Don't Touch This

Here's a shot of Poison Ivy from the Homestead Trail near Boulder. This stuff is all over the place, especially in Boulder where the microclimate seems to be just right for it. I don't see as much of it in Jefferson County where it's a bit drier.


This photo shows its placement along the trail. I have to really watch my step when running this, or I'll end up with a rash. It's happened once already this summer. There are many places where the weeds have almost totally closed in on the path, and you might not even see it as you brush through.


On the upside, the leaves turn a nice bright red in the fall.

Indian Peaks Under Clouds

This view is from the Cheif Hosa exit on I-70. I was searching for a dry place to run on Wednesday, because storms hit us almost every afternoon this week. On this day, a smooth layer of blue-grey clouds hovered over the foothills, and torn white clouds were clinging to the mountain valleys of the Indian Peaks. It made for an interesting meeting of elements, from above and below.


I almost expected to see snow up there; it looks like fall storms already, and it felt a tad cool.

Objectivist Round Up

This week's Objectivist Round Up is hosted by Musings Aloud. The Round Up features posts by bloggers who advocate Objectivism, the philosophy of Ayn Rand. Just some of the many topics include immigration, Berwick, economics lessons from Gilligan, and a Positive Discipline podcast for parents. Enjoy!

Missouri Mountain Run

This is from an outing on July 18th. The run was 9 miles, 3,900 feet of gain/loss, a top elevation of 13,600 feet, and a total time of 3:32. I made it to the summit ridge of Missouri, but did not reach the summit itself. Here is the GPS track:


I'm starting to become intimately familiar with this trail, having been to it 3 or 4 times now. There are three 14,000-foot peaks surrounding this valley, and I have summited one and failed at the others due to storms.

This outing features a jarring, washboard access road (do they ever maintain those roads?) a.k.a. Chaffee County 390, some woodland trail at the beginning, consisting of a set of steep switchbacks, some moderate aspen and forest trails, then more switchbacks as the trail exits the forest. Above that is the payoff: some great alpine singletrack. This is the aspen section above the first switchbacks:


I didn't photograph the switchbacks before this, because I'm usually gasping for air. I hit them before I'm fully warmed up, so I always feel terrible running that section. They remind me of the Ws at the Barr Trail: something that can sap your energy too early in the run if you're not careful. Also like the Barr Ws, they warm up in the morning, so start early!

As you exit the forest, there is a feeling of expectation as the view opens up, and the trail winds through tundra, flowers and willows.


If you turn around, you see the following view back down the valley. Note the tent on the right; what a great camping spot!


The Columbines were plentiful up here. I don't remember this many in past years, but maybe I just happened to miss the right time of year in the past.


You can see why this flower is named Elephant Head:


The next photo is about mid-way through the alpine valley, where the path rises up out of the creek basin and skirts a ridge:


Above the ridge, you get a nice view of Missouri's summit ahead. The path meanders in that general direction, but then cuts right before ascending the front to the ridgeline. Note the blue sky.


In the photo below I am approaching the ridge, along a rocky traversing path. Note the dark sky, only 40 minutes later!


Below is a picture of the grassy band near the top, with yellow and blue flowers (you have to zoom in to see them). The slope of a lot of this path was not very level, as you can see. It pretty much follows the slope of the hill, and you have to hope your tread will hold you. I didn't run too much of this except on the downhill, and even then I was pretty careful to keep from slipping.


It's about here that I felt raindrops, and quickly pressed on to the summit ridge, just to see what was up there. I thought my chances of reaching the summit were pretty slim at this point, since rain is rarely gentle in the mountains; it's often accompanied by thunder and lightning. The summit was not just a short walk; when I got to the top of the ridge I calculated it was maybe a 40-minute round trip over big rocks, so I cut the ascent short and quickly headed back down.

At this point I met some people I had passed on the way up, and I told them I was turning back because of the weather. I said I had had some close calls with lightning, and wasn't risking it even though I hadn't heard thunder -- yet. I descended and they continued up. Honestly it could have cleared up in 15 minutes too, but I'd rather err on the side of caution, and I can just come back some other day.

Below is a good view of the slope of the descent. I love slanted views like this, and it was probably my favorite part of the outing, aside from the sketchy footing. The rain drops actually helped to provide traction on the slippery dirt. I started to see sleet at this point, so I was glad to be on my way down.


When I got back to the valley (below), I heard really nasty deep thunder coming from behind the ridge, vindicating my decision to turn around. A similar view with flowers (4 photos up) was taken only one hour earlier. The weather changes quickly up here.


The next photo was taken a few minutes later down the valley, and looking in this direction -- east -- you'd never know about the gathering gloom on the peaks behind you. The sun was warm down here, away from the rain and sleet, and it felt great.


More Columbines:


As you pass down into the forest again, you see the ruins of a cabin just below tree line.


I have to say it's a pretty sweet home site. It's probably 30 yards from alpine meadows, and has a mountain stream cascading through the nearby valley:


At this point there was a lot of descending through the woods again, which I ran most of the way except for some tight stone steps.

NOTE: Be careful descending the section with the aspens (above) because the trail makes a sharp 90-degree left turn on a dusty, slanted slope. There is a really steep drop-off on right, which is about 60 degrees of dirt, rubble and clinging trees, dropping perhaps 300 feet before it begins to level off.

When I got back to the car, I stretched, changed clothes, drank a bunch, and then headed back to civilization. This turned out to be Salida, and involved a trip to the very busy Amica's at about 3:00 PM for an antipasto salad and an IPA.

Afterwards I walked for a bit and then drove up Spiral Drive on Tenderfoot Hill behind downtown, which sports the large white "S". The surrounding terrain consists of small convoluted hills covered with southern Colorado shrubbery, cactus and conifers, and has been developed with a multiuse trail system. It was incredibly windy up there; I was actually getting shoved around!


There are a couple of painted dead trees up there, which add some color to the terrain. The contrasting light and dark of the colors looks interesting with the blue sky and white clouds.


Here is the town of Salida from the top of the hill. Too bad the mountains behind were in shadow, but that's the luck of the draw.


Here's a parting shot of Mount Princeton on the way to Buena Vista for a light dinner at Bongo Billy's. I just drove down a country road enjoying the scenery. Dinner was broccoli soup, quiche and salad, and it was all very good. Even though it was late, I grabbed a coffee because it's also good there, and I get drowsy on the drive home after energy-sapping outings like this.

A Slice Of Orange

From the Saddle Rock/Greenman/Ranger trail junction on Green Mountain Tuesday. Rain was falling in the distance and was backlit by the fading sunlight. This is about 20 minutes before sunset. I turned around here since it takes me 30 minutes to run down.


West is to the left, which may seem strange if you don't know this terrain; the orange glow makes it look like the sunset is straight ahead, which is actually north (roughly). It's also apparent from this view that this is the beginning of the Rocky Mountains. It's plains to the right, mountains to the left.

It had just rained in the prior hour, so there weren't many people out; I only saw one couple on the trail.

I hiked a lot of the uphill on tired, burning legs. Consecutive outings over several days have left little energy for running uphill, although I ran the downhill. This is another experiment of sorts, to test two things: 1) fast-hiking instead of running if it's faster and/or I can conserve energy, and 2) doing ascents as close to every day as possible. I'm not sure if this will be productive, or if I will merely tire myself with no positive result. It certainly feels like a good workout, regardless, and it's great to get out in the hills as much as possible. I racked up 36 miles and 12,000 feet of vertical last week this way, without even heading into the high peaks.

Speed-wise, I'm still pretty slow and I don't think that's going anywhere. At this point my goal is really to give myself some endurance and comfort with long outings. I like to be self-powered, and I'm too impatient to hike. I was reading Nick Clark's Longs Peak posts, and I always seem to come in at exactly 150% of his times on everything he runs. The same ratio applies to most of the top finishers in trail races. That's cool with me. Five years ago, I thought running peaks was crazy talk.

Spider-Mom

At least I think this was a mom; I'm not sure I'd know how to check that. This spider darted out of my way last evening on a trail, and it was not merely self-preservation; it had a back full of babies. It was about 3/4 inch long.

Yep, The Forerunner Is Accurate

I forgot to stop my GPS watch (a Garmin Forerunner 405) when I got in my vehicle and left the parking lot at the South trailhead of the Mesa Trail. My GPS recorded me backing up (red dot) and then driving away:


I find that both impressive and slightly spooky. It means if someone doesn't like me, happens to have a spare Tomahawk missile, and has my coordinates with no more accuracy than that of a consumer exercise watch, I'm a goner ;)

There is also something else to note about the end of my outing: there are not many data points at the end. Meaning: I didn't spend time hanging around stretching (as I usually do), because it was mostly a walk, and I only ran the last mile or so downhill. In essence, that run was my stretch. I was kind of tight from yesterday's run of the three main peaks in the park, and needed to just get my legs warmed up and jog lightly today.

Pretty impressive technology, regardless.

Another Rattlesnake

This smallish rattlesnake started rattling as I ran by on a dirt trail; otherwise, I would never have known it was there. This is on the Homestead Trail near the South Trailhead of the Mesa Trail.


I let the couple behind me know it was there, and they each grabbed one of their two terriers and held them as they walked by.

This is why I'm really careful if I walk through the grass around here.

Redgarden Wall, Eldorado Canyon SP

This photo shows why Eldo (not to be confused with this Eldo) is a popular climbing destination. Yesterday I took a day off from running and hiked this park, just taking photos. I took way too many pictures of this ridge ;)


However, the most intriguing part of my visit was the trail that exits the west end of the park and connects with Meyer Ranch. That looks like one of the linking trails in this run. Hmmm...

Gotta go. I'm tragically late getting out of the house for a Sunday.

Distance-Running Ancestors

Here an interesting story on potential evolutionary sources of running technique. This aligns with much of what is going on in distance running today, such as barefoot running and a shift towards a forefoot landing. I've found the latter to be much better suited to trail running, and I've always hated motion control shoes or shoes with blocky heels.

My personal guess on the evolutionary issue is that intelligence reduced the need for matching the speed of prey animals. Hunting requires more travel and following, combined with short bursts of speed. So, although humans are certainly capable of running long distances, I'm suspicious of the idea that it's our primary M.O. Interesting, nonetheless.

I Thought We Got Rid Of The Draft

Every time the military starts to show signs of stress, some people call for a return to the draft.

This is especially true in this age of altruism and calls to universal public service. Exactly as portrayed in Atlas Shrugged, we are in a descending spiral caused by sacrifice and self-sacrifice, yet every day we hear even more strident calls for the same.

This link was from Ed Cline's piece today on the ideological roots of such calls for service. Especially interesting to me is the fact that he takes a major example from both the conservative (the draft) and liberal side (Rangel's calls for service) and shows that they have the same root ideological premises.

Here is my comment on the first article at the Washington Times:

Do I really need to point out the irony of proposing to defend a country founded on individual rights by enslaving people and sending them to die?

In practical terms our problem is not lack of troops; it's a lack of strategy. We can't even get up the courage to name the actual enemy, let alone fight them in the correct countries. Instead of chasing jihadists down every rat hole on earth, we should have declared war against Islamic totalitarianism and the countries that sponsor it, starting with Iran, not Iraq and Afghanistan. And we should have waged total war, not this pussy-footing rules-of-engagement nonsense. See our defeat of Japan for reference.

Instead, we spread ourselves thin on altruistic nation-building missions where our lack of self-esteem forces us to permit Islamic principles to be built into national constitutions, rather than dictating the terms of it, as victors should. We subject precious American lives to rules that put them in peril.

We can't even get up the courage to "profile" statistically relevant groups in airports, because we are afraid of Muslim backlash, and are riddled with multiculturalist guilt.

This is the government to which you want to grant absolute powers to send people to die? Not on my watch.

A volunteer army stands not only between America and its enemies, but also between America and a government that pursues the wrong wars. Advocating a draft is not an act of self-defense, but an act of national suicide, and of abandoning the moral principles on which this country stands.

When America truly needs them for a just and proper war, the people will respond and defend it.

Dr. Paul Hsieh On Donald Berwick

Paul Hsieh is a Colorado radiologist and an advocate of freedom in the health care industry -- something we sorely need at this juncture. Among his blogs are GeekPress and FIRM, and he also blogs at NoodleFood. Here is his excellent take on the utterly awful Donald Berwick.

It is common for advocates of limited government to object to this or that practical policy issue, but Dr. Hsieh treats the underlying ideas and morality instead, with much more effective results.

Free markets have always had the practical advantage over state control; only someone who can literally blank out the entire history of the 20th century could claim otherwise (although that does not stop analysts from claiming that freedom caused our current economic woes).

What we need, however, is not a practical defense, but a moral defense of freedom; one founded on the requirements of human nature: our need to think and act freely. We need a system that neither sacrifices the rich to the poor, nor the poor to the rich. We need a system that protects individual rights for all.

Good Old Green

On the summit of Green Mountain in Boulder, looking north towards Longs Peak. Taken on Friday about 20 minutes before sunset.

Objectivist Round Up

This week's Objectivist Round Up is hosted by 3 Ring Binder. The Round Up features posts by bloggers who advocate Objectivism, the philosophy of Ayn Rand. Just a few of the many topics include Harry Potter and journalism, the effects of current economic policy, the Tooth Fairy, and Montessori homeschooling. Enjoy!

MSXML4 Empty Namespace Attribute

I'm posting this both for myself and for anyone else who has had trouble finding a solution to this problem. Even though it's old technology (Microsoft is pushing people to upgrade from MSXML 4.0), those of you who maintain legacy code might appreciate it.

The problem is that when creating XML documents using the MSXML4 API, you can end up with an empty "xmlns" attribute (note the second line):

<trees xmlns="MyNameSpace">
<oak xmlns="">
<silverOak/>
</oak>
<birch>
</birch>
<trees>This happens if you do what might seem logical, which is to only add the namespace to the root element. By default, namespaces are inherited by child nodes, but in this case the empty "xmlns" attribute clears the namespace for the <oak> element and all its children. This may be problematic for code or XPATH queries, because often we want the top-level namespace to apply to the entire XML document. However, now the top level and the <oak> node have different namespaces, so queries on <oak> and its children will fail if you use the parent namespace.

Microsoft added this "feature" with MSXML 4.0, and as per this article is complying with a specification in doing so. Nonetheless, it's a bit counter-intuitive that the MSXML engine adds this empty attribute without your specifying it explicitly. Also, the "workaround" in the article is not clear to me, no example was provided, and various attempts to apply this workaround were unsuccessful.

My solution was to use code that applied the same namespace to every element created, not just the top level:

Dim ns, oDoc, oTrees, oOak, oBirch, oSilverOak
ns = "MyNameSpace"
Set oDoc = CreateObject("MSXML2.DOMDocument.4.0")
Set oTrees = oDoc.createNode(1, "trees", ns)
oDoc.appendChild oTrees
Set oOak = oTrees.appendChild(oDoc.createNode(1, "oak", ns))
Set oSilverOak = oOak.appendChild(oDoc.createNode(1, "silverOak", ns))
Set oBirch = oTrees.appendChild(oDoc.createNode(1, "birch", ns))
MsgBox oDoc.xmlThe MSXML engine then decides which elements need the "xmlns" attribute added and which do not. If you apply the same namespace to every level, the output XML no longer has the empty attribute:

<trees xmlns="MyNameSpace">
<oak>
<silverOak/>
</oak>
<birch>
</birch>
<trees>

Saddle Rock/Ranger/Gregory Short Run

Tuesday I did another short after-work run: 1 hour, 4.4 miles, and 1,500 feet of gain/loss. On Sunday I had run most of the Missouri Mountain trail, and took Monday off from running due to a bit of soreness in my left foot that I wanted to massage away before running again. It was soreness in some foot muscles* and connective tissue due to a non-running injury. And tight muscles = more potential for further injury. Here is the GPS track:


It was really humid in the lower parts of the canyons after afternoon rains, although after being in Colorado for a few years, I'm now officially a wimp when it comes to humidity. Humidity here is often in the teens and twenties absent precipitation, so "high" for me is anything over 50 percent. For whatever reason, I was having trouble keeping up the pace so I just fast-hiked large sections of the uphills. A 60-something hiker with a huge stride was almost keeping up with my hiking pace even on the big steps; he was really moving. Or so I told myself.

My legs and lungs just didn't have it in them on this run. It may have been the heat, or lingering fatigue from my trip to Missouri Mountain, or maybe I'm still adjusting to running more often at Boulder Mountain Parks instead of less hilly trails in Jefferson County. Not sure.

Recently I've let my technique evolve a bit, from forcing 100% running on myself at any cost, to running or hiking depending on whichever is faster. I had the surprising experience of using this approach on Missouri, which is a somewhat rugged, high-altitude 9 miles, and feeling perfectly normal later that afternoon, as if I hadn't even gone for a run. I've also clocked faster times on hills doing this, vs. running only. I guess this mixed-mode technique is used in ultras for a reason.

I have a few quick photos, mainly because I haven't run a lot on the Ranger or Gregory Canyon trails so they're more new to me. These two trails are almost opposites: Ranger is gradual and wooded, while Gregory is steeper, open and rugged. These photos are from Gregory.

Here is the view looking east down towards Boulder. Flagstaff Road is somewhere above me on the left, and the First Flatiron is off-screen to the right:


It's hard to describe how much fun it was to run down the section of trail below. Yes, that's a trail. It was like slow-motion running down big rounded steps, a game in which you have to decide where to place your foot in a split second. I dial down the pace until the risk factor is about zero.


Here is another type of trail surface, with grey rock and flat dirt, which I run a bit like a football player running through tires, but in a more relaxed manner:


The sun was setting as I stretched out at the end of my run, and the sky was filled with different shades of layered clouds. The whole sky seemed to glow.


It was not a long run, but it had good variety and it was satisfying.

Correction: I change my use of the word "tendons" the first paragraph to "muscles". I often use this term even through strictly speaking, I am referring to where the muscle switches over to connective tissue. Such transitional areas are under high stress from running and can become sore.

Missouri Gulch Twisted Pine

Anyone who has been to Missouri Gulch south of Leadville, CO may recognize this tree. It appears right next to the trail above treeline. I've been trying to get a decent photo of it on the past several trips and finally got a shot I like.

Sun Behind Mt Audubon

This is a view from yesterday about 15 minutes before sunset, at the top of my after-work run up Green Mountain. The sunlight was forming rays to the right and left of Mt. Audubon, as the peak cast its huge shadow in front of me.


A lone couple was sitting below, leaning together against the warm rock face, enjoying a quiet mountaintop happy hour and sunset view. Dragonflies were flitting around up at this 8,100-foot summit, apparently making a dinner of the other flying insects that happened to be up there. The photo caught one of the dragonflies in the lower right quadrant of the image. It's a little blurry, but if you zoom in you can make out a dark stick of a body and its pale wings.

By the way, it didn't look this dark when I was up there; the entire landscape was filled with a golden late afternoon light, but I can't get any more range out of this image (it's from a compact camera, not Canon RAW). If I lighten it, I'll lose the detail in the sky.

I have to admit my legs were shot yesterday, and on the way up I hiked the taller rocky steps. Gasp! Leg burn! My short run at South Mesa on Thursday took more out of me than I realized. However, the fact that I run this trail at all is an improvement; when I first got to Colorado four years ago I was running tame 800-foot hills like Green Mountain in Lakewood for daily runs. By contrast, this one is 2,500 feet of rocky goodness (including ups and downs)!

At this point I still had 2.6 miles to run back down to the trailhead, so I started down, passing a couple of parties descending. I got back 15 minutes after sunset, and since the sky was cloudless it darkened quickly. Visibility was tough in the Amphitheater trail near the bottom, a set of steep rock steps through a wooded, V-shaped, rocky canyon. I'm glad I didn't push it any later, but I'm also glad I didn't miss a summit on this awesome afternoon.

Deer Leg In Paradise

I was in a surly mood yesterday afternoon, after getting to my chosen trailhead after work (a 30-minute drive) and realizing I didn't have socks. I could run without, but I don't really like it, so I scooted over to King Soopers for some cheap running socks -- and snacks, because I was also getting hungry.

A half an hour late, I got to the South Mesa trailhead and immediately started to relax, as the sights and smells of the hills worked their magic. I still had 50 minutes to run before sundown, and that's better than nothing. I threw on some minimal gear, insect repellant (the trailhead is in a river basin), and started out on the Towhee trail.

I felt nice and loose and held a decent pace on the gentle uphills, my body adjusting to the demands I was placing on it, still short of breath, but warming up. I've been trying to coax more forward progress from my running stride on uphills, and was doing OK. I passed batches of flowers along the bumpy but runnable trail, which was idyllic:


As I approached the junction with the Homestead trail, I ran across this:


It's always a little bit creepy to find animal parts lying around. It reminds me of what's living out there in the forest and brush, a brief moment of Flemish vanitas at the base of the Colorado foothills. I don't subscribe to the self-denigration implied by this artistic genre, but it certainly reminds me of mortality.

I don't think a cat would leave a leg lying around, since they tend to hide their food. My guess is either the deer died, or lion or coyotes made a kill, which was then distributed by coyote or some other animal. So many animals, like deer, are basically just a dinner buffet for others.

I stepped over the leg and kept running, and the peaceful outward appearance of the trail, and the beautiful evening, took over again.

Objectivist Round Up

This week's Objectivist Round Up is hosted by The Playful Spirit. Just some of the many topics include hike pictures ;), grocery store math for kids, the epistemology of anarchy, and OCON summaries. As opposed to cartoon versions of Ayn Rand's ideas, either literally or figuratively speaking, these are posts from those who actually, know and live by her philosophy. Enjoy!

When Good Snowfields Turn Bad

This morning I saw an article about a man who slid on a snowfield in Rocky Mountain National Park and broke his leg, and had to be airlifted out of the mountains. Yep, that's exactly the possible scenario I was talking about in one of my posts on the Chasm Lake trail, which commonly has a snowfield on the last section every spring and early summer. Here is that photo again:


While approaching this same snowfield this spring -- in my running shoes -- I was putting on my spikes, and some guy all decked out in mountaineering gear told me crossing the snow field would be "no problem".

Huh?

Why would you tell someone you don't know, whose ability level you also do not know, who is wearing running shoes, that a snow slope that ends on sharp boulders below is no problem? OK, maybe he figured because I was running at altitude that I had some experience, but I almost cursed the guy out for saying that to a stranger. As it was, even with the spikes I slipped once.

I'm not saying it can't be done or shouldn't be done, only that you should make a sober assessment of the risks involved, and not forge ahead ignorantly. It often pays to imagine the worst thing that can happen, before you make a commitment in the outdoors.

I noted in the story the man had a SPOT locator beacon, which afforded a quick rescue; a good idea.

Anyway, folks, please beware the snowfields. Bad things can and do happen.

Color At Altitude

Flowers and other growing things high in the mountains may be small, but often the tundra is covered with them, so they make up for it in quantity and variety. Here is a photo from about 13,500 feet elevation on a mountain ridge, showing the splashes of color from lichen (orange), Alpine Forget-me-nots (blue), Dwarf Clover (purple) Buttercup (I think, yellow), and another yellow flower in the back and far right.


The more you look at the ground up at this altitude, the more you find. It's amazing how rich the life can be in this punishing climate zone.

Pine Grosbeak

As I was taking this picture on my hike of Mount Columbia last week, I heard a somewhat loud, almost clumsy rustling in the tree branches on my right, and turned to look. I saw a flash of red, and this tame bird started rooting around for seeds on the ground, about ten feet away:


It didn't really seem to care that I was there and even turned its back to me. I would have gotten closer for a picture, but I think that might have been pushing it, and it would have flown away. After seeing so many crows and magpies, it's nice to see a bird with some bright color for a change!

Kilian Jornet Burgada In Colorado

After his 3rd-place finish at the grueling Western States 100, 22-year old ultra runner (and ski mountaineer) Kilian Jornet Burgada of Spain is apparently passing through Colorado on the way home, for a taste of the kind of trails we like to run around here.

As per Salomon Running's Facebook posts, he ran Mount Elbert a few days ago (the highest peak in Colorado at 14,433 feet), then did some slacklining with Scott Jurek and Anton Krupicka (2nd place at Western States) in Boulder, and then some local mountain running.

Since the Pyrenees are basically in his back yard, and the Alps are not too far from home, he's no stranger to the mountains. He's a champion trail runner in Europe. So, it's not a total surprise that he managed to break the record for running up a small mountain west of Boulder called Mount Sanitas, with a time of 14:12. That's 1.2 miles and 1,200 feet of ascent at an average pace of less than 12 minutes per mile. Phew! Amazingly, there have been quite a few Coloradans who can run in the mid to upper teens. I'm no competitive runner, but I'm not a total slacker either, and my best time is 23:30. Time to take it up a notch!

Regardless, it's fun to see other people enjoying things you enjoy. I hope he likes his stay in Colorado and the rest of the U.S.

Mount Columbia Hike/Run

With the advent of warmer weather in the mountains, and rapidly vanishing snow, I decided to do my first "dry" (i.e. non-snow) high-peak outing of the season last weekend, hiking Mount Columbia near Buena Vista, CO. Here is the GPS track:


Vital stats for the outing: peak elevation is 14,073 feet, gain was 4,200 feet, and total mileage was 11.6. I ran the last 3.2 miles, which is the green valley floor in the GPS image.

I had pretty much decided last year I would hike this mountain, rather than run it, because of feedback I got from hikers while I was descending from nearby Mount Harvard. One guy mentioned it was a nasty, slippery scree slope, and I could see what he meant as I looked at the route behind him; most of the ascent is straight up a rocky gully. You can see this as the steep uphill section on the GPS image.

At that time, I decided I would hike it with my Kahtoola spikes, which would provide grip on the otherwise slippery dirt. As it turned out, the spikes worked very well, and turned the slippery descent into something I could walk down slowly, under control. Nice! I'm probably going to have to sharpen them before winter though.

It was also my first extended outing in a new pair of Merrell Moab Mid XCR hiking shoes. The dry-surface grip was excellent, and general fit was good. The good points were:

• Very effective dry-surface grip
• Good general fit and feel
• Good protection on the sides and sole; I was walking over sharp edges and banging into stuff all day, and I felt well-protected.

The bad points were:

• An ill-advised zigzag stitch that runs vertically up the inside of the heel, which caused chafing. I have no idea what they were thinking here; it's a pretty obvious design flaw. After a couple of miles my heel was showing signs of an oncoming blister, so I inserted a plastic card from my wallet behind my heel, in order to be able to do the remaining 8 miles -- including the ascent and descent -- without pain (it worked). I'll need to tape over this seam before I hike again.
• The top of the shoe tends to crease and dig into the top of my foot a bit when flexed. Hopefully this will go away once the shoe breaks in a bit, since I didn't really notice it after the start of the hike.

OK, on to the mountain itself.

The first 3 miles or so of the hike is moderately-sloped, forested terrain. This section is actually extremely runnable, and I may come back just to do some more running without a summit; for example I could take a left at one of the trail junctions and go to Kroenke Lake and beyond.


As you exit the forest, you see the view below. What amazing single track! And what amazing weather; there was barely a cloud in the sky all day, which is uncommon (it often rains in the afternoon).


The base of Mt. Columbia is to the right, and I think the summit is slightly off-image in the upper right. Summits are often hidden once you get this close to the mountain.

The open alpine tundra was full of flowers on this outing, most of which were white, yellow and purple, including these Penstemons:


What you see below is the reason I brought the spikes on this outing, and wore hiking shoes rather than running shoes. It is about 1,500 feet of loose rock and dirt, with another 500 feet out of sight. Don't ask me why this route became the standard one up this peak, because the east ridge seemed to be a much more gradual and sensible approach, and it looked like it would end near the trailhead also.


The first part of this route in particular was tough. Keeping balanced was a challenge at times (I try not to use my hands, just for fun), and I measured a slope of around 40 degrees, which is pretty steep for loose soil and rock. The upside was that the slopes were covered with wildflowers, such as these Alpine Avens (I think) and these Purple Fringes:


Pretty neat flowers (but wait until you see what I found later). Here is the same slope from 2/3 of the way up. You definitely feel the slope falling away from you as you stare down:


As you near the top of the ridge, the slope lessens, and more grass and flowers appear. Despite the increasing shortness of breath (this is at 13,000 feet, with about 60% of the air at sea level), it is a very pleasant section of the trail. The sky was deep blue, and the vistas became wider; this high alpine grassy terrain is sometimes my favorite part of the ascent, even more than the summits. On a nice day, it's heavenly.


Finally, at about 13,600 feet, the slope relents and you get a bit of a respite. This is when you first see the summit from the ridge. It is the highest point on the right:


Below is a closer view of the summit itself, which is a tangle of broken boulders. This is another place I was glad to have the ankle protection of a mid-height hiking shoe, since I banged my ankle a couple of times walking across these rocks. Rock hitting bare ankle is an amazingly painful thing; its intensity can take your breath away.


Next is the view from the summit ridge, looking west. Below is Bear Lake, and in the very background -- if you zoom in -- you can see the Elk Range, including white Snowmass Mountain, near Aspen. It is just barely visible as a teeny patch of white on the horizon, to the right of center. Snowmass makes a great landmark when you're on peaks in central Colorado, because you almost always can spot it from anywhere to the east. The two peaks on the far right are Missouri and La Plata (with the snow on it).


As I was heading down, I kept stopping to examine the amazing flowers. One of the most noticeable is the Alpine Forget-me-not, which comes in shades of blue from pale sky blue to purplish cobalt. It's a startling splash of color at altitude. It's also tiny; check out this photo with my index finger for reference:


However, I found an even smaller flower, and the camera didn't even seem to be able to focus on it (it's also hard to verify the sharpness of the image using the LCD in bright sunlight!). As blurry as this photo is, you can see the tiny size of the blooms. Each flower no more than 2-3 millimeters in width. Not surprisingly, this is the first time I noticed this flower, and I have no idea what variety it is. Amazing!


I photographed the flowers on a grassy saddle below the summit, but the gently rolling summit ridge actually alternates between rock and tundra, with small rocky rises along the way. Here is a view back along the summit ridge, with Mount Yale in the background. The path I took back is barely visible along the ridgeline in the middle:


The next photo, taken near the end of the ridge, could be titled "A Long Way Down". Ahead of me at this point is about 2,000 feet of steep rock and dirt, and although I could jog down the first part of it, the slope steepens quickly, and I soon put my spikes back on and stepped down slowly. This descent alone took about an hour, because I did it at an easy pace:


The upper descent was punctuated with sections of grass and flowers. Here is the view to the west again, from lower down:


I won't bore you with details of the slippery descent, but I was especially thankful for the spikes on the downhill. At the bottom, there was an unexpected reward, in the form of large clumps of Columbine, which is the Colorado state flower. It was probably the most Columbines I'd seen east of the San Juans. Here's the best close-up I got:


As I descended into the trees, I got one last glimpse of Mount Yale to the south. This picture typifies a great day in the high country for me; fantastic trails (I started running here), tall peaks, forest, meadows, flowers, and even a tiny stream flowing down the middle:


The remainder of the descent was on wooded trails, slightly technical with rocks and steps down, but not too rough. It was really ideal mountain running. I wouldn't recommend the Merrell Moab as a running shoe, but they did fine in a pinch. I definitely felt a level of security and protection I don't feel in trail running shoes, with a cost in weight, of course.

Back in Buena Vista, I stumbled across a new brewpub via mobile Yelp!, called Eddyline. The brews were excellent; they were fairly strong and unfiltered, and both the hoppy CPA (Colorado pale ale*) and the dry stout were very good. The food was good also; I had a 1/2-pound burger with green chilies that had some kick to it, which I got with a side of grilled asparagus. The place is hard to find, though. I had no idea there was a "South Main" area in Buena Vista, but it's a new artificial "village" off by itself on the east end of town near the Arkansas river. It was also very busy for a Sunday afternoon; there was a wait for tables, but I sat at the bar as usual. This will provide a future option in addition to the excellent Amica's in Salida.

*The bartender described this as an extra-hoppy pale ale, something we definitely seem to like in Colorado :)