This morning I wake up and I immediately know that summer is over. In all the years that I have lived in this place called North Park, there comes a moment when you realize when the world has entered a new phase. I awoke to the sound of the wind blasting against the outside of my bus. It whipped and howled across the land. It was cold, as it often is here in the morning, surrounded on all sides by mountains. But something else…an unmistakable feeling that summer was over and soon the leaves would be golden and not long on the heels of that would be snow. We had only a few days for the last hike of the summer in the high country.
Winter is Coming
Last night I watched the moon rise over the Medicine Bow mountains. I could see my breath.
The kids across Colorado have been back to school for nearly a month, but it wasn’t always like that. When I was growing up, the month of August was reserved for haying season. Kids all over the county would spend most of the end of summer rattling around on a tractor, trying to make as much money as they could before the weather changed and the afternoon rains turned into snow for the next eight months. Or longer.
Labor Day weekend has come and gone and I need to get moving. To come down from the mountains. I don’t know if it is deliberate on my part or my folks, but it seems that the closer I get to needing to leave, the more projects arrise. Organizing the shed(s), cleaning out what is left in the house, drives out of town to drop things off at the Goodwill. Installing a wall heater.
Work hasn’t been coming in regularly, but that just means that I can dedicate my time to building my site, getting my YouTube channel set up, and catching up on blog posts. To let you behind the curtain a little bit, this post was written days ago. I just have them scheduled to post at different times. There’s a good chance I’m already gone. Starting my adventure. Possibly stranded on some godawful OHV road a map told me was totally fine for highway vehicles.
Pulling up Stakes
I moved my site out from the BLM east of Walden, CO back to a place named the Three Sisters about ten miles east of that. The trailhead sits at the foot of the same mountains that overlook North Park. These have always been my favorite. I’ve hiked to the top of this range many times. Mostly when I was younger and the struggle of putting one foot ahead of the other didn’t seem to hurt as much. In a few days, I’ll be 48 years old.
A year ago, I was just landing in Ireland, ready to take on that adventure. I spent my birthday driving up the coast to Sligo and then Donegal. I watched the sunset over the Atlantic ocean from the second highest sea cliffs in Europe. This year I’ll be sleeping in a converted schoolbus, about to venture into the unknowns of the Southwest for many months. One is no less of an adventure than the other I suppose.
Penny and I spent the night at the new campsite. The one I like better was filled with hunters. We had to come down from the mountain and leave the camp. It’s bow and black powder season, so the spots fill up even on a weekday. Though I saw a lot less hunting going on and more partying. The only thing they were killing was suitcase after suitcase of Coors. They ride their horses or four wheelers out from camp a bit, shoot at things, and return. Every time I see a new group of hunters, the question is always the same. “Are you bow huntin’?” No, I reply. Just camping. There the conversation ends. I have outlasted their curiosity, and I have exceeded my own ability to be interested in what they are doing. The important thing is to not look enough like a deer to get shot.
A New Spot to Camp
The new site was just down the road a little bit, but the big difference was zero cell service. We hiked around the area and found wild grapes, aspen trees with the first blush of autumn, and a small herd of angry cattle that made a lot of racket smashing through the woods wherever they went. That night we buttoned up the bus and slept in the new spot, oblivious to the interconnected world we left behind.
The next morning, I try to make tea, and the battery is already screaming at me. Overnight, it had dropped down to around 10.4 volts. Our new spot was tucked away in some trees, but not nearly covered enough to affect the battery. Overnight, I had turned off the load to everything drawing power. Lights, the fridge, even the water pump. Only now, nothing would work. Battery power was just too low. I might need to upgrade to an Anker generator or solar array. I decided to leave everything disconnected, grab my Osprey daylite pack and hike up to the top of the mountain one last time for the season.
I have never been up this way this late in the year. Maybe once, but that was thirty birthdays ago. I hiked up to a grove of aspens with my first girlfriend. She was visiting for the weekend, and gave me a 35mm camera with autowinding mechanism. I remember hiking up to that grove and spending at least half an hour kissing. Very little is left of that grove now. Beetlekill, microbursts, and a ten year drought took out most of them. I always think of her when I hike through that grove, but it is barely 1/3 of the way up the trail. I think we probably ran up most of it then. Today, Penny and I take a lot of breaks. We use hiking poles. There’s no running anymore. Even the hunters don’t come up this high.
This time of year, the mountain is dry. The little streams and runoff has been gone for a while. The mulberries are gone. Raspberry bushes flank the trail in a dense snarl of thorny canes. Only a few wildflowers remain. The frosts haven’t hit this place yet, and it has been wamer than it was down in the plains. The only creek on the hike up is a muddy thing that runs through a beaten culvert. Penny started lapping up the water almost as soon as we saw it. Her tongue hasn’t stopped lolling out of her mouth since we started the hike.
Finding the Top of the World
As the top gets closer, my pace gets slower. The grove. The first clearing. The switchbacks. The second clearing. I have to stop and take a rest about every hundred feet. I leaned hard on my hiking poles most of the way, feeling like some stilt-legged four footed creature, climbing up the mountainside. Finally at the top, we see the tundra at the end of summer, bleeding into fall.
The taller grasses nod in the hot wind. In the valley below we can see the smudge of haze from a fire somewhere. As we make our way up to the first cairns on the ridge, we cross a creek that still runs down from a bog at the spine of the mountain. I pump the water into my canteen, and it still tastes a little sour in spite of the filter. Penny schlops-schlops-schlops her fill and is ready to keep going.
Along the ridge, we can see North Park to the west, Larimer county to the east and to the north Wyoming. The remnants of a forest fire that swept through here at the middle of the last century still remain. The burned out stumps and twisted spruces which were bigger than any of the trees that grown here now rise up from the low, wind-swept flag pines.
Cairns dot the ridge and I wonder how many hikers mistake these landmarks for the piles of rocks idiots are leaving all over national parks for others to knock over. Lichens cover the rocks, creeping across them millimeters every passing year. Measuring time season after season.
The hike back down isn’t nearly as difficult, letting gravity carry us most of the way and stopping our fall with calculated steps and dumb luck. We stop to pick raspberries which still linger on the canes at higher altitudes. Mulberries. And consider taking our chances with what looks like currants and black currants, but decide against it.
Back at Camp from the Last Hike of the Summer
Back at the bus, we eat a small dinner. There days, my appetite hasn’t been that great. Penny hardly touches her food in this new mobile lifestyle. Every once in a while I step on a milkbone she has left on the floor and curse as I pitch it outside. Since we started out, the battery charged a little bit, but not nearly as much as I hoped. I’m getting a little worried. Some changes might have to be made to the setup. Leaving behind the microwave, the induction stove, and switching to my butane stove instead of the electric kettle.
Night comes early as the sun passes behind a hill near the camp. We can hear the hunters hooting and laughing at some story told around the campfire. Most assuredly hunting oriented. When hunting season is in full force, it will be too dangerous for a last hike of the summer.
Trouble in the Night
With aching arms and legs and blistered feet, I climb into bed and find it hard to sleep. I’m restless. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing. The doubts flood into my head at night sometimes. Throughout the night, I’m awake, listening to the some of something rustling around inside the bus. Penny doesn’t stir. She just snores next to me. I try to shine my flashlight at the sound, but see nothing.
Eventually the sound stops. The night gets cold again. I go back to sleep.
In the morning I discover a whole roll of toilet paper on the floor, half of one side shredded. Tiny rodent droppings are everywhere. While we were trying to sleep, the chipmunks invaded, carting off half a roll of TP in their cheeks for some kind of construction project. Penny regards me with contempt and indifference as I scold her for not even reacting. (If you want to see how things have progressed four months later, check out this link!)
Thanks for Reading!
If you’ve liked this blog, please like, comment, and subscribe. My site is supported by affiliate links. Clicking on many of the links in the blog will take you to another site which has products that I either use, endorse, or can’t live without. Your purchases on those sites gives me a small commission at no extra cost to you. See, cookies are actually good for something!
Check out the link for Origin, which made a damn fine pair of boots for my travels and living on the road. Use the code HARRIS10 for 10% off your total purchase. I’ve been wearing mine for nearly 4 years and they are still taking me where I need to go.
Want to have an adventure all your own? It all starts with Booking.com. Book flights, trips, and lodging accommodations with this link to Booking.com. Living on the road requires a lot of self-care, and sometimes it’s nice to check into a hotel for the night instead of living in your bus.
For my van life adventures, you’ll want to check out my storefront on Wayward. From cookstoves to solar systems, these are items you won’t want to tackle living on the road without them. Another way you can Support the show is to BuyMeACoffee. Donations are a great way to show your appreciation for the site. Though I’m sure instead of a coffee it will probably get me a gallon of gas.