My Last Patrol

Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness, CO – 1975

It was August 1975 and I was hiking down the Buckskin Pass Trail after spending a couple of days in the Willow Lakes Basin, a beautiful group of small lakes off the main route of travel for most backpackers visiting the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness. I was about a mile from Crater Lake with my dog Smokii in the lead. She always trotted a few feet in front of me ready to smell an intriguing scent or focus on the chirp of a marmot.

Smokii was an ambassador of good will. Either direction that hikers were hiking, Smokii would be the first one they’d meet.  Wearing her dark blue daypack with Forest Service patches on both sides, she greeted everyone with a wag of her curly tail and then let them briefly pet her. She was friendly, but just enough.

On more than one occasion people would ask if they could take a picture. Of course I stood straight and rigid in uniform shirt, hiking shorts, boots and hat, while wearing my eighty pound Kelty Serac backpack.

“Can you move out of the way?” they’d ask. “We just want a picture of your dog with her backpack”.

Nothing like my ego being deflated.

But this day as Smokii and I headed down the trail I heard a young woman’s voice call out, “Smokii! Jon!” The voice was behind me, to my right, just off the trail under a tree.

Smokii immediately stopped, turned around, and trotted right up to the voice. I turned around and looked straight into the face of a pretty young woman and said, Hi.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say because I had absolutely no idea who she was having never seen her before. Then from behind her stepped Lisa Pate.

I had met Lisa, her brother Steve, and their friend Bruce, the previous summer at Snowmass Lake. They were  from Nashville and Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Lisa had written to me earlier in the summer and asked if she and a friend could come out and hike with me on a patrol. So Lisa and her friend, Missy Rogers, had arrived in Aspen the night before. They had decided to trek up the trail a ways when they found out at the ranger station were I’d be hiking out.

I asked Missy how she knew it was Smokii and me. She told me she’d seen a photo of us at the ranger station and when she saw Smokii the words just popped out.

So following my four days off, Lisa and Missy joined me. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would be my last ten day patrol of the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness Area as a wilderness ranger. It would be one of the most memorable and strenuous of my backpack hikes. We would start at the trailhead for Capitol Lake and end up being picked up at Conundrum Creek after travelling up and down over seven mountain passes, some over 13,200 feet in elevation. I never judged a trail by miles as elevation gains could slow hikers to about a mile an hour where regular travel was closer to two and a half miles per hour.

My last trek would take us to Capitol Lake below Capitol Peak, over Capitol Pass and down to Avalanche Lake. Then up again and over Silver Creek Pass, down to Geneva Lake, and then into Fravert Basin. From Fravert we would ascend Frigid Air Pass followed by West Maroon Pass with a side journey just short of Buckskin Pass to share camp with Lon Ayers; the other wilderness ranger, his wife and a three person trailcrew consisting of two women and a man. The three of us and Smokii, would then hike down past Maroon Lake, then up the East Maroon Trail. We’d hike over East Maroon Pass, then start the long constant climb to Triangle Pass, over Conundrum Pass, down to the Conundrum Hot Springs, and then out via the Conundrum Creek Trail.

The Capitol Lake Trail is a fairly constant climb, the beginning of which is through stands of aspen. In a few more weeks, with crispness in the air, the now green quaking leaves will become ablaze in a world of color; reds, yellows, oranges, golds.  We hike on and up ahead a sign reads, “Entering the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness – No Motorized Vehicles Allowed”. I’ve always enjoyed seeing those last few words posted on a trail. The trail climbs onward now through a dense stand of Engleman spruce. I feel closed and trapped. I long for an opening. My world is the treeline and above. But Lisa and Missy are smiling and happy. They feel at home in the forest. They tell me it reminds them of the Smokey Mountains.

We hear the sound of water and soon cross Capitol Creek. Ahead of us is an extremely steep, but short climb, up over a glacial moraine, which is right before the lake. But the lake, with it’s variety of wildflowers, and the looming granite face of Capitol, a 14,130 foot mountain, soon made one forget the eight mile hike to get there, once the tents were set up and cooking stove was lit. Day One ended.

The Second Day would be a more leisurely hike except for my planned “shortcut” to Avalanche Lake. Plus, it was cold and windy, and the sky was completely overcast. It was a gradual uphill hike over Capitol Pass. I told Lisa and Missy that we’d take a cross-country route rather than the maintained and longer trail. My shortcut consisted of dropping down steep talus slopes and then boulder-hopping with full backpacks.

Smokii was great at hiking except for big boulders. She had short legs which made it hard for her. Sometimes she would disappear by traveling under the boulders. Other times I had to lift her up and over the huge granite rocks. We all safely reached Avalanche Lake, but I had three females that I don’t think were very pleased with me. I opened a bottle of wine with dinner, along with a freeze-dried cherry pie, which seemed to make it better. Since our campsite had only one flat spot, we all piled into my tent. Soon what started as a drizzle, became a genuine downpour. But I was snug and warm, with a girl on either side of me, and a trusted dog at my feet. Then I remembered my water bottle out next to the tree. I jumped out of my warm cocoon, grabbed my water, jumped back in my bag, then spilled water all over myself. I fell asleep listening to giggling in stereo.

Day Three led us up a trail I had never traveled. The trail led to Silver Creek Pass. It turned into one of my favorite trails of all time. It was not shown on the USGS topographic maps, so was little used. Once we reached the ridge that separated the Avalanche from the Silver Creek drainages, the trail contoured along at treeline. We had magnificent views the entire hike of a vast glacial valley rimmed by mountains. Small ponds dotted the landscape and wildflowers graced us with their presence all along our hike. On this trip, and one I did later in 2005, we never encountered another person. A brief thunderstorm persuaded us to cook dinner in the tents. As we finished our meal, the sky broke open, and we watched a beautiful sunset. An hour later, the full moon performed it’s magic on us, illuminating Capitol Peak and our surroundings. I couldn’t resist howling. Smokii joined me.

Day Four we trudged up and over Silver Creek Pass and headed down to Geneva Lake. We followed an old sheepherder’s trail and passed through a meadow of wildflowers dominated by Indian paintbrush in yellows, pinks, reds, oranges, purples, and even white! I thought we were the only ones to ever experience this wildflower extravaganza until years later when photographer John Fielder came out with his book about the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness, TO WALK IN WILDERNESS. I like John and his support for wilderness, but darn if he didn’t highlight and mark this spot on a map in his book as a wildflower “must see”. We hiked past Geneva Lake, where we joined up with the trail to Trail Rider Pass. A short stretch and then we deviated and headed into Fravert Basin.

I was walking in front of Lisa and Missy when I tripped and fell flat on my face with my large pack holding me down. I felt like a turtle knocked upside down. I quickly regained my feet when I realized both women were trying to get to their cameras to catch a picture of me. I beat them by standing upright before they could get a shot off. They expressed their disappointment.

Near dusk we crossed the crystal clear North Fork of the Crystal River (fitting name) and set up camp near Love’s Cabin. I told them I was proud of them. They had come from the much lower elevation of Tennessee and with only five days to acclimate had done incredibly well. I did not tell them what a grueling day they had in store for them tomorrow. It would be a butt kicker. Three passes to ascend.

On Day Five we started the long trail following Fravert Basin all the way to Frigid Air Pass. At times the wildflowers were literally arm pit high with monkshood and wild parsley. Across the glacial valley were cascades and waterfalls. Except for the reddish-purple Maroon formation of the rocks, the valley was bright and green.

But Frigid Air Pass was like a temptress. We reached it’s saddle only to see off in the distance our next hurdle; West Maroon Pass. To reach West Maroon we would lose some of our elevation only to climb back up. But the worst was yet to come.

I really wanted to reach Lon and the trailcrew as we had planned this end of the season rendezvous. So we kept on. We descended West Maroon Pass all the way down to Crater Lake. Now we had to climb the steep switchbacks of the Buckskin Pass Trail. I will hand it to Lisa and Missy, they were troopers. They made it the entire journey without complaining. Or at least not to me. But after dinner, as soon as they climbed into their sleeping bags, they were dead to the world.

Day Six we said goodbye to our Forest Service friends and headed back down to Crater Lake, around Maroon Lake, and then picked up the East Maroon Pass Trail.

Much of our hiking was lower elevation so now we hiked through aspen. Even though it was late in August, the columbines were still in full color and profusion. I admit, even I was tired after our forced march the day before. So as we started back uphill on the trail on the backside of Pyramid Peak, I realized we could not make it to one of my favorite campsites in the East Maroon Basin.

We picked a marginal spot about halfway along the trail. After a quick and brief supper, Lisa and Missy set up their tent while I laid down a ground cloth followed by my Ensolite pad and sleeping bag. Smokii curled up near my head.

All night long I had a restless sleep, if sleep at all. I’d wake up abruptly and see Smokii sitting up, not growling, but just looking around. I guess she felt it also; the uncomfortable feeling of this location.

Karma is an overused word, but it fit here. This campsite had bad karma. I’ve found over the years of hiking, camping, and river trips that there are certain areas that feel right. They’re comforting. You feel good. There is no way to explain how this feeling comes about, it just does. On the reverse, there are some areas, like this campsite, that feel wrong. Sometimes you swear you hear voices. Sometimes you feel a lurking presence. Again it is unexplainable.

I’ve talked with other wilderness rangers and they’ve felt the same. One of my friends, James Q. Brown, who I’d once worked with in Lone Pine, told me of the time he hiked into the Emigrant Basin in the Sierra Nevada.

“I set up camp. I had dinner. I lay down to go to sleep. And in a few minutes I got up, had everything packed up, and I hiked out of there,” he said. “It just didn’t feel like the right place to be.”

On the morning of Day Seven, I didn’t say anything to Lisa and Missy. We just ate, packed, and headed up to my favorite campsite below East Maroon Pass. We would be staying there two nights. Our camp had a small stream, lush meadows surrounded by scattered spruce, and a profusion of wildflowers. It was back to that good feeling again and I felt uplifted even though tired from a lack of sleep the night before. With backpack off, and the girls setting up their tent, I sat on a rock and watched two deer peacefully graze.

Missy came over to me and said, “Jon. We have a surprise for you”.

She took me by my hand and led to where Lisa was standing. “Lay down on the ground cloth and remove your shirt,” said Missy.

Suspecting a trick, maybe cold water on my back, I hesitated. Then Lisa came over, took my other hand, and led me to the nylon ground cover. For the next half hour I was in nirvana, being massaged by two women. I hadn’t realized how sore my muscles were and soon melted into putty. I would never have got up and moved, if the sun hadn’t started to hide behind the mountains, bringing a chill to the air.

That evening after a salad of wildflowers and greens, and our freeze-dried meal was in our tummies, I told Missy and Lisa my feelings about our previous camp. I told them how I’d pop- up wide awake all night long only to find Smokii sitting up, also wide awake. The two looked at each other then back to me.

“We didn’t sleep at all last night either,” said Missy.

“It felt strange there,” added Lisa. “We just couldn’t sleep.”

I later found out that our campsite was near an area where there are several old cabin remnants. The East Maroon Trail is wide because it used to be the old stage and wagon route between Aspen and Crested Butte. The pass is only 11,800 feet in elevation. It was as if this area still was “spiritually active” one hundred years later.

Day Eight was a day to explore, and explore we did. It feel wonderful to leave behind our backpacks and carry only daypacks. There are numerous remains of cabins and old mines hidden throughout the East Maroon Basin. I was determined to find them all. Finding mines was easy. Look for a dark hole among the green tundra, or rock piled up. To find cabins, we looked for old tree stumps.

Several cabin remnants we discovered were constructed using square nails, thus were built in the 1800’s. One still had the broken remains of an old stove.

We headed towards a large mine tunnel, with an axle and wheel of an ore cart marking it’s entrance. A story had been told that two miners from Conundrum Creek had decided to climb the ridge that separates East Maroon from Conundrum. As they looked down into East Maroon, they spied a dark cave opening. Following their curiosity, they hiked down to the cave, surprised to discover it was a mine adit. Near the mine’s entrance, were several bags of ore.

They packed the ore down to Aspen, where it was assayed, and found to be high in silver content. In checking about the claim, is was unrecorded. The two men became rich, but never found out who had built the mine, or what had happened.

I don’t mind natural caves, but I’m leery of man-made openings into the earth. We could see wood timbers and lots of darkness.  We walked in a ways and I found part of a wooden box. I picked up one slat off the box, which I would read, once I was back outside in the sunlight. We followed the tunnel until it’s end, then turned off our flashlights. It wasn’t until we were outside that I learned of Lisa’s nyctophobia, or fear of the dark. Feeling truly compassionate and sorry, I laughed. Glad I did this after I already had my massage.

I then held up the wood slat. It read “EXPLOSIVES”. We decided to end our exploration of any more mines.

It was with some reluctance that we left the East Maroon area on Day Nine. I loved this area and it did not receive the heavy usage like that of Buckskin Pass or Snowmass Lake. Or even that of Conundrum Hot Springs where we were headed to next.

Now that Lisa and Missy were fully acclimated, we had another set of mountain passes to reach. Leaving our campsite, we now had a very long continuous uphill hike to Triangle Pass and then over Conundrum Pass. From Conundrum we looked out at 14,275 foot Castle Peak, one of seven fourteeners in the wilderness. And now with a deep breath and sigh, we started down to the hot springs.

The majority of citations I wrote each summer were for illegal camping at the hot springs. I really hoped this time there wouldn’t be any problems.

We arrived at the hot springs and for once I was rewarded. There were bathers, but everyone had camped at least a mile from the hot springs. It was a good feeling.

I’ve always felt that through education and information the ultimate goal was not to have any violations. My desire each trip was not to have to write any citations. Unfortunately, very rarely did that ever happen. But my last ten day patrol in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness was ticket-less.

We camped at the Conundrum cabin, one advantage of being the Forest Service wilderness ranger, and reflected back upon our hike. The incredible wildflowers everywhere we hiked, the awe-inspiring mountains that always loomed around us, the spectacular passes with sometimes seemingly endless views, and the wonderful hiking companions, both two-legged and four-legged. We did not see all the wilderness, but we did see and feel a great part of it’s soul and heart.

I knew it was Day Ten, as we were out of food for any more suppers. So on my last hike out with Smokii, Lisa, and Missy on the Conundrum Trail, I found myself in what I call the “wilderness plod step”. I always hated my last day, as I loved being in the wilderness. We hiked through thick, dense stands of spruce. I had read the trilogy “The Fellowship of the Ring” by J.R. Tolken after I had finished “The Hobbit”; all in this wilderness. So now, as I hiked through the trees, I pictured the Ents, Trolls, Elves, and Hobbits of Tolkien’s world, as if this was his Middle-Earth.

Farther down the trail we passed through remnants of Carey’s (Cary’s) mining camp. On March 10, 1884, an avalanche came down and wiped out all the cabins and killed five of the inhabitants.

But there was a survivor. When rescuers returned thirty-three days later to dig out the personal belongings of the deceased, they heard a whimpering. They accelerated their digging and found the lone survivor, a bulldog mix named Bruiser. He had been sleeping next to the fireplace when the avalanche struck. The chimney kept open an air hole plus dripping snow melt provided moisture to the pooch. The dog was deemed a hero to the people of Aspen and he participated in town parades until his natural death. Smokii slept as I told this story to Lisa and Missy.

We arrived at the trailhead and our Forest Service ride was waiting for us. Once at the ranger station I picked up my mail and paycheck. All of the other seasonal employees were there also. Our boss, Dick Cerise, came out of his office and said he needed to speak to all of us.

What Dick said next was a shock to us all.

“There is no more money for the rest of the season,” Dick announced. “All of you are being laid off.”

No one would be working the next two weeks which included the Labor Day weekend. I didn’t know it at the time, but that ended my patrols in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness Area. I’d already completed my Master of Science degree so there was no returning to the University of Idaho. I was twenty-six and unemployed.

In 1973, I felt on top the world. I was headed to Aspen to backpack one of the most spectacular spots in the world and to get paid to hike. Then I would start my graduate degree work with a paid fellowship in Moscow, Idaho while gathering research in the wilderness for my thesis. Now it was 1975. No job and I was depressed.

I thought of the places I hadn’t hiked. Now there was no time to do so. The Pierre Lakes Basin, a large granite bowl, below Capitol Peak. Electric Pass, highest pass in Colorado at 13,500 feet, next to Castle Peak. It was a place you didn’t want to be during a lightning storm due to the high concentration of iron deposits.

Then I thought some more. Maybe it’s a good idea to always have someplace you’ve never been. To keep it as place in your mind. A place that says “maybe I’ll come back some day.”

So maybe it’s good to leave with a little mystery of places not yet visited. Of knowing a wilderness but not fully knowing that wilderness. Having a place I could someday come back to and explore. Maybe a variation of John Denver’s line in “Rocky Mountain High” of  “coming home to a place I’ve never been before.”