8-5-2021
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Today, I finally learned how to correctly pronounce the
name of the town I was in: Yerr-Ay. Don’t ask me how they got there from “Ouray”,
which seems like it would naturally be pronounced “oo-ray” or even “yoo-ray”.
All I know is that if you pronounce it “oo-ray”, everyone in town will
instantaneously know that you’re a tourist. So go ahead, give that word the
good ole Texas treatment and slur those consonants with a nice low drawl!
Much of my confusion came from the fact that every person
I run into seems to pronounce this town’s name differently. Granted, most of
those people are tourists. So this morning, I got it straight from the waitress
at the campground café, who seemed like a no-nonsense native (she was). And
now, I, too, can pretend like I’m one of the locals! Except for the part where
I’m carrying around all kinds of swag, of course.
Bryan and I parted ways after a hearty breakfast, with
him heading on to Durango to visit other friends and me staying in town (YERR-AYYYY,
I reminded myself) for a day of relaxation. Well, kind of relaxation.
The town’s visitor center had extensive information on
all of the hiking trails around Ouray, so it was easy enough to select a couple
to go on for the day’s activity. I settled on three of the most popular trails:
the Ouray Perimeter Trail, Baby Bathtubs, and Lower Cascade Falls. I figured a
good 8ish miles of hiking would be no problem and would fill up my day very nicely.
The Ouray Perimeter Trail is a 6ish mile loop that goes
exactly where it says: around the perimeter of Ouray. What makes this trail so
popular is the fact that it goes around Ouray’s perimeter from a path situated roughly
a thousand feet above the valley floor, so you’re treated with sweeping 360*
views of the entire town nearly the whole time you’re hiking. It is pretty
unique to be able to circumnavigate a town like this, and is really only
possible because Ouray is built in a little bowl-shaped valley surrounded by steep
craggy mountains. The town's slogan - "the Switzerland of America" - is well-deserved!
Both the Baby Bathtubs trail and the Lower Cascade Falls
trail are offshoots on the Perimeter Trail, so I figured I might as well just
knock them all out at once. I parked Jane on the street across from the visitor
center and hopped on the trailhead, ready to tackle an awesome day of
spectacular vistas!
I quickly found out about the one downside of this trail:
the elevation gains. From the trailhead, the path arrowed straight upwards,
with nearly a thousand feet of elevation gain in the first half mile. Ouch! I
felt very much like a flatlander as I struggled my way upwards, dealing with
the twin effects of elevation and a large amount of breakfast in my gut.
Nevertheless, I persisted on pushing myself, unable to admit that maybe I am a
little more out of shape than I think. Impossible!
The trail did eventually level out, and I found myself skirting around the base of a cliffy outcrop on a narrow pathway that offered my first really great views of town:
Looking down on the cluster of homes and shops, I
pondered what life must be like for those who live here. Ouray is a playground
for vacationers and Jeepers, popular in summers for its offroading, hiking, and
lovely weather, but less popular in winters due to a lack of winter sports
facilities (in comparison to places like Breckenridge and Vail), not to mention
more difficult access. I can only imagine that when the snow starts falling,
things get very quiet and the town probably feels very small. And then when
summer sun arrives, and tourists with it, the town must feel very bloated. Maybe
the residents really enjoy the dual nature of the town.
As I had chosen to head clockwise around the trail, I
came up on the Lower Cascade Falls loop fairly quickly. Lower Cascade Falls is –
you guessed it – a waterfall. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was
still flowing pretty strongly, thanks to a fairly wet summer. Lots of people
and pets milled around, reveling in the cool mists coming off the falls. It’s a
bit strange of a thing to notice, but I noticed that the area around the falls
was almost completely devoid of trash. I spend a lot of time hiking, and I’ve
seen a lot of popular trails totally trashed with garbage blowing around everywhere.
So for a trail this close to town to be this clean, that means that either the
falls are cleaned regularly by the city, or Ouray is one of very few places where
the majority of the population respects and cares for their natural spaces. I’d
really like to think it’s the latter.
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| Good flow, for August! |
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| I really enjoyed the different cuts of the rocks near the falls. Different erosional patterns means different rock types up there in that cliff face! |
After spending my own time milling about the falls area,
I hopped back on the Perimeter Trail and continued winding my way south. It
quickly became apparent to me that the Perimeter Trail is not intended to be
forgiving so much as it is intended to be spectacular. Instead of reaching a
maximum elevation after the initial climb and then routing the trail along the
mountains at that elevation, the Ouray Perimeter Trail wanders up and down the
hillsides as it pleases, subjecting you to steep inclines and declines in a
relentless pursuit of the most picturesque views.
I have to say, although my knees were less than happy
with the arrangement, my eyes were quite okay with it.
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| A nice lightly-forested hillside with lots of wildflowers |
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| A uniquely-named "Police Car Moth", which was fortunately interested enough in the flowers that it let me get close for a photo |
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| Looking out over town from another perspective |
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| A lovely purple flower in some interesting light |
As I approached the southern margin of town, I hopped off
on the second offshoot trail I had planned on seeing: the Baby Bathtubs trail. I
had inquired about the name in the visitor center, as it is a pretty weird name
for a trail. But all I received was some kind of vague reply about there being
rocks shaped like baby bathtubs. I don’t really know what a baby bathtub looks
like, I guess, as I had a hard time picturing what the volunteer was talking
about. So I was excited to find out!
A short jaunt up the trail had me crossing a shallow
creekbed, and it was there that I saw them. The baby bathtubs! The creek had
carved down through a layer of very hard rock, forcing the stream of water into
narrow channels wherever the rock was a bit softer. Those channels, in turn,
got hollowed out and smoothed over by millions of gallons of water flowing
through them over hundreds – or more likely thousands – of years. The end
result? A series of hollows in the rock that look perfectly suited to put a
baby in!
Crystal clear water – so clear as to be nearly invisible
- streamed through these “bathtubs”, burbling pleasantly through the twists and
turns in the channels, doing its part to smooth them even further. This,
surely, is the place where all inspiration for home nature-scaped water
fountains comes from! I found myself a little irritated that the pools are only
baby-sized. A nice soak in one of those smoothed-out hollows would have been
just the thing. But, alas. I had to content myself with pictures.
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| The water is so clear that you can't really even see it in this photo, so mostly it just looks like a weird picture of a rock |
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| Eye level view |
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| Looking down on a deceptively large volume of water roaring through the main creek. Theoretically, a Kelly-sized bathtub... but also a very deadly one |
I hiked along the trail for a mile or two, skirting the
creek the whole time. Then the Perimeter Trail called me back, and I began my
hike around the southern margin of the town. Interestingly, you have to cross
the Million Dollar Highway on this portion of the trail – not something I would
have considered advisable for trail planners, but I guess the speed limit on
the “highway” is low due to the curvy downhill grade so they considered it an
acceptable risk. I had no trouble crossing, at any rate, and just Frogger’d my
way across between the RVs screeching downhill in a plume of brake smoke.
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| Looking down at the Million Dollar Highway |
At the furthest southern crux of the trail, I crossed the
Uncompahgre River. And I found myself saddened doing so. This river would be
gorgeous, with its impressive cascades and booming flow, but for one thing: its
grungy yellow color. This color comes from heavy metals – particularly arsenic –
leached into the river from nearby mining operations. Consequently, not only is
the river very unappetizing to look at, but it is also very toxic. The sight
was a far cry from the perfectly crystalline waters of Baby Bathtubs a mere
mile away. I wish that mining operations weren’t allowed to get away with this –
and really, I can’t fathom how they have.
I followed the Ice Park Trail (which is also the
Perimeter Trail, I guess) back down the gorge, following the rushing yellow
waters of the Uncompahgre. A ways down the path, I started to notice something
odd in the opposing rock face across the river: a bunch of stakes and cables
wired into the rocks. They looked, to me, like footholds! I saw a sign posted
near one cluster and used my camera as a telescope to check it out. Imagine my
surprise when I found that the stakes and cables were indeed for climbing! I
also saw a number of very sketchy-looking cable ladders and bridgeways across the river.
Eventually, I stumbled across a sign – on my side of the
canyon – that explained what I was looking at: Ouray Via Ferrata. Apparently,
experienced climbers like to crawl around on the sheer rock faces out here, and
have devised a way to do it regularly with these inset permanent footholds,
ladders, and cabled walkways. All of this, done right over the roaring rapids
of the throttled Uncompahgre! The sign advised “THIS ACTIVITY CAN KILL YOU” and
I believed it. One slip and one harness failure can dash you on the rocks or send
you into the swirling river. I’m not sure which would be worse, but both seem
to be certain ways to die. I moved on, passing a few daredevil climbers gearing
up, and suppressed a shudder. None of that for me! I prefer my feet on the
ground, thanks.
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After that, the trail climbed again – AGAIN – winding its
way up into the sky for more sweeping views of the town. I have to say that
these ones were my favorite, at least.
A short bit later, I entered Box Canon Park and found
myself facing a very daunting bridge suspended across a steep gorge. Sitting
several hundred feet above the very healthy Canyon Creek, it was one of those
types that is perfectly safe – stable, high-walled, and completely immobile – but
also perfectly scary due to its see-through floor. I edged my way out onto it, then leaned on the
rail to take in the sights. And lo and behold, what did I see but a gigantic,
very obvious angular unconformity!
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| Check out how the steeply angled (almost upright) layers of rocks at the bottom are planed off by the overlying horizontal layers of rocks! |
“Wow, that looks like the Great Unconformity,” I thought. The Great Unconformity, in simple terms, is basically a line in the rocks that represents over 100 million years – sometimes even up to a billion years – of missing time. Underlying Precambrian-age rocks (usually a billion years old or older) are tilted upwards at an angle due to uplift sometime after their deposition (for example, mountain ranges being built later in the PreCambrian). Those angled rocks appear to be planed off by some unseen cheese grater, and intersect with overlying much younger rocks (only a few hundred million years old) which are laid horizontally on top. So essentially, a ton of rocks were deposited, uplifted, and then subsequently heavily eroded flat, erasing hundreds of millions of years of preserved time before deposition began again. This unconformity can be found in numerous places in the United States and even worldwide, but you’re most likely to see it (and literature regarding it) at the Grand Canyon!
I spotted an exhibit sign nearby and was excited to find
that it was a geology sign – and sure enough, what I was looking at was THE Great
Unconformity. What a cool surprise! Not knowing anything about the geology of
the area, really, I hadn’t expected to see this particular feature here. But
there it was. I made a random passerby take my picture with it, of course. The
Great Unconformity is like a rock celebrity!
Anyways, geologist silliness aside, I very much enjoyed
the views, even if the sight of the crashing river far below, as seen through
the floor of the bridge, was a bit concerning.
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| It's hard to get a sense of scale, but I would estimate that that river is about 25 feet wide down there. |
A series on the steps on the other side continued downward,
before… you guessed it, the trail went up AGAIN. This time, I hiked several steep
switchbacks up a gravel road before the trail wound off into a nice wooded area,
then dumped me at my next scenic vistas. By this point I found myself pretty
amused. Every trail has a kind of character to it, and the Ouray Perimeter
Trail feels… resourceful and determined. It uses precut roads and pathways
where it can, but never misses out on a single chance at a great view,
determined to make you acknowledge the beauty of the town at the expense of
your knees. I really like this one.
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| Bit of a skinny goat track, really. |
Eventually, the trail began to slope down for the last
time, winding its way back towards relative civilization. As I descended through
the pine forest, I spotted a few really cool fossils that had fallen down the
slope from the rock faces above. Score! I ended up with a nice piece of
crinoid-bearing black mudstone and a brown fusilinid-bearing silty packstone
(fusilinids look like fancy swirly grains of rice, so probably they’re only
interesting to me). Sweaty and tired, my legs (and especially my knees) aching
in protest, I finally arrived at the base of the trail again, coming out
somewhere near the middle of town. I felt a bit conspicuous as I wandered into
town on my way back to Jane, dusty and disheveled where most others were clean
and well-dressed. I guess that the Jeepers and hikers were still out on the
trails, so only the shopping contingent was circulating the downtown stores at
that time. But I wasn’t about to miss my chance at some quality souvenirs just
because I was dirty! So I wandered the touristy strip for a while until I had
settled on my usual souvenir trio: a mug, a Christmas ornament, and a postcard
to send to my sister. Then, of course, I had to stop at an ice cream shop that
I saw, because my poor legs deserved a treat after the day’s activities.
Feeling very pleased with myself, I wound my way back to
Jane on the other end of town, where she sat patiently waiting. I arrived just
in time to capture a nice golden light on the hill just ahead of her.
As evening fell, I headed back to camp for a tasty dinner of hamburgers fried up on a pan on my grill. They’re no Telluride hamburgers, with no fancy toppings or trendy exotic meats, but hey, they didn’t cost me 40 bucks either. A pretty good end to a really great day. Tomorrow, I’ll head on to civilization – but for now, I’m happy to be out here in the cool mountain air, listening to the muted sounds of nature overlain by the much louder hum of avid Jeepers coming and going from the campground. Oh, well, I guess one can’t ask for perfect solitude all the time.
Kelly signing out.
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