A wonderful explore
August 30, 2016

We've stayed at Pagosa Springs sufficient times to have wandered most of the back roads and hiked in much of the varied countryside thereabouts.  We had not explored the Navajo River region, though, so decided to take a look-see via the so-called Price Lakes Road.

The road that follows the river up-canyon is gravel and well-maintained; despite climbing far up into the chasm created by Navajo River, there are few of the precipitous drop-offs that are the norm in many similar circumstances.

Before the route commences climbing into the canyon, we traveled past ranches with ponds and pastures hosting hundreds of Canada geese.

Forested slopes prevent much viewing of the river as the road climbs the canyon walls.  This brief glimpse from above revealed a park-like setting.

The Continental Divide follows this ridgeline that was south of us as we followed the Navajo River's course.

We did not note any birds out of the ordinary or that had not already been added to the trip list, but a red-tail hawk swooped over us and landed up ahead long enough for us to get a photo.

Being completely unaware of what the moniker Price Lakes referred to, we wondered if a duckweed-covered pond high up was a part of it/them.

Wending our way along the winding road, we began to see campsites at various junctures, later learning that bow-hunting season was in full swing.  Turns out the little pond was one of very many wetlands up on the mountain; however, Price Lakes finally came into view, barely.

Thick tree cover precluded getting more than a glimpse of water's shine from any one vantage point; was just enough for Chris to spot a beaver swimming for a short distance before it dove underwater.

Navajo Peak . . .

Navajo Peak is the dominant landmark in that region - a truly majestic mountain among many majestic mountains.  We were fortunate to view it from various perspectives and in varying light conditions as the seemingly ever-present storms passed cloud shadows over them or crouched brooding with rain.

Gramps Peak is another craggy-topped mountain in the region.

South San Juan Wilderness . . .

With little fanfare and no foreknowledge, we found ourselves at the end of the road high up on the mountainside facing a trail that led to something or nothing at all . . . we knew not, but we found ourselves setting off on it nevertheless.

A short distance in was a nondescript wooden sign nailed onto a tree trunk that evidently delineated the boundary of the South San Juan Wilderness.  That was our sole source of information until we encountered a pair of Santa Feans who shared their map that gave us a perspective of our location.  Seems the trail continues on to the distant Buckles Lake that we have hiked to previously from a different direction.

No matter - we were happy to be fit and able to troop along to whatever awaited us.  

The forest path consisted of continual ups and downs and twists and turns, but nothing really very strenuous: just really enjoyable and beautiful scenes through deep woods - towering trees of many kinds and meadows with open water or marshland, far views and up-close scenes, too.

Climbers . . .

Our surprise was complete when at one point we gazed at the top of Navajo Peak with our binoculars and discerned that far, far up there on the very tip-top were a couple of people, clearly folks without the sense they were born with.  It made me a little dizzy to think about.

Yup, there really are two people atop that scrabbly-looking round-top peak.

The Mollers . . .

All those hunters whose camps we saw were secreted somewhere other than our vicinity; we neither saw nor heard a sign of them.

Chris had a fleeting glimpse of a meadow vole and a marten (evidently, it was his day), but other than that and the fellers from Santa Fe, our only other encounter was with a couple from Sweden, and what a delightful encounter it was.

Anita & Sune were camping nearby, close to their son who was hunting elk.  They come to stay in the son's Pagosa house during the summer and enjoy wandering and hiking in those mountains as we do.

Their English was very good (Sune attributes that to their two years in Australia) and we had quite a nice chat with them when we met up on the trail and later at their campsite.  They are lovely folks - who knows, maybe we will get to visit them soon (she said hopefully).

The Springs . . .

Despite sampling hot mineral springs as often as we find them, Pagosa's remain by far our very favorite.  With 25 pools from which to choose and with temperatures varying from 99 to 106 and with sizes that accommodate from four to party-size, there is something for everyone.  There are river overlook pools and higher-up distant views and always folks shuffling from one to another to test them all or staying put when arresting conversations get going.

Pagosa boasts the world's deepest hot springs; who am I to question that or even to care.  I just enjoy the experience immeasurably, whether it is standing bowed beneath the waterfall that perfectly massages shoulders or stretched out with eyes closed in quiet relaxation or watching tubers and fishermen on the San Juan.

The señor gets a few minutes of solitude.

Never-fail deer . . .

Quite a few times we have stayed at the Pagosa Riverside RV Park, and without fail, we have daily observed deer on the hillside just across the San Juan River from us.  The usual herd appears to have grown; we are now seeing more in numbers, and two very handsome eight-point bucks have been munching their way through the brush.

When you least expect it . . .

In the hubbub of getting a blog posted while at war with internet service that jumped online and offline without a care for a blogger attempting to load photos, I neglected to mention an exciting sighting during our drive over North Cochetopa Pass.  After numerous attempts to see bighorn sheep in the Colorado Monument culminated in observing a herd from a great distance, we had a surprising upclose and personal sighting while tooling down the highway.  Rounding a bend in the narrow canyon along Cochetopa Creek, we came face-to-face with two bighorn right at road's edge as they were preparing to climb upwards, presumably after having a morning drink.

Traffic was practically non-existent on the route; however, at the very moment we saw the bighorns, there was a car immediately behind us, so there was no chance to stop in the highway to get a photo and certainly no shoulder that would allow us to pull over.

Being on the road in wet weather does a job on an RV's windows.  The señor has kept them semi-clear to allow us to enjoy our surroundings when we are inside.

Cool Colorado
August 25, 2016

We definitely have left behind the hot-weather rock climbing that we did in Utah and continue to enjoy the cool weather in the Colorado mountains, even though we were a bit hampered by wet stormy weather for part of our stay in Gunnison.

Departing from the Mesa RV Park made us feel more like seasonal campers rather than drop-in-for-a-weekers.  New-found friends and acquaintances stopping to chat and wish us well, folks waving and calling goodbye as we pulled out reinforced our desire to return there for a substantial stay.

These deer were in the field adjoining the RV park.

We never did purchase fishing licenses there, but fully intend to do some serious angling when next we return.

For the more triangularly-inclined, Mesa RV Park offers tepees for your sleeping pleasure.

Roaring Judy . . .

Whoever she may be and why she roared is beyond me, but her name is attached to a marvelous place that contains a fish hatchery, previously private but now run by the State, extensive ponds, marshland, hiking trails - just generally a truly wonderful place that follows the course of the East River.

Surprisingly, the mosquitoes were not overly pesty at Roaring Judy and along the East River.  When we hiked by the Gunnison, though, it was another matter.  That region receives less annual rainfall that we do in Prescott, but extensive surface water is not only beautiful to behold but harbors clouds of mosquitoes in addition to the more desirable trout and Kokanee salmon.

 

 

 

Algae on a beaver pond gave an other-worldly appearance.

Vegetation included everything from lush grass to an astounding variety of trees - pine, willow, spruce, fir, and cottonwood - to extensive brushy areas of yellow-blossomed cinquefoil and everything in between.

 

The place was filled with plants that were unrecognizable to me; this red-stemmed shrub was one of the more striking.

Roaring Judy is a haven for a myriad of animals large and small, including elk, beaver, weasels, otters, and surprisingly to me, martens and mink, among others.

This beaver lodge was one of the largest I have ever seen.

Chip found fine dining while sitting atop a beaver dam.

We had the best time there, although the only other wildlife we saw besides birds was a muskrat that swam under the footbridge we were standing on.  It’s a popular fishing destination, both the ponds and the river; several state record trout were caught there.



In addition to the main waterway, there are a number of channels that serve as outlets from various ponds.  Trout and Kokanee salmon are released into the river via those streams.

The big attraction for us at Roaring Judy was the hiking and birding, but of course we had to check out the hatchery.  Only a few trout raceways were in use, but those were positively teeming and boiling batches of trout that followed us as we walked alongside, evidently in anticipation of morsels of food.

Hahaha - guess who didn't read the sign and had to touch the fence.  Hint: it wasn't Chris, oh no, it was Miss Touchy-Feely.  Either I am electric-proof or it wasn't live . . .

Looking down on the Roaring Judy area. . .

The Almont Triangle . . .

Much more alluring than the Bermuda Triangle, the Almont area is a winter range for a herd of 200 or so elk, thus I must explore it.  Our first attempt to do so brought us to a rutted steep two-track that would have gotten the best of the Toter if we had taken a try at it.  Around to the other side, we found a dirt road that delivered us into the middle of the refuge, where we halted and hiked upward.  Nearing the top of a ridge, the slope steepened drastically, but with some huffing and puffing, we topped out to where we could gaze in awe at distant views and see mountain storms all around.  Perhaps not the smartest thing we’ve ever done, but we did return grateful not to have been struck by lightning.

We managed one self-portrait by balancing the camera on a rock.  I had in mind it would show how high above the valley we were; however, the effort it took to arrive there is lost in the showing.

The views from up top were dynamic; without a doubt, storm clouds deliver awesome sights in the mountains.

As always, the geologic anomalies are Chris' fascination.

Crested Butte . . .

The mountain for which the town is named stands massively aloof.

In town, though, is where our interest was captured; we were in awe of the number of historic structures lining the streets of Crested Butte.  It was amazing to wander through the historic once-coal-mining town that has become a ski/arts/music/bicylcling mecca.  Many buildings sported plaques to inform tourists of the date of construction and whose home or business it had originally been.

The  oldest we saw was dated 1882, a handsome commercial building in the process of complete restoration, originally the Elk House.

There have been fires; however, none seems to have been a town-wide conflagration as was so common in the early days.

Many current residents live in charming cottages that were originally family homes of early miners and tradesmen.  Vacation rentals abound.

World record elk . . .

Of course we had to view the storied record elk antlers which have been moved from one place to another and now reside at the Crested Butte visitor's center.  I have no idea if they still hold the record after so long.

 

A visit to Blue Mesa Reservoir further convinced us that it should be the location for a future fishing trip.  This sight of seven great blue herons along with a small flock of white-faced ibis perched on a grassy spit of land in the lake seemed an odd sight.

North Cochetopa Pass . . .

My route-finder pard chose our Gunnison-to-Pagosa route via State Highway 114 going over North Cochetopa Pass and it was one of the more beautiful and intriguing drives I have taken.  The first part of the route followed Cochetopa Creek, a large stream that hairpinned back upon itself as if wanting to completely cover the wide grassy bottoms it had created.  We passed occasional roofless log cabins long abandoned by their hearty pioneer residents and prosperous modern ranch houses.

To both sides, the valley was flanked by high gentle sage-covered mountains.

As we neared the highest point, the canyon tightened and narrowed, becoming rockier and steep-sided as the creek transformed from its languid mode into a dropping foamy cascade.  Topping out over 10,000 feet, the vegetation on the downhill side became thickly forested with ponderosa and aspen and offered up far views.

Down from the mountain, we switched to Highway 285 through the tiny town of Saguache where the San Luis Valley opens to its great expanse.  A number of fairly decent looking roads branched off from our route over the pass; the area called to me strongly.  I intend to return to do side-trip exploring through there at a future time.

A shallow section of the Taylor River invited someone to build these delicately balanced rock cairns.

I always like to be helpful; however, I could not begin to figure out how to help keep the bathroom tiny.  Possibly the bathrooms grow when the proprietor is not looking and then it's more to keep clean?