AdventureTaco - turbodb's build and adventures

So hard to keep up with all your adventures. The San Juans are definitely a must see and do. So much great history and tons of trails. I went there several years ago with a jeep group. I had lunch at Lake Como while they came in the Poughkeepsie Gulch route.

 

Glad you're enjoying as always!

Bummer on the one hand, but it looks like you had a great time regardless. Reminds me of our trip to the Mojave Preserve at the end of 2019. "Freak" snow storm just before we arrived, which completely changed the plan/accessibility of where we were going. Like you, we did our best to adapt, and ended up having an amazing time. Hopefully get to go down there again this year ( which only has a few weeks left!)

Yeah, I hear you on the keeping up. Impressed that you're even trying with the stuff that isn't desert related .

After the Colorado trip (which is a long one), there are a couple in your neck of the woods that are all ready to go. ...of course, one of those trips, you already know a tad bit about where we ended up at the tail end!

 

Hope you make it. Maybe I'll see you out there -- hoping to fit one more trip this year myself.

 

We Wander Over Cinnamon Pass & Find Fire - Colorado #11

Having gone to bed at elevation, and a little worried about how cool it would get, I'd placed a Little Hottie warmer in each of my socks as I climbed into bed. For anyone wanting to keep warm at night, I can't recommend these enough - they have made nights much more comfortable for me - and more importantly, @mrs.turbodb, on several occasions!

In fact, so warm were the hotties that I woke in the middle of the night with my feet - and therefore the rest of me - too hot! A good problem to have at 10,000 feet and 29°F.

After removing the warmers from my socks, I slept soundly through the rest of the night, finally climbing out of bed around 8:00am - our valley still shrouded in shade and very chilly.

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From all directions though, the sun - and warmth - was coming, and after pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I walked a little way up the hillside behind camp to stand in the sun as I enjoyed the morning meal.

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Everyone else took a little longer to get going - a bit more common sense keeping them in their tents until the sun was warming their exits. As such, it was 10:30am when we pulled out of camp to complete the final few miles of Engineer Pass on our way to the town of Lake City for a few supplies and a fill-up on propane.

Rolling along, we came to a fork in the road - an informational sign and historical cabin designating it "Capitol City." Upon reflection, the cabin was likely reconstructed in order to commemorate the historic location, but at the time it was a cool discovery that we spent a few minutes checking out.

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Already stopped, we had a decision to make - continue along the planned route to town, or turn off - onto the side road - to see what we could see. Predictably for this group, we paused our trek into town for the unknown, opting instead for a road that followed the North Fork of the Hensen Creek, and looped around Sunshine Mountain - to see what we could see!

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In the end, our reward was a splendid little valley, but little else - no mine, or other historical structure, which I think we all expected to find. Still, nothing to complain about here!

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Headed back the way we'd come, we were once again distracted - this time by a sign promising "Matterhorn Peak" - and we turned up a steep road running along Matterhorn Creek to check it out.

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Matterhorn Creek seems "healthy." Hrm. ​

As with the previous road, Matterhorn was a fun drive, with not much at its end except a place to turn around. A parking area in fact - for a hike that would take the fit explorer on a 10-mile roundtrip to the peak of Wetterhorn Peak - a 14er - with views of the shorter Matterhorn to its east.

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We were not those fit explorers, preferring our version of hiking - American Hiking™ - in which judicious movements of the feet and arms power a machine that takes us where we want to go. And for now, that was back down to the Engineer Pass road and towards town - at least for a while.

We'd barely gotten moving again when - fewer than five miles down the road - we found ourselves in the middle of the Ute-Ulay mining area. This, according to the signs posted there by the BLM, was the mine that made Lake City.

Not everything was fun and roses however.

Despite its storied history, there was plenty to explore around the old mine site, much of it in an arrested state of decay in order to preserve it for passers by. We took full advantage, spending nearly an hour wandering around the buildings, headframes, and failed old dam.

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Inside the buildings was just as intriguing as outside. Educational too - I'd never known that NABISCO was an abbreviation that made so much sense.

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And clearly, though we had the entire ghost mine to ourselves, this was a place visited by many - the friendliness of the permanent residents, a testament to the popularity.

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The Ute-Ulay proved to be our last distraction before reaching Lake City - a good thing if we hoped to achieve anything on this warm, sunny day. In town, we took care of our various errands, and then decided that the city park looked like a great place to sit down to lunch - views of main street keeping us occupied as we took a gathered our strength for an afternoon of American Hiking™. (aka driving )

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With lunch taken care of, Mike, Monte, and Devin headed across the street for milkshakes and ice cream sodas at the old soda shop - a delicacy that looked delicious and which I was once again surprised that Monte - a self-proclaimed ice cream aficionado - could not finish.

Not to worry, I took care of the rest for him as we headed back onto the Alpine Loop and started up Cinnamon Pass.

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Starting once again at lower elevations, the colors were vivid as we climbed up the initially shallow grade.

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Soon, the ridgelines narrowed around us, the pass rising up in the distance.

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Behind us, the aptly named Redcloud Peak towered high.

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Continuing my tradition of falling behind, I soon found myself racing to catch up with the rest of the crew as they began a steeper portion of the ascent - up some switchbacks just after a fork in the road to American Basin. As always, my curiosity got the better of me, and I opted for a short detour into the basin - because who knows when I'll be through this way again...And in the end, I was glad I did; it was quite spectacular - a great place to keep in the back of the mind for camping in the future!

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The delay, however, meant that I really had to move in order to catch up with the rest of the guys as we came up to the saddle that marked Cinnamon Pass. Here - as with many passes before and several we'd see in the coming days - the views were far reaching. We all soaked them in, as a 3rd gen Tacoma and 5th gen 4Runner that we'd seen in Lake City approached from the same direction we'd come.

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Not quite as built-up as our 1st gens, we chatted for a while about what we'd each seen of the Alpine Loop so far, each group having been in the area for a couple days now. A few recommendations were shared as far as suspension and body armor were concerned, and after wishing each other safe travels, we headed down towards Animas Forks.

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Having stopped in Animas Forks the previous day at about the same time, it looked strikingly similar as we pulled into town and without so much as a peep over the CB radio, I think we all decided that we might as well keep moving, rather than look around again.

Tonight, we had a goal in mind. Two actually. And they required us to get to camp just a little bit early...

Down we went, following the creek. Or perhaps toxic flow is a better description.

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The creeks here definitely look cool, but seriously - what does it take to turn this color?​

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Looking for camp between here and Silverton.​

Half an hour later, we found ourselves mostly out of the mountains - or perhaps, in a valley between them - and we started scouting for a nice place to stop for the evening. We weren't all that picky - something flat, and with some firewood to burn was all we really needed.

Did you catch that? I slipped it in there like it was nothing at all out of the ordinary - we were looking for firewood to burn! As we'd passed through Lake City earlier in the day, Dan had discovered that the state-wide burn ban had been lifted, and that San Juan County (where we were currently located) had no ban in place either.

We split into two groups as we ventured up Cunningham Gulch - Mike and Dan opting for the low road, Monte and I climbing a few hundred feet onto a shelf road that made its way along the hillside. Mike and Dan were the ones to find camp, but Monte and I had the pleasure of finding the Old Hundred Gold Mine.

No longer an active mine, the current owners of the Old Hundred have turned to tourism, signs above the fenced-off mine shaft offering tours - likely for some exorbitant fee. It might be worth it however, since it appears they are conducted on some of the old narrow-gauge rail that was used to haul ore out of the mine; that would be quite an experience!

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With a camp spot secured, Monte and I quickly made our way back down to where Mike was already deploying his tent. He was, you see, in a bit of a time crunch. Having arrived at camp early-ish, he'd decided to make us all tacos for dinner, and they required a bit of prep.

As Mike prepped the tacos, Dan took his truck to gather a bit of wood for our fire. And by a bit, I mean the equivalent of about ten bundles. A 14" diameter old growth fir trunk, to be exact.

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Score.​

On his return, he proceeded to section the trunk into rounds with his chainsaw, while I used a Fiskars chopping axe (I like the 28" version, though others seem to like the 23.5" model) to chop it all into firewood. It would turn out to be some of the best wood we've ever burned - burning fast and hot, with great smells and lots of nice crackling!

With bit more time before Mike was ready with his tacos, we all setup camp and I took a bit of time to explore the Old Hundred Mill foundation across the road from our camp site - it was quite the structure, though in complete disrepair.

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And with that, to everyone's delight, we got the fire going! With so much wood, and only a few nights left on the trip, the fire burned hot an bright for the next several hours until we called it an evening. Somewhere in the middle of that time, Mike called us over to his truck for his specialty tacos.

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The tacos were delicious. Ingredients are of course semi-secret, but they quite obviously contained pulled pork, onions, cilantro, and a green salsa. A side pepper added a kick, and I think we each polished off six of these puppies, so tasty were they!

Eventually we called it a night - our bellies happy and each of us looking forward to the following day. We had two more on the Alpine Loop, and those two would prove to be the highlight of the entire adventure!

 

Those tacos look delicious. Who knew such a simple meal could taste so good?

 

Well, I guess I knew. Mike had made them for me once before. I got more (quantity) this time, but I still could have kept going. I think a dozen would be good. A bakers dozen.

 

We used to hit the carniceria on the way to work for marinated Carne Asada and other ingredients for lunch time tacos. BBQ the Asada and whip up the salsa (with Avocado). I guess we'd get anywhere from 6-10 pounds of meat for a half dozen people. Easily our most popular lunchtime BBQ.

 

@turbodb I have been thoroughly enjoying the write-ups of your adventures - thank you for sharing these with the always-excellent photography. Certainly is encouraging to me to "get out there".

 

The places you have travelled though are simply breathtaking as is your rig. Beautiful.

 

I clearly need to join one of your outings. Or just lunch, since I'd probably just get on your nerves the rest of the time, hahahaha!

Awesome, glad to hear you've been enjoying. I've recently had a couple folks "yell" at me (privately in email) for setting a bad example and encouraging others to "destroy" nature, because I post about how beautiful it is, which encourages others to get out. So it's always nice to get a bit of balance.

Nature is breathtaking, I'm with you 100% on that.

My rig owes what few good looks it has to several others on TW (a few of them, on this trip even) that were its inspiration; they will never fully know how thankful I am to them. Even so, the rig looks better the further away you are from it, these days, hahahaha!

 

Well, nature is USUALLY breathtaking. This was our view at Engineer when we did the loop:



That young man on the right walked up there I guess.

Gotta get back and hope for better weather! Thanks again for sharing!

 

I need to dig out my pic of Engineer Pass. A storm was rolling in IIRC.

 

Great pictures Turbodb, once again.
Here might be a different solution to cold feet, while out on the Antarctic plateau at a field camp we would fill a nalgene with hot water and slip it into a wool sock, should work pretty good for that elevation, and less mess(make sure it’s tight) . Depending on the temp sometimes I would use two- one in an OR bottle parka(better insulated) and swap them out in the middle of the night, added bonus warm water to drink. Slept very comfortably down to around -20 or so with a fleece bag liner and a Slumberjack winter bag.
Again thanks for sharing, helps me with my taco bucket list

 

Yeah, that's a great way as well - @drr did it on this trip a few times . I like the warmers just because it means I don't have to get out the stove and boil water before bed; but in a pinch, that'd definitely be on my list of ways to keep warm!

 

Redhead Down, Again?! - Colorado #12

Morning was beautiful at the mouth of Cunningham Gulch, though we were in the shade for a while as the sun worked its way over the ridge to our east.

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I forget if it was Monte @Blackdawg or Dan @drr that asked, but one of them mentioned the small ponds across the way - some large-for-the-size-of-the-ponds fish inhabiting the cold waters. Intrigued, I headed that way, while Dan - because I'm pretty sure it was Dan who mentioned it - headed to the Old Hundred Mill that I mentioned as rather interesting as well.

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Breakfast followed, my milk turning to slush as it hit the sides of my plastic cereal bowl. Brrr, must have been a cold morning. Soon enough, the sun rose high enough to envelop our camp in a warming brilliance and after a leisurely morning we were all packed up and ready to head into town. Silverton to be exact.

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Tower Mountain, rising up at the mouth of Cunningham Gulch.​

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Sultan Mountain, a little beyond our destination of Silverton.​

Once in town, we split up. Monte and Devin @MissBlackdawg headed off in search of water for Ollie, Dan and Mike @Digiratus ended up at the public restrooms, and I ended up in the middle of town at the Shady Lady.

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Silverton was a cool place - most of the roads unpaved, the building façades harkening back to the time of their original construction. Only the paint and residents had been updated, the colorful pallet bringing the whole place to life.

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Our morning errands complete, we headed back onto the Alpine Loop, quickly getting back into the hills via Cement Creek Road - dust from the roads hanging in the air as we ogled the historic mine ruins.

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From there, our route followed Hurricane Pass Road, climbing nearly 2,000 feet to just over 12.5K in just a few miles - the views as we gained elevation, tremendous.

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Nearing our turn from Hurricane Pass to Hurricane Peak, an old rail loading ramp jutted out from the hillside. It was with near disbelief that I watched everyone else drive by - intent on continuing the upward journey to the peak. I couldn't pass this spot up, so a quick call over the CB to let everyone know I would catch up, and I was out of the truck - sprinting up the hillside to get a different perspective.

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At the top, I discovered both the view I'd been looking for, as well as a special surprise - a mine shaft carved into the mountain - water trickling out through the protective grating over the mouth.

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My curiosity satisfied for a few minutes, I caught up with the guys who'd waited for me at the next overlook. It was from this point on that our views of Corkscrew Gulch and Red Mountain No. 1 really never ended. Contrasted dramatically against the surrounding ridges and blue sky, I must have take nearly 100 versions of the same photo, as each time I glanced to the west, I couldn't help but gasp just a little.

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We were clearly above the tree line at this point, and like many of the other high mountain passes we'd travelled, the road wound its way up a screefield, switching back on itself in order to temper the ascent. At times, we were driving into the sky.

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Other times we found ourselves on plateaus - above it all from one direction, and yet still several hundred feet below our ultimate destination. I wasn't the only one in search of frequent stops at this point, and we were often all our of our trucks to capture the midday splendor.

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Eventually we reached the terminus of the road, some 300 feet below the summit of Hurricane Peak. From the air, we must have looked like mice, scurrying from a sinking ship as we parked our trucks and scattered in different directions to capture the view.

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From the ridge leading to Hanson Peak, our earlier route over California Pass was easily seen; Engineer Pass far in the distance.​

In the end, Devin had the right idea from the get-go, making a beeline towards the summit of Hurricane Peak. Soon we all followed, the excitement of what lay at the top easily offsetting the exertion needed at 13,447 feet above sea level.

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Too soon - but nearly half an hour after achieving our second highest elevation of the trip - we picked our way back down, the lure of Corkscrew Gulch's red rocks, beckoning us onward. We hadn't discussed it to that point, but as I looked out over the landscape - the red ridges filling more and more of the horizon, I mentioned on the CB that it would be a great place to eat lunch.

Everyone agreed.

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As we had at Hurricane Ridge, we spent a good amount of time just soaking in the views at Corkscrew Gulch. A whole different perspective, we were both above and within the mountains here - and the colors, well - they were the most vibrant we'd seen the entire trip. Lunch here was a treat, even if it was a bit breezy.

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Eventually, we were forced to face the fact that we had more places to be - and see - there was no rest for the curious. We got ourselves turned around and back up the narrow switchbacks that had ushered us to our lunch overlook.

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The remainder of the Corkscrew Gulch trail was reasonably uneventful. As our elevation dropped, we found ourselves back in the trees, the views of the morning now obscured by the foliage. We continued down - toward US-550, the Million Dollar Highway - passing a few UTVs and Jeeps headed in the opposite direction.

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A short jaunt on pavement - it couldn't have been more than a couple of miles - and we were back on dirt, this time headed up Red Mountain Pass Road in search of the historic Corkscrew Gulch Turntable. What we didn't know, was that this area would prove to be one of the richest of our trip from a mining history perspective. Almost immediately, a reasonably in-tact complex presented itself alongside the road.

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Being that it was already 2:30pm, we resisted the urge to stop, and continued onwards towards our destination. That, we discovered, was a parking area - the turntable some eight-tenths of a mile along an old railroad-grade-turned-hiking-trail. All of us - even Mike - set out on foot!

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Unfortunately, all but one of us made it to the turntable, the uneven surface and distance getting to Mike's leg after nearly half a mile. There wasn't much to see, but what little was left of the turntable showed it to be a reasonably major operation, used to turn a locomotive up and down a switchback too steep for it to navigate alone.

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An hour later, we returned to the trucks, our buddy Mike, and to our southward exploration of Red Mountain Pass.

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The headframe covers an enormously deep, 1,200' vertical shaft. We tried dropping a rock through the grate, and never heard it land.​

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Wondering if we'd found a hole to the other side of the earth, we were careful as we stepped away from the Yankee Girl shaft and continued on our way. A plethora of mines presented themselves - several in various states of reclamation. For any mine buffs, this would be a fascinating place to explore. And yes, that means I'd love to go back with a bit more time!

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Unknown loading chute.​

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Still-active mines in the area.​

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Looks can be deceiving; you definitely wouldn't want to drink out of this tailings pond.​

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Steam power.​

It was here, as we were admiring a headframe that - like the Yankee Girl - was covered for protection from the harsh winters, that Mike had a bit of trouble with the Redhead. As we started up the trucks to move out, he notified us over the CB radio that the Redhead had stalled.

The same thing had happened the previous day at the crest of Cinnamon Pass, but we'd all sort of chalked it up to elevation, and his truck starving for air - because really, if we could bury our heads in the sand and have the problem go away, that would be the best course of action. Having the same thing happen a second time meant that there really was a problem, but once again we tried to ignore it - Mike waiting a few minutes and then trying again, the Redhead starting up when he did, allowing us to proceed along our high road along the ridge above US Basin and Browns Gulch (San Juan County Rd 825).

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Even keeping his truck running at all times, the Redhead died twice more as we made our way along the ridge. Each time, it seemed to have something to do with the engine being both hot as well as low on fuel. We'd pop the hood to let it cool a few moments, and then Monte would "lay hands" on the throttle body, opening it fully as Mike keyed the ignition.

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Eventually, we realized that Mike could achieve the same result by fully pressing the throttle as he attempted to restart the truck. This was a good thing, as the Redhead stalled three more times at the beginning of our descent towards the Million Dollar Highway.

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It was not, however, a good thing that the Redhead was dying in the first place. Especially concerning to me was that we were planning to run Black Bear Pass the following day - the elevation and steep trail, a bad combination for an AT truck that was continually stalling out. Could the Redhead be down, again!?

Since it seemed that the problem was lack of fuel, our ultimate solution - for the remainder of the trip - was some talented, two-foot driving by Mike - one foot keeping fuel flowing with the accelerator, the other providing resistance on the brakes. It was a bit sketchy, sure - but it worked, and we made it to camp!

Camp, it turned out, was difficult to find. We'd planned to camp up the road leading to Clear Lake, but with the exception of campgrounds, all of the dispersed camping had been closed to motorized traffic - a bummer, but understandable given the amount of traffic this area sees! We tried several other roads, finally finding ourselves high atop a tailings pile, a mile or so off of the Million Dollar Highway.

It was dramatic, to say the least.

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Around the camp fire that night, the topic of conversation was predictable - what were we going to do about Mike's truck? Hoping I had some MAF cleaner in my OSK, I pulled it out of the bed only to find that I'd removed it in the Tacoma's weight loss regimen the previous winter. Initially a bummer, several of us came to the similar conclusion that while a dirty MAF might cause abnormal fuel trims and decreased gas mileage, stalling wasn't something we'd ever associated with such a condition.

In the end, there wasn't much we could do except to monitor the situation - and monitor it we'd be forced to do, because running Black Bear and Imogene Pass on our final day on the trail had been the only request Mike had made as far as the route was concerned. There was no way he was missing out on this fun. Or whatever it turned out to be.

 

Are you trying to wake up Orcs? Cuz that's how you wake up Orcs.

 

Looks like the trip kept getting better and better! So jealous of all the other cool stuff you guys saw!

 

LOL. If it is, then there are an army of them down there awake now. Countless shafts we've dropped stuff into!

The nice thing to say here would be something like, "How could it have gotten better without you there?"

 

That's one of the coolest things. I always drop stuff. Goes back to that curiosity about what it took to mine or live somewhere. Imagine digging to over a thousand feet before moving out?

 

the correct thing to say would be "thank god you left, we finally had some god damn piece and quiet"