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 Hike with Mark on December 8, 2007
Spillway Campground: 38º54’19”N, 105º27’57”W, 8,472 feet
In Lake George, turn southwest from US 24 onto Elevenmile Canyon Road (Park County Road 96), at Starkey’s Liquor and Groceries. Drive to Spillway Campground, 9.5 miles from US 24. The campground is closed for the season, but there is ample parking just off the road.
Elevenmile Canyon, like the Jefferson Lake area, is one of at least two fee areas in Park County. During the peak season of May through October, there is a $5.00 per car charge to drive into the area. I’m basically cheap, so I’ve waited until the off-season to venture into those areas.
The National Park Service web site
(www.fs.fed.us/r2/psicc/recreation/trails/spk_overlook_trail.shtml) says there is an Overlook Trail that starts in Spillway Campground, the campground closest to Elevenmile Dam. There’s a map with the web site, but the trail isn’t marked on it. Mark learned about an Overlook Trail that starts in Idlewilde Picnic Ground, just downstream from Spillway Campground. Perhaps the two trails were opposite ends of one trail. We agreed on a day, and went to check it out.
Mark has done some historical research on the area. Elevenmile Canyon Road follows the bed of the Colorado Midland standard gauge railroad line on its way from Colorado Springs to Trout Creek Pass, and points beyond. The road shows typical railroad bed construction: No sharp turns, gentle grades, and three short tunnels through the rock. Mark had also found some old photographs, one of a “Wildflower Express” that came up the canyon in the summer. We found the location of that photograph, at the present IdleWilde Picnic ground.
The weather was definitely worse than that in the old photograph. It had snowed about an inch the night before, and the clouds were threatening to dump more. Mark’s thermometer said 26 degrees, and a light breeze was blowing. We decided we didn’t need our snowshoes, even if more snow was on its way, but we both took walking sticks, which are very helpful on slick and uneven ground.
 We followed the road through Spillway Campground, looking for a trail head. At the very end of the road, at camping space number 11, we finally found an unmarked trail heading up the hill. This was not a Forest Service-built trail: It was not leveled path, and it headed up a water drainage with no provisions for separating drainage from path. It stayed clear of the Denver Water Department’s fence around the reservoir, and wound up the hill for a quarter mile or so, but then we lost it in the snow. By this time, fresh snow was beginning to fall.
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Mark had read about a “Rock of Ages” in the area, which he assumed would be a prominent high point along the canyon. Having no path to follow anyway, and the trail being way too short for a satisfying hike, we decided to climb farther and check out the higher rocky points in the area.
The forest is a hodgepodge of ponderosa, Douglas fir, aspen, spruce, limber pine, and other pines, too. The terrain is also a hodgepodge, steep and then gentle, rocky outcroppings blocking our progress here and there, small meadows thrown into the mix. We kept a generally uphill, northwest trend, moving out on rocky high points to take in the view. The steepest bit came just after we had lost the trail. On our first view spot, we were seven-tenths of a mile from our trail head, and 500 feet above it.
All our views looked south and west, across Elevenmile Dam and Reservoir. I kept thinking that I heard wind in the canyon, but later realized that the sound was water going over the spillway;Elevenmile Reservoir must be full. Beyond the lake were the ranches and low hills of South Park, with Thirtynine Mile Road
(PCR59) winding through them on its way toward Guffey. The backdrop should have included Thirtynine Mile Mountain, but the snow in the air formed a curtain between us.
We continued up to the next high point, then the next higher. Many rocks in the area form slabs and squared blocks. Slabs flat on the ground made the walking a bit hazardous once the snow began to accumulate on the ground. It seemed that they were always tilted just enough that we’d slip just a little. The blocks were piled in our path, on occasion forcing us to take circuitous routes, at other times to do a little cautious scrambling.
 When the slabs and blocks were piled together, they made massive pedestals, grand monuments, and at least one caricature of stone. Mark found the face of what could be an old trapper, with a prominent nose, firm-set jaw, and a wool cap or maybe a Russian fur cap with the ear fl aps down, forever gazing over the reservoir.
At last the snow became thick enough that we decided it was time to go back. Rather than retrace our steps, we moved east, and then south. Except for a few tight spots, we found the terrain gentler, the rocks fewer, and, as long as we kept out of the gulch bottoms, little downed timber to go over and around. As we approached the river bottom, we found a trail, which led us into IdleWilde the road, we turned upstream toward our parking spot. On the way, not ten yards from the truck, we found a sign, set parallel to the road so you don’t necessarily see it as you drive along. It said: “Overlook Trail 641, Scenic View 1/2 Mile.”
It seems we made a loop around the trail we had intended to walk. Oh, well, that’s life in the great outdoors. We had a good walk, good conversations, good views, and no real trouble with the snow and rocks. Maybe we’ll get back to the real Overlook Trail later in the season. Enough snow to need the snowshoes, and a icy-cold, crystal clear day would make a good contrast.
 Hike with Pete on November 28, 2007
Trailhead: 39º27’2”N, 105º51’36”W, 10,693 feet
Lunch and turn back: 39º28’22”N, 105º51’24”W, 11,078 feet
Hiking Distance: 3.7 miles
From Jefferson, go north on Park County Road 35. Turn right on
PCR 37 two miles from Jefferson, at the sign to National Forest,
Jefferson Campground, and Jefferson Lake. Drive past the small
house where the Forest Service collects fees from May until mid-
October, and continue on to Jefferson Lake. We parked at the very
end of the road, at the southeast side of the lake, 7.1 miles from
US 285. There is no winter road maintenance, and there could be
a good deal of snow on the road. Take a four-wheel drive vehicle
with good tires.
On an average summer day Jefferson Lake is packed with fishermen, taking advantage of the beautiful lake in a spectacular valley. After the snow flies and the water freezes, though, the only people to venture up there might be the Forest Service guys, up to check if anyone its nuts enough to go there in the winter. On this day, Pete and I were those nuts. When we started out, the skies were clear over Bailey, but it was overcast by Grant, and a few snow flakes were falling higher up on Kenosha Pass. At the summit we saw blue sky to the south, and dense clouds north. We couldn’t see the Mosquito Range at all. Few people had been in the National Forest on PCR 37, and only one vehicle passed us on its way out. There were no other tracks in the snow beyond Jefferson Campground. At our trailhead we found blowing wind, blowing snow, a frozen lake, and a wind chill factor in the low teens or single digits. What a
great day for a hike!
 We bundled up tight, strapped our snowshoes to our backpacks, and headed west along the southern shore of the lake. Past the dam we found a trail in the trees that followed the lake shore and headed north. Throughout the day the storm advanced and retreated, coming down on us like an angry Boreas, god of north wind, then backing off and letting the sun smile down. The wind was strongest on the expanse of ice that covered Jefferson Lake, but it hadn’t swept
the lake clean. Instead the wind had skipped across the surface in waves, leaving strips of bare ice in the thin, hard-packed snow on the surface, reminiscent of whitecaps on a choppy sea, but here on were blackcaps on a white sea.
The foxtail pines along the western shoreline proved an effective barrier against the wind. There were three to four inches of powdery snow, and few drifts more than half-a-foot deep. We frequently found squirrel tracks in the snow, undisturbed by any breeze. The travel was a little slow due to the narrow path and a fair amount of downed timber that we had to move over or around. At about halfway up the lake, we found another obstacle: Small streams crossing the trail had frozen, and the ice was hidden in the snow. We slowed our progress to check our footing
more carefully.
Unnamed peaks ring Jefferson Lake. Pete and I had climbed one of them a little over a year ago, and looked down on an  icefree lake. Today we looked up at that peak and her neighbors,sometimes bathed in sunlight, other times obscured from view as the snow blew, but usually seen through the mist of light snow in the air. The mist was thick enough to hide them as we came to the north end of lake. The water level was about four feet below its high mark, so we walked out of the trees onto the fl at lake bed. A row of high bushes grows at the north end of the lake, and beyond them is a wide valley filled with tall, stately spruce. We
headed into the forest.
The Lake Fork of Jefferson Creek flows down the valley and into the lake. It winds through the spruce, small meadows, and bushes that populate the gently-rising valley floor. We found many animal tracks in the snow, and the faded twin lines of cross country skis, a day or more old. The map shows that the valley and creek lead to Whale Peak on the Continental Divide. That would make a great summer hike, but we weren’t up for that long a hike. The valley floor grew steeper as we went, and the snow continued to come downstream. We had cause to cross the creek on a few occasions, but had no trouble with the frozen surface, although we heard the water gurgling below the ice.
Finding a sheltered spot during one of the sunny interludes, we stopped for lunch. We had come about two miles, a modest hike, but the travel had been slow, despite the gentle slopes and decent trails. The rest was good, but the sitting cooled us off, and we were soon ready to go back.
Retraced our steps down the valley, we soon were looking over the bushes and across the lake ice. The wind blew unimpeded there, snatching up the snow and twirling it like mini tornadoes,like frozen dust devils: Snow devils careening across the lake. We chose to follow the eastern lake shore for the final leg of the trip.This meant more wind, but it was at our backs. The lowered lake level gave us a tree-free path, although it was over rock fields.
We made good time on the lake bed, and reached our trailhead in the sunshine and a rare moment of calm wind. The valley above the lake is a beauty. With a foot or more of snow, it will make a great cross-country ski trip. Blow as he might, Boreas wasn’table to freeze our enthusiasm on this hike.
 Hike May 3, 2007 with Pete, Jane and Steve
Start: 39°25’34”N, 105°33’56”W, 8,291 feet
Gibbs Cabin: 39°25’6”N, 105°33’23”W, 8,680 feet
Gibbs Grave: 39°25’8”N, 105°33’39”W, 8,776 feet
End: 39°25’47”N, 105°34’24”W, 8,289 feet
Hiking Distance: 4.9 miles
Hiking is its own reward. A day out of doors in the fresh air, warm sun, with the wind blowing through the trees and views far and near is great relaxation, and the hike adds great exercise to the mix. For this hike, we had a further goal: Jane was looking for ghosts.
Not ghosts, really, but remnants of the past. The Shawnee area has been inhabited by people of European descent for almost 150 years. Many things the earlier settlers built have been covered over or pushed aside by subsequent generations. In some places, though, you can still find some things left behind by folks who lived off the land. Most Fridays you can visit with Jane at the Park County Local History Archives, in the basement of the Fairplay Library, where she records and preserves what bits of the past she can fi nd. This day she was in the field, doing a little eye-witness research.
At our trailhead, we went through a footpath gate beside the locked vehicle gate, and followed the road up the hill to the east, and then south. We had a warm sun and nearly clear skies. The only clouds lay on the tops of Shawnee Peak, above and in front of us, and on Mount Logan, above and behind. They looked like great white cougars, ready to pounce and cover us in snow and mist. For the time being, though, they were content to watch as we followed the road. At four tenths of a mile from the car, a trail, marked “Brookside AG Trail 719” left the road to the left. We kept right, and soon after found an open gate. We went through the gate, and up Gibbs Gulch. Soon there was another open gate, and around a curve we saw Gibbs’ cabin.
The cabin is big, two-storied, and was built in two sections: Half is hand-hewn log, and half is modern frame construction. The metal roofing on the south side has blown away, and the moisture from the rain and snow has rotted much of the building, making it too dangerous to enter. There are two out buildings, both log, one collapsed. I
In addition to the cabin, Jane wanted to find some charcoal pits, a headgate for an irrigation ditch, and Milton Gibbs himself, or at least his final resting place. The road continued up the hill past the cabin, so we followed it through the meadow. Jane had a copy of a hand-drawn map that showed the relative locations of the cabin, pits and headgate. After not finding the charcoal pits where we thought they might be, we started looking for the headgate.Two roads parallel an irrigation ditch south into the woods. We followed the higher road, and then walked the ditch when the road moved away from it. The ditch went up, but not steeply so, into the forest of Douglas fir, ponderosa pine and aspen, with a
sprinkling of spruce.
At almost half a mile from the cabin we found the headgate, an metal channel, hourglass shaped, perhaps six inches wide and a foot deep at its waist. One would push in a board at the waist to stop the creek from fl owing into the ditch, or lift it to let the water fl ow. It’s been a long time since the creek water has been routed to the gate.
We found that both roads converged
near the headgate, and followed the lower road back to the meadow. For a while, we searched the ridge west of the cabin for the grave site, but soon gave up in favor of lunch. There’s no use grave hunting on empty stomachs. While we had wandered, the clouds had slowly lifted from the mountain tops, leaving us with a beautiful, and un-threatening, day.
After our brief repast, we moved west on the upper road out of Gibbs Gulch. It lead us down to an unnamed gulch, where we found the spring marked on our topographic maps. Next we went to the top of the next ridge, where we found a log fence surrounding a tree and a small plot of land. Here lies Milton Gibbs; a metal plate records his birth in 1841, his death in 1909, and his service as
private in the Civil War, in Company F of the 211th Pennsylvania Infantry. Two other graves are there, both unmarked.
From Gibbs cemetery, we continued down into Bill Tyler Gulch. Bill was a brother of Ben Tyler, whose Gulch is the next one west. Both Tylers lay in the small cemetery in Shawnee.
Bill’s gulch soon widened to a meadow, with views across Platte Canyon. Halfway down the meadow, a foundation shows where a house once stood. The valley narrowed, and led us back to US 285, where another Forest Service gate blocks vehicle traffic. A half-mile walk along the highway brought us back to our starting point and the car.
It’s one thing to read about the old timers, and another to go back to see where they lived and made livings for themselves and their families. Building cabins, digging irrigation ditches, and making charcoal were only a few of the things Milton Gibbs and Bill Tyler did to make ends meet. Throwing in a history lesson
made our hiking experience more fun. Thanks, Jane!
 PCR58 at FSR811: 39°26’15”N, 105°46’26”W, 9,783 feet
FSR811 at FSR810: 39°25’46”N, 105°47’45”W, 10,180 feet
FSR810 at FSR809: 39°26’15”N, 105°48’19”W, 10,052 feet
Farthest point: 39°26’34”N, 105°48’13”W, 10,324 feet
Traveling distance: 5.2 miles
Turn onto Park County Road 58 from US 285, between mile
markers 204 and 205 on the Platte Canyon side of Kenosha Pass.
Go 0.9 miles and turn left onto Forest Service Road 811. Park on
the side of the road.
Mine were the only tracks in the snow on the first half of this
snowshoe. North Twin Cone Peak points to the sky on the far
side of Kenosha Pass.
 On previous hikes, I noticed similar numbers in Forest Service
Roads north of Kenosha Pass and east of the Colorado Trail:FSR811 went up Hoosier Creek, and FSR810 crossed the Colorado
Trail. I’ve noticed that similarly-numbered roads are often connected, and wondered if these were. None of my maps showed
a connection, but maps don’t always tell the whole story.I started the investigation on FSR811 along Hoosier Creek.Cheryl and I had explored up the creek, and then up LiningerDitch last summer (“Walking the Roads by Hoosier Creek and
Lininger Ditch,” The Flume, June 15, 2007). As one might expect,the contrast due to the seasons was stark: Only snowmobiles had
been up FSR811 from PCR58, and I didn’t want to drive up thatroad any farther than I needed to park the car. The snow was
windswept, and a cold breeze blew. The sun was bright, with only a few clouds skittering across the blue sky, but temperatures
were in the twenties. I threw on my snowshoes and headed up the road.
811 starts a bit east of Hoosier Creek, and curves around toward the valley bottom. In June I had taken a picture of North Twin
Cone Peak from a curve in the road, and this day I took another near the same place. Down in the valley, the beaver were safe and
warm in their lodges, while the fresh tracks of a lone fox crossed the road as he looked for a cold meal. Half a mile from my trailhead, the peak of
the unnamed 12,567 foot mountain to the north showed her head over the trees, and shortly thereafter I came to the junction of roads 811
and 811A. Cheryl and I had gone up 811A; today I turned southwest, staying on 811. It crossed the upper reaches of Hoosier Creek, and went
steeply up the ridge, into the pine, spruce and aspen forest.
In a quarter mile, the road leveled out and came the edge of a meadow. Nearby the Forest Service had posted a “No Motor Vehicles Past
This Point” sign, but the snow mobilers had taken a few turns there anyway. Someone had erected a crude pyramid from fallen timber nearby. The road again climbed, steeper than before. The forest grew thicker, and the squirrel population increased as I went. There were many tracks where they’d hopped across the road, each set like tiny handprints and big clown feet. A few birds, mostly ravens, called in the distance. At the top of the ridge, I came to an intersection where another FSR811A met 811. There were also signs on either side of the road that said “Danger!” but didn’t say what was dangerous. Whatever it was, I left it under the snow and went on, down the west side of the ridge. 1.4 miles from my start I found the first view of the floor of South Park, glittering white in the sunshine. The view grew as I went on, the aspen grew more numerous, and the forest split into a small meadow. I found a glorious view of Buffalo Peaks
rising above Reinecker Ridge and the Park. I also found a fresh snowshoe tracks at right angles to my own path, and signs that showed they were traveling along FSR810. FSR811 ended here, so I turned right, or northwest, and followed the tracks. 810 followed the ridge, curving slowly toward the north. The
trees thinned and the land to the west fell away, giving wider views of South Park and the mountains along the Continental Divide from French Pass to Mount Silverheels. As I was admiring the view, a pair of snowshoers came along, traveling the same direction. They had on full backpacks, and were out to camp
overnight. How far are you going? I asked; they shrugged and smiled. “Wherever looks good” and on they went. Brrr, I thought. It’s cold now and the sun’s shining. The road continued down the ridge. I passed the backpackers  on the way, as they stopped to strategize. At a clearing at the bottom of Guernsey Gulch, FSR810 ended, and FSR809 went
both up and down the gulch. I had continued to follow the snowmobile tracks, but was finally able to leave them by turning up Guernsey Gulch.
High, thin clouds began to fill the sky, and the wind came up a bit, but the sun stayed warm. The road up was fairly steep, but not as steep as FSR811 had been. Deeper snow lay on the ground there. The only way I knew I was still on the road was by the gap between the trees. At about 2.5 miles from my start, I found a pair of burnt tree stumps sticking above the snow. They made good perches for me and my backpack, and I took a rest and a
bite before heading back home. Back near the junction of 809 and 810, I found the backpack pair again. This time they had their packs off and were digging in in the snow. Feeling nosy, I went to investigate. I found Pam, a two-time veteran of winter camping, had found a good spot and was beginning to dig a snow cave. Dave, a novice, had been testing the snow above for strength, found it good, and was preparing to help with the dig. I’ve read that Inuit igloos are a balmy 32 degrees inside when it’s 40 below outside. In a well-dug snow cave, and in their winter sleeping bags, Pam and Dave would be
fine. I wished them well and headed back up FSR810. While an out-and-back trip isn’t as interesting as a loop, there is always something to see when you’re headed in the opposite direction. After the top of the ridge, I found a view of a distant mountainside, the peak and sides hidden in blowing snow. I later
determined this to be Mount Evans.
Back at the meadow, I saw a tree stump that I hadn’t noticed on my first pass. Most of the trees in the area were less than a foot in diameter. The railroaders in the late 1800s and early 1900s had cut a lot of the forest. This stump was over two feet in diameter, easily the biggest tree I’d seen. The yellow color of the wood told me the break had occurred in the last six months or so, and the trunk had broken almost four feet off the ground, which seemed an odd
place to break. I went to investigate. I found dozens of bullets in the stump at the break, some with full metal jackets that had gone deep into the wood. The tree had been used for target practice, weakened by the onslaught, and a strong wind felled it.
The rest of the trip back went quickly, being all downhill. The sky had filled with clouds, and snow was threatening, but the wind had died down. I got another photograph of the bushes along Hoosier Creek and the aspen groves near Kenosha Pass. My initial question was answered: Forest Service Roads connect
Guernsey Gulch and Hoosier Creek valley. A loop in the area could be made by following one creek up to Beaver Creek,
and then returning down the other, using FSR811 and 810 for the rest of the loop. Winter is a good time to follow the back roads,
as they’re quiet and beautiful in the snow. I’m not sure I’d want to spend the night there, though!t
 Hike with Pete on May 29, 2006, Ben Tyler Trail, Forest Service Trail 606
South Trailhead: 39°22’28”N, 105°41’04”W, 9,708 feet, Top of the ridge: 39°24’48”N, 105°39’23”W, 11,641 feet
Trailhead to top of the ridge: 4.0 miles
From US285, turn east on the Lost Park Road (Park County Road 56) at the base of Kenosha Pass, just east of mile marker
200. Turn left at a sign pointing to Ben Tyler and Colorado Trails, 7.7 miles from US285. Go to the end of the road, and
park at the Ben Tyler Trailhead, 9.9 miles from US285. This is a fairly rough road. You will need four-wheel–drive and high
clearance to get to the end; otherwise you might have to walk a quarter mile or more. (See the north trailhead description in
Platte River Mountains section). The southern part of the trail goes up Rock Creek. Just past
the trailhead are beaver ponds, but the valley soon narrows into a steep-walled gulch through a spruce forest. About half a
mile up there are remains of cabins and a slab pile from an old logging operation. Higher up, the trail leaves Rock Creek in
bushes and bog, and becomes steeper before switchbacks begin. The trail leaves the trees at about 11,000 feet, after which
you find the many bushes that stay with you until you reach timberline on the north side of the ridge. I’ve been this way
twice, and have lost the trail in the bushes both times. Go north, cross the ridge at the lowest place, and look for posts that mark
the trail in the bushes. Look behind you for a grand view of the north end of South Park.
Come hike the Colorado Rockies, Park County – north to south, and east to west. Park County is as big as the state of Connecticut. John hikes weekly and has for years. Listen as he talks about his hiking experiences.
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