Adventure on HooDoo Creek: Exploring Mount Gunnison in Colorado
When Mount Gunnison beckoned, we, three 13-year-old boys, couldn't resist the call of the Colorado backcountry. Our excitement was tempered by careful planning and thorough study of our Forest Service map, ensuring we were prepared for our adventure. With the support of our parents, who trusted in our knowledge and abilities, we set off on what seemed like a straightforward journey.
Our starting point was Beaver Reservoir, located in the scenic Paonia valley, a quiet little town nestled 25 miles up in the mountains from Delta, Colorado. The valley, often referred to as a Shangri-La, offered a picturesque setting with its abundance of apples, peaches, cherries, plums, and pears. And let's not forget the community celebration on the 4th of July, aptly named "Cherry Days."
As we gazed out from Paonia, the majestic Mount Lamborn and Landsend Peak formed a stunning backdrop for the town. But it was Mount Gunnison, standing tall, remote, and seemingly inaccessible, that captured our attention. Determined to change this perspective, we meticulously planned our provisions – Ron, Larry, and I labored over our lists, ensuring everyone had their fair share of supplies. Larry, with his weight training, bore the burden of the heaviest pack, while Ron and I divided the remaining loads.
Forty-some years ago, our adventure took place in a time where camping gear was simple and rudimentary. My Boy Scout backpack was nothing more than an open bag, haphazardly piled with all our necessities. Our tent consisted of a piece of tarp strung between two trees. And our bedding? Just a couple of wool blankets that my mom thought were sturdy enough for the journey. It's interesting how the world and our expectations change over time.
With eager anticipation, our parents dropped us off at the Beaver Reservoir dam, signaling the start of our thrilling escapade. We quickly covered the first mile of the trail, brimming with excitement. Around that one-mile mark, a side trail diverged sharply to the left, leading around the side of Mount Gunnison and over to Coal Creek on the other side. However, we had a different path in mind. According to the map, we could head directly east at that juncture, following the enchanting HooDoo Creek as it led up a draw towards the summit of Mount Gunnison. And sure enough, there were signs of a trail heading in that direction – the trail we eagerly chose to follow.
Guided by the spirit of exploration, we ventured upward, meandering through aspen groves on the lower flanks of Mount Gunnison. Always keeping HooDoo Creek within sight to our left, we followed the narrow, winding trail as it led us deeper into thick underbrush. It soon became apparent that the "trail" we were on was most likely a game trail, leading us nowhere in particular. We encountered multiple forks in the path, and within an hour of leaving the main Minnesota Pass Trail, our trail vanished completely.
Undeterred by the challenges before us, we persevered, pushing onward and upward through dense brush for another hour or so. The relatively open aspen grove transformed into a dense pine forest, complicating our trek even further. Dissension started to simmer within our group as we faced the uncertainty of an easy route through the timber, questioning if we were truly lost.
Lost? How could three 13-year-old boys possibly find themselves way off the trail, stumbling through dense forests on the flanks of Mount Gunnison in the West Elk Wilderness Area? It seemed improbable, yet possible. Ron took matters into his own hands, climbing a tall pine in the forest, hoping to gain a bird's eye view of our location. It became glaringly obvious that we were deep within a pine forest, somewhere on the side of the mountain.
The term "lost" was seldom used in our adventures. After all, we had spent countless days exploring the mountains, creeks, and draws throughout the entire Paonia valley. As long as we could hear HooDoo Creek cascading down the draw to our north, we knew we hadn't ventured too far from it. We had confidence that we could follow the creek down to the East Fork of Minnesota Creek and find our way back to the main trail.
However, the upward ascent towards the summit of Mount Gunnison proved to be uncertain. Our journey became a challenging bushwhacking experience, and with the day growing late, we decided to halt our struggle. We made our way across to HooDoo Creek, where we discovered a picturesque spot on the creek bank under the towering pines to set up camp.
With the tarp strung between trees, the three of us competed for the best rock to sleep on underneath it. As we gathered around the crackling fire ring, we whipped up a standard gourmet camp meal – Lipton chicken noodle soup – complemented by delicious shoestring potatoes and homemade cookies. The night echoed with the sounds of rousing camping songs, allowing us to discover Larry's budding talent in the bluegrass industry. As we settled in for a memorable night in the woods, the atmosphere brimmed with camaraderie and joy.
The following morning greeted us with cold, pouring rain. Our flimsy "tent" failed to protect us, leaving the three of us soaked to the skin. We wasted no time in striking camp, wading through the dripping wet brush as we slowly descended from the lower ridges of Mount Gunnison. To keep our spirits up, we continued to sing the same great tunes we had shared around the campfire. Perhaps this experience gave us a glimpse into why there was no trail straight up next to HooDoo Creek, leading to the summit of Mount Gunnison. We jokingly mused about the idea of such a trail, appreciating the breathtaking view of the peak as we waited at Beaver Reservoir for our ride back.
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