Trip Report

Walking, Talking, and Gawking
West Fork Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness, Colorado

September 4th to September 7th, 2002

by Denise Prendergast

Crew: Ben Wright, Denise Prendergast, Dale Barnard

On an early Tuesday morning, Ben, Dale, and I drove to the trail head just outside of the town of Pagosa Springs, Colorado, to begin our 4-day, 3-night backpacking trip. Ben had arrived a few days earlier from Austin, TX, braving a 24-hour bus ride due to high airline prices. Since he hadn't had much time to acclimate to high altitudes, we had to plan our trip around not ascending too high too quickly. Two years ago, Ben had successfully completed the 2000-plus-mile Appalachian Trail, so Dale and I spent much time asking him advice and comparing our backpacking styles to his. Dale and I have a lot of identical equipment, and pretty much all I know of backpacking I learned from him, so it was interesting to get a new perspective.

We had decided on the Rainbow Hot Springs Trail since it was only a short drive from where we were staying at Dale's cabin and the altitudes were acceptable. Its shortcomings were that it would not be a loop hike (same way out as in) and as Dale said (which Ben and I would joke about the whole trip), the views/hike wouldn't really be “epic.” We had been warned it was the beginning of hunting season, so we weren't surprised at seeing numerous hunting camps; also, there were plenty of hikers going to the hot sulphur springs. Still, we started our hike with excitement.

Ben's backpack weighed about 38 pounds with food and water, while Dale's was 34, and mine was 26. Dale and I shared equipment, with him carrying the tent and water filter to save my back and hopefully enable me to keep up. He was also the only person carrying a camera and tripod which added about 4 pounds to his pack. We are almost fanatical about saving weight, bringing no luxuries beyond a tiny pack of cards (and I brought a lightweight paperback book). This really pays in terms of preventing wear-and-tear on the ol' bod and ensuring a more pleasant hike.

Our first day ended up being eight miles, almost all uphill. We strode single-file, with the person in back being the gassiest (we won't mention Ben's name). I'll share a solemn backpacking secret with you: a heavy pack and tight hip-belt will squeeze all the gas out of you from both ends. We stopped about every hour to eat, use the restroom (the entire wilderness was our toilet), rest, or get more water. Water was plentiful from streams; we filter it to be safe (toward the end of the trip we got tired of filtering and started using iodine which is easier though not great for you in large quantities). It rained a bit, and we enjoyed a light hail storm. I get cheap thrills from unusual weather. After some grueling, steep switchbacks, we were rewarded with the best views of the trip at a high pass. After what seemed like forever (my feet hurting, hamstring crying), we found an established camping spot near a stream. We put up the tents, and I laid down to read “Shadowlands” about the writer C.S. Lewis. Dale and Ben went and explored some waterfalls which they later told me were lovely.

We had an early dinner, Dale and I our usual ramen noodles, and Ben a more appealing-looking noodle dish (food envy). Once the sun went down, it was too cold to be outside our tents. We could not have any open fires dues to restrictions regarding the recent droughts, plus we elect not to have open fires in wilderness areas to minimize our impact on the area (leave-no-trace policy). It is a little disappointing not to be able to have a fire, but oh well, our small “Esbit” stoves would have to do. These are tiny stoves that use only solid pellet-like fuel tablets, very lightweight. We played spades for a while, going to bed by about 9:00. As would happen the next night as well, I got very little sleep, tossing and turning like a Mexican jumping bean. I think it was a combination of a thin sleeping pad and high altitude. Yuck.

It was hard to get out into the cold the next morning, but the promise of hot coffee and oatmeal finally lured us out of bed. We hit the trail, ending up doing about 5 or 6 miles this second day. At one point, we lost the trail, and Ben and Dale got to try out their bushwhacking and map-reading skills (I just blindly followed along). We spent an hour or two wandering around until finally reconnecting with the trail. We saw the Continental Divide Trail (which journeys along the Continental Divide for over 3,000 miles) and Piedra Pass. This would be our highest altitude of the trip, about 12,000 feet. We descended to find a camp at a more comfortable altitude, settling near a large, fancy hunting camp. We were entertained by their standing in a field and using an elk-call. Nice sound, the elk-mating call.

As we cooked dinner, two white-and-gray, pretty, fat birds dive-bombed us for crumbs. We were surprised at their lack of fright of humans. When we hung our food bags from a tree to avoid critters, the birds were watching us, and we hoped they were not smart enough to steal all our food. Once again we played cards and went to bed quite early. When backpacking, we tend to go to bed at dark and wake up at first light, a nice, natural way to be in harmony with the day.

The next morning, I learned that I had missed the sounds of coyotes calling, which Ben and Dale had heard at about 10 pm (I was wearing ear plugs and slept through it). How exciting—I was bummed to have missed it. Ben also heard elk calls, but figured it was the hunters, not the animals. We ate breakfast, replenished our water, and hit the trail. This was our turnaround point; we would now be heading back the way we had come in. Our trip was half over.

Dale decided to do a side trip up an unnamed, 12,300-foot peak, while Ben and I kept to the trail. We would meet him at a designated spot two or three hours later. As Ben and I approached the designated meeting spot, we could just make out a tiny figure on the top of the peak. It was kinda funny to watch Dale wander around the peak. He didn't seem to see us, but rather seemed to be taking many pictures. We sat down and watched him the entire time, descending the peak and heading toward us. When he finally reached us, he apologized for making us wait. He had thought we were merely rocks or stumps in the distance and figured we were lagging behind, so he'd lolly-gagged, even writing in his tiny journal. We didn't mind; the rest was nice.

We resumed hiking, interested in seeing where we had lost the trail the previous day. A few times on the trip, Ben and Dale laughed at me when I headed down the wrong trail. It's hard for me to truly pay attention when I know these two are much more interested in navigating. They wondered aloud if I'd survive my upcoming backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon with my friend Trudie. I figured we'd be on a backpacking “superhighway,” but I promised to really pay attention when I had to. Or hoped Trudie would. An interesting sight was a hunter who'd shot a bighorn sheep. It was kinda startling to see its head and skin on the ground. I always have mixed feelings about hunting. While I feel it's better for the environment than getting hormone-injected beef from the supermarket, I always feel sorry for the animal and worry that their numbers are being threatened by humans. Oh well, to each his own.

Our third day, we hiked eight miles, ending at the Rainbow Hot Springs. We found a camp, put up our tents, and hit the hot springs. Although we had encountered two groups of campers and feared a crowd at the hot springs, there was only one guy there. Dressed in tie-dye and carrying a flute, he told us of his plans to move to Peru to be a shaman. When he left, Dale and I joked about “crystal huggers,” and Ben chastised us to be more open minded. Ha ha. Kinda ironic when many people would consider Dale and me modern-day hippies. With the hot springs to ourselves, we relaxed in the 100-degree pool which had been sectioned off from the rest of the creek by a rock dam. We had to wear our hiking shorts and tops since we hadn't brought bathing suits, putting on our thermals afterward. I felt relatively clean after the soak.

Once again, dinner and cards followed. We're nothing if not consistent. It was a much warmer night, and I actually managed to get some sleep. I felt much better than the previous day when I'd been seriously dragging.

Our last day was five miles back to civilization. Since it was a Saturday, we passed many day-hikers going to the hot springs. They all asked how far it was, looking tired. We admired their ambition—10 miles round-trip is quite a hike for a soak. We had mixed feelings about ending our hike. It had been fun, but real food and a shower were quite appealing after 4 days. Our hike had totaled 26 miles and was epic enough for my tastes. My feet hadn't fallen off, and no bears had eaten us. Fun.

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