I’ve long been enamored with Robert Frost’s poem “Directive,” particularly these words: “If you’ll let a guide direct you who only has at heart your getting lost.” In fact, I’m such a fan of these words that I once interviewed Joe Kelsey, author of the authoritative — yet undeniably vague — guidebook to climbing and hiking in the Wind River Range of Wyoming. We talked for more than an hour about the tricky task of providing a reader with enough information to embark on an adventure and not so much information that the spirit of discovery and self-reliance is destroyed. I recited the Frost poem aloud to Kelsey, and he replied, “I’ve never phrased it that way, but it’s very aligned with what I value. Lostness. Guides and guidebooks to lostness. Excellent.”
Obviously, I don’t know the high country around Crested Butte nearly as well as Kelsey knows the nooks and crannies of his beloved Winds. But a decade of exploration — typically alone, without a map, and far from designated trails — has granted me an intimate and idiosyncratic sense of the terrain. I’ve created the following mini-guidebook to share a few of my favorite local excursions — caveat emptor. Buyer beware.
EXCURSION #1
Start at Three Ladies Park. Walk northwest until darkness falls. If a rotten log, wetland, or empty mansion stands in your path, proceed straight on through, dutifully practicing Leave No Trace, of course. You want to aim for the spine of the Ruby Range, a spot where, at precisely 10:17 p.m., a shooting star will vanish behind the horizon line. A glowing headlamp washes out the sky, so keep that otherwise useful gadget at home. I recommend bringing poles or sticks for balance (they function somewhat like antennae) and taking your sweet time.
EXCURSION #2
Hitch a ride to Lost Lake, yammering excitedly with your doobie-puffing chauffeur, the crustiest of old crusty bastards, about pine martens, thunderstorms, the Wilderness Act, and empty mansions. From the parking lot’s busy southwest corner, bushwhack thick woods, thicker woods, and finally thinner woods to gain the saddle linking East Beckwith and West Beckwith. You can ascend these peaks (Class III and IV), but it’s better to backtrack seventy-three paces, sit down, and wait for a black bear to amble into view. When she yawns, exposing her fat pink tongue, a shiver will race over your skull and tug at your hair follicles. Mission accomplished.
EXCURSION #3
I usually launch this hike from Rustler Gulch. The first objective is Point 13,144, north of Precarious Peak. Follow a loose red ridge to the second objective, Point 13,223, skirting decomposing gendarmes as needed, taking care not to accidentally step into the abyss and suddenly die. The last objective, a horribly vertiginous notch, is guaranteed to make you soil your shorts. Most scramblers will be deterred by the maze of narrow ledges and teetering blocks (go right, left, left, down, between, right, left) and bail prior to the notch and moment of soiling. Persevere! Trust me, you’ll know when you have arrived.
EXCURSION #4
This is an outing for May or early June. You want to leave the Summerville Trailhead before dawn, if possible cranked to kingdom come, to the high heavens, on espresso. At a gnarled aspen that resembles a question mark, steer toward the prominent clearing. Continue beneath the Fossil Ridge for fifteen-seventeenths of an hour. Pivot east and continue for another five-elevenths of an hour. At a gnarled aspen that resembles an exclamation mark, pause and crouch and notice a new green shoot that recently grew into the hollow of a pale white snail shell, lifting it a couple of inches above the damp brown dirt of the forest floor. It will seem to be hovering, levitating, and for an instant you will feel the same.
EXCURSION #5
To get the most from this special hike, stay up past midnight on Saturday, watching YouTube, playing Monopoly, bitching about empty mansions, partying at Kochevar’s, or (my preference) reading Nabakov. Your official, sporty goal is to circumambulate the Treasury–Treasure Massif, but your actual, lazy goal is to locate a talus pile on the backside of Cinnamon Mountain, close to the parking lot at Paradise Divide. The marmots who reside in said pile will initially scold you for intruding. It’s okay. Apologize, arrange your daypack as a pillow, recline in the spongy tundra, and give your all to a hardcore nap. When you wake, a rotund blonde marmot will be snoozing in the sun just beyond your toes. Or are you still dreaming?
EXCURSION #6
West Maroon Pass is a classic, the quintessential wildflower walk. The basin can be a tad overcrowded during July and August, but it remains a fascinating place. At the first cyborg ultrarunner (earbuds, jumbo wrist-computer, etc.), take a meditative breath. At the fifth, intone the Serenity Prayer. Where the trail to Frigid Air Pass veers north and a mule deer shoots you a look like WTF? and a crappy smartphone speaker blasts “Toxic” by Britney Spears (second single from In the Zone, fourth studio album, 2003), hastily retreat to the Crystal River and plunge your head in an eddy. Consider never coming back up for oxygen.
EXCURSION #7
This scenic overnight trip connects West Brush Creek and Middle Brush Creek via Twin Lakes and a pair of nameless cols. Scrape your arm at mile 2.7 (willow tangle, mandatory crawl). Bang your shin at mile 4.3 (slippery waterfall, mandatory crawl). The idea is to establish your camp in the vicinity of Twin Lakes no later than 5 p.m. and commence drinking whiskey no later than 5:03 p.m. You want to be at least half a flask deep when a double rainbow appears down valley. And you want to be naked. And you want to be dancing the Gangnam Style (or the Macarena, Electric Slide, Charleston, whatever). Note that a legendary route leads to the rainbow’s end, but it is un-cairned and infrequently traveled.
EXCURSION #8
Start at Three Ladies Park. Spin thirteen counterclockwise circles, eight clockwise circles, and another thirteen counterclockwise circles, then collapse in the sandbox and stare at Gothic Mountain for fifteen minutes. Try not to blink. Repeat the sequence until your eyes are burning and tears are streaming down your cheeks, until the space separating your body and the body of the earth has shrunk to zero, until you are wholly, blissfully, irrevocably confused. This “hike” is good for a Monday or Tuesday when your legs are sore from a big weekend in the backcountry. Also great for small children.