Monte Cristo Townsite 9-18-11

After running into a couple people on a trail maintenance day for the Monte Cristo Preservation Association on my way out from Gothic Basin, I was intrigued by the old townsite of Monte Cristo.  I grabbed a brochure and Sunday morning found me parking right back at the same trailhead area.  It was supposed to rain most of the day I thought, but once again I got lucky-  bit of light drizzle for the 1^st mile and not a drop after that. 

The old Monte Cristo townsite, which had its hay day in the 1890’s, is located at the end of a 4 mile hike in from Barlowe Pass.  Gold, silver and copper were mined in the Monte Cristo area.  Crossing the Sauk a time or two, once on a large log, you follow an old dirt road/railway for an easy hike.  After Saturday’s hike, Cedar and I needed that!

Remember to grab a brochure on your way in!  This will help you see what is no longer there, and know when things were built and who did what.  : ) 

After 4 miles of trekking (this would be an awesome trail to bring your mountain bike too if you’re like me and don’t want super rough off-road, would make the journey to the old townsite much quicker) you arrive at a monstrous boulder and some old signs welcoming you to Monte Cristo.

I was so delighted with this place!  First of all, Adventure Dog and I had it entirely to ourselves the entire time we explored.  He was just as excited as me.  He ran up to each house, checked it out, we walked all the way around a couple, and he even trespassed into one.  Most of the buildings that made up Monte Cristo are long gone, but there were also Forest Service cabins built in the 1950’s that have also been abandoned and they were just as interesting to me.  Standing in what once was the rail yard and looking around at the weather-worn cabins surrounded by some of the most rugged peaks and ridges I’ve hiked in, I wished I could live there.  Too long of a commute unfortunately.   Enjoy these pictures of Monte Cristo!

Gothic Basin 9-17-11

You can run to the mountains anytime.  Their great wooded arms are always open.  Their misty winds and rushing rivers will cascade through your heart and soul, washing away every hurt, every trivial human emotion until you are left with only awe.

Cedar and I almost gave up near the end of this hike.  Gothic Basin is about 9 miles roundtrip and most of it is hiking, but a good portion is clambering up and over boulders.  The first mile follows an old road along a fork of the Sauk River before beginning to climb up switchbacks through pretty forest.  You could see why they closed it to traffic.  One of the old bridges is now sitting in the middle of the river.

There was a really pretty icicle palace-looking fungi growing on a log.  At home I looked it up and found it is a hericium abietis. 

Farther up along the ridge, we had to cross through several gullies.  They would be extremely dangerous in the snow, but most had melted off by now.  The first one was the most dangerous, with a huge chunk of snow blocking the far side path on our way up.  We had to cut down the rocks along the stream and cross below it, then climb up the other side along the old chunk of snow to the path again.  All the gullies were beautiful, with waterfalls of varying sizes, rivulets that had cut deep crevices through rocks, and views across the valley of cascading waterfalls on the other ridges.

Wildflowers were still blooming, including Jeffrey’s shooting stars. 

Cedar and I stopped for lunch at this pretty pool.  It was a difficult climb and until I had a chance to rest I was thinking that would be our stopping point.  There couldn’t be much longer, so after the break on we went.  Adventure Dog was incredible, leaping up slabs of slippery rock and roots. 

There were pretty rocks up there too.  This one had a sheen of rain on it and looked like polished marble.

Finally, we crested the ridge… way up at the tippy top of the world it felt like.  A small field of snow seemed to block the way and we went around to avoid falling through any holes and the other side took my breath away.  The high bare rock was broken with only patches of purple and white heather and snow.  An icy still lake lay curled in the arms of all that rock, reflecting the sky and snow back.  And the most remarkable thing beside the stark beauty was the absolute silence.  While I was there, the wind held its breath, no rain fell, no bird sang, no breath of anything but Cedar and I could be heard.  Absolute, silent, heart-wrenching beauty.