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?