A Night Out

Denver After Hours

Many of those who don’t run long distances ask how I get through the boredom of the activity. I rarely am bored on a run. Trails require enough attention to avoid the rocks, roots, and overgrowth that much of the focus lies in self-preservation. Other times, runs serve as a break from the routine or bustle of daily life, an opportunity to sort through the priorities and concerns I have and make choices. Tonight I ran into the city and found a rich sensory experience. I left the house after sunset, which comes late at this latitude during the height of summer. A storm was moving away in the east, the faintly illuminated clouds slowly receding, phantoms on the edge of perception. My planned route would take me along streets that were busy by day, filled with throngs of traffic and pedestrians hurrying to their varied destinations. At night, the streets were empty, the commuters long ago fleeing to their homes in the suburbs around Denver. Those still in the city this late are either urban dwellers or the laborers that work in unseen professions. Lights burning in a few of the windows of Downtown’s high-rises, along with streetlights and headlights hung suspended in the darkened sky, reflecting in dirty puddles upon the aging asphalt and concrete of the shiny, rain-soaked sidewalks.  I splashed through a deep depression. A siren wailed and echoed up the block, red and blue lights spinning. Steam poured from manhole covers and assorted gratings, clues to the subterranean actions underway below. The dome of the State Capitol loomed darkly, its halls of power empty, the legislators out of session. I ran into the urban canyons of the Central Business District. 16th street is only a pleasant run at night when fewer passers-by wander the mall to slow your progress and fewer automobiles require a stop at intersections. Here, there is always something to observe. In darkened alleyways the sour scent of refuse emanated from the leftovers of the day. A couple strolled past, walking close, laughing at a private exchange. A delivery truck idled on a corner, the dimly lit cab empty. A heavily laden shopping cart, brimming with plastic bags  stood alongside a wall with its owner sitting close by. The combined clamor of dozens of simultaneous conversations at an outside bar and restaurant rose up and faded as I ran by. A small group lingered in an entryway, a sense of menace present-perhaps just the night. Train wheels squealed metallically on tracks as the light rail began a late-night run from the station. Underfoot, slicked wood from the recent rains made for a treacherous bridge crossing. Intermittently-spaced lamp posts spilled modest pools of light upon the path through the park. Shadows guarded the unknown. The river surged through the dark with a determined flow. Up the hill and above the mortuary, a neon sign blazed brightly, signaling the final stretch towards home and when the latch of the gate clanged shut, the run was over.

Running at night is different. All the senses are heightened. It is mysterious, strange, and intimate. It is anything but boring.

The Vacation

Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve

Adventure In The San Juans

I’m back from a week on the road and want to get you caught up on my travels. Thanks for your patience while I was away.

My friends Kerry and Jason flew out from Wisconsin and met me in the high desert of Southwest Colorado for a road trip around the San Juan Skyway, a 433-mile loop of highways that corkscrews below 14,000-foot mountains to historic mountain towns, rugged national forests, and the ruins of past cultures. On my drive out to meet them in Durango, I stayed the night camped outside the Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve. This park protects one of the most surprising landscapes in North America. 750-foot sand dunes, the highest in the country, have formed and built through the milleniums in a pocket on the west side of the Sangre De Cristo (“Blood of Christ”) Mountains so named for the rich red hue of the snow-covered range at sunrise. I awoke before dawn to enter the dune field before the heat of the sun could deter me. My goal was to run in to the highest point in the dunes. By linking one sandy ridge to the next, I could navigate along until I made it to the 360-degree views atop Star Dune of the San Luis Valley beyond. By Colorado standards, this is not a difficult climb but the two-steps-forward-one-back cliche certainly applies. Back at the trailhead, I dumped the sand from my running shoes and sped to Durango to meet my companions.

The next day we visited Mesa Verde National Park to tour the ruins of the Ancestral Puebloan culture. The pinyon pine- and juniper-clad tablelands conceal ancient cliff dwellings and mesa-top sites where this civilization flourished 1000 years ago. That their structures continue to stand today is a testament to the engineering skill and inventiveness of these archaic builders. We settled at Ridgway State Park, our base camp for adventures in Telluride and Ouray over the following days. Our hike outside of Telluride the next day served as a warm-up and acclimatization day to steel ourselves for the biggest challenge of the trip: a summit attempt on 14,150-foot Mount Sneffels.

Mount Sneffels At Sunset

The sky was still dark when our alarms sounded, stirring us from our tents to boil oatmeal and fruit, fill water bottles, break camp, and double check necessary items like hedlamps and first aid supplies. The rough road to the trailhead climbed steeply out of the Victorian mountain town of Ouray, “The Switzerland of America”, and taxed the limits of my compact wagon over projections of stone and precipitous ledges. When it was clear the car could proceed no further (at the ghost town of Camp Bird) we disembarked and began walking. Not far along, a high-clearance 4WD came up. Inside, two Danes, a father and his ten-year-old, were gracious enough to drive us the rest of the way. We thanked them for their charity and set off, the trail quickly rising above the treeline while the sun slowly rose above the ridgeline. The day warmed as we plodded upward and we were happy to make stops to revel in the alpine landscape of the San Juans. The wildflowers at this elevation were at their peak bloom this time of summer and streamlets divided the expanse of tundra. The trail continued below a steep slope of scree-broken rocks tumbled from the cliffs above, and then ascended directly up one of these steep slopes. The altitude, steepness, loose soil, and risk of rockfall from parties above us slowed our ascent here, but steady diligence eventually brought us to the windswept saddle above. From here the route followed an even steeper couloir, the narrow alley filled at the top with a late-season snowfield. Realizing quickly that we lacked proper equipment to be successful higher on the route, we changed plans and followed the ridge up to a minor peak of the Sneffels Massif called Kismet. The summit afforded us a grand vista into the heart of the San Juans, countless peaks filling the horizon. Well worth the effort to get here but only halfway done… Our anticipation of the descent back down the steep, loose slopes gave us some concern but we discovered that with the proper stance and position relative to one another, we could shuffle down safely and expediently. Once we’d descended the scree slope we felt confident that we’d survived the day, six miles and 3500 feet of altitude gain now behind us. The long walk to our car was interrupted by a brief hailstorm and by happenstance a family of fellow Cheeseheads (Wisconsinites) passed by in their SUV and offered us a lift to our car, sheltered from the inclement weather outside. We gladly accepted and returned to civilization in no time.

Silverton, Colorado, my previous home for two years, hosted us for the night, and a dinner out followed by a morning in was just what we needed after the exertions of the day. We finished our trip in the region around Durango where day hikes on the mesas and mountains nearby and a morning of tubing on the Animas River satisfied our adventurous side while browsing through the downtown shops and restaurants provided a semblance of culture. Highlights included the Cajun Boil at Steamworks Brewery, the documentary Food, Inc. at the Abbey Theatre, afternoon ice cream, and evening campfires with popcorn. I was able to sneak in a few runs too, including a dawn run up the Elbert Creek Trail near Purgatory Ski Area on our last morning in the San Juans. The road back to Denver was long but recollections of a great week shared with friends helped the miles pass quickly (perhaps a bit too quickly if you ask the State Trooper that issued me a speeding warning on the road out of Alamosa).

Its good to be back.