May 14, 1994: Horsetooth Mountain, 7255', Loop the Long Way

One of many trip reports under the SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie Grow.
Email me at ajs@frii.com.
Last update: August 11, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1994_0510_Eclipse.htm)

Last Saturday I hiked up Horsetooth Mountain for about the 21st time in 17 years. (Ho-hum.) It was a beautiful spring day, clear, cool, breezy, partly cloudy, very green and lush after lots of rain the day before. (That's nice... zzz...) I started at 0900 from my house in Fort Collins near the Foothills Mall, and finished 14 hours and about 30 miles later at 2259. (Say what? ...The music rises to a crescendo as these words appear on the screen: "One Day's Adventure in the Urban Backcountry." Subtitle: "Idiot Afoot".)

In preparation for hiking the Grand Canyon soon, I wanted to do a long (20 mile) training hike in high-top sneakers, carrying my usual 20-pound day pack, mostly on roads or trails, with some significant vertical, but without encountering snow... Hard to think of a place like that in May.

I was going to explore the foothills west of Boulder, but then I remembered my longstanding "native-American fantasy" about hiking all the way to Horsetooth from my house. It was something I never seriously intended to do, but it fit the bill nicely. I was wrapped up in work lately, stressed out and all, so becoming a "walking machine" was a nice (and literal) change of pace, though it took hours to start to feel relaxed.

I made no attempt to follow roads or trails. It generally turned out to be a good idea anyway thanks to everything from fences to mud. I also made no attempt to create a "pure" backcountry experience. For instance, I brought my ham radio and speaker-mike, monitored the Horsetooth repeater, and chatted with various people most of the day while walking along. ("You're where? That's nice... You're doing what?")

I started by cruising over to Steele's Market (5000', crux move rated $1.95) 'cause I wanted to chat with a travel agent. Oops, not open for another 45 minutes, looks like I can't order a helicopter. So I crossed the RR tracks and headed west into a lovely field of tall, wet grass. Then ran into my first irrigation canal of the day. I had to follow it south down to Horsetooth Road, through more lovely, tall, wet grass. "Not an auspicious start," I thought, "But that's OK, I'm not really walking all the way to Horsetooth Mountain."

Next it was straightforward to head west, finally making tracks, to my first break near the Jif Store. I hadn't intended to change my socks so soon, but... ah...

As I continued up and west to the Spring Canyon Dam it dawned on me that I was actually going through with this silly idea. Of course every step forward was one more I'd have to retrace coming back.

The two miles south around the south end of the lake from the dam to Stout was long and unpleasant, caught between the traffic and the roadside litter. No choice about it, I couldn't walk on water to save going around. (Being able to walk on water would have helped several times during the day.) Well I figured I'd just push on to the top of the mountain and deal with the return trip later. I could always call a friend on the radio and bail out. Buy them dinner or something for a ride home; or just call a taxi from a bar and pretend I was drunk.

I found myself at the Horsetooth Mountain Park trailhead [2023: Now Horsetooth Mountain Open Space] in surprisingly short order at 1232, about 3:30 for roughly ten miles and 900' of total gain. With a smile I asked the uniformed attendant, "It's free if I walk in, right?" Yes; but he said I looked kind of tired for someone just starting the hike.

Cruising up to the south summit of Horsetooth Mountain at 7255' felt like nothing after the long walk to the trailhead. I made it surprisingly fast too; was on top at 1357, 1:07 for another 2.7 miles and 1500'. But things started to get mentally weird and surreal about the time I left the trailhead. I had the south tooth all to myself for an hour. It was gorgeous up there.

By 1500 I was ready to head down. I was only a little sore and tired, and my body wasn't rejecting me yet, at least no worse than usual. I really wasn't looking forward to the direct route home. I decided, what the heck, if I'm ever going to circumnavigate Horsetooth Reservoir, this is the day to do it. (I've got to quit having these conversations with myself. I have no idea where that idea came from. It was not a long-time fantasy.)

Well I had to at least make a pilgrimmage to the Horsetooth ham radio repeater antenna. I continued north on the ridge, past a blue grouse (ho-hum), up and down, and I think I found it. Hard to say; there were a gazillion antennae up there, on a very large number of towers.

Feeling duly recharged, even electrified, I dropped northeast off-trail and eventually found a trail that led into a gorgeous meadow, which unfortunately turned out to be the head of Spring Canyon, which led south back toward Stout. Oops.

I had to traverse and climb a couple hundred feet northeast over to the Mill Canyon drainage. But it sure was pretty on the virgin hillsides under the trees. I felt great, in fact better than I had earlier... This had me somewhat concerned.

Rather much later after various route-finding, fence-hopping, bush-whacking, gully-crossing, tick-avoiding adventures, I found myself on the north/south trail in Lory State Park west of Quarry Cove. Well now I'd gone and done it; the north end of the reservoir was closer than the south end!

The mountain bikers who passed me were amused by my radio. I was amused they actually needed wheels to visit the area.

I trudged up to the Arthurs Rock trailhead at 1728, somewhat later than I thought it would be, starting to feel more like road kill than road runner. I'd covered at least 15.5 miles already, and the north end of the lake lay at least three miles ahead.

I traipsed north on the Lory State Park gravel road to the gate at 1811. Fantasized about paying a boater $5 to ferry me across the lake... Nah, that would be cheating. Beyond the gate I looked for a way east to Horsetooth Dam. There wasn't one. I, uh, took a shortcut... Went under a few wire fences... This was the least fun part of the trip; 'nuff said.

I "turned the corner" south toward home, departing the north dam at 1904. I went up and down the section of reservoir road now closed for paving... Soft, freshly turned earth, ah... Got to Soldier Canyon Dam and descended east to the CSU Foothills Campus and west Laporte Avenue. I proceeded east (seemed like forever) to Overland Trail, then south along it a mile and a half to Prospect. I started to limp a little (more) and feel some sore spots and I needed occasional rest breaks. As usual there were few places to sit except on the ground. Also it was getting dark.

I bought dinner-to-go at a 7-11 and dived into a neighborhood I knew, or at least thought I knew. Crossing a field on the east side going south looking for the bike trail, I found another friggin' canal. I went along it one way, wrong way, went back, sigh, "I must be crazy, gosh the moon and Venus are gorgeous, what the heck."

I found the bike trail that happens to pass my friend Jenny Pruett's house, still four miles from my home. Figured I'd knock on her door and chat for a bit while I swapped socks for the Nth time. I saw her coming toward me on the trail, walking her dog, in the gloom... As I passed, I just said "Hi Jenny" and kept going. I got the desired doubletake!

Part of me had been daydreaming that Jenny would insist I let her give me a ride home. "Shut up, self," I said to myself, "I'm going to finish this trek, even if it gets really weird..."

I took a long break on Jenny's back lawn. "Am I lying on dog poop? Do I care?" At 2116 I stumbled east to Taft Hill Road. Then it got really weird. Lights, shadows, joggers in the dark, roller-bladers in the schoolyard. My mental state was more determined than conscious as I ticked off the miles and tried to guess what time I'd be home and in a hot bath (and I was right).

I passed my friend Carole's house at 2140; nobody there. East on Drake Road, turned right on Shields Street, one more snack from a convenience store. The grubby night stalker appears from the shadows and returns to them with dessert in hand. He limps along seeking a pain-free mode of ambulation. Down another ibuprofen and proceed!

I wrapped up with a slog through ghostly suburban side streets down to and along Swallow to College Avenue and then around the mall. To my astonishment Foley's was still open at nearly 11 pm; "now that's weird." I met my house's doorway one minute before 2300. Couldn't wait to detach from footwear and check for damages. Hmm... "I'll survive." Later I determined I'd covered 28.1 miles by map-o-meter, which means at least 30 in real-space, and about 3100' of total gain.

To anyone else who toys with the notion of urban off-trail long-distance travel as a form of stress reduction and Zen meditation, I offer the following suggestions tongue in cheek:

• Forget it, spend the day hot-tubbing instead. But if you insist...

• There are bloody few places to sit clean and comfortable around town, compared to, say, in naturally wooded locations. So wear grungy jeans.

• Definitely avoid lovely, tall, wet grass early in the day after heavy rains.

• Sneakers are much easier to walk in than hiking boots, but they don't stick very well to rock.

• Heavy traffic ruins the Zen experience. Avoid major boulevards. It might even be worth checking a map first to locate the workable side streets (and canals to avoid them unless you bring a swimsuit).

• Try to make a big loop. It's more interesting than out and back, and it does wonders for your sinking feeling of commitment ("I'm committed now -- or at least I should be.")

• Include some real backcountry in your loop or it just might not be any fun.

• Don't worry about being mugged. After a while you feel like the toughest SOB on two feet, and after that you don't care any more, it would be entertaining.

• Save some energy for running and ducking while trespassing.

• Bring some money to buy food, beverages, and bail. Unlike, say, the top of Longs Peak, there are McDonalds' on the urban trails. (But it helps to be back near the trailhead before closing time.)

• Try to enjoy your odd perspective on the institutionalized madness around you; the noisy, smelly, dangerous autos oblivious to your presence; the concrete, asphalt, wires, fences, canals, private property, litter, and other trappings of civilization that you will encounter; the strange way people look at you because you're walking in town wearing a big pack. Remember that this is your world and you are a part of it. Reassuring, isn't it?

• Do swap your socks occasionally, it helps. Well it doesn't help anyone you meet when they see/smell the other pair airing out on your pack. You can't have everything.

• You don't need a flashlight if you're back in town by dark. Unfortunately the sky itself glows with wasted photons.

• Attitude is everything, but,

• Watch out for cactus.

(Next trip report: 1994_0521-22_GrandCanyon.htm)