Glacier Gorge and the CO

It would be poetic if the water flowed down from Glacier Gorge to form the headwaters of the Colorado River.  Unfortunately, I think the Continental Divide is actually a few ridgelines west.   What the hell.  We'll pretend.  That serene scene would form(s) the dueling backdrops of two very fun days I've enjoyed recently.  I spent long hours under amazing skies, little to do but Pay Fucking Attention.

Glacier Gorge is the canyon behind Long's "Keyhole" up in Rocky Mountain National park, while Pumphouse is a canyon carved by the Colorado River in its hurry to feed hungry trout.  These are paradise locations for climbing and fishing, and with great friends along, I can't think of a better way to live my life.  I'm so lucky to get to head out into places like this:

Dave and I are headed up to Fremont Canyon to celebrate our 4th of Hades.  Hopefully down near the water, the world will feel more temperate.  We'll get in some trad climbing and fishing, and hopefully I'll bring back some photos.

Colorado Carp Habit and its export to the Farm

I feel a little naughty every time I do it.  Lately, I’ve been throwing flies for carp.  Big fuckers.  The kind of fish that you see swimming around and wonder if it’s gonna jump out of the lake and bite you.  One rammed into my foot after I spooked it, and I yelped like a little girl.  When you hook into one, the reel screams like a hummingbird.

Like all good fish stories, there’s a part I’ve left out.  You’ve got to get past the fact that you’re likely in some urban lake with litter scattered along the shore.   And you’ve got to disregard the bottom-feeding yuck-factor of a carp.  When that fly rod doubles over, though, you’ll go back to the fun. 

Hooking into one

When my grandfather got remarried a few weeks ago, he gave me an excuse to try to import that Colorado carp habit to the pond in Missouri.       

Colorado Carp Habit

At 79, my grandfather just got hitched for the second time.  He’d been a widower since last summer.  My grandmother passed away, and instead of cashing in his chips and quickly following suit, Grandpa figured on getting a woman back into the picture. It had worked for him as a 20 year old.  It should certainly do so again sixty years later. 

We were all thrilled that he remained active and vital after her death.  He took a road trip out to long-forgotten Air Force bases peppering the West., stopping to see family along the way.  Then he headed back to Kansas City.  He had a girlfriend waiting. 

He was reengaged something like 6 months after her death.  What can I say?  That guy likes being married.  Fortunately for me, he also likes the farm. 

The Farm

My mom suggested that we include a stop there after the wedding.  After the marriage ceremony, we eased the rented Kia off of County Road N and into the driveway.

I’m glad my grandpa has tried so hard to make it a place where we all feel at home.  Those ponds and fields have been the backdrop to so many of my favorite family memories.  I love it there.   I also like that he’s got three grass carp in the pond.  My goal on this last trip was to try to combine the beauty of the Farm with the fun of catching a BIG fish.  Unfortunately, I came up empty at the lake while I was out there.   Fortunately, we had bacon and Scrabble.  Hopefully I’ll get a chance to try again this summer. 

The springtime trophy for the biggest fish (beautiful environs or otherwise) easily goes to Dave.  He just landed a 40-plus pound carp here on the Front Range.    

GIGANTOR!

Abaluba in your back yard.  

For the Birds

These eagles just keep popping up.  It feels like each day that I've been out climbing or fishing, I've seen them flying.  There was the Bald that was cruising up the Frying Pan.  I saw him while I was knocking the ice from my guides in early February.  Then there was the double day that Josh and I had in Eldo on January 2.  On a New Year's Gentleman's lap up The Naked Edge, he and I saw a Golden and a Bald in the canyon.  I'm the luckiest bastard in the world.  I keep getting to hang out where I can reasonably expect to see these iconic birds gliding around on the thermals.  I'm grateful.

There's the case of this one particular Golden Eagle family that's got me most interested.  Out on the west slope, they live in what I can best describe as a log cabin for birds.  This massive arrangement of sticks, about the size of a golf cart, is perched inside of a cave.  The cave is about 100 feet above the mouth of a limestone canyon.  Better still, the nest is at the head of a buffet line.  The cliffs and associated eagles look down to a Colorado Division of Parks and Wildlife fish hatchery.  I doubt the cliffs care, but the birds surely salivate at the hundreds of thousands of TV dinners just waiting to be plucked.   For years, I drove right past this nest on my way to the climbing routes up canyon without even noticing it's presence.  Now, I stop and watch, hoping to see one coming home from the grocery store.

Just last week I was out there, though February certainly isn't prime time.  At 7,000 feet, it's much more of a summer destination.  These days, there is a fair bit of ice seeping from the walls.  I went out to give a tour to RD Pascoe, the Policy Director at The Access Fund.  With his help, several other Rifle climbers and myself have been trying to convince the Parks and Wildlife Commission to open their portion of the lower canyon to our climbing.  It's long been closed, and we're hoping we can change some minds.

One of the hurdles raised in opposition to our rule change has been the fact that this prime eagle habitat could be disrupted by people like me climbing a route in the vicinity.  I'll even admit that, yes, there's a risk.  I'm a rock climber.  A small bit of risk normally doesn't dissuade me.  And that's how I feel about the birds.  With their relative castle and a never ending feed bag just a quick dive-bomb away, there's little chance they'd leave.  Especially if we're not storming their walls before the chicks have fledged.  That's why we are more than willing to accept a seasonal ban on climbing and route development in exchange for a chance to climb there during the summer and fall.   We'll see how it goes.

The fun thing about the Wildlife Commission action is that it moves at the speed of my job.  Which is to say that it moves at the speed of government.  Which is to say it hardly moves.  Until our next meeting on March 8, I am trying to get out and enjoy the coming Spring.  Hopefully I'll have some good photos for you then.  Here are a couple from recent outings:

Climbers (Maybe on The Bulge?)

    

Josh chasing the warm sunlight headed to The Edge