Becky and I began our "Credit-Card Fast Packing" trip Saturday morning, with the plan of hiking from Aspen, through the mountains, to Crested Butte. The drive alone takes 4 - 5 hours, but as the crow flies, Crested Butte is only 20(ish) miles from Aspen. It was dark and cold and rainy and ominous when we started. When we arrived at Crater Lake (below), the lightning and thunder was soooo bad that we decided to throw in the towel and head home.
We took cover in the pines as the hail pelted us (the lone figure is Matt) . . .
Notice the hail on the trail . . . but Becky is still smiling, although cold
The storm grew worse as we headed back down to Aspen. But it was all very "Alaska-like."
Finally the storm broke, and after losing several hours sitting under pines and hiking back to Aspen, we decided to carry on. Becky bravely made the first cold river crossing in 30 degree weather . . .
A few hours later, we were nearly to the top of West Maroon Pass. We were still freezing cold and soaked to the bone . . . (notice the trail cutting up to the ridge)
And finally on top of the pass . . . 12,500 feet . . . the view back toward Aspen.
The view over the pass toward the Crested Butte side . . .
And then the treacherous descent down the pass on slick rocks (that little speck on the trail is Becky) . . .
Down the mountain we went . . . past summertime glaciers . . .
And finally we descended into the high hills and alpine wild flowers at about 11,000 feet . . .
Close up of the wildflowers . . .
And then hours later we finally made into Crested Butte. We dried out, thawed out, and spent the evening on the town . . .
This has to be the greatest siding to a home that I have ever seen . . .
And then the next morning we were on the trail again back to Aspen, but this time under sunnier skies . . .
Becky preparing to go over the pass again . . . 12,500 feet . . .
And then, on top of the pass, the weather started rolling in again . . .
Becky heading back down the pass to the Aspen side . . .
The
very cold wade through a glacier fed stream . . .
One last stop at Crater Lake high above Aspen, and one final "cleaning out of the shoes"
And look how thick the aspen forests are . . .
And two days later, we finally threw the bags back in the car and headed home . . . Aspen to Crested Butte, and then Crested Butte to Aspen!
We encourage all who can to someday do this hike, it was truly UNREAL!
I caught this nice 15 inch brown trout outside the kitchen window on a beat-up size 10 royal wulff . . . thus the name "Kitchen Window Brown Trout." Now, so as not to turn this into a fly-fishing blog, I promise that I won't post any more photos of Colorado's trout for the rest of the summer (unless I catch a real monster).
Becky and I began our "Credit-Card Fast Packing" trip Saturday morning, with the plan of hiking from Aspen, through the mountains, to Crested Butte. The drive alone takes 4 - 5 hours, but as the crow flies, Crested Butte is only 20(ish) miles from Aspen. It was dark and cold and rainy and ominous when we started. When we arrived at Crater Lake (below), the lightning and thunder was soooo bad that we decided to throw in the towel and head home.
We encourage all who can to someday do this hike, it was truly UNREAL! 
The bears are in full force here in Aspen. This is the latest from this afternoon (for Round 1, see the last post) . . . and Sam and Becky had a front row seat for over an hour while this bear had its way with our not-so-bear-proof "bear proof" garbage can.
Becky brought Sam home for his afternoon nap on Saturday. She came in the house, gave Sam a snack, and heard someone playing with the doorknob on the backdoor. Being as smart as she is, she peaked out the window before she opened the door. 3 BEARS! From Friday night to Sunday afternoon, we saw 5 bears around the house.
After the bears wander away, we go out to the driveway to check it out. Sam loves it. It is exhilerating . . . you never know when they are watching you from the trees!
On any given day, Sam has river water, syrup, dirt, ketchup, honey and grass in his hair. If it is on his hands, it is in his hair too. After a day with no bath, his hair is as greasy as Travolta's.
But it is summer time . . . so no worries.
If you drive eight miles up the canyon from where we currently live, the road ends here, at the Maroon Bells (elevation 14,156) and Maroon Lake.
It is great to be able to come home from work, have dinner, and fly-fish in the backyard for ten minutes before bed . . .
Wrestling with a brown trout from Maroon Creek outside our kitchen window . . .
Fish LANDED!!
But I should have put on my waders, eh?
