the Carp!-
I can’t recall exactly when the seed was first planted. It might have been half a lifetime ago when I had the opportunity to paddle a sea kayak on Lake Winnebago. It might have been articles I came across describing epic sea kayak voyages. Whatever the genesis, somehow I got the idea that it would fun and interesting to build my own kayak. I spent at least fifteen years researching the topic – at first reading books, and then doing internet searches. Over the years I pondered all the options. Strip built or plywood stitch & glue? Plans or a kit? How would I really use a boat if I made one? That would have a bearing on the size and design. Finally which designer or company offered a boat that inspired some passion?
Especially in later years, the growth of the internet allowed me to see lots of different boats and and plans from different designers. This really helped me to settle on a design, and a model that truly ‘spoke’ to me. When life circumstances finally allowed me to pursue this dream, I settled on a strip built kayak from designer Vaclav Stejskal of One Ocean Kayaks. ( One Ocean Kayaks – Cape Ann Storm ). His web site offered an amazing amount of information, and the lines of “Storm” model really called to me.
Set Up. After purchasing the appropriate number of western red cedar, pine and redwood planks from a local hardwood seller, I set up the table saw to rip the boards into 1/4″ thick strips. Next I ran them through the router to put a bead and cove on each strip. Once the set up was complete, it took an entire day to prepare all the strips I would need for the boat.
The boards were 10′ long, so I needed 20′ of space to run the boards.
Table saw with extended fence and feather boards.
The router set up. The same bit had both bead and cove blades.
My home made router table and vacuum fence. Cost next to nothing, and worked brilliantly!
The finished product. As you can see, the strips were slightly thicker than the router bit. This didn’t seem like it would matter, but added several hours of sanding down the road.
Construction. I am thankful to the many builders who documented every step of their project. I’m not going to go into that level of detail. My goal here is to give a general overview of the process for anyone who might be interested in understanding what it takes to make a strip kayak. If anyone has specific questions, I am more than happy to share info. Simply email me or leave a message below.
Step 1: The form. Pictures are worth a whole bunch of words
The station plans are cut out and glued to particle board….
…and then cut out.
A long, straight “strongback” is constructed.
The stations are aligned and attached to the strongback. It was a real pain, but a critical step in a getting a properly aligned boat. Notice all the strips to the left.
Step 2: Attach the strips. I used softer pine at the seam between the top and bottom half. The pine bent more easily and provided a nice visual at the waterline. Western red cedar was used for the bulk of the boat. I used a strip of redwood on the deck.
The first strip of the bottom half.
I used a combination of clamps, staples, and shrink wrap to hold the strips in place. Each of the strips was also glued to its neighbor as they were put in place.
During construction, the ends overlapped and extended beyond the bow and stern.
There was definitely a learning curve to efficiently placing the strips…but over all it was an enjoyable process. I really like Vaclav’s plan for finishing the bottom and top. Rather than hand trim every single piece as they came together, I simply needed to get close to the center “finish” strips. You can see them in the last picture. Then using a strip with no bead or cove, I traced a line, cut along the line, and placed in the last piece on either side.
The trips are roughly trimmed just to get close to a center strip. This is the redwood strip on the top.
A strip is used to mark a line.
I cut along the line.
The strip is added giving a nicely finished appearance. I did this on the top and bottom.
Step 3. Finish the ends. For some reason I had a hard time visualizing this step.
During construction, the ends overlapped and extended beyond the bow and stern.
Those overlapped extensions were carefully trimmed and shaped. Several thin strips of redwood were laminated and glued over the bow and stern, and then carefully sanded into shape.
Step 4. Complete the top half. If I were to do it again, I think I would have sanded and perhaps even fiberglassed the bottom before proceeding. That was an option, but I was eager to see the whole boat take shape. I re-worked the stand, flipped the boat, and completed the strips on top.
At this point, the boat was really taking shape.
I placed a redwood strip the length of the topside for contrast, and for ease in finishing the strips.
All done except for the two finish strips.
Step 4. Sanding. With the strips done, it was time to remove all the staples. There are techniques for holding the strips together without staples. I think if I was concerned about building a museum quality vessel, I might consider that. I simply wanted a nice looking boat, and I don’t feel the staples detract from the beauty. Just my humble, yet devastatingly accurate opinion. Once the staples were removed, it was time to sand. Well, actually, I starting by using a block plane. It didn’t take long before I realized my mistake of making the strips a bit too thick. With apologies to woodworking purists, I broke out the belt sander. I followed that with another round with the block plane, and eventually graduated to a long, homemade sanding block. I did lots, and lots, and lots of sanding. Eventually though I ended up with a silky smooth surface.
Step 5. Fiberglass. This was an exciting step. I taped the joint between the top and bottom halves, and draped plastic to protect the half not being glassed. I used 4 oz e-glass on top, and two layers of 6 oz. glass on the bottom.
First of several thin layers of resin. For subsequent layers I used a roller.
Loving it!
Step 6. Cut the cockpit.
The cockpit dimensions are drawn on some particle board and transferred to the boat.
Measure 47 times, then verify a few dozen more times, then measure a few more times…
…and end up with a perfectly sized and placed cockpit hole. Whew!! Super nerve wracking.
Hot glue and white glue a bunch of leftover strips around the perimeter of the hole.
Cut the strips a consistent height above the deck, and place a layer of foam.
Tape and put plastic in place. (Resin doesn’t stick to plastic)
Then put several layers of fiberglass and carbon fiber to make the cockpit lip.
After the resin dried, the ring was removed and attached a bit later. I really like the contrast of the carbon fiber with the wood.
Step 7. Separate the halves and fiberglass the inside. With a little firm love, the top and bottom were pried off the form, and the form was discarded. The insides of both halves were sanded smooth (royal pain) and fiberglassed. The wood was now completely sealed inside and out with fiberglass and resin.
Step 8. Attach cockpit rim and hatches.
I used thickened paste to glue the cockpit rim in place.
The hatches were carefully cut.
After taping, the hatch location was marked and then cut with a jig saw.
The hatch was then taped back in place and a layer of plastic was placed inside the deck. Multiple layers of carbon fiber were wetted out.
After trimming, the rim was glued in place. I ended up with a flush hatch cover.
Step 9. Join halves. It took some more firm love and some BF & I (brute force and ignorance) to rejoin the halves. I used 3″ fiberglass tape inside and out to join the halves. A few layers of resin and it is almost impossible find the joint.
Step 10. Varnish. Ultraviolet rays will degrade fiberglass resin, therefore it needs to be protected. I added several coats of good quality varnish with UV protection additives. Not only did this provide UV protection, it gave a beautiful glossy finish. This will need to be reapplied every three years or so, depending on usage and exposure.
Step 11. Fitting out. At this point I actually have a boat, but it needed lots of detail work to be truly functional. 1) Bulkheads in front of and behind the cockpit. This gives two water tight storage areas. The front bulkhead is also strategically placed to serve as my foot rest. 2) Bungie attachment points for the bungy cord holding the hatches in place, and for on deck storage. 3) Carve a 3″ piece of hard foam for the seat. 4) Resin pour in the ends to strengthen the bond between halves and provide a place to attach carry handles. 5) Misc. I’ve gradually made tweaks here and there to improve functionality and comfort.
The finished product.
The christening…a little beer on the bow.
The maiden voyage.
Apache Lake, AZ
Colorado River
This boat is not a garage queen. She was designed and built with just this sort of thing in mind.
Final Thoughts. You’ve heard it said about some trips that it’s all about the journey, not the destination. This boat was both. I thoroughly enjoyed the journey. I was able to lose myself for hours at a time, placing strips, sanding, etc. It might seem like an overwhelming task, possibly beyond your capabilities. But really, building a strip kayak is just combining lots and lots of small, relatively straightforward tasks. A number of people have asked me how long it took to build. I was going to keep track of the hours, but quickly gave that up. It took about 8 months to have a usable boat, and then a few more months to gradually get it completely fitted and adjusted the way I wanted it. If I were to do another, with what I learned on this boat, I feel I could probably complete one in half the time.
It was about the journey, and it was also a joy seeing the boat gradually take shape. And having now arrived at the destination, I have a boat that I love. I love how it paddles. I love how it looks. I love how it fits me perfectly. I love that it can transport me to beautiful locations. If you have even the slightest inclination to take on a project like this, I would without hesitation encourage you to start. Seize the Carp!
Update…2020 Refinish
Odd year 2020 eh? One of the positives of ruined trip plans and isolation is that I had time to refresh my now six year old boat. As much as I enjoy the beauty of it, I determined early on that this was a boat that was going to be used. As a result, it definitely needed some loving. Given the age and condition of the varnish, I decided to do more than lightly sand and recoat. I removed all hardware and attempted to remove all the varnish. In a few spots where there were especially deep scratches, I added some new epoxy. After four coats of new varnish, new deck lines and bungees, it amazingly looks almost like new.
Even though there are several very good Thai restaurants in Flagstaff, when I want Thai food, I always go to Pato Thai. And even though they have many excellent food selections on their menu, I always end up ordering the orange chicken, #3 on the spicy scale….which I realize isn’t authentic Thai food. So, even though I have lots of options, I keep choosing the same thing. Boring? Perhaps. But here’s the thing…I really like Pato Thai’s orange chicken.
That explains, in part, how once again Sharon and I ended up in the San Juan mountains of southwestern Colorado. We considered going back to the Canadian Rockies (after a long absence). We considered going to some mountain ranges in Idaho and Montana that we have yet to explore. Even though we had all these intriguing choices, we finally decided that we really like the San Juan mountains. Of course there was the added bonus of being able to see Aaron, Vanessa – and grandson Oliver along the way.
Last summer we spent an amazing week on an off trail backtrip trip through the Grenadier range in the Weminuche wilderness. (You can read about it here. Wet and Wild in the Weminuche) This year, the backpacks stayed home. This, we decided, would be a car camping, relaxing, trail running, peak bagging adventure.
Following the well worn path from work to the George-Moore Casa, we arrived in Durango on Friday and spent a pleasant evening. We set out Saturday morning for the high country west of Lake City. The monsoon weather pattern smiled favorably on us, and even though it was already 2pm, the four of us set out for the top of Handies.
Oliver is not a small person. Aaron was a monster hiker. We had trouble keeping up with him. After breaking out of the trees, we got our first view of Handies.
Climbing 14’ers is hard work (apparently).
After his nap, Oliver is super excited for the summit. His favorite saying was “Go!”
We were pleasantly surprised by the light snowpack on the north facing slopes.
Summit ridge. (Note: Two weeks after we were here, participants in the Hardrock 100 ascended this same trail in a horrific hail thunderstorm!!)
“Safety third” as we like to say. Oliver was making sure his UberLyft driver was properly hydrated.
Oliver’s first 14’er. I suspect it may not be his last. Strong work Daddy!
The weather continued to cooperate, so we were able to lounge for a bit on the summit. We chatted with some fellow hikers, enjoyed the amazing views, and most importantly, helped Oliver throw rocks – which apparently is the main reason anyone would climb a mountain.
Congrats to Aaron on Oliver’s first “Teener!” Unfortunately work called, so the two boys headed back early the next day. Sharon and I used the all day rain (and threat of rain) as an excuse to lounge around camp, eat and – the ultimate luxury – read a whole book. The rest day was actually planned, since day 3 was going to be a double 14’er day. Being on the same ridge, Red Cloud and Sunshine are typically both climbed in a day. After reaching Red Cloud, the trail continues and drops – and then climbs 500′ back up to the summit of Sunshine. This ends up being a longish day of 12 miles and 4,600 feet of elevation gain. Other than bouts of manic wind, it was another beautiful day in the company of my amazing, lovely bride.
Bacon – the fuel of real adventurers!
Heading up the Silver Creek trail
Looking back down the valley, Handies is in the background.
From this ridge at 13,000′ still another (steep) 1,000′ to the summit of Red Cloud
We’ve dropped 500′ feet and are beginning the climb back up to Sunshine
Obligatory summit shot. Amazing views and beautiful lounging weather.
Red Cloud from the summit of Sunshine
Sharon contemplates the climb back up to Red Cloud
Paused in the gale force summit winds for a quick selfie
From the ridge at 13K, the trail back begs to be run. We obliged.
One of the problems with “Juan-dering” in the San Juans is that the choices are endless. As we lounged around that evening, savoring the afterglow of another successful day in the mountains, we weighed and discussed our many options. Since neither of us had been there, we finally decided to explore/hike/climb in the area around Crested Butte. We would then continue around to the Silverton/Ouray area and meet up with Aaron, Vanessa and Oliver at St Paul Lodge at Red Mountain Pass.
So on our nation’s birthday, we made a casual journey through Lake City, Gunnison, and Crested Butte. By days end we found ourselves several miles up Washington Gulch Road at a stunning campsite. We settled in above 10,000′ looking across at the Raggeds Wilderness.
Not a bad spot…if you’re into that whole alpine beauty thing!
Next day we opted for an ascent of nearby Mt Baldy. Once we’d reached the long, summit ridge we met up with Becky from B.C. Becky was something of an overachiever. She had ridden her mountain bike (up) from Crested Butte to the trailhead, and then come up to the ridge by a different route. We decided to make the long traverse to the summit together. Along the way, and on the summit we had an extremely pleasant chat with our new friend. We didn’t know at the time, but later found out that Becky was doing the Hardrock 100. Two weeks later we watched her race to a 5th place finish among women. Well done Becky! (Especially since she’s our age – truly awesome!!!) While Baldy might not be the most aesthetically pleasing mountain, it did benefit from location. Looking north we were treated to the Maroon Bells in all their splendor.
Catching my breath whilst taking in the breathtaking views.
Sharon with the summit ridge stretching off in the distance.
Yes – the truth is out – I’m married to Wonder Woman
Summit shot of Sharon and Becky
Becky Bates at the Hardrock finish. 5th place woman!!
Mt Baldy with Gothic Mountain in the background
Despite the initial gnarliness of the route, Baldy turned out to be a fun mountain. And even with a ‘relaxed’ start time and plenty of time spent on top, there was plenty of time back at camp to relax, quaff adult beverages, read and enjoy a gourmet meal before bed. Hopefully I don’t sound too boastful when I say that I think we’ve got this whole vacation thing pretty well figured out. Our last bit of exploration around Crested Butte took place the next day on the “Oh Be Joyful” trail. The name itself was reason enough to go explore. While nothing dramatic, the trail did ascend a pretty canyon, along a beautiful creek, with some dramatic waterfalls spilling down from on high. After lots of high peaks, it was a relaxing and enjoyable “stroll.”
At times it may not seem like it…but we really do know how to relax.
Friday was a big day. We had a pleasant hotel night in Ouray (can you say hot shower??) on Thursday plus some liquid carbo loading at a local brew pub. All this was prep for a training hike/run up Imogene pass. We both wanted to take the opportunity to gauge our training progress for the annual IPR. Results were mixed. It was somewhat encouraging, yet humbling as always. After a shaky start, Sharon finished very strong. I felt decent both ways, but clearly not where I need to be to put up a good time on September.
Sharon getting her second wind above upper Camp Bird.
Soul crushing steepness and lots of snow up high.
The tally on this Friday “Hikers = 4” “Motorized vehicles = 50-100” I will say all but two were very considerate. Much more fun doing the pass on foot in September with 1,498 of our closest friends.
We celebrated a grueling, but successful training run/hike with dinner at one of our favorites – the Colorado Boy brew pub in Ridgeway.(http://coloradoboy.com/ ) EXCELLENT pizza and tasty beverages. And as always, enjoyed in the convivial company of fellow diners.
“I run…therefore I eat”
Experienced trail runners know how to carbo load and hydrate at the same time.
We wrapped up our week of fun and frolic with a weekend at the St Paul Lodge with Aaron, Vanessa and Oliver. Activities included Oliver led adventures, more vertical human powered travel, food, conversation, reading, naps, and enjoying time in a very special mountain setting.
Hiking up from Red Mt Pass towards Ptarmigan Lake and Imogene Pass
Aaron and Vanessa continued on to Ptarmigan Lake. With some sketchy weather brewing, we decided to head down.
Always nice to be able to walk out the door in July and get some snow to chill the wine.
Oliver approves of “Pa’s digger”
The next generation enjoying St Paul Lodge
All too soon we had to part ways with the kids and with the mountains of Colorado. As always, we came away full of wonderful memories of the people and places we’d visited. Once again, the carp was well and truly seized!
I’ve got good friends to the left of me And good friends to my right Got the open sky above me And the earth beneath my feet Got a feeling in my heart That’s singin’ “All in life is sweet” Oh what a day! Oh, what a day! Glorious!
“Glorious” by MaMuse
Thank you Pandora for introducing me to MaMuse and this song. I love the message…good friends, open sky – what a glorious day! Long before MaMuse, a guy name Epicurus opined, “Of all the things that wisdom provides for living one’s entire life in happiness, the greatest by far is the possession of friendship.” In April of 2013 the Diapers and Depends group of friends set out to prove right both MaMuse and Epicurus…that being outside with good friends is glorious!
Karen, Dan, Cailie, Andrew, Sharon and Rob. Everyone is wondering if Sharon will – in fact – carry beer for everyone
Our plan was to spend 5 days and 4 nights traversing the 40-ish miles of the Escalante route from Lipan point to the Grandview trailhead. Forty-ish miles of Canyon splendor. According to Grand Canyon literature the Escalante route is just that – a route. It is not a maintained trail. Thanks to Outside magazine, the internet, and idiots like me writing about it – the Escalante has become quite popular of late…well relatively popular. Compared to the Phoenix-esque rush hour traffic on the corridor trails, it’s still a very remote experience. I’m not, however, going to add to the traffic by giving step by step directions. Following the pattern I’ve used on other posts, this is meant to be more of a celebration of a good time spent with good friends in a (pardon the pun) grand place.
Our ‘Diapers’ contingent was composed of Karen “I never met an adventure I didn’t like”, Cailie “The Gnome Princess” and husband “Handsome Rob”, and Andrew (it would be impolite to share his nickname). The geriatric ‘Depends’ group included Dan Boss Backer, my lovely bride Sharon and yours truly. Our first day took us part way down the Tanner trail. After a side trip to the top of Cardenas Butte, we continued on to one of my favorite campsites in the Canyon, a site that offers amazing views of the entire Furnace Flats area. Following are pictures from all our campsites.
Camp #1: Sleeping under the stars and a great big moon.
Camp #1: “It’s comfy in here. I don’t want to get up yet…”
Camp #1: One never tires of this view
Furnace Flats
Night two brought us to Cardenas Beach.
Camp #2: Even after hiking on a hot day, it was hard to stay in the river too long – it is always COLD!
Camp #2: Beautiful beach with beautiful views –
check. Refreshing dip in the River – check! Warmer clothes – check! Now – What’s for DINNER! We’re hungry.
Night three was another night next to the River at Papago Creek.
Camp #3: Relaxing at camp was one of the highlights of the day. At Papago Karen broke out the flask and lemonade mix. Clearly, we had a seasoned camperista in our midst. This was no amateur.
Camp #3: Being next to water in the Canyon is always appreciated – especially by those who actually care about personal hygiene. Strong work Cailie.
Camp #3: Another night under the stars, next to the River – Priceless!
Final night…Hance Creek.
Camp #4: Chillin’ at the Cottonwood tree. Great place to hang out in the shade. Speaking from experience…don’t try to camp anywhere near here unless you’re a big fan of nocturnal rodentia. Andrew’s Mountain House “Grey Gruel” may have made him a bit envious of our AWESOMELY tasty homemade cheesy-bacon-mash potatoes.
Camp #4: By this time in the trip we were all pretty comfy with not needing lots of personal privacy space. It’s also possible that too many bad horror flicks have warped Andrew’s idea of a ‘group hug’.
Views from the Trail.
Tanner Trail: Holy Steepness Batman
Tanner Trail
Tanner Trail
Tanner Trail
Tanner Trail
Tanner Trail
Tanner Beach. Shade is always a good thing.
Moments after this picture was taken, we were all treated to Karen’s “I almost stepped on a rattlesnake” dance. That girl busted some moves – quite impressive.
Did I mention shade is a good thing?
Unkar Rapid from above
Canyon hiking always seems to involve going either up or down.
Coming out of 75 Mile Canyon
Descending the “Gully of Death”. Yes – butts are in play.
Hot-ness on the Tonto
The absolute BEST way to see the Canyon. Our route was only slightly second best.
Thoughts from the trail.
Time. People who venture into the Canyon often discover something known as “Canyon time.” It is a place where watches don’t matter. Almost immediately you begin to wonder, “what is this useless thing and why is it strapped on my wrist?” That is not to say that time ceases to exist. Even in the Canyon, one is very much aware of time. Spend too much time in bed, or lingering over the morning cup of java and the Orb of Death will introduce you to a special level of misery. Minutes spent traversing under a hot Canyon sun can seem like hours. Conversely, beautiful spots like our camps at Cardenas or Papago with good friends, and tempus fugit – time flies.
We experienced all the extremes of Canyon time during our too short time on the Escalante. Enroute to Papago Andrew, Rob and Cailie wanted to ‘make time’ and get to camp to maximize our lounging time on the beach. Especially with the Orb of Death making our lives miserable, Karen would have preferred to ‘take time’, spending extra time in the occasional shade and enjoying the views along the way. Once we made it to Papago and had the cooling Colorado close at hand, shade in which to lounge, Karen’s happy hour flask, snacks, conversation, quiet for contemplation – and time passed far too quickly. The climb from Hance to the Grandview trailhead seemed to take forever, and once we reach the parking lot and (curses) civilization – and instantly the trip went from being experience to a fleeting memory.
Friendship vs. Friendliness. Dan Boss, Handsome Rob, the Gnome Princess, Ass Man (OK – now you know), Sharon and I had all been to Nepal together, as well as other adventures. Dan and I had known each since high school and had a lifetime of adventures between us. Sharon and I had known Karen for some time and had shared enough to consider her a friend. I contrast that with many of the people I know from around town and from work. I am on friendly terms with and enjoy spending time with those folks. However, going on a trip like this really brought home the value and importance of friendship vs. friendliness. At various times, especially in Nepal together, we’d seen each other at our best, and at our lowest. We could talk about anything, and conversations ranged from deep and thoughtful to bawdy and hilarious…and always…every day, something poop related or medically disgusting. I’d say MaMuse and Epicurus got it right and I consider myself extremely blessed to have such friends.
Experience. The Canyon is such a magical place, I love introducing newbies to its wonders. It is also rewarding to introduce people to the joys of camping and backpacking. As John Muir once said, “The world’s big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.” It’s nice to get people out into that big world. Having said that, it is also very, very nice to go backpacking with experienced people who know what they are doing. With people as experienced as our group, it is all about enjoying the experience – rather than trying to figure out how to enjoy the experience.
Hydration is always important on a Canyon hike – its a safety issue. The Diapers and Depends gang at the Grandview trailhead being safe.
All too quickly this trip ended and another chapter was added to the book of Diapers and Depends Expeditions. In the words of one of Flagstaff’s famous sons, “Don’t be sad its over, be glad it happened.” Amen brother!
“The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, nor by speech itself. The resources of the graphic art are taxed beyond their powers in attempting to portray its features. Language and illustration combined must fail.” -John Wesley Powell
(If you want to hear the song “Glorious” by MaMuse, you should be able to find it here. If this link doesn’t work, please let me know.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D75010fQY-0
As often happens, unless I keep a close eye on it, my mind wandered off during a recent trail run. I thought back several weeks when gravity, my mountain bike and a lack of talent conspired to separate my acromioclavicular joint – commonly known as an ac joint. Big picture – not a big deal! However, as I struggled through my run, my mind dredged up the story of ancient Sisyphus. Legend has it that after quite a lot of naughtiness, he was condemned for all eternity to push a large boulder to the top of a mountain. Here’s the fun bit. As soon as he reached the top, the boulder would roll back to the bottom, and Sisyphus would have to start all over again.
Somehow that story seemed appropriate as I considered how my recent injury had kept me from running, and how much my fitness had taken a hit. Getting fit, increasing our fitness and staying fit can seem like pushing a boulder up a mountain. Just when we reach some goal, an injury, or work pressure, or some other obligation sends the fitness boulder rolling back down to the bottom. And I have yet to have someone explain to me how it can take months to build up a fitness level…and about 17 minutes of inactivity to lose it all!
So after a month of forced inactivity, here I was near the bottom of the mountain trying to push the bloody boulder back up again. And then (there went the mind again) I started thinking about Odysseus and the Land of the Lotus Eaters. For those of you who didn’t spend your college years translating ancient Greek, here’s the short version. At one point during their multi-year “road trip” Odysseus and his tired crew fetched up on the shores of an island whose inhabitants were known as the “Lotus Eaters.” When members of his crew ate the fruit of the Lotus plant, they were so overcome by blissful forgetfulness, they completely abandoned any thought of continuing their journey. All they wanted to do was lay around all day, munching on the delicious Lotus plant.
The “land of the Lotus-eaters” seems an apt description for that place at the bottom of our fitness mountains. Exercise is hard work! Reclining on the sofa is not! When it is cold, or dark, or hot, or wet, or snowing, etc…getting out the door is hard. Staying in bed is easy. So much of American culture is geared towards sloth, inactivity and Lotus-eating lifestyles that deciding to lace up the runners to have another go at that boulder…it can be tough. And it doesn’t matter if you are a new runner just starting to get into shape, or a seasoned vet getting back into shape for whatever reason, climbing back up that mountain sucks…at first.
But here’s the secret that a seasoned vet knows that a new runner might not…it gets easier. Unlike Sisyphus, if we persevere and push that boulder far enough up the mountain, gradually the slope lessens. If we maintain, if we continue exercising, if we continue with healthy lifestyle choices, then we can stay up top for a while.
These are a few of the happy folks in my life who know the joy of putting in the hard work to be able to keep smiling on the other end of a long, hard run. It’s good to surround yourself with people like this!!!
And it’s FUN up there. It is incredibly rewarding to be able to go for a long run or a grueling hike and come out the other end feeling tired – but energized all the same. It feels good to feel good. So…I put my wandering mind back on a leash and finished that mediocre run. And then I went on another…and another…and another…and so on. Each time I manage to push that stupid boulder a little higher up the mountain. Wherever you are on the mountain, keep pushing, keep climbing, keep working. Sisyphus might disagree, but it is so worth it! Seize the Carp!
I’ll be honest – I don’t like people! Well actually, I don’t dislike all people all the time. My antisocial tendencies only really kick in when I’m seeking solitude and escape from civilization. When I’m in the wilderness I don’t want to see anyone else. Selfishly (and unrealistically) I want it all for myself! Fortunately my lovely bride (and fellow lover of solitude) knows this about me and supports my occasional antisocial behavior. In fact, a while back we collaborated to come up with the perfect introvert backpacking trip. We planned to spend several days roaming off trail in the Grenadier mountains in the already remote Weminuche wilderness of southwestern Colorado. It was everything an introvert could hope for.
We started our trip in the parking lot at the Molas trailhead waiting for heavy rain to move out of the area. We’re not made of sugar and history has proven that we won’t melt if we get wet. But still – all evidence to the contrary – we are neither sadistic nor masochistic. As the day wore on, we (endlessly) weighed our options – bag it and start tomorrow, or just go for it? The forecast called for better weather the next day, but we were ready to go today. Finally we got a little break in the rain and decided to head out. The “on trail” portion of our trip took us down to the Animas River, and then up Elk Creek as far as the “Beaver Ponds.” As expected we slogged through some heavy downpours. Fortunately these were interspersed with bits of sunshine.
Perfect weather for a hike!
Let the adventure begin. If you look in the upper right hand corner, you can see that this is actually a blue bird day!
Doesn’t look like it, but we’re waiting for some heavy rain to pass.
The real fun began the next day. Up, and up and up into the Vestal basin below Arrowhead Peak, the amazing Wham ridge on Vestal, and farther up – the Trinity Peaks. We got to the end of the trail (our goal) and just kept heading up the valley until we found a nice camp spot in a high meadow. One might assume, that after a long day we’d both be ready to spend the remaining hours before bed just lounging around camp. One might…and one would assume incorrectly. Sharon decided to go exploring in the direction of Wham ridge and made it to the base. I was content sitting around until Sharon shamed me with her energy. I thought I’d head up just to the top of the small ridge above our camp. Of course, there was another slightly higher ridge that promised an even better view…and so on, until I was able to get a good look at our route for the next day.
The trail heading up to the Vestal Basin. Arrowhead Peak in the background.
Wham Ridge on Vestal Peak.
Camped at 12,000′, looking down valley at Vestal and Arrowhead Peak.
Sharon listening to the mountains calling her name.
Nice side view of Wham Ridge.
Our plan for the next several days was to continue off trail. Next day would be a short day, heading over the unnamed, but informally and aptly named “No Pass Pass” or “Gnarly Ass Pass” and descend to Trinity Lake. Then we would find our way over two passes in order to camp near Leviathan Lake to the south. From Leviathan we would make our way down valley to pick up a major trail that would eventually take us north to Highland Mary Lakes, and then out to our car. That was the plan. Of course, as always, subject to change.
Next morning, No Pass Pass was the first obstacle. When we scrambled up a boulder and scree slope and got our first good look, it was a bit intimidating. When we watched a mountain goat slip on the loose rocks as he made his way over the pass, it didn’t do much for our confidence. But as usual, delirious optimism won the day. As is often the case, reality wasn’t nearly as bad as perception. As we dropped down to the beautiful Trinity Lake, a gnarly, nasty monsoon storm followed us over Gnarly Ass Pass. Even though we hadn’t gone far, Trinity Lake suddenly looked like an excellent place to set up camp.
Gnarly Ass Pass
Looking down at Trinity Lake
Happy to be on top of the pass.
Our work wasn’t done yet. The climb down was pretty steep.
Storm clouds on the horizon. Typical monsoon activity can be a little ‘exciting’ when camped above 12K
Getting ready for the storm.
Next morning – Bluebird skies!
As all the experts say – the most important meal of the day is BREAKFAST in a stunning location.
The route to Leviathan Lake was pretty spectacular. Still plenty of snow up high, even in July. The real challenge though, came as we attempted to descend to Leviathan. Our topo map showed steep terrain, but plenty of possible routes down. This time reality offered up a swift kick to our backsides. We spent several hours working our way down one promising route after another, only to have each cliff out. Which of course meant climbing back up a steep mountain side in search of another possible route. As afternoon turned to early evening, we were starting to get a little concerned. Finally we saw a possible chink the mountain armor. Naturally it required more climbing and a long traverse. When at last we came to a small flat spot, the only one we’d seen in hours, we decided to just call it quits for the day. A brief reconnaissance revealed a place where it looked like we’d be able to descend. With that worry off our minds, we set about enjoying one of the remote, scenic camp spots ever.
Our route took us past this lake and to the valley below the dark face on the right.
Apparently Silex Lake didn’t get the memo that summer had arrived.
Sharon route finding up to the first pass.
Up and over the second pass of the day.
The cliff band that thwarted our efforts to descend.
Finally, after a long day we were thrilled to find the only flat spot we’d seen for hours.
Once again the neighbors stopped by to check us out.
Camp at 12,800′
Day five was turned out to be a beautiful, relaxing and challenging day all rolled into one. The descent required some serious route finding, but we eventually made our way down 800′ to Leviathan Lake. The word ‘blue’ really doesn’t do justice to Leviathan Lake. One is moved to do a synonym search to find a more appropriate descriptor. Azure possibly? Cerulean perhaps? Beautiful definitely!
Stunning Leviathan Lake
After a break spent on the shoreline enjoying the views, we dropped another 500′ to a smaller lake. Since we’d gotten an early start and were making good time, and since the views were so spectacular, we decided to spend a few hours at this lake relaxing, reading, chatting, and exploring.
To quote Sharon “This doesn’t suck!”
Our little lounging lake with Mt. Leviathan in the background.
Unfortunately, time waits for no one. The time came for us to leave our little paradise and return to the trails and people below. With the possible exception of our previous day’s difficulties, wandering about above timberline is a joy. Wandering about below timberline is a chore. With no trail to follow, and no direction to go other than “down” we began to make our way to the valley floor. Enough to say that it was tough going. Eventually we came across little snippets of trail scattered about in the woods. Gradually the little snippets joined together to form a real trail leading us a crossing of Vallecito Creek. Once across, we were back to established trails and back to what we thought of as “civilization” … even though it was still far removed in the middle of a wilderness area. The previous days of off trail travel had delivered on the promise of solitude.
After several days above 12,000′ we were back down in the thick air and balmy temps at 10,000′ along the Vallecito trail.
Day six was a long day north along the Vallecito trail, across on a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail, eventually bringing us to the Highland Mary lakes. While the trail was beautiful in its own right and passed through some lovely terrain, it suffered only by comparison to the sublime heights from which we had just descended. Incessant forward motion carried us thirteen long miles over passes and through valleys. The Highland Mary Lakes were a welcome sight.
Out of the valley and back up above timberline – not once, but twice in a single day.
This is why people come to the Continental Divide trail. Miles of beautiful hiking above timberline.
Enjoying a little R & R after a long day on the trail.
Looking south at the Grenadier Range – Vestal and Arrowhead Peaks –
from whence we came.
Back above 12,000′ – campsite at Highland Mary Lakes.
Last morning on the trail.
The final mile down the road to where Aaron left our car.
As usual, our last day was bittersweet. Obviously we looked forward to something other than trail food. A hot shower is always welcome. Seeing family in Durango is always a joy. Days in the wilderness however, bring a special satisfaction that is unmatched in civilization. Thanks Weminuche, for a wet, wild and wonderful week!
Lenny Pepperbottom likes to say that “Nature is neat!” It is indeed! However, nature can also be messy, and occasionally mean spirited. You were hoping for blue bird skies, but instead the skies open and you get rain in all its infinite varieties…drizzles, sleet, sheets, showers, streams, sprinkles, mists, monsoons…well, you get the idea. If you want to enjoy nature, then you need to be prepared. A rain jacket is an obvious, basic piece of equipment and there are plenty of excellent examples to choose from. And while it would seem to follow that rain pants are also an obvious, basic piece of equipment, I’ve been generally dissatisfied with all the pants I’ve purchased or made. So this past year I decided to step outside the box and try something a bit different…a rain kilt (its not a skirt). Could 2 1/2 million Scottish men be wrong?
I did a fair amount of research and came up with several commercially available rain kilts…you can check out a few variations here.
I felt like there were some good ideas, but nothing really blew my skirt up (pun intended). I also checked out some homemade versions, and again found lots of good ideas. Since I have a garage full of fabric and some sewing skills, I thought I would see if I could come up with my own design. KB Rain Kilt 1.0 was finished in time for an extended backpacking trip in the San Juan mountains last summer. During that trip we experienced full on monsoon activity, brief passing showers, as well as cool temps. I came away from that trip 100% sold on the benefits of a rain kilt vs traditional rain pants. I did feel that there were some improvements to be made, and they were incorporated into version 2.0 pictured below. This kilt was trail tested and approved on our 9 day John Muir hike later in the summer.
The “camouflage” version of the KB Rain Kilt 2.0. In case of emergency the kilt can be used to signal the Int’l Space Station
If you are skeptical, I would offer the following…
1. Biggest advantage…ease of use. Consider the typical scenario. It starts raining to the point where rain protection becomes desirable. With rain pants – drop pack, fish out rain paints. Find a place to sit down. Take off boots/shoes. Pull on rain paints. Put boots/shoes back on. Put on backpack. When it stops raining, drop pack, find a place to sit, take off boots/shoes, pull off and stow rain pants, put boots/shoes back on, put pack back on. Either that or just leave the bloody things on because it is too much of a pain to stop and remove them, and just deal with hot, clammy pants. With a rain kilt, grab the kilt from an outer pocket. Loosen waist belt. Put on kilt and re-tighten waist belt. That’s it. When the rain stops it is easy to remove the kilt and stow it away. Either that or just leave it on (see #2).
2. Comfort. If at all possible, I prefer hiking in shorts. Even with waterproof, breathable fabric (and I’m a big believer) I don’t like the feel of nylon on bare legs. My traditional rain pants (both commercial and home made) tend to feel clammy and constricting. By contrast, the kilt hangs loosely enough and offers enough airflow to prevent the annoying dampness.
3. Weight and utility. Less critical, but still important. There are some super lightweight versions weighing 2-3 oz. My 2.0 kilt is pretty beefy and weighs only 8 oz. By comparison my Mountain Hardwear pants are about 16 oz, and probably stuff twice as large as the kilt. I was also continually finding other uses for the kilt. For example, as we broke down camp in the morning, I found it convenient to lay out the kilt as a mini-ground cloth. I could sort gear and clothes and keep them dry from the morning dew. When it wasn’t raining, they added a surprising level of warmth.
The build. Based on my experience with version 1.0, I increased the flair to better match my stride length when walking. I decided on two pieces so that it hung more naturally and evenly. I’m 6′ 2″ so I decided on a hemmed length of 28″, that falls just below my knee. The hemmed width of each piece on top is 20 1/2″…the bottom of each piece is 33 1/2″. With the long velcro piece on top, the kilt can be adjusted to fit over shorts, or bulky layers. As can be seen from the 2nd picture, there is quite an angle when both pieces are sewn together. This may look strange when it is laid out, but when it is worn, it fits naturally. I do intend to tweak the location and angle of the two lower velcro strips. I have a good supply of Gore-tex, including some of the always fashionable “eye pollution yellow”, but you could use any coated fabric. Several enterprising folks have even used tyvek house wrap. Whatever fabric you choose, the sewing skills needed are pretty basic. It is definitely worth the effort. Nature’s Neat – and so are kilts!
Version 2.0.
The KB brand…now in its 38th year! And as always, Made in America! Just to be clear – I don’t actually make anything to sell. I just make stuff for myself, family and friends.
KB Rain Kilt 2.0…always fashionable, in any setting.
