My good friend Joe sent me this photo via email yesterday. He took it in the Weminuche Wilderness that time we rode the narrow gauge along the Animas and looped around the needles, bagging Eolus, Windom, and Sunlight, before catching the train a few days later on its way back to Durango. That was a great trip — I was skipping around all day with a big smile after the photo jogged all those memories I had put away over the years.
There was the family on the train destined for the same stop and trailhead. Brand new shiny gear all. The boy, about high school age, commented on my boots, scuffed with more than one cut from encounters with rocks on mountain and desert trails, saying, “It looks like those boots have been around.”
I loved those boots mainly because of the anticipation of the day ahead when I laced them up.
There was Pat’s new tent that he insisted we use. The first night of monsoon rainfall we learned that he had not purchased a tent that was manufactured for drizzle in between downpours like you get in the San Juans in July. As the next day dawned I was up early wringing water out my down bag. Lunch that day above Vallecito Lake was extended while we took advantage of solar radiation to dry things out.
The day we climbed Windom and Sunlight there was a single-engine plane flying around and around, circling Chicago Basin. The engine noise bothered me, I can get that stuff in the city, it has no place in the back country. We thought it was probably a tourist flight taking the easy way up to view the high country.
Some hikers we ran across set us straight. A lone hiker decided to head up Eolus late in the day, by himself, without a guide book, route map, or rain gear. He hadn’t been seen since the afternoon storms moved in. The plane was searching for him.
The next day as we descended, after bagging Eolus (and North Eolus), a Chinook landed in the upper basin. Several rescuers got out and headed for the ridge below us. After a time they pulled the body bag out from behind a snow field and took it to the Chinook.
Joe, Pat, and I sat on the “Sidewalk in the Sky” eating lunch and talking about the need for preparation before you attempt these hikes, and laughing about the experiences (and good luck), that had taught us such wisdom. Danger is not far away in the back country. The mountains let you climb them.
Mrs. Gulch was elated to hear my voice when I called her from Durango. Of course she had heard that a hiker had died on Mt. Eolus and she knew that was where her backcountry tramping husband was at the time. I could really feel the love through the phone lines.
Arriving back at the homestead is always a big deal for me after a trip.
