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The Outside Edge
On slush, solitude, and random equine encounters
Text and photos by Tim Miller
http://timotheus.synthasite.com
As usual, Colorado’s winter behaved like a spoiled two-year-old in late March and early April. The blustery season threw a fit when spring wanted playtime, so the sun had to carry it, blowing and snowing, out of the weather.
Feet shaking for a hike, I sneaked in a short trip to southern Douglas County for a traipse up Spruce Mountain before an April storm. Radio weather people threatened snow and rain as I drove south on I-25 to the Greenland exit. I hung a right, headed past the Greenland Open Space trail, and swung south on Spruce Mountain road. The sky had turned dark gray. Clouds scraped the top of Spruce Mountain. Patches of snow made the landscape look like a rabid Dalmatian.
I turned right into the Spruce Mountain trailhead’s unmarked parking lot. Only a port-o-potty in the middle of the wilderness marked the location of this county-maintained Open Space. The car corral was deserted. Luckily, I’d been there before. I parked my Volkswagen, gathered my things, and took off down the path.
A pond of slush soaked my shoes as I snapped pictures of the trailhead’s mileage sign. Nonetheless I traveled on. The air smelled wet. Wind whipped the trees and grasses. All the animals had gone into hiding. I’d planned to interview someone about hiking or riding the trail, but everyone had opted to stay indoors. Once again, I was one of the few hyperactive outdoor lovers who chose to go out, despite the weather warnings that day.
I planned, at first, to take the 5.5-mile trail loop up Spruce Mountain, rather than the two-mile shortcut. After sliding over slushy snowdrifts for half a mile on the longer path, I decided to backtrack and go up the shorter way. Tall Ponderosa pines shaded the switchbacks up the mountain. The short trail wasn’t much better off than the long way. The snow pack was high and slippery.
Spruce Mountain’s trails usually make for a mild workout. I’ve been up them many times. That day, however, I grew tired quickly from slipping off the snow pack several times a minute. While trying to enjoy my solitude, I remembered the times I’d visited the mountain during early spring of last year. Cue the black-and-white scene...
Hikers beware. Spruce Mountain’s trails are open to horseback riders. The paths aren’t wide enough for a human and a horse passing in both directions. I met several packs of saddleback riders last spring. One horse got a look at my ugly mug and freaked out as I tried to squeeze by it. The brown beast almost threw its rider down the mountain. Lesson: Step far off the trail when big, potentially lethal animals are near—whether they’re “domesticated,” or not.
Only the wind and I had made it to the top of the mountain. I’d counted a total of two birds on my way up. Knowing the view that waited for me at the apex had kept me tripping up the hillside. Sure enough, when I got to the ridgeline looking south over the Front Range, I was rewarded with a view of mesas to the east and foothills to the west. Clouds had hidden Pikes Peak, which usually sticks out like Colorado Springs’ frostbitten thumb to the far south. Mount Herman, just west of the town of Monument, became the honorary prominent mountain that day.
County workers had been kind enough to leave benches for weary hikers. I took a seat overlooking the ridge, watched the storm roll in, and remembered how great it was to live in such an epic place.
