My Alternative Education - The Gore Mountain Range Part 1

The birth of Wandering Rust

I got off the plane in Denver on a hot sunny afternoon in the late summer of 1998. This was my first trip into the western United States. I was alone and completely naive to the journey I was about to embark on. The shuttle picked me and my newly purchased gear up and took me to my home for my last night in society for at least the next 28 days.

I was off to the Colorado Outward Bound School for a semester jaunt across the Western United States.

The semester course consisted of a month trekking across the Gore Mountain Range, two and a half weeks of paddling the Green/Colorado River through Cataract Canyon, 30 days of rock climbing in Joshua Tree and lastly, navigating the canyons of Southeast Utah.

The shuttle picked me up along with 40+ other strangers that mostly looked as nervous and naive as I felt. There was one particular person though that caught my attention immediately. A tall slender young man obviously from South Asian decent climbed onto the motor coach wearing a tweed jacket and carrying a suitcase. He looked more like a tourist heading to the nearest resort rather than hitting the trail for the next 96 days.

His name was Raj and as fate would have it, he was from North Carolina (kind of) just like me. He grew up in Hickory, NC but was now living in New Jersey. Turns out that his father had signed him up for this adventure and told him he would be staying in a cabin in the woods and hiking around the area during the day. Wow! Not sure if his Dad just didn't know what this was or if he sugarcoated the itinerary to insure Raj would still go. Either way, I found this hilarious. Luckily, Raj did too.

As the motor coach pulled into the Colorado Outward Bound School (COBS) base camp in Leadville, CO we poured out of the doors and were greeted by the staff/proctors that would be our guides and teachers in the mountains. "Take your bags up the hill and change into your tennis shoes" said the director.

The next thing I know, we are all hiking in a line through the surrounding woods. We moved in and out of the pine needle bed forest and finally we were lead directly into a small pond and came to a dead stop in the middle of the pond. You heard me correctly. There I was, jaunting through water about knee deep or so when the thought hit me "what the hell have you signed up for here?" As we stood there in the water, the proctors went into a 10 minute or so speech about what was ahead of us the next three months.

After this brief adventure around base camp, we were split into our small patrols that would be our families for the next 30 days or so. The total semester class was about 70 people. My patrol was made up of 8 guys ranging in age from 18 to 23 (my age).

First on the agenda, unpack our bags and layout everything you think you will need for the next 28 days. I, of course, knew in the back of mind that this was some sort of trick question, but I quickly learned that I was getting ready to get way out of my comfort zone. This is what I ultimately was left with for personal belongings for the next month:

• 1 backpack
• 1 sleeping bag
• a tarp with some paracord
• my Asolo hiking boots
• 1 pair of tennis shoes (camp shoes)
• 2 pairs of wool socks
• 1 long sleeved polypropylene shirt
• 1 wool sweater
• 1 pair of shorts
• 1 pair of fleece pants
• 1 fleece jacket
• 1 fleece vest
• 1 fleece hat
• 1 pair of gaiters
• 1 pair of rain pants 
• 1 rain jacket
• sunglasses
• camera
• journal and pen
• toothbrush/toothpaste
• plus some group items I would be in charge of carrying (food, pots or pans, MSR stove, shovel, etc.)

No tent. No tee shirts. No jeans. No underwear. No toilet paper. No deodorant. No books. No Walkman (for the younger generation go ask your parents). What felt like the end of the world, was quite appreciated after only 3 days on the trail. We spent the first night in base camp and set out separately in our patrols the next day into the Gore Mountain Range

photo courtesy of Examiner.com

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Day 1 was a short six mile hike to our first camp site. My pack weighed about 45 lbs. and yes, this was my first time carrying anything remotely close to this amount of weight in a backpack. We had enough food between the 8 of us to last one week (when we would be re-supplied). When we reached camp that afternoon, I was proud of my efforts. My high school cross country self had re-emerged, so I thought. I was indestructible.

Growing up in North Carolina I was accustomed to some hiking (day hiking) in the Smokey Mountains and Blue Ridge Mountains. There were difficult hikes back home, but it was different. There were many more balds in the Colorado mountains. The rocky top mountains in Colorado were a stark contrast to the tree covered mountains I had been in back home. The trees and rhododendron offered a somewhat safe feeling from the mountain elements. Here in the Gore Range I felt exposed and vulnerable.

The scenery was overwhelming at first. I had never seen anything like it. To try and take a picture, I didn't even know where to start. I just let it all soak in the best I could.

As with all Outward Bound programs, we practiced Leave No Trace ethics. We wanted to leave the very least impact on the environment that we could possibly do. This meant no fire. I had been envisioning sitting around a campfire every evening for the last 3 months. For some reason I was more okay with this than I thought I would be.

The weather was pleasant and I decided no need for a tarp tonight. I slept under the stars cowboy style, which was a great decision I might add. As I was lying there looking up at the night sky, I felt at peace and genuinely excited about being in nature with just my boots and my backpack. It took forever to fall asleep that night. I was still not used to going to bed when the sun set. This would be the last night in the mountains that I would have any trouble getting to sleep.

Day 2, we woke before the sun was up. We discussed our plan for this day last night while we were introduced to reading the topographical map. A quick review of the plan over breakfast and we started to break camp. Practicing our LNT ethics, we went so far as to go over the camp and brush the ground so the blades of grass would stand back up from where we had been lying or sitting the night before. Crazy, I know, but well worth it for the lesson it taught. I appreciated the environment and the never ending efforts COBS took to instill this in all of their students.

As we hit the trail, I could most certainly feel the day before in my legs and lungs. That high school cross country runner was long gone. A mile in we started to climb a little. My lungs were burning and my calves were already beginning to tighten. My back was aching and I was leaning more and more forward with each step as I was trying to balance the weight of the pack. 

I was the oldest in the group (besides the two proctors), but certainly not considered old. I was only 23 years old, but the young guys seemed to be blazing through like it was nothing. 4 miles in and I was officially struggling. "When was lunch" I thought to myself. Do we ever take a break? The past couple of years of smoking and drinking and debauchery of college and the sedentary lifestyle I had fallen into had taken a toll on my body that I had never really appreciated.

Thankfully, we stopped for lunch about 5 miles into our day. As I sat and ate my apple and crackers with canned tuna fish, I really started to feel nervous that I was not cut out for this. I was scared.

Lunch was over after about 30 minutes. Time to put that monster back on my shoulders. I stood up, got my pack on and felt surprisingly good...for about 10 steps. The last 3 miles of the day were going to take us up and over a pass before descending into the next valley for camp.

I was about a fourth of the way up the pass when my calves started cramping. My breathing was getting very heavy. They had warned us about altitude sickness. Is that what I was feeling? My body was absolutely worn slap out. My fellow patrol members started taking some of the weight out of my pack and putting it in theirs to lighten my load. I was devastated. Here I was, the fat boy that was slowing everyone down. I was an iota away from quitting.

My lead proctor, Bill hung back with me. One step, rest. One step, rest. He willed me up that pass. No matter how many times I stopped and needed to rest, he was there to lift me up and tell me to press through. I learned that day it was not about speed necessarily. It was about survival. Just make it up the mountain (or to the next stop) no matter what it takes.

I practically crawled into camp that afternoon. My body was done. My mind was done. I thought for sure I would be heading home early. I got some food in me and drank my iodine-purified water and proceeded to pass out for the next 10 hours. 

Day 3 I distinctly remember waking to heavy breathing and chewing. I heard what I thought were cattle or horses. My eyes opened to a herd of mountain goat that had decided our camp area was the place to come eat grass. They did not bother us, they just kind of roamed through like nothing new was going on. The goats were large and obviously very strong. The muscles in their shoulders resembled more of a bull than a goat.

Mountain goats of Colorado

With all of the excitement over our new camp guests, I did not even realize that my body did not hurt like it did the day before. Yes, I could feel fatigue, but I was surprisingly spry that morning. I was not afraid of what the day would bring. I was excited. I was experiencing nature and the earth. I was becoming a part of the environment rather than an observer. My mind was opening. I was alive and this was only the beginning. I was re-born.

To be continued...