aka: A big gash in the middle of Colorado
Our first real adventure has finally begun! We loaded everything up on September 28th in the morning, and with hugs and kisses from the female portion of the Wood’s family (Matt had to work early, such a non-slacker) and we were off!
This was my very first time driving into the Black Canyon, and what an incredible time to do so. All the scrub oak which is usually nothing more than a background green had started changing color. There was amazing bright greens, yellows to gold, bright orange to blood orange changing into ruby reds and deep dark purples. The bright yellow and copper with the odd orange aspen decorating the sides of the road around the rim of the canyon. We took a bazillion blurry photos, and by we I mean me, because that is definitely the color palate of my next home sans wheels.
I cannot overstate how important it is to have someone grab you a camping spot if you are rolling in for the weekend. Level-up if the person grabbing your spot is a ranger, and can get you the best spot! We got off the hitch, got all set up, and Tom (Ken’s brother/bestest climbing ranger of all time) stopped by to hatch a crazy plan with Ken to hike down to the river to camp the next night in order to say ‘hi’ to a buddy that was kayaking through and camping ‘just’ below us. Remember how I told you on the first post that we’ve got big balls? This hike is 2,000 feet straight down with a tiny bit of bouldering. No big deal according to Tom. This is the only point in this trip I’ve been happy to be stuck in bed was when this plan was settled on.
Saturday mid-afternoon – after our favorite climbing ranger had to tell a bunch of novice hikers from Chi Town to not go down a gully (not even a cliff, a gully, they were going to die just trying to get halfway down) – Tom and Ken began the decent. Fairly early in the hike, Tom told Ken “Everything here is trying to hurt you. Or kill you.” From what I’ve heard, this was a very technical decent. Reminder, some folks were told not to climb down the gully, and here’s these two buffoons heading straight down the wall. After a few hours of slow down-climbing, they made it to the Gunnison River below. They met up with the kayaking friends, caught some brown trout for dinner, and slept in a small cave that is home to a ringtail.
A quick aside, I had to look up WTF a “Ringtail” is, because we thought the brochure/map of the Black that has a picture of the Ringtail had a picture of a lemur by mistake. Also, all other animals and plants in the Black, no… the world, are named of course with their scientific name, but their common name has a specific and a generic term. Good examples, Brown Trout, Turkey Vulture, Northern Leopard Frog, then Ringtail. Really, what the hell. After some quick 4G research, I’ve discovered the “Ringtail” is also called the “Ringtail Cat” though it is a member of the racoon family, and does in fact look like a lemur. Also, the Osprey is only known by one word in it’s common name. But whatever, get back to work you slacker.
Aside over, Ken had one of these Ringtail’s brush against his head while he was sleeping, and when asked to comment on this continues to only respond, “Fuck, that thing was huge! I swear it was going to eat me!”. The Ringtail is only on average about 2.2 pounds of mammal.
The next morning they fished a bit more in serious dedication to bring me a trout for dinner that night (aww!) and made their way out of the canyon, climbing harnesses, clipping in, heavy packs and all. It was a quiet night that night. A very tired Ken, and a not so tired Tom.
Sunday Ken and I did the great little nature hike called Chasm View. Then he took me on the Rim Road or Rim View or something. I kept calling it the Rim Job. (Crap, I forgot my disclaimer. If you are still reading, it’s your own fault. I’m not forcing you to read, you are just a glutton for punishment.) It was a lovely drive, great views from the car. Let’s face it, the little nature hike wiped me out. Crutches are a torture devise to make sure you are aware of all the cool things you don’t get to do. Grilling at the ranger station for dinner, and movies, and wine.
Monday, I’m in serious pain now. I really thought my ankle would have lessened in pain by that point. But it didn’t. Long discussions were had about the pros and cons of going to a hospital. Let’s keep in mind, I had amazing insurance with my former employer, the best, really. Now we have some cheap catastrophic policy, that I’m not certain will cover anything unless forced. Honestly, we can’t recall if we did anything else that day, besides discuss my damn ankle. More grilling at the ranger station with movies and wine. No wine for me, just lots and lots of ibuprofen.
Tuesday it was decided, we’re taking my gimp ass to the hospital in Delta. At the hospital we ran into a buddy from Crested Butte, and got to meet the whole staff. Apparently when you have a sense of humor about how dumb you are to get hurt by walking, everyone enjoys your company. Well… it’s not a sprain, it’s a break. A nice big Fuck You to our trip, to our plans, to my resolve to get on the mend quickly so I can get back in on the adventure. That night more movies, more grilling, and some vodka for my poor husband who know knows he’s my nanny for six to eight weeks. We packed up the next day and headed to Crested Butte.
Bye bye beautiful Black!
Schaefer Haus 