Gold Rush

I hadn't done real fall colors photography in a couple of years. Lizard and I were able to get a few shots on the way home from his mom's a couple of times, but, generally speaking, he wasn't able to tolerate road trips for the last two to three years.

I wanted to try to get at least a few shots this year. But every time I set a goal to go up into the high country, I would break down in tears because I didn't want to go without him.

I finally worked up the courage to go last week, and I actually had a fairly good time. I can't wait to go back up into the mountains.

Most of the color was gone, but I got a couple of good shots. And I set a goal to hike the last trail Lizard had set a goal to hike. We were going to do it together this fall. Next time I go up, I'm going to tackle that trail to see where it goes. I may not make it to the top of whatever mountain it ascends, but I can hike and have a good time and possibly even get some good photos while I try to train myself to breathe at altitude again.

For this brief trip, I hiked across the boardwalk that leads to the 14er Bierstadt trail. Lizard and I had gone as far as he was able to go on the boardwalk about three or four years ago. There were some wonderful memories along the way, and I pretended to talk to him as I climbed.

I wanted to get a shot of the 14er reflecting in the unnamed beaver ponds at the edge of the boardwalk. I'd just bought new hiking boots because the waterproof pair I'd bought in 2020 had begun wearing a blister on the back of my left heel the week before. This was my first hike in the new shoes. Second day wearing them, actually.

Just as I got close to the edge of the water, I suddenly postholed nearly thigh deep into a mucky, black sinkhole. It took me quite a while to get myself out of the literal mess I'd gotten myself into. I hadn't told anyone where I was going. I was alone. It was late in the day; most hikers had already returned to their cars. There was no signal on my phone, but, I managed to keep both my phone (which was in my pants pocket) and my camera dry.

I was afraid I was going to have to holler for help. And hope someone might be able to hear me. I was really stuck. It reminded me of the day Lizard and I traversed this very same trail in winter on snowshoes the year after my emergency back surgery. I was still working my strength back up, and I was unable to extract myself from a similar posthole, possibly in very near the same place but in deep, soft snow. Lizard had to rescue me.

I was finally able to get one leg moving, which enabled me to break free of the muck. Oh, was it nasty!!! But I got out. I asked Lizard if he had helped me. And I had a pretty good chuckle, imagining him laughing with me as I tried to scrape the black sludge off my pants and my new hiking boots. It was just windy enough to dry my jeans out by the time I returned to my car, so, I wasn't freezing all the way home. And EVERYTHING got a good wash, including my new shoes!

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