Llama Trekking Adventure, CO (2 of 3)

My teenage daughter, Jordan, and I were on a five day guided llama trekking trip through Colorado’s Weminuche Wilderness with Redwood Llamas. We had spent the last two nights at Elk Creek Camp, a rocky ledge in the San Juan Mountains a few miles south of Highland Mary Lakes. (Read Part 1 here.)

Today was time to move on from Elk Creek to our next camp at Eldorado Lake, about a seven mile hike away. The plan was to make our way up through the mountains and hike along the crest of the Continental Divide. I was excited to hike this legendary trail, high in the San Juan Mountains, noted for having some of the wildest scenery along the entire route.

After breakfast burritos, our small group of seven broke down our tents and packed up our panniers.

The three guides had a much bigger job of breaking down the camp and loading the llamas. Knowing we were slower to hike than the llamas and guides, Mark suggested that our group go on ahead. Just go out the same way we came in—through the willows— and head up the mountain. Sounded easy…

So, one-by-one we filled up our water bottles and headed off with rain jackets in our daypacks. I was the last to leave. Hmmm…where exactly was the trail? Dense willows obstructed all but the heads of fellow hikers ahead of me. Ah, there it was. Marching after them, I tried to imagine backpacking my way across this wilderness on my own. Ha! Besides overgrown willows, intersecting trails from the Colorado Trail and Continental Divide meshed with spur trails to camps, water sources and unknown places. A confusing maze… I’d get sooo lost.

Hats off to the few souls we later encountered that were traveling solo–one guy from Boulder (hiking the Colorado Trail from Denver to Durango) and a gal who spotted our Eldorado camp and hiked a half-mile down the ridge to ask us for water. As for me, I was happy to be part of a group and even happier not relying on my navigational skills to get to the next camp, find water, and make my way safely home. And let’s be real, having llamas carry our gear, guides preparing our meals, filtering water, and knowing what to do if lightning strikes or a bear approached…was worth every cent. Yeah, I was thrilled to be part of this group.

We barely climbed out of the willows when, just 30 minutes later, we spotted the llamas by their orange rain covers moving through the landscape.

We continued on together passing the shores of Verde Lake. I loved the velvety green textures and the wide open spaces.

Yes, there were still willows— but shorter, less dense, and less scratchy.

Being July, wildflowers were in full, beautiful, bloom. Yellow (Alpine Avens & Sneezeweeds), purple (Little Red Elephant & Aster), pink (Queens Crown Sedum), dark red (Kings Crown Sedum) and creamy white (Indian Paintbrush) created pockets of color.

By now we’d been hiking about 90 minutes. Mark waited with the llamas until we all caught up, then suggested a short cut. He pointed to a post up on a ridge. “See that? Just head up that grassy slope and you’ll be on the Continental Divide.”

So we spread out to lessen our footprint on the tundra, and huffed and puffed our way up the slope. Whew! That 30 minute climb was steeper than it looked. That was intense!

But we did it. And now we were standing at the top of the Continental Divide— practically peak level of the surrounding 13,000 ft mountains. Our guide, Amber, offered snacks out of her day pack–candy bars, trailmix and jerky.  Yes, please. Then Jordan and I took turns leading Amber’s herd around the relatively flat grassy surface during our break.
The llamas had a regal, somewhat aloof, air. Heads held high, they looked around scanning the landscape. Only their ears gave them away. When irritated, ears went straight back. If curious, ears were upright and alert. And when confused—my favorite— one ear strangely swiveled away. But I never figured out the V formation, or what I call their Yoda look. 
Soon we were hiking the distinctive trail snaking its way along the famous Continental Divide— the geological backbone of North America stretching 3,100 miles between Canada and Mexico where waters spill into either the Pacific or Atlantic Oceans. More specifically, we were hiking through the open volcanic glacial valley on the section of the Continental Divide Trail, 12,713 ft high, in the wild, vast, rugged Weminuche Wilderness in southwestern Colorado.

Jordan kept Amber’s herd and led Charlie Boy (the one who mewed the most) and a string of llamas along the Continental Divide trail as we traveled through the grassy tundra. I loved watching her joy being in the company of her favorite animal and her calm assurance taking the lead. All too soon she would be embarking on a different journey—off to college—and following unknown paths.

The clouds were amazing that day, diffusing the sunlight in a magical way.

The rock cairn marked the highest point on the trail.  Our group hiking the Continental Divide Trail at midday. Here comes Randy, Barb & Jen …

followed by guide Sam, leading the llama Carson…
… and Jordan leading llama Charlie Boy, Alexander, Boyd, Palladin & Drake

The temperature was perfect for hiking–not too hot or cold. And no mosquitoes, wasps or flies.

An hour later we stopped for lunch. Llamas grazed on grass and willows while guides set up a wide selection of food on the rocks. Again the choices were plentiful and good—from assorted deli meats and cheeses, to tuna, veggies, fresh cherries, apples and cookies. Nobody was ever hungry on this trip.

After hiking three hours, it felt great to stretch out, fill our tummy and get re-energized.

While sitting in the grass, we met a thru hiker walking past. He was the only person we encountered that day. Austin was hiking from Denver to Durango on the Colorado Trail, a distance of 486 miles. He’d been hiking for several weeks, and gladly accepted Mark’s offer of candy and assorted snacks. He was going the same direction as us, so walked with us for a bit. I was curious to hear about his solo backpacking trip–from his logistics to experiences. Water was his biggest issue— there was a tricky balance knowing how much to carry—you didn’t want the weight cuz’ that slowed your pace, yet didn’t want to run out before you found the next water source. Loneliness was a close second. There were few interactions on the trail. To combat that, he had carefully planned family and friends to join him on short segments of his journey or meet them for a weekend as he passed through a town.

We walked across a grassy meadow for a long stretch… My fellow hikers—all living in Colorado— taught me a new word. Virga. The term is a weather condition describing rain that forms but evaporates before it reaches the ground. You can see the streaks falling from the clouds behind Jen, but the rain doesn’t materialize! And it’s apparently pretty common here.

Austin, the thru hiker we walked with since lunch, diverted down a spur trail here to set up his camp. Safe journeys! A little while later, we also diverted from the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) turning right to make our way to Eldorado Lake. The wild rugged landscape was otherworldly— glacial pond tarns carved into clifftops above deep canyons.

As we reached the base of a rocky mountainside, it began to rain. Guides and their llama train disappeared up the rocky slope. Again, Jordan was fast on their heels. She later told me that she hiked as fast as she could to reach the top and continue on to camp before the rain intensified. Stories of lightning strikes high in the mountains wigged her out a bit.

The rest of us stopped at the base to put on rain coats. We hurried to climb the rocks in the rain, not pausing to notice the scenery. Careful footing was required on the loose rocks that were a bit treacherous wet. Amber hung back to ensure everyone made it up safely.

Cresting the top, we followed the ridge and could look down on camp. Eldorado Lake, nestled in a picturesque cirque valley, was striking against the Grenadier Mountains. Even in the rain.

I clicked a quick pic, then stuck my camera inside a plastic ziploc in my waterproof day pack. I spied my daughter and her bright orange day pack way up ahead. Knowing her independent streak, I wondered if she might have the tent set up before I arrived. One can always hope!

But…nope. She was waiting for me to haul out the other half of the tent parts from my pannier. We argued about the location of where to set up our tent. Everyone else was already setting up their tents on a higher plateau, but I stood firm on my preference to be closer to the water thinking I could photograph the night sky over the lake if the clouds cleared. She pointed out the slope and voiced her concern about sliding into the lake below. Not a chance! It wasn’t that bad…

We scurried to set up our tent on soggy ground while annoying little flies buzzed around. It was the first time I noticed insects–great timing. Jordan was better at remembering the proper order of where all the poles went and became irritated when I grabbed the wrong piece. “Just, let me do it!” she insisted. “Really? OK!” I said, with my hands in the air, swatting at flies. “No, you need to help,” she hissed, pointing at the pole needed next. We proceeded to work as a team, but she was clearly the leader.

Later, Barb remarked how impressed she was that we got along so smoothly–especially on something so stressful as putting up a tent. In the rain. Ha! But looking back, I have to admit that Barb was right. If arguing about the tent was our only snaggle in this 3 week trip, our relationship was pretty astounding for a mother and a teen.

Suddenly the skies cleared. We opened the tent flap to appreciate our view.

Jordan was feeling a little winded from her fast race-pace climb up the rocky slope and took out the portable oxygen can we each purchased in town. After inhaling a couple of breaths she was ready to go out and explore. We climbed the rocks to the right of our tent. In the distance we could see Elk Creek Canyon and the glacial tarn pond we had hiked past. Our elevation here was 12,600 ft.

Looking a little to the left, Eldorado lake came into view but our tent wasn’t visible. Climbing down the rocks, I took a picture of our campsite. That’s our tent in the foreground, and the other tents beyond belonged to the other five participants in our group. From this angle it looks like all the tents are a little sloped, not just ours. (Guides perched their tents closer to the dining area to the left of here.)  After climbing the rocks beyond the other hiker’s tents, this was the view of Eldorado Lake. What a gorgeous place to camp!

The guides called us up for dinner. We set up our camp chairs on the grassy area away from the dining tarp to give them a little more breathing room than our last camp site. They brought out wine and appetizers of succulent grilled lamb before our main course of lasagna, warm bread and apple crisp with whipped cream. This clearly wasn’t camping!

After dinner, our guides climbed up the rocks above camp. Soon Mark was calling me to come up with my camera. I grabbed my Sony a9 with the 16-35mm lens attached, and bounded up the rocks behind Jordan. The sun was setting over Elk Creek Canyon. Our first sunset of the trip. Faint colors of orange and pink peeked out from a dark sky, then intensified.

We stayed up there for awhile and climbed back over the boulders carefully.

Before bed, I set up my camera gear in case the stars came out to play. Switched to my Rokinon 14mm lens to avoid capturing stars as UFOs (otherwise known as comatic aberration–irregular, elongated shapes created from not using an aspherical lens) and set my camera on my tripod. I was hoping for an appearance of the Milky Way, but knew the location would less than stellar. According to my NightSky app, it would appear over the rocky cliff to the left of our tent, and not Eldorado Lake. So no chance of a reflection in the water. But, maybe I could frame it with a partial view of our tent. Glancing at the sky, I was doubtful about a clear night. But at least I was ready.

Prepared for colder temps since we were camping at higher elevation (12,500 ft), I wore fleece lined leggings, a fleece sweater and wool hat to bed. Waiting at the bottom of my sleeping bag was my down jacket with an extra battery, headlamp and gloves secured in a pocket in case skies cleared for night photography.

Throughout the night, I awoke to check on the sky. Trying to unzip quietly was the trickiest part. Zippers unzipping in the night sound so loud! No matter if you zip fast or sloooow. At least I was farther away from the other tents.

Despite the higher elevation than Elk Creek Camp, it felt warmer here. Each time I awoke to check on the status of the stars, I found extra layers discarded to the side.

Finally, around 3am in the morning, I unzipped the tent to find… stars and the Milky Way!

What a grand finale to an awesome day….hiking on the Continental Divide Trail and capturing the Milky Way. Yay! 😉

Tomorrow we would have a free day to explore the surrounding area and another night at this camp before we hiked back and returned to Silverton. Time was going so quickly, and we were not ready for it to end.

For more information about this trip into the Weminuche Wilderness, click here. Redwood Llamas have guided llama trekking trips into six different regions of the San Juan Mountains, including 3 different trips into the Weminuche Wilderness, ranging from 3-5 days. We were on Trip 7 from Highland Mary Lakes to Eldorado Lake.