Pesman Trail (Mount Goliath Nature Area)

Distance: 3 miles round trip
Elevation: 11,503 ft to 12,152 ft
Elevation Gain: 649 ft
Bathroom at Trailhead: Yes
Dogs: On leash, wilderness
Date Hiked: 18 June 2009

The Pesman trail wanders through a Bristlecone Pine forest but also has stunning views of the open tundra.

The Pesman Trail, sometimes called the Mount Goliath Trail, is a fascinating walk amongst the oldest living trees on earth, the Bristlecone Pine (Pinus aristata). The trail starts at the Dos Chappell Nature Center located 3 miles up from the Mt. Evan's fee station. A Federal lands pass ($80.00/yr) will now get you in. There is plenty of parking, a bathroom, and an interpretive forest ranger on duty to answer all your questions. At noon the Ranger on duty leads a 45 minute interpretive walk through the alpine gardens adjacent to the Nature Center.

The beginning of the trail, while packed dirt, does ascend 500 or more feet in a short series of switch backs.

One of the Bristlecones along the trail

The trail gains most of its 642 ft in the first half mile. Since it starts above 11,000 ft, this means lung-sucking distress for most of us. The trail has the advantage, however, of being relatively smooth with only occasional rocky portions. Quite a rarity in Colorado.

When the trail levels out, it leaves the forest for a rocky slope with tundra views.

Besides wandering through a square mile of Bristlecone Pines, the trail also traverses a broad ridge with distant views, tundra flowers, and towering boulders. It really is incredibly scenic. I kept expecting a herd of Mt. Evan's resident Mountain Goats to come trotting into view.

Looking west. The two peaks on the far right of the picture are Chief Mountain and Squaw Mountain.

The trail ends at a picnic area on Mt. Evan's Road. I almost did not go all the way because I had already climbed most of the way up Mt. Sniktau earlier that morning and was really feeling the altitude, but I am glad I did. From the terminus of the trail, there are incredible views of the Continental Divide to the west. There is also a short Alpine Garden Trail in the area, which later in the season is filled with low-lying but flowering tundra plants.

The upper trailhead. Near the car is a picnic table.

Near the upper trailhead is the intersection with the Alpine Garden Trail. There are also great views of the Continental Divide.

If one has two cars, then making the Pesman Trail a shuttle hike would be possible either heading up for maximum cardiovascular distress, or heading down for an easier outing. This trail is a great way to spend time above treeline without having to scale thousands of feet in elevation gain. The views are well worth the effort and seeing the Bristlecone Pines is a rare treat.

Lupine

Lupine at the Acorn Creek Trailhead

Lupine on the Tenderfoot Trail

Colorado has been inundated with rain this spring, which has made for a bummer crop of wildflowers. Lupine (Lupinus argenteus) is one of my favorites. It grows on dry slows that are also covered with Sagebrush. Lupine is a member of the Legume family, which means the bacteria in along its roots return Nitrogen to the soil.

Bristlecone Pine

The Bristlecone Pines of Mount Evans

These twisted and gnarled trees are living metaphors for how to thrive in adversity. Actually preferring harsh conditions, the Bristlecone Pine (Pinus aristata) lives on the south-facing slopes of high mountain peaks where the wind never ceases and moisture is hard to come by. They love the contrast between intense sun and deep cold and have evolved a series of creative adaptations that proves once again that Mother Nature, or Natural Selection if you prefer, can master anything.

Most pine trees shed their needles yearly. The Bristlecone in contrast only sheds its needles every 10 to 15 years. It also is very slow growing. Its narrow growth rings create a very dense wood that is hard for pests to penetrate. It is also makes the tree slow to decompose. Centuries after death, the Bristlecone can remain standing, a mute testament that man's hubris. The Pyramids were raised and will crumble long before the average Bristlecone Pine turns to dust. If you are looking for a fast growing privacy tree, don't look for a Bristlecone!

The same trees as in the photo above taken from the short interpretive trail

There places to bump into Bristlecone Pines along the Front Range. Many of the hikes in the Mt. Evans area including Chief Mountain and Chicago Lakes have them. I was surprised to run into a stand of them up Mt. Royal near Frisco. The photos in this post were taken on Mt. Evans at the Mount Goliath Research Natural Area. There is a short interpretive trail through the trees as well as a 3-mile trail (Pesman Trail) that really lets you get up close and personal to the "ancient ones".

While some Bristlecones have been dated to 4,900 years old, the oldest on Mt. Evans is only 1,750 years old. Quite young by Bristlecone standards. Perhaps that is why there were so many beer cans laying around the base of the trunks. These Bristlecones are in their late 20's.

A dead Bristlecone on the Pesman Trail. How many centuries has this stump been standing?

Not all Bristlecones possess the twisted shape that identifies them to most people. That is an adaption for life near treeline where the conditions are the harshest.

The forest service does a talk on the Bristlecones every day at noon during the season at the Dos Chappell Nature Center, which is 3 miles up the Mt. Evans road from the fee station. Entrance to the Mt. Evans area is now covered by the standard Federal Lands/Parks Pass ($80/year), so you have no excuse not to visit.

Gold Hill Trail (the one near Breckenridge)

Distance: 5 miles round trip to the summit
Elevation: 9,100 to 10,315 ft
Elevation Gain: 1,215 ft
Bathroom at Trailhead: No
Dogs: Off leash
Date Hiked: 16 June 2008

Views of the Tenmile Range at the beginning of the trail

Gold Hill is an easy trail near the Breckenridge ski resort that I do whenever I go up for our annual climate conference. I have never made it to the summit because I am invariably doing this trail in the evening after work. I have a general idea of things, however, and feel I can describe it sufficiently.

Clear cutting

The clear cut area was filled with log piles and heavy equipment. That is Mt. Baldy in the distance.

The photos in this post are actually from 2008. I have held off blogging this trail because it is too disturbing for me. Like the proverbial ostrich with its head in the sand, I am trying to ignore the fact that that vast majority of the Ponderosa Pines in Summit County, and the rest of Colorado for that matter, are dead and or dying. The cause of this destruction is the Pine Beetle. This diminutive little creature, no larger than the nail of one's pinky, is responsible for the death of over 7 million acres of prime forest and it is not done yet.

Looking back down the trail to the east

Standing in the clear cut looking south

While a natural part of the forest ecosystem, drought and overly dense forests have added to the beetle's potency. Huge strands of forest along all the major road ways, throughout the ski resorts, and deep into the wilderness are now a sickly brown. The beetle, sometimes thousands of them, burrow under the bark. The feed, live, and breed there. This chokes off the nutrient supply for the tree, quickly killing it. Since the beetles prefers live trees, they quickly move on, only to kill again.

A close up of the Tenmile Range

Downed trees from a previous attempt to thin the forest

Management of the beetle is impossible over the many acres affected and may not even be a wise choice considering the natural aspect of the outbreak. Restoration now seems to be the main effort. Gold Hill is a prime example of what I have been observing in other parts of the state. The first portion of the trail takes the hiker through a clear cut area in which every tree is being removed. The bare hillside is stark, foreboding, and cluttered with piles of logs. When I hiked this trail in June of 2008, I could not help but ask myself if this was the future of all of Summit County. If so, the future is dire for the locals who live there and the transients who come and spend a lot of money to enjoy Colorado's bounty.

One of the few places on the trail with a view

After transiting the clear cut zone, the Gold Hill trail winds its way through thick forest. Tree trunks litter the ground in droves. These dead trees are not beetle kill but are the results of an earlier attempt to thin the forest. Even with that effort, the forest is like a wall. Only occasional glimpses of peaks can be seen from the dark, sinister interior. The trees still standing are visibly dying, however, like all the others in the state. Their crone-like branches droop, lifeless and austere. A good wind, and they will be flattened, or so it seems.

Crossing a slight open area in the forest. You can see how tightly packed the trees are

We wandered continually upwards through the dark forest until we ran out of time and had to turn around. I am guessing we were within a quarter of a mile of the small bump that is the summit of Gold Hill. It was actually a blessing to be able to escape from the darkness and back out into the clear Colorado evening.

A clear view of Mt. Baldy

While Gold Hill is considered a classic Colorado Hike, there are so many other incredible hikes that I am hesitant to recommend this one. Its primary advantage for me is that it is snow free in June, while other trails like Quandary Falls can be a soggy mess. I have also done this trail as a hiking interlude while biking between Breckenridge and Frisco. The trailhead is right on the bike path. Certainly the earlier downed forest is interesting to see.

Heading back down the logging road and returning into the light

Pawnee Buttes Road Trip: Part 2 Lunch at the Buttes

Pawnee Buttes and the wide-open prairie

This is the second in a two-part series describing my Memorial Day road trip to the Pawnee Buttes. The first half describes my visit to the Cedar Fork Wind Farm.

It has been six years since I have visited the Pawnee Buttes and I can tell you there were no wind turbines when I last visited. Now they are everywhere. Gone are the ghosts of the early pioneers who lumbered across the plains to the sounds of the meadowlark. The wind still blows and the sky is still broad, but the distant turbines hum and the air is charged with modernity.

The eastern-most butte

The western most butte with wind turbines in distance

The Pawnee Buttes are part of the White River Badlands, which stretch from Colorado to South Dakota and rise 250 ft above the surrounding prairie. A two-hour drive ends in a large parking lot with a port-a-potty but the view here is disappointing. The buttes are partially obscured from this location by a ridge, so to be fully seen from this point one must hike the the 3 mile round trip Lipps Bluff Trail. An alternative is to back out from this area and take a dirt road heading down a ridge to the trailhead for the to 2.2 mile (round trip) Pawnee Buttes Trail. The Pawnee Buttes Trail is flat and goes to the base of the buttes. It is open all year while the Lipps Bluff trail is closed from 1 March to 30 June to protect nesting raptors.

The escarpment to the left is where the Lipps Trail goes. The pond was filled with the croaking of frogs but I never did find one. They stayed hidden in the grasses.

We chose to drive down the road past the Pawnee Buttes Trailhead because our goal this trip was to lounge and feed, not to walk. Our reasoning was two fold. The day before we had hiked the sodden Greyrock Mountain Trail out of Fort Collins and were loath to strain even the slightest muscle. A secondary consideration was that our friend on the trip had an injured leg and we were sparing him the pain of walking cross country.

Close up of the water tower where we picnicked. I had never been this close to one before even though I have seen many from the road. The pump went up and down and water poured in spurts from the tube visible in the upper portion of the photo. The pond in the previous photo was formed by run off from this tank.

We watched this thunderstorm travel south to north. The clouds near the ground is the roll cloud, which precedes these types of storms. The top of the ridge is the main parking area, and the parking area you can see with the vehicles is the Pawee Buttes Trailhead.

The weather was not particularly conducive to picnicking but we managed to park our car next to one of those old fashioned metal windmills a quarter of a mile from the second trailhead and angled the auto in such a way that it blocked the steady and nippy wind. We were fortunate that the thunderstorm we watched roll across the area was far enough away to only sprinkle on us. Our interlude was short however, and after eating we were driven back into the car as the rain began.

Example of the rolling dirt roads in this part of Colorado. This was taken on Rd 127 looking north.

Not satisfied with this brief glimpse of the buttes, we decided to circumnavigate them. This is easy to do since Colorado is crisscrossed with country roads. If you own a Colorado Gazetteer, it is easy to follow our route. From the windmill, which is actually marked on the map, we took 111 Rd south then 110/11050 Rd east. This dead ends into 127 Rd, which we took north. The view of the Buttes here is very different. From 127 Rd we turned west onto 118 Rd, which becomes 382 Rd. At this point, the rain really began and the dirt road we were on became a slippery swamp. There are actually some slight hills in this area and my sedan was having difficulty getting up them in the mud that was quickly forming. My car fishtailed up and down the hills straining everyone's nerves. It was not until we finally returned to pavement near Grover that we felt safe. Who knew the open prairie could be so hazardous. There are actually sandy gullies on either side of the road and sliding into either of these would have required a tow.

A very grainy image of a Lark Bunting Calamospiza melanocorys. These birds are more hyperactive than I am and did not sit still very long. This made them very hard to photograph with my limited 200m lens.

Throughout the entire area were Lark Buntings (Calamospiza melanocorys), Colorado's state bird. They are rather skittish and I had the devil of a time trying to photograph one. Sneaking up in the car did not work nor did getting out of the car and ungracefully plodding along the fence line. I do need a higher zoom lens. The Lark Bunting is a member of the sparrow family, and the males are dark black with a distinctive white wing patch. These birds eat insects, seeds and grains. They forage on the ground and actually avoid the shrubbery. They build their nests on the ground near the roots of a shrub. The Lark Bunting is migratory arriving in Colorado in April and leaving by September.

The buttes seen from the distant 127 Rd. From this vantage it is easier to see the extent of the wind turbines on the distant chalk cliffs.

A trip to the Pawnee Buttes is a great scenic drive. The prairie is an overlooked area of state, which is very unfortunate. The history, wildlife, sheer expansiveness of the area is worth experiencing. The return trip also provides a brief glimpse into the emotional state of the early explorers who saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time and viewed them as an insurmountable barrier instead of as a weekend playground. Within Colorado the prairie is highly varied. The northern portion has buttes while the southern portion is filled with canyons, of which Vogal Canyon and Picketwire Canyon are two of the better known ones.

A prairie sunset on the way home. The storms this spring have been prodigious.

Pawnee Buttes Road Trip: Part 1 Cedar Creek Wind Farm

Standing in the midst of the Cedar Fork Wind Farm

On Memorial Day weekend, after hiking Greyrock Mountain we decided a less intensive outing was required. We decided to pack a picnic lunch and head out to the Pawnee Buttes in northeastern Colorado. I have been wanting to return to Pawnee Buttes for a while now. The last time I was there was during the summer over 6 years ago. It was so hot then that we did not even get out of the car. This trip was much cooler and very damp, part of our overall dreary holiday.

On Jim's land, looking west out on the rain soaked plains

Walking along the edge of escarpment one doesn't have a sense of the drop off.

What made this trip special is that we visited the Cedar Creek Wind Farm through an acquaintance, Jim Sturrock, of one of my friends. Jim owns a ranch in northeastern Colorado upon which sits part of the Chalk Bluffs, an escarpment that spans from Logan County in the south to the Wyoming border. Not only did he take us out onto his land, but he shared with us tales of nesting raptors, rapacious investment bankers, and the perils of being a bird surrounded by spinning blades.

Turbines in the background

First, a little bit about the area. The Chalk Bluffs expose many different rock formations, the most prominent being the Ogallala Formation. This formation's claim to fame is as the host of one of the Earth's largest aquifers, which spans a large chunk of the Central U.S. The bluffs are protected from fire and are therefore home to plants that one would normally see farther west in the Rocky Mountains. On Jim's land, the most prominent was the Limber Pine (Pinus flexilis). In the mountains, this pine often marks treeline but here they were growing quite comfortably at a much lower altitude. The bluffs are quite visible as one approaches from the west, and it was obvious why this area was chosen for a wind farm. The bluffs extend for such a distance and rise several hundred feet above the surrounding area. A Utopian idea right? Well....

I slowed down the shutter speed to give you an idea of the spinning blades. When you see them in photos they are stationary and this is very deceiving. The whir of the blades is actually quite loud.

There are always two sides to every story, and the wind power industry is no exception. You are undoubtedly familiar with the advantages of wind energy. It is renewable, reduces our dependence on totalitarian regimes, and makes us all feel warm and fuzzy. There is a black side to being green, however, that one should consider in the overall equation. Every form of energy comes with a price.

Limber Pines

Jim and my friend Elaine

Wind, the seemingly most benign of the renewables, is deadly to large birds. This seems counter intuitive when you stand in a wind farm. There is a large distance between each turbine and the blades seem to turn very slowly. Jim had us stand to the side of a turbine though and look up at the spinning blades. From that perspective, the blades appear to be spinning much faster, and you can see the tip of the blade. This tip is thinner than the main blade and slightly curved. It is very difficult to see. Jim said large birds do not see this tip and are easily knocked out of the sky. When found, they have no obvious injuries, they are just dead. Jim's land includes the edge of the Chalk Bluffs where many raptors breed. In the short segment we saw, there was a Golden Eagle's nest as well as the nests of several Prairie Falcons. Putting turbines right near these breeding areas makes a dangerous situation worse.

More views of the flora of the escarpment

Lichens on the rocks

The tale is dark as well for the land owners coerced into putting wind farms on their land. It is true that some owners willingly allow wind turbines on their land. They do get royalties, which can be a welcome source of income in hard times. Saying no, was not an option, however, according to Jim. It only took the briefest threat of eminent domain from the Australian bankers funding the project to make Jim realize he would have no choice. Still, Jim is quite proud that he was the last hold out and negotiated many concessions from the company before he caved. You might be surprised at what he fought so hard for. It was not extra money that he wanted but better ways to protect the birds. He arm twisted the company into moving the turbines back from the edge of the cliffs and into putting spikes on the electrical towers to deter raptor perching. Ranchers and farmers often get a bad rap from environmentalists. I can tell you that at least in Jim's case, that is pure bunk. Every decision Jim makes, and he told us all about his operation, was focused on protecting the land. The story does not end here.

The turbines covered every bit of ground. There are 274 in the farm.

The turbines have been built, but that is not the end of Jim's woes. The company was supposed to till the soil around the turbines so that it could be used to grow the native grasses Jim's cattle feed on. To date, the company has not done this and much of Jim's land might as well be paved with asphalt because that is all it is good for. The fact that the original investment company, based in Australia, went under during the recent financial crisis, does not help. The wind farm has been sold and who to sue is problematic. As with most things in this world, it is the lawyers who are benefiting the most from all this.

Lichens and junipers

I would like to thank Jim for allowing us to wander around on his land, and for his stories. I would like to dispel another myth about ranchers. These folks are not provincial yokels. These men and women are savvy financiers who love their land and their profession. Listen carefully to their tales, they have much to tell. It was unfortunate that we had a date with a picnic basket and the Buttes, because I would have loved to have spent more time exploring the cliffs on Jim's land. It is a beautiful area with expansive views of the western plains. It was filled with pines, rocks, and wildflowers.

Next up, our picnic at the Pawnee Buttes.

Cooper's Hawk

Who knew getting breakfast was so much work!

I captured what I believe to be juvenile Cooper's Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) in my front yard one morning. I shot the pictures through the window, so they are rather grainy. Without seeing the tail, it is difficult to distinguish the Cooper's Hawk from the Sharp-shined Hawk.

The Accipiter genus are bird eaters. They like to use surprise to catch their prey. They will fly recklessly through the tree branches or will startle birds around a feeder so that they can catch one in flight.

After plucking this poor robin for a while in the front, the hawk picked up his meal and flew into a neighbors back yard where he continued plucking for a while. I wonder how long it takes to remove sufficient feathers to actually get to the meat?

More posts of this species (Vive la carnivaores)

Greyrock Mountain

Distance: 7.4 miles round trip
Elevation: 5,300 ft to 7,600 ft
Elevation Gain: 2,300 ft

Greyrock Mountain

Greyrock is a great early season training hike. It has distance, rock scrambling, and stupendous views. The downside for Denverites, is that it is up Poudre Canyon from Fort Collins, and therefore not as accessible as other trails.

Poudre River

The first portion of the joint trail follows a river. It is lush and overgrown.

On this trip, we were treated to poison-ivy, pouring rain, and fog. Only the first item is typical this time of year. The mists and pervasive damp transported us at times from Colorado to the Scottish Highlands. On one lofty ridge, we gazed down on the clouds and distant verdant valleys. It took me three days to warm up, and I own a hot tub!

A rockier portion of the Summit Trail

A good resting spot with views on the Summit Trail

The highlight of the Greyrock Trail is Greyrock Mountain, a towering edifice of stone, whose shear sides would seem impossible to scale. There is a trail that ascends it however, and at the top the hiker is rewarded not only with lofty perches, but also with a hidden pond filled with croaking toads. Between the wind in the Aspens surrounding the pond, the drum of rain on the rocks, and the cacophony of the amphibians, my auditory senses were overwhelmed. Who says the woods are silent. Nature is loud!

Nearing the top of the Summit Trail

The rocky trail up to the top of Greyrock Mountain

Greyrock Mountain itself is a batholith of granite. A batholith is an intrusion magma through a layer of metamorphic rock, sort of like a hernia. This one formed 1.4 billion years ago. Granite is resistant to erosion and so the Greyrock Mountain has remained intact while the surrounding substrate has drifted away.

A rainy day view climbing up Greyrock

This distant, treeless ridge looked like the perfect place for a dragon to land.

There are two trails that head towards Greyrock Mountain. They start out together, diverge at 0.64 miles, and reconvene 0.75 miles from the summit. The rightmost trail (Summit) follows a lush riparian gulch for 50% of its length before ascending up a ridge with carelessly strewn granite boulders. The leftmost trail (Meadow) starts out near a stream but quickly ascends up a series of nearly treeless switchbacks to a lofty ridge. It then descends to a long meadow with dramatic views of the Greyrock Mountain before it climbs up again to the intersection of the Summit Trail. Near the intersection are the stark remains of a forest fire. On this trip, we took the Summit Trail up and the Meadow Trail down, so be aware the photos in this post for the Meadow Trail will be in reverse order to this description.

More rocks on the ascent

The easier of the Class III scrambles. The trees in this cleft made it easy to pull oneself up.

The common trail up Greyrock Mountain is not for the faint of knee or for one-handed hikers. It ascends quickly right next to the shear face of the mountain and at times weaves dangerously close to breath sucking heights. There are obvious wooden posts to keep you near the trail, but most of it is rock scrambling at a Class II level (difficult walking, often steep with doubtful or slippery footing). Perfect training for the summer 14er season. There were two places on this trail that I would categorize as a Class III scramble (handholds and footholds must be utilized to make upward progress). I was carrying a heavy pack and on one of these, a friend needed to pull me up. Had I been alone, I could have taken off the pack and tossed it upwards and then scrambled up solo.

A view of the pond looking east

The pond looking north

The top of Greyrock Mountain is very much a surprise. From the trail below it looks very solid and very round but in fact it is a boulder field at the top and very flat in portions. Trees have grown into this area and a pond has formed. This is a very serene spot.

Burned section of the Meadow Trail

This is just part of the meadow that gives the Meadow Trail its name. That is Greyrock Mountain to the right.

The actual summit of Greyrock is at the opposite end of the edifice from where the trail comes in. Because of the rain and the slick rocks, we decided not to scramble up to the official summit. There did not seem to be any trail markers pointing the way either. This turned out to be a good choice. By the time we descended the two Class III spots it was raining in earnest, and the rocks had become very slick. On a normal Colorado day, this would not be an issue.

The upper ridge of the Meadow Trail

Mists hang over the peaks

Our trip down the Meadow Trail was almost surreal. Once past the pleasant meadow, the trail climbs up a long series of ridges. At the apex of these, we decided we were no longer in Colorado but somewhere in the UK. The rain became much heavier at this point as well, adding to the British ambiance. It seemed like it took forever to descend again to the trailhead but finally we made it. Soaked, hungry, but exhilarated none-the-less.

The Meadow Trail descends down to the saddle in the middle of this picture and then off to the left and down again. The clouds below were drifting rapidly.

Nearing the bottom of the Meadow Trail. Here the rain finally started to decrease.

The trail begins and ends at a bridge crossing the Poudre River, which was swollen with rain and snow melt. Everyone along the front range should hike Greyrock at least once. Don't take my experience for typical conditions, however. In summer, I suspect this trail would be toasty. Spring and Fall seem like optimal times. For hikers in Ft. Collins, you have no excuse. This great trail is in your back yard.