To rip off Tolstoy, happy walks are all alike; every unhappy walk is unhappy in its own way. Today was easily my favorite walk of the trip, a stunning climb through the eastern edge of the Rockies. Coming on the heels of two other fantastic days, I find myself challenged to write about the experience; whereas I can unpack a disaster in a dozen different ways, I keep circling back to “this was awesome” or “that was really pretty,” the kinds of banal reflections that are no more satisfying to write than they are to read. Part of me wants to just direct y’all to the pics and call it good.
That feels like a cop-out, though, so let’s do this: an attempt at cataloging the elements of a happy walk, in no particular order:
1) Scope: The day needs to have some sense of monumentalism, of a drama that plays out near and far, a depth that makes one feel small but not alienated from the surroundings. I struggled on the Katy Trail because the flora-tunnel restricted this; I often savored Kansas because the sky was so large, that even in the face of persistent flatness, there was still a grandeur to it. Today’s walk had scope in terms of elevation, with a sharp drop-off in places to the Cripple Creek (the river, not the town) below, and dramatic limestone cliffs looming above in others. At times, the canyon closed in tightly, but at others it opened wide, allowing for views far into the distance
2) Diversity: It is certainly possible to have too much of a good thing. A pine forest is lovely; there are few things I enjoy walking through more. But, ten hours of nothing but pine trees might not make for an exceptional walk (though it could still be a very pleasant one!). A great walk should have variety, moments when one’s assumptions about what might be around the next corner are challenged. The first half of today’s walk followed a minor paved road out of Canon City, through large ranches. Hills popped up around the edges, as the sun crept overhead, casting a pleasant glow over everything. When the pavement ended, though, the real drama began, leading the walker into Red Canyon Park. Admittedly, the most striking highlights were in the first 3-5 miles of that section, but the walk onward was never boring, with cacti, juniper, and other trees turning color for the fall offering changing views
3) Surprises: An extension of the “diversity” category, perhaps, but this merits separate consideration. The most obvious example to highlight here, in no small part because it happened on this walk, is wildlife. Alas, no bears. But, I had an early-morning encounter with an owl, hooting away and staring me down from its perch atop a log pile, and then a fun moment when I discovered a coyote and three deer (separately), all watching me from a field.
4) History: Perhaps this is speaking more to my personal biases than a universal truth, but a walk through historically or culturally significant terrain is imbued with an additional layer of meaning. This is one of the things the ADT does exceptionally well, as huge portions of my walk have followed in the footsteps of some of the great westward movements in American history. While I have left the Santa Fe Trail now, I remain in good company; signposts along this walk highlight the travails of Zebulon Pike’s expedition as they navigated northward in the winter of 1807. Traffic in the area goes back much further, though. Much, much further. The Garden Park Fossil Area is famous for the remains of dinosaurs discovered here.
5) Challenge: A great walk feels physically rewarding. That doesn’t mean that more is always better; a grueling slog can be satisfying in its own way, but usually only looking back upon it. The optimal experience is one in which a person is pushed, challenged, but in the process is reminded of their own strength and capacity to rise to the occasion. It inspires the belief that the walk’s impressive views are well earned, without undercutting the ability to savor them. The walk from Canon City to Cripple Creek includes a roughly 5000-foot elevation gain, rising to nearly two miles in altitude. For the most part, though, the climb is gradual. In the last couple of hours, it feels steeper, but that might be the thin air talking. I wondered how my body would respond, given that I haven’t had any sort of gain like this over the last two months, and I definitely had some huff-and-puffs in that last section, but I was always able to keep moving–aside from the many times I had to stop for pictures!
6) Payoff: A great walk rewards both in terms of the journey and the destination. When a beautiful walk culminates in an equally stunning place, something to be enjoyed in the day’s waning hours, it feels like the perfect capstone to the walk. The town of Cripple Creek is lovely, featuring an old gold town’s well-preserved Main Street that is buzzing with life. Now, that’s in large part because it has evolved into a casino town (two sides of the same coin, mining and gambling), and that’s not everybody’s thing. I’m not particularly interested in throwing my money away. But, those casinos bring plenty of other amenities, eagerly willing to take people’s cash, and that makes it easy to find something good to eat.
7) Comfort: It’s hard to have a great walk in a downpour; I was fortunate to have blue skies, crisp and cool temperatures–perfect for a long ascent, and a gentle breeze. There were no chances for refueling along the way, though it would be easy enough to get water from the creek, but I planned well and had a great lunch waiting for me in my pack. While I wasn’t desperate for it, a couple of drivers offroading past me offered bottles of water, and that made the day even easier.
That’s probably enough, though I’m sure I could find more ways to enumerate how awesome today was. And now, a night with a low of 28 degrees, before tomorrow leads me on a wrap-around behind Pike’s Peak (really should have gone with Zebulon’s Peak).
