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RR: Colorado Trail (Part 3)
Day 3: A bivouac in Hell
The Hayman fire in 2002 was the largest fire in Colorado history, burning 140,000 acres of forest and destroying 133 homes. I have been in old burn zones many times before, but nothing in my experience has prepared me for the scale of this. It is a ruined landscape which stretches in a shadeless expanse from horizon to horizon. I feel like I am riding alone into Mordor. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I again begin to feel the empty pang of fear in my gut. There is no way to go but forward. There is nothing between here and Route 77 in South Park, easily another 25 miles across very rugged country. According to my information, there are two sources of water: a creek crossing early on, then nothing until the Goose Creek campground, which was destroyed in the fire and has been closed by the Forest Service. The plan is to traverse the wasted land in one go, more than a 35 mile day which takes over a second 8,000 foot pass into South Park. As I cross the low hills in the burned-out valley, I am not sure I am going to make it. I am traveling on groomed fire roads, but this is a deceptive fact. Deep gravel and a persistent washboard surface make for slow going. My earlier confidence starts to wane. It is impossible to feel comfortable in this place. I make the first stream crossing and opt to keep going without a refill on my water supply. I need to get moving. I am making lousy time, in part because I am constantly stopping and gawking and taking pictures. The landscape is spooky and weird and scary. I am not eating enough, but I do not yet realize this: I have packed a 3,000 calorie per day diet, but I am depending on a steady intake of trail mix to stave off bonk. The hills get bigger, and the road begins a series of switchback climbs and descents through the valley. My energy begins to quickly drain. It is a cool day, about 50 Fahrenheit. My clothes are soaked with sweat from the climbs, and I freeze on the descents. I should be adjusting my layering at each peak and trough, but it is annoying to fuss with gear so often, and I try for a happy medium, which doesn't work very well. I am half hypothermic and soaking wet, with sweat dripping from my chin and my nose onto my handlebars. I am also well into a bonk, but my brain is too addled to realize it. I reach a road intersection and nearly make a tragic error, thinking I need to turn right when the real route is to the left. Luckily, I force myself to double-check with map and GPS, and I correct the mistake before I make it. My brain is not working right. Things only deteriorate from there. The low thrum of the wind in the valley of burned trees starts to **** with my head. It is tragic and empty and deeply lonely, like ten thousand Ground Zeros laid side-by-side, and I pedal through the valley, weeping and shivering. The road begins to steadily climb through a series of steepening switchbacks, and I am in trouble. I have a dozen miles of climbing to make the pass, and I dismount and push the bike on the slightest incline, marching beside the bike, head down, sweat dripping onto the dry gravel. I am only semi-coherent. My Camelbak is dry, and I begin to work through the reserve in my water bottles. I decide I have to make it to at least Goose Creek before I stop for lunch. The next few miles of travel are ones of hallucinatory suffering, until at long last I cross the bridge over Goose Creek and turn onto the small side road which descends to the water. There, like a mirage in the desert, is a small stand of green trees by the creekside, and a tidy campground, wisps of smoke rising from the morning fires beside neatly pitched tents. This is not supposed to be here, and I wonder for a moment if I am hallucinating it. I stumble up to a picnic table and begin wolfing down Sopressata and Gouda and gorp. The campground host, an unkempt fellow with a white beard, appears in short order and begins demanding money. One truly annoying feature of Colorado Forest Service campgrounds is that they have contracted management out to a private company, evidently with instructions to maximize profit through the imposition of "day use" fees, which essentially mean that if you stop and sit for twenty minutes at a picnic table, or God Forbid use the outhouse, they charge you four bucks. I try to explain that everything is fine, I'll pay the fee, but can I please just finish my cheese and sausage? He is finally mollified when I tell him I am staying the night, and will get him the overnight fee in a little while. I stop for the night in the tiny, beautiful grove by the banks of the rushing creek, surrounded on all sides by destruction. [... to be continued ...] |
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#2
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RR: Colorado Trail (Part 3)
On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 10:10:06 -0700 (PDT), Corvus Corvax
wrote: Day 3: A bivouac in Hell The Hayman fire in 2002 was the largest fire in Colorado history, burning 140,000 acres of forest Almost as big as the area destroyed by mountain biking via trailbuilding and extreme wreck-reation. -- I am working on creating wildlife habitat that is off-limits to humans ("pure habitat"). Want to help? (I spent the previous 8 years fighting auto dependence and road construction.) Please don't put a cell phone next to any part of your body that you are fond of! http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande |
#3
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RR: Colorado Trail (Part 3)
On Jun 29, 4:15*pm, Mike Vandeman wrote:
On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 10:10:06 -0700 (PDT), Corvus Corvax wrote: Day 3: A bivouac in Hell The Hayman fire in 2002 was the largest fire in Colorado history, burning 140,000 acres of forest Almost as big as the area destroyed by mountain biking via trailbuilding and extreme wreck-reation. Please provide a cite for that stat. |
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RR: Colorado Trail (Part 3)
On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 16:34:38 -0700 (PDT), Siskuwihane
wrote: On Jun 29, 4:15*pm, Mike Vandeman wrote: On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 10:10:06 -0700 (PDT), Corvus Corvax wrote: Day 3: A bivouac in Hell The Hayman fire in 2002 was the largest fire in Colorado history, burning 140,000 acres of forest Almost as big as the area destroyed by mountain biking via trailbuilding and extreme wreck-reation. Please provide a cite for that stat. Does the exact number really matter? We know it's A LOT! -- I am working on creating wildlife habitat that is off-limits to humans ("pure habitat"). Want to help? (I spent the previous 8 years fighting auto dependence and road construction.) Please don't put a cell phone next to any part of your body that you are fond of! http://home.pacbell.net/mjvande |
#5
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RR: Colorado Trail (Part 3)
On Jun 30, 12:18*am, Mike Vandeman wrote:
On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 16:34:38 -0700 (PDT), Siskuwihane wrote: On Jun 29, 4:15*pm, Mike Vandeman wrote: On Sun, 29 Jun 2008 10:10:06 -0700 (PDT), Corvus Corvax wrote: Day 3: A bivouac in Hell The Hayman fire in 2002 was the largest fire in Colorado history, burning 140,000 acres of forest Almost as big as the area destroyed by mountain biking via trailbuilding and extreme wreck-reation. Please provide a cite for that stat. Does the exact number really matter? We know it's A LOT! Yes, when you are stating it as fact, then the exact number does matter, otherwise you are LYING. |
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