The Beauty of Breckenridge, Part 2

June 13-15, 2022

It was a good thing that we ignored the signage at the Hoosier Pass turnoff (11,500’ elev.).  It would have told us nothing anyway.  But if it had, we might not have done what we did. 

After parking, we assumed that the view of the glacial mountains we had watched driving north the day before on State Route 9 would be found maybe 2-300 yards from the lot.  We assumed wrong.

We started up the broad trail, slow but steady because surely, what we were so anxious to see wasn’t much further.  At that elevation, I kept drawing breath as deeply as I could, but I could feel my legs gradually melting into rubber as we continued to gain elevation.

Tom trudged ahead, as he often does, with a strength I never had on my best day, ever.  He would stop, I would catch up and stand still for a bit to let my brain and body catch up as well.  I was dying for water.  Already. At probably two-tenths of a mile.

We kept going.  When we finally stopped at a decent viewing point to take it all in, I figured we had reached an elevation just short of 12,000’.  My heart was racing – as much from the view as the effort – which turned out to be totally worth it.

How can I possibly describe it?  The mountains were full of clouds and sun and movement.  It was below 40, and showers of fine dry snow peppered us from time to time.  We faced three main peaks, surrounded by other peaks, all spattered with snow, and watched as they went from sunlit to drama-dark to sunlit again, cloud shadows chasing one another with the speed of an unhampered wind. The hooded peaks were serious business – as jagged as the Tetons – and as unrelenting and unwelcoming as anything on earth – but still incredibly alluring in their majesty and remoteness.

The trail we had followed for 0.84 miles, continued past where a glacier still spilled across it.  A couple of young ladies, who had passed us as if we were standing still, hiked up to that point and then decided not to cross.  We asked them on their return about the snow, and the one wearing dark braids cheerfully replied that it appeared too icy and slick – and that their goal for the day was “just not to fall.”

[Women in Breckenridge wear their long hair in braids for a reason – even a ponytail would get too tangled in that constant wind. I am still combing out the knots.]

After we had absorbed as much magic as we could, and used up a great deal of memory on our respective phones, we began our descent.  My legs passed from rubber into wet-noodledom.  And I was exhausted – barely lifting my feet high enough not to stumble.  And now, not only was I thirsty, I was hungry.

When we made it back to the car, we read the signage — which was completely worthless.  But who cares?  We did it. And we might not have, had we known what we were in for. And I even learned another valuable traveling lesson: never leave the car for anything without snacks and water.