Trek to Crested Butte: Tribute

FACT: Crested Butte, a fantastic ski resort in its own right, is located a mere 11 miles from Aspen as the crow flies.

FACT: The most direct route from Aspen to Crested Butte via automobile is a not-so-direct 3-hour drive.

FACT: A reasonbly fit human being, properly motivated, could conceivably walk from Aspen to Crested Butte as quickly as they could drive.

'Tis true. And this weekend, six Aspenites and their three dogs set out to prove it.

The hike from Aspen to Crested Butte is a time-honored tradition for residents of the Roaring Fork Valley. While the hike is grueling (gaining over 3,000 vertical feet over the 11 miles), it's by no means impossible.

The real trick, however, is in the timing. Do it too early in the fall, and you'll rob yourself of the brilliant gold, oranges, and reds of the changing leaves. Wait too long, and the snow starts to fly, and you can't risk the climb over West Maroon Pass, which tops out at 12,500 feet.

This year, the temperatures just started to dip below forty degrees at night ten days ago. This got the leaves to do whatever it is they do, and by Thursday, our landscape had transformed from a boring green in a vertiable explosion of color.

So Saturday morning, myself, Lauren, our pup Maci, and four friends -- along with dogs Murray and Kya -- drove up to Maroon Lake -- home of the most photographed mountains in the country, the Maroon Bells -- and started the long climb over to Crested Butte.

For the first three hours or so, we couldn't get Lauren's digital camera working, so we were forced to use the disposable. Those pictures are forthcoming. By the time we stopped for a well-deserved meal, roughly four miles and 1,000 vertical feet into our climb, I got the digital working, and starting making up for lost time.

Here's Natalie, Brian, Lori and Murray enjoying a meal of Uncrustables and fruit leather.

Backcountry skiing buddy Todd and I resting our weary backs.

My wife and I and a view of the West Maroon valley in the background. Lauren was amazing, lugging a 15+ pound pack on the hike. We needed to carry everything necessary for not only the hike, but the rest of the weekend in Crested Butte as well. Throw in the Maci gear (food, toys, etc...) and you've got a pretty heavy load to lug over those mountains.

The view back towards Aspen as we inched closer to Crested Butte.

A glimpse of those colors I mentioned. You've got your yellows, you greens, and even some white lingering on the upper slopes.

Kya and Maci leading the way. Maci basically followed her fellow labrador, hero and role model everywhere she went. Meanwhile, Murray, a shepard by design, stayed right alongside the human contingent to make sure everyone was OK.

Our first view of West Maroon pass. After four hours of climbing through trees that prohibited a clear vantage point of our destination, we emerged from the forest and were greeted by this. That large mountain in the distance is the pass, and the only way to get to Crested Butte is to go up and over it.

In this picture, you'll notice that the mountain "dips" in the middle of the photo. This is referred to as a ""saddle," and it was this saddle that would provide us our entryway to Crested Butte.

Maci. At seven months, she's tireless and all legs. She faced a lost of tests this weekend, and passed each one with flying colors.

Some views of the surrounding area.

Like I said....all legs.

As we made our final approach to West Maroon pass, we stopped to take in some food and snap some photos. Here's Natale and Lauren, with Kya and Maci distracted in the background.

The view back down the valley towards Aspen. It makes you feel very, very small.

The final push to the top of the pass was 1,200 feet of lung-busting, leg-burning labor. From the top, here's my fist shot of our destination, Crested Butte, which until now had seemed entirely out of reach.

The view back towards Aspen, now seven miles away.

The three dogs at the summit of the pass. Again, Maci right on Kya's ass. She was relentless, and it was a miracle Kya didn't snap and put Maci in her rightful place.

Brian and Lori snacking on the summit.

Another shot towards Crested Butte.

My girl on the summit. I swear she had that smile the entire hike.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Come on...that's adorable and you know it!

I smell a Christmas Card!!!!

Murray never, ever leaves Brian's side. She's a big backcountry ski dog, and you can understand why when you witness his relentless loyalty up close and personal.

Which is more beautiful, the view or that smile? I'm going with the latter.

Another view towards Crested Butte. From the summit of the pass, it's four miles of rapid descending to the valley floor below.

Here's the congregation, growing weary but still determined.

The colors of fall.

From deep in the valley, a look back at the saddle we'd just summited.

Brian and Lori. Cool photo, isn't it?

Inching ever closer to Crested Butte.

Another of my favorite photos.

The two yellow Labs ceasing their hijinks just long enough to check in on their owners. They sure look guilty of something, don't they?

Our little girl, 10 miles in and still cruising.

The final descent towards the trailhead.

I just can't resist.

The dogs got so muddy, as we reconnected with the river, we thought we'd let them play so they'd clean off a bit. Otherwise the front desk folks at our hotel might think twice about allowing pets.

Neck deep in the West Maroon Creek.

Here they are, the weary warriors after 11 miles, 3000 feet of vertical climb, and nearly seven hours of hiking.

Lauren and I sent our Pathfinder with Lauren's friend, who was heading to Crested Butte on Saturday and offered to drop our car off at the trailhead. Unfortunately, she dropped the car off about a mile BEFORE the trailhead, scaring us to death when we had finally reached our destination only to find NO CAR.

A quick jaunt up the rode led us to the lost vehicle, however, and within minutes we were checking into our hotel in the Butte.

After a couple of celebratory beers, we headed into town, just in time to find the annual fall parade bearing down on us. Included in the festivities is a an abundance of chanting, a burning of the town "grump" and all sorts of other quasi-pagan stuff.

By ten, the group was dead on their feet, so back to the hotel room we went, only to find that to our surpise, our seven month old pup had NOT destroyed the place. Amazingn what seven hours of intense exercise can do for a dog's disposition.

We woke up today to rain, so we hopped in the car and drove the three-plus hours back to Aspen. Who knows, maybe next year, we'll hike back!