Dillon Pinnacles

Distance: 4 miles
Time: 1:15
Elevation Gain: 447ft

The Dillon Pinnacles are are located along Blue Mesa Reservoir about 20 miles West of Gunnison. They were created by eroded West Elk Breccia, a composite rock spewed from the volcanic West Elk Mountains 30 million years ago.

An easy hike through sage brush and evergreen, you can get up close to the rock formations without much effort, while enjoying a constant view of the Blue Mesa Reservoir to the South.

The hike is completely open - no shade - which was great on a such a beautiful afternoon. Until the storm clouds started rolling in ... No storms were predicted for today but we've had them every afternoon this week so I was getting a little worried since I was still about a mile from the trailhead when the sky became dark. But by the time I got home the clouds cleared and only a few raindrops fell.

Fields of sage brush - smells so good!

Sage brush seems to be everywhere around here and it smells so good! It smells a bit woodier than the kind you stuff your turkey with, which is good because I have no kitchen to satisfy such cravings with.

Up close!

About halfway down the trail is a spur trail that I turned down on the way back, despite the looming storm clouds, but then thought better of it. After all there were signs indicating large wildlife, which I am never anxious to see outside of a zoo.

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North Vista Trail, Black Canyon

Distance: 7.8 miles (including the spur trail to Exclamation Point)
Time: 2:15 (though I ran part of the trail)
Elevation Gain: 870 feet

The South Rim of Black Canyon begins in Gunnison County and extends 48 miles Northwest. At its greatest depth, 2722 feet, it is the third deepest canyon in America after Hells Canyon and the Grand Canyon.

Black Canyon as seen from the road

The North Vista Trail starts at the North Rim and winds up to Exclamation Point, where some of the best inner-canyon views can be found. From there, you can continue up to Green Mountain for views of the San Juan Mountains, the West Elks, and other area ranges.

Inner Canyon from Exclamation Point, Elevation 7702 ft.

Since part of Black Canyon is in Gunnison, it didn't occur to me to check the distance to the North Rim before leaving so when I noticed the nearly two-hour drive on the GPS I was a little disheartened. After 2000 miles of driving in the previous week, the last thing I wanted to was to tack on another four hours today. But the drive is entirely a scenic byway, and one of most beautiful I've seen, so it went by quickly.

Gunnison River flowing through the canyon

What I love about the trails in the West, at least the ones outside the Forest (and even some in the Forest), is they are open; the views are not blocked by skyward trees. The trails are dirt/sand, not overgrown with roots and vegetation or disguised by rocks and small boulders.What annoys me about these trails is it's difficult to find one with an elevation change of more than 2000 feet, which makes for easy hiking regardless of the trail length.

Nice running path!

But it occurred to me today as I was walking along the nearly level dirt path through the sage and oak brush fields, I could run the trail.  I would never dare run even an easy trail in the White Mountains because I would surely trip and break something. But these trails contained few obstacles and were certainly runnable. So that's what I did. I hiked when the trail ascended more than a modest amount or when I came to a scattering of rocks or when it when its edge came nervously close to a drop-off, but otherwise I ran and it felt wonderful.

Blue Mesa Dam, 1 of 3 dams along the Gunnison River

As much as I have always loved running, I've never done it for recreation. It's always been a planned activity reserved for staying in shape or training for a race. Today I felt like a child bounding down the trail, unburdened by a distance goal or my pace glaring at me from my running watch.

The North Vista Trail is rated as one of the "Best Hikes Ever" by Backpacker Magazine and one of the top ten canyon hikes by National Geographic. I thought it was a great trail, but best ever?

Gunnison, Colorado

Today captured the true spirit of my adventure as I had originally conceived it more than a year ago when I left Florida. I wanted to experience travel through activity, to understand a place by feeling it under my feet, being immersed energetically. Every city or town or area has character the same way a person does, and its true nature can be evoked in the same way that one connects to anything else. For some that may be religion or companionship. For me it has always been by moving.

Town of Gunnison

For many runners, running is their religion. Only through this repetitive motion does a runner feel centered, at peace and connected to their family, friends, community and universe. I feel this way when running, but also when hiking or biking - essentially by moving in nature - and it is how I connect best with everything and everybody in life.

I've done a lot of hiking in the past year, very little biking, and running essentially to keep in shape; a fragmented way of moving through travel, and not ideal.

I arrived in Gunnison this morning around 10:00am after stopping two hours short last night at the top of a mountain pass outside Denver. I had planned to stay in the city but failed to get off the highway before it turned up the mountain. 

Blue Mesa Reservoir

The best way to see a new town or city is to run through it, but instead I grabbed my bike and rode the 2.5 miles into town. Without a car I was able to stop and see anything that might be of interest, including the River Festival, which from what I saw consisted of some balloons tied to the bridge that crossed the river. Where I come from a festival has tents, beer and questionable characters, but I guess a mother with a baby stroller on a bridge with balloons can be joyous as well.

Blue Mesa Reservoir

About 10 miles West of town in the Blue Mesa Reservoir / Lake. Twenty miles long and with over 100 miles of shoreline, it is the largest body of water in Colorado. Mountains and beach - I knew I picked the right place! Katie and I walked down the beach and she gravitated to the water like she never has before. Although half-way back from our walk she was tired and I had to carry her the rest of the way. It couldn't have been more than a mile but I suppose it was hot...

Katie loves the water here!

I had so much fun on my bike in the morning, I went for another ride in the afternoon on a side dirt road close to the campground. Riding along, I came to a cattle fence. I don't know what else to call it, but I've only seen them in the West. It's up or down, depending on where they want their cattle I guess. Anyway, I felt a little weird crossing it because it looked like private property (though it was not marked as such),  and when I turned my head I saw a trail, up a hill, leading up to a bigger hill, marked as public land for multi-use. Now these are the same kind of hills I saw in New Mexico - no trees; no trail required - you could just walk up to the top without getting lost or bushwhacking. Everytime I see one, I want to go climb it, but of course I don't because I rely on Google to find trailheads.

Trail up the hill -- the bigger one to the right is where it goes

But today was no ordinary day so I locked up my bike on a nearby fence and I climbed it, or part of it anyway, since I only had a quarter of a bottle of water left and it looked pretty long and it was hot. Then I ran back down the trail, mostly because walking down is boring, but nonetheless I completed the trifecta of endurance travel, and in a spontaneous fashion even.

View from the top of the first mini-hill

My life rocks.

Toledo to South Bend

I don't hate Indiana. Yesterday I was in desperate need of a shower so I drove three hours to a campground in Elkhart, near South Bend. I made progress on my journey to Colorado while vastly improving my living conditions.

About 15 miles into Indiana the tire blew on my camper, again. This time it was full of air so perhaps it was just old or the tire Gods were angry. After 20 minutes on hold with AAA, about 20 seconds after the kindly agent told me I was on my own since my plan did not cover "commercial" or "RV" (frankly neither apply here), a cop pulled up behind me. Picture the quintessential Mid-Western rookie policeman and that's who approached eagerly offering to change my tire, if only I had a jack. I had a spare this time, but still no jack. So, he did what I supposed friendly Mid-Westerners do; he called another policeman who did indeed have a jack and lug wrench in his trunk.

So, in 90+ degree heat, on the burning asphalt on the side of the highway, in full uniform, this young man changed my tire, while making polite conversation, sweat dripping generously from his brow. I like Indiana. The other two officers, in their middle-aged complacent heft, rattled on about who knows what, occasionally offering a hand without any expectation of doing so.

The process was slow enough that I watched carefully and realized with alarm that I am idiot for not being able to do this myself. So today, while in Walmart purchasing a new tire, I also bought a jack and a lug wrench. I am no longer at the mercy of AAA or Mid-Western cops.

Indiana is very sunny. So much so, it reminds me of Florida. Probably the lack of trees and the reflection off the yellow, dying grass makes it seem brighter, but I'm very fond of it. I'm also very, very fond of the shower situation at the campground. It's an immaculate bathroom, but also a much more utilitarian shower than I've experienced at a campground. It's clear men design the bathrooms in these places, perhaps the same men who designed the toilet paper dispenser that diligently dispenses only one sheet at a time, but this designer was either female or had feminine inclinations.

Finally clean, I am enjoying my last sunny day in Indiana while reading a book in the open field of dead grass next to my camper. I love it here.

Leaving New Hampshire, Again

Boy drama continues, and it is again time to resume my travels. Some people just aren't meant to couple and I guess I am one of them, and I guess I already knew that before I drove 2000 miles across the country to prove it. I do love New Hampshire in the Summer but I'm excited to get back on the road and see what else is out there.

I left before sunrise on Sunday with the hopes of reaching South Bend, Indiana so I didn't have to stay an entire week in Ohio. With the exception of one glorious business trip to Cleveland, rife with untamed debauchery, my experiences with the state have been grim and I didn't want to drive through it much less stay there.

But South Bend is a 15-16 hour drive and I just don't have that much stamina. So instead I am near Sandusky in an RV Park with no shower. I stink. The bathroom is so disgusting I drove into town this morning to brush my teeth at McDonalds. After waiting for an employee to leave the bathroom so as not to alarm her by making myself at home, I couldn't get the water to turn on more than once. It was motion activated and apparently there's a delay, a really long one. So, I stuck my already toothpasted-toothbrush back into my purse and walked next door to Burger King where I had a private, extremely clean bathroom with faucets that turn. Tomorrow I'm going back for a sponge bath.

Here's the thing: I'm not miserable. Despite my stench, location and the steady stream of brutal text messages from my ex, I am strangely optimistic, motivated, even inspired. I don't even hate Ohio anymore. My site is shaded with pretty trees.  The sun shines, then it downpours, then it's sunny again. The humidity is unbearable, but I have a huge fan that takes up 20% of my floor space. Kind of like home. But no hurricanes. Yet.

Mt. Jackson & Mt. Webster

Since returning to New Hampshire this is my first real hike, one long enough and steep enough where I couldn't bring my dog. Last weekend I hiked Mt. Willard in the Crawford Notch, which was a short (3 miles), but fairly steep climb to a beautiful overlook of the notch. But today I am once again a free woman without commitments or obligations, free to roam any mountain I choose, for however long I like, so I chose two.

Windy on Mt. Jackson (4,052 feet) !!

Mount Jackson and Mount Webster are both part of the Presidential Range of the White Mountains and lie to the Southwest of Mount Washington, the highest peak in the New Hampshire. You can bag both peaks in a moderate climb via the Webster-Jackson Trail (6.5 miles, 2500 ft).

From Mt. Jackson

The trailhead is also in Crawford Notch; in fact it's across the street from the trailhead for Mt. Willard which I hiked last weekend. It's about a three mile climb up to each peak, which a half mile or so connecting trail at the top, which is part of the Appalachian Trail.

From Mt. Webster (3911ft)

The climb is fairly easy to the top where it becomes steep and some scrambling is required to reach the top of Mt. Jackson. Due to the amount of rain we've had in the past two weeks, the trails were quite muddy and slippery, but I only fell once and luckily it was on a rock and not a mud bath.

View of Mt. Washington From Mt. Webster

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A Life Less Bored

A year has come and gone since I left Florida in search of a something to stimulate the rut my life had become. When I began this year-long journey I had no expectations of where I would go or even if I would be gone for a year. I figured at some point I would get tired of traveling and come home. Instead now I have no home, and probably never will. According to all official documents I live at a UPS store in St. Petersburg, Florida, but when somebody asks me where I live, I honestly don't have an answer.

I thought my year less bored would be wrought with travel, a month each in various states, hiking all the mountains I could. But I've only been to three (not counting the ones I traveled through of course), most of the year spent in New Hampshire where I attempted re-assimilation into real life first by opening a bakery and then by moving in with my boyfriend. Twice. Both were failures because of other contributing factors, but at the end of the day it comes down to a life-long fear of obligation and commitment that I now realize it's possible to live without.

So I will.

Dog Canyon Trail

Dog Canyon Trail is located in Oliver Lee State Park, just outside of town. At 11 miles and 3100 feet, it's the first real hiking I've done since last summer. Last week I ended up hiking 15 miles through the Lincoln National Forest up near Cloudcroft, but without much scenery or elevation gain it was more of a tranquil walk.

Dog Canyon

From the parking lot you see up into the canyon, the massive stone faces towering over you. Yet you don't realize you'll be hiking to the top of one of those rocks. In the East, most hikes are done through the forest so you don't see the elevation before you. The exception to this in my hiking experience was of course Tuckerman's Ravine up Mt. Washington in New Hampshire.

The treeless trail!

Frankly I've never liked trees much, the towering kind at least. I've always been in love with vast open spaces where the sun shines unconditionally. As a kid I dreamed of what the desert in Arizona would be like, hot and sandy, no trees. When I was a teenager I received a large cactus as I gift and I cherished it.

Looking down on Alamo

But as an adult I moved to Florida where there is plenty of sand and the palm trees provide little shade, and I soon forgot about the desert. Only as I was driving through Texas on my way to New Mexico did I remember this childhood fascination and all of those memories came back in a flood of excitement and curiosity.

Up close and personal to the canyon wall. Don't look down.

Hiking up the rocky terrain of the canyon to 7500 feet, with its unobstructed views of the city, canyon and mountains was a perfect desert experience. The climb was strenuous but the trails were easy to follow and not to technical.

The view only gets better

The first three miles climb steadily but slowly. In fact many people stop at three miles and turn around, for at this point the trail sweeps up around the ridge of the canyon on a narrow bed of loose rocks and continues this way to the top of the canyon, about 1.5 miles.

Around 4 miles, climbing this to the top? Nope, but that would have been cool.

Although you can see the canyon open up before you as you climb, you can only see the trail a few hundred feet in front of you so you don't actually know where it's taking you. You think you're headed to one side and before you know it the trail points the other direction.

The famous White Sands of Alamo in the distance

So when I reached what appeared to be the top of canyon, and I still had a mile to go, I thought there must be another stunning view ahead,even though all I saw was a grassy wilderness. Because trails don't end in the middle of nowhere. They end at mountain tops or roads, and I couldn't imagine a road running through here.

It was looking bleak, but with about a half mile to go the trail again ascended sharply and I saw blue sky up ahead. Yes, there was indeed a climax to this trail. But as I crested the hill, I saw only grass and trees marking the beginning of the Lincoln National Forest, and finally a sign indicating the trail's end. At a road. See, I was right about that.

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Aguirre Springs, Cloudcroft, etc

While waiting for the temperature to rise this morning I drove West on Hwy 70 toward Las Cruces up through the Organ Mountains and finally to San Augustin Pass, where you begin the descent into the city. On this stretch of highway is a beautiful, diverse landscape of white sands, a missile range and of course the stunning mountains.

Looking up from Aguirre Springs

Just below the pass is Aguirre Springs, a recreation area with camping, hiking trails and picnic areas. To get there you three miles down a paved path through the open desert terrain that provides a beautiful view of the mountains just above.

Back in Alamo it was getting warmer so I changed into hiking clothes and drove up to Cloudcroft, a mountain town 16 miles to the East. The road winds up 4000 ft through the canyons and rocky cliffs of the Sacramento mountains.

Canyon of the Sacramento Mountains

Cloudcroft sits at 8650 feet, and while the temperature didn't feel much colder, there was a few inches of snow on the ground and the trail I was going to take was closed. So I turned around and drove back down the mountain about a 1000 feet to the another trail head, which was open.

Didn't we leave winter behind?

The Switchback Trail is part of the Cloud Climbing Rail Trail, a converted rail trail that was constructed at the turn of the century to transport lumber from the Sacramento Mountains. Shaded parts are covered in snow, but most was gravel or grass and an easy 3.2 mile hike up 500 ft. 

Love the open trails without all the trees!

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Valley of the Fires

I knew it was going to be cold on Saturday and there was a chance of thunderstorms so instead of hiking I did a little sightseeing. About an hour North of Alamogordo, in a town called Carrizozo, are fields of lava.

Valley of the Fires Recreation Area

Over 45 miles and 165 feet thick, the lava originated from several nearby volcanoes and now resembles black rock overgrown with cactus and bushes. In Carrizozo is a recreation area where you can walk through the fields, but it was even colder and winder there and I wasn't about to get out of my car.

Mountains in the distance - these have snow, only an hour North of Alamogordo

The best views of the lava are not from the park, but from the side of the road a bit farther down. Unfortunately my camera died before I got there.

Heap o' lava

Later in the day, after I was back in the toasty camper, it snowed. Big wet flakes that didn't stick to the ground, but snow nonetheless. When I arrived here last Sunday it was as good as it gets - sunny, 80, dry. Tuesday a storm came through blowing sustained winds of 20mph, gusts much higher. So high in fact on Thursday the wind blew my camper about 15 feet into a barrier behind me. Now it is Sunday morning and the sun is just coming up. It's 30 degrees but it's supposed to reach 70 today. What a crazy place.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

Alamogordo, or "Alamo" as it's referred to by the locals, is located about 70 miles North of El Paso, Texas. It's the city center of the Tularosa Basin and is surrounded by the Organ, San Andres and Sacramento mountain ranges.

View from rear of campground in Alamogordo, NM

The majority of driving to New Mexico from Louisiana is in Texas, an 850 mile stretch along I-10 that provides a unique view of the state's dynamic geography. East of San Antonio is the standard shifting highway pattern of urban and rural areas. I had always wanted to visit San Antonio so I was pretty happy to be driving through it until my trailer tire blew on the busiest part of the highway. I had no spare, and AAA was having a tough time locating someone that would tow the camper. So instead I drove it, 15 miles per hour, for about seven miles to a discount tire shop. They even had the non-standard tire in stock, and I was back on the road within two hours.

Boot Hill RV Resort, where I am staying

West of San Antonio is, well, nothing until you reach El Paso. 550 miles of nothing but but a baron, stunning landscape of sand hills, desert valleys, desert grasslands and the Davis Mountains. It was incredible.

I hadn't yet booked a campground when I arrived in Alamo, but I had contacted a couple earlier in the week so I chose one, and it happened that they were expecting me. The campground is quite a bit out of town but is very quiet, save for the roosters that start their day at 5am. There's a horse stable right behind my camper that provides a nice odorous background, but the private bathrooms/showers are the cleanest I've seen yet.

Katie discovers a cactus!

On the road again...

Since Summer I opened a bakery, made a best friend, fell in love. The bakery was open just long enough to curb my fall hiking plans, but satisfied one of those nagging urges you think about constantly until you finally give in. At 36, I'm too old to be working my ass off for nothing so it closed within a couple of months.

The bakery was situated in a country store owned by Maryanne, a near empty-nester who was kind enough to let me live in her yard and use her shower until the snow came. We had a strangely large number of things in common despite our age difference and spent night and day together for months. I hadn't had a really close friend in years, and I will always look back on those months with great fondness.

During that time I met someone with whom I also had a lot in common and we quickly fell in love. But as all good things do, our relationship ended, and with the snow falling I decided it was time to unbury the camper and get out of the cold.

Driving West was the only option since the South has no mountains, but first I wanted to return to Florida to visit my family. I left New Hampshire on a Friday afternoon and drove straight for 20 hours to South Carolina, where I finally crashed in a hotel at 11am on Saturday morning. I hadn't yet told my parents I was coming so when I walked in their door Sunday afternoon their surprise was evident.

I spent a week in Florida before leaving on Sunday for Phoenix. Since I can only travel on weekends I stopped in Duson, Louisiana (about an hour West of Baton Rouge) for a week, which is where I am now.

The town is non-existent save for 2-3 casino-gas stations, a Super 8, the campground where I am staying, and the horse coral across the street. Upon arrival the coral was full and noisy and made the town appear lived in. Since, the buzz around town (i.e., the gas station next door and the lady in the adjacent RV) speculates the coral was more alarming than festive. A woman and child may have been run over (by vehicle or hoof, I don't know) and airlifted to a nearby hospital, and as a result, someone else may have been shot, the killer still on the loose. Boredom can inspire vivid imagination...

Campgrounds in Phoenix are primarily 55+, and the ones that are not are either full or in seemingly bad parts of town, so it looks like I will heading to New Mexico instead this coming weekend. Can't wait to finally climb a mountain again!