Packrafting in October

October is a weird transition month for me. For some reason (waiting for the snow to fly perhaps?) I don't get outside much in October. Right now the mountains are cold and snowy, but not snowy enough to ski . In years past I've spent time in the Utah desert but not this year. Instead, I decided on a late season packrafting trip on the Upper Colorado River.

The original plan was to drive to the river, lock my bike at the take-out, drive to the put-in, float 14 river miles back to my bike, bike 14 miles back to my truck, drink a beer, and drive home. Sometime during the drive I decided to switch things up and leave my truck at the take-out and bike to the put-in. I'm very glad I did.

I parked my truck at Rancho del Rio, a funky little riverside "resort" that caters to boaters. The "resort" consists of some rental cabins, a gear rental shop, a tiny liquor store (which conveniently sells single beers), and a campground. It also hosts an awesome music festival every summer, complete with a floating stage (this video shows what it was like when I went in 2010).

I loaded my boat, paddle, PFD, warm clothes, and rain gear into my pack and hopped on my bike. I very quickly realized that the ride was going to be much more difficult than I had planned. The road was unpaved and featured what seemed (to me) like Tour de France worthy hill climbs. I was on the last major uphill, spinning in my lowest gear and breathing heavily, when a passenger in a passing car stuck his hand out the window and raised his fist in recognition of my struggle. This provided just the spark I needed to power up the remainder of the climb (thanks man). I was riding to the put-in, which by definition is higher elevation than the take-out (rivers flow downhill!), but there were several long, gradual descents and a few short, steep ones. The short steep ones were particularly frightening because the loose rocks on the unpaved road impacted my ability to maintain a straight line while at the same time severely reducing my braking power (imagine riding a bike down a dirt road covered in ball bearings). I consider myself lucky to have made it to the put-in without crashing!

I locked my bike at the Pumphouse put-in, inflated my boat (a red Alpacka Yukon Yak) and geared up. It was sunny and unseasonably warm but it was late October and one must dress for the water, not for the weather. I wore river shorts, rain pants, neoprene socks and trail runners, plus a short sleeve shirt, puffy vest, rain jacket and wool ski hat on top. My gear worked well - on past packrafting trips I wore a long sleeve shirt, but water tended to drip off my paddle blades and under my rain jacket cuffs so the sleeves got wet quickly and remained wet for the whole day. This time I managed to stay mostly dry, although on the few occasions when I lifted my arms over my head cold water ran from my rain jacket sleeves down my torso which was unpleasant. The one thing I would do differently next time is bring gloves - I was in the shade in Little Gore Canyon and when my hands got wet they got really cold, but most of the run was in the sun so it wasn't much of a problem.

I saw a few fishermen along the bank during the first mile or two, but after that I had the river entirely to myself (aside from the bald eagle that followed me down the river corridor). This was very different from the last time I ran this stretch (on a Saturday in August), when the river was full of drunk tubers (not that there's anything wrong with that!), private boats and commercial rafting operations.

Most of the run is class II, with some class I flatwater stretches and two class III rapids - Eye of the Needle Rapid in Little Gore Canyon (go left or right, just don't hit the rock!) and Yarmony Rapid in Red Gorge. The river was running about 1,000 cfs so neither rapid posed much of a problem.

The last stretch of flat water was excruciatingly slow. A late afternoon upstream wind intensified (why does this always seem to happen - does the anabatic wind dynamic also apply to the gradient of a river?) which meant I needed to paddle or else get blown back upstream. Packraft hull speeds are frustratingly slow, so I paddled hard to make modest downstream progress. I finally reached the take-out, threw my boat in the back of my truck, cranked the heat, and enjoyed a can of New Belgium Ranger IPA.

Reflecting on this trip, I can honestly say that this was one of the best Mondays I can remember. Granted, I used to spend almost every Monday in a cubicle but the combination of a challenging bike ride, a relaxing float on a river I had all to myself, fall colors along the banks of the river, snow on the peaks, a delicious beer, and a spectacular red sunset over the Gore Range combined for one special day.

I've been hesitant to bring my camera on river trips (I ruined my previous camera when it got wet in a freak hailstorm while climbing two Fourteeners a few summers ago) so I don't have any pictures to share, but Annie thought my post-trip attire was ridiculous enough to photograph it. I don't see anything wrong with short shorts, slippers, a fleece, and a wool hat with pigtails. Do you?

Wind River Range Traverse

I had a blast traversing the Weminuche Wilderness and proved to myself that I was able to sustain a 25 mile per day pace for several days through rugged mountains, but what about off-trail travel?

I have traveled off-trail in the past. When I worked in Montana, the Climber's Guide to Glacier National Park was my Bible, and I faithfully bagged peaks and followed Edwards' "Routes Among the Peaks," off-trail mountaineering routes that were either useful shortcuts or beautiful destinations themselves. And I suppose all of my backcountry skiing can be considered off-trail, as can my summer 14er and 13er climbs. But these trips were typically day trips, and for some reason all of my high mileage, multi-day summer trips (to date) have been on-trail experiences. I wanted to further my skills, and when I got my hands on a copy of Beyond Trails in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming I feverishly started planning an aggressive itinerary through the mountains I'd wanted to visit for several years. For anyone familiar with the Climber's Guide, Beyond Trails is 400 pages of "Routes Among the Peaks," with more detailed descriptions than "turn left at the large gray rock with the white blotch that resembled a backwards capital 'F' in 1960."

My route had me entering at Big Sandy Opening in the south and exiting at Green River Lakes Trailhead in the north. I was planning to walk about 80 miles, with about half of my time spent off-trail. Originally, I planned to leave Ranger at home but circumstances dictated that he join me on this adventure. I initially planned on parking my truck at Green River Lakes TH and hitch-hiking down to Big Sandy but a dog makes for a harder hitch, so I arranged for a shuttle with The Great Outdoor Shop in Pinedale. Afterwards, I realized how remote the trailheads in the Winds really are, and how infrequently traveled, and was glad to have paid for the shuttle.

On day one, I followed the trail to Jackass Pass, the gateway to the Cirque of the Towers. The Cirque is an incredible place - an alpine climber's Disney Land. Sheer vertical granite walls and blocky towers surround you on all sides and Lonesome Lake sits in the middle of it all. There are hundreds of routes on peaks named Warbonnet, Shark's Nose, Wolf's Head and Pingora. The Cirque has graced the pages of the Patagonia catalog more than once, and for good reason.

Cirque of the Towers

But this was not a climbing trip, so I left the trail and headed north towards "Texas Pass," an off-trail pass that would lead me to the Shadow Lake drainage and the backside of the Cirque of the Towers, where I would camp that evening.

The descent from Texas Pass was STEEP and rocky and irritated Ranger's paws (and my knees). At this point I realized I had a decision to make. I was still 70 miles (per my original itinerary) from where my truck would be parked in a few days. It occurred to me that parts of my original route would be impossible for Ranger to pass - he's a smart dog, but he hasn't learned how to use an ice ax yet. I could either turn around now and be back at my truck the next day (the shuttle wouldn't take place for a few more days) or continue on towards Green River Lakes TH knowing that if Ranger couldn't make it, I'd have a problem on my hands. I didn't want to bail so I decided to adjust my route - I would cut out two unnecessary crossings of the Continental Divide and two cols that likely required climbing and descending steep snow fields.

On day two, Ranger seemed back to normal. I strapped on his booties and hoped he would make it to the truck parked some 50 miles to the north. I avoided the Raid-Bonneville Col and instead traveled the Fremont Trail. I camped that night on the south shore of Dream Lake. There, I found a small sand beach and watched the sun set towards Pinedale.

The view from my tarp at Dream Lake

Sunset at Dream Lake

The following morning I set out for Hat Pass and Beyond. I found myself wearing my rain jacket most of the afternoon but the weather cleared just before I made my ascent and subsequent descent into Bald Mountain Basin. The sunshine lightened my mood (I was feeling the effects of hiking in sustained rain for hours on end) but the downside was quickly obvious - I was swarmed with mosquitoes within seconds of dropping my pack to set up camp. I thought the mosquitoes were bad the first night but this was something else. I put on my rain jacket and rain pants and did my best to ignore the buzzing cloud that enveloped me wherever I went. Eventually I had enough and retired to the safety of my bivy for an early bedtime.

The view from Spider Lake

Day four was the highlight of the trip for me. I woke up early and circumambulated Spider Lake and its many arms before packing up and descending to Cook Lakes. I followed the trail along the eastern shore of the upper lake. Officially the trail ends here, but I followed a well-traveled climber's trail north to Wall Lake, where I had this beautiful lake entirely to myself. I took advantage of the sunshine to dry my feet and socks and took in the view of the lake from high above (the terrain forces you up a sheer granite "wall" along the eastern shore, so from my perch I was probably 50 feet above the water). Eventually I shouldered my pack and continued my off-trail adventure, climbing up and over a saddle towards Island Lake, where I found probably a half dozen parties camped in close proximity. I skirted the western shore of Island Lake although twice my route didn't "go" and I was forced to re-route. Eventually I found an unofficial trail that led to Fremont Crossing and a footbridge that allowed me to safely cross the swollen creek. I spent the night at Lower Jean Lake, above treeline in the howling wind, happy to be in such an awesome place.

Taking it all in at Wall Lake

The next morning I climbed Shannon Pass then lunched at Peak Lake before crossing Cube Rock Pass, which unexpectedly turned out to be the crux of the route. Cube Rock Pass is accurately named - the trail disappears and one must navigate through massive, angular granite rocks. I was frequently forced to take off my pack and raise it or lower it separately, and many times Ranger was unable to get up or down on his own, so I had to lift him or lower him. Progress slowed tremendously and I cursed Cube Rock Pass more than once.

Lunch at Peak Lake

Cube Rack Pass behind me, I made good time over Vista Pass and through Trail Creek Park and Three Forks Park down the Green River drainage, where I camped along the banks of the Green River under the shadow of Squaretop Mountain. I had a small campfire in an unsuccessful attempt to repel the bloodthirsty mosquitoes. The sky was clear, so I decided to cowboy camp (no overhead shelter) under a tree.

I awoke unexpectedly in the middle of the night because of the brightness of the lightning. It seemed that Squaretop was being struck repeatedly. I was still dry, so I rolled over and went back to bed. I awoke again some time later and considered setting up my tarp but I decided to see if the tree and my bivy would keep me dry. After a few nervous minutes of intense lightening and heavy rain, it seemed that the combination would work and I dozed off for the remainder of the night.  

I was up at first light and was pleased to discover both that I was dry and that the storm had passed. I packed up, cruised down the trail along the eastern bank of the Green River (the same Green River that joins the mighty Colorado River in Canyonlands National Park over 700 miles downstream) and found my truck in the trailhead parking lot. With burger and beer on my mind, I rolled down the windows, turned up the Dylan, and drove straight to the Wind River Brewing Company in Pinedale.

As a professional brewer, I'm always interested in sampling other brewers' creations. The dry hopped Wyoming Pale Ale hit the spot, as did the "Brew Master Burger" ("1/2 pound of ground beef, smoked beef brisket, Beer-B-Q sauce, pepper jack cheese, topped with beer battered onion rings")!

As expected, I really enjoyed my first visit to the Winds. I was initially disappointed that I had to cut out the more challenging off-trail segments, but I turned out to appreciate the forced relaxation of 15 mile days versus the hike from sunrise to sunset pace of the 25 mile days of my Weminuche Big Traverse. Before I was even back to my truck I decided that I would return to the Winds for a dog-free, significantly off-trail adventure next summer. And hopefully next year I can time my trip so that the mosquitoes won't be so bad (last winter's huge snowpack resulted in very wet and buggy conditions for several weeks longer than usual this summer).

Weminuche Wilderness Traverse (A Photo Trip Report)

In early August 2011 I walked approximately 100 miles along the Continental Divide from Wolf Creek Pass to the Silverton Brewing Company. Below are some photos from my trip.

Summer Recap

I think most people define the end of Summer as either Labor Day or the Autumnal Equinox. This year, I decided my Summer ended yesterday, September 15, as it was snowing on me at the time. As I lay in my sleeping bag last night, I thought about the outdoor experiences I had over the past few months and how lucky I was to have had them.

One metric to judge "getting after it" is "sleeping bag nights." By my rough count, I spent about 24 nights (or three and a half weeks) in my sleeping bag this summer. That's a record for me (excluding the summer I lived in a double-wide trailer on an Indian reservation in Montana and slept in my bag for ten weeks because I didn't have sheets).

I also skied twice (including on the morning of the Fourth of July), climbed 12 14,000+ foot peaks (another personal best), Big Traversed two large wilderness areas (the Weminuche Wilderness in Colorado and the Wind River Range in Wyoming), paddled the premier multi-day packrafting trip in the lower 48, and explored places I'd never been. By all of these metrics, my Summer was a resounding Success.

I can only hope for more Successful Summers in the future!

Cold Rain and Snow

It rained on me for hours as I hiked through the trees. I missed a trail junction and had to bushwhack over a ridge to the proper drainage. When I got above treeline, the wind blew the rain sideways and through the zipper of my rain jacket, soaking my next-to-skin layer. The cold rain turned into wet snow above 10,000 feet.

This wasn't the most pleasant trip of the summer.

My plan was to cross the Continental Divide at Buchanan Pass (11,837 feet). I looked up and couldn't even see Buchanan Pass. I checked the time. Large wet snowflakes were accumulating fast. There wasn't much daylight left and conditions weren't getting any better. The forecast called for additional precipitation overnight. That wasn't going to make my return trip over Pawnee Pass (12,541 feet) the next day any easier.  Time to bail.

I followed my own footprints through the snow and set up my tarp when I got below snowline. I was too cold and wet and tired to cook a proper dinner, so I crawled into my sleeping bag and ate chocolate instead.

I awoke the next morning to mixed weather. The sun was shining to the east and clouds obscured the Continental Divide to the west. I retraced my steps from the day before. I was warm and dry and I could see the views that I missed 24 hours prior - the distinct profile of Sawtooth Mountain to west and Longs Peak, the monarch of the Front Range, to the north in Rocky Mountain National Park.

The view of Sawtooth I was hoping for

Approximately what I saw

It wasn't the trip I had planned, but I did have fun. Two types of fun, actually. Day one was Type II Fun (not fun to do, fun to talk about later) and day two was Type I Fun (fun to do, fun to talk about later).

Front Range Brewery Tours

Last week I had the pleasure of visiting eight breweries in four days.

My summer passion for backpacking and my winter passion for backcountry skiing is rivaled only by my year-round passions of drinking good beer and riding bikes. On Tuesday, Annie and Jamie and I headed up to Boulder to visit three craft breweries. First up was Avery Brewing Co. (www.averybrewing.com), one of my favorites. The Avery tap room is a joy to behold - 20 taps and two beer engines of hand-crafted ales and lagers, many of which can be found nowhere else. Avery is a brewery, not a brew pub, so while there is no food on-site you are encouraged to bring your own. Annie and I brought some Asian food so for my first pint I ordered a Centennial dry hopped IPA, which paired nicely with the spicy flavors of my lunch. Annie ordered an IPL (India Pale Lager) which tasted cleaner due to the cool lager fermentation, but was equally delicious. Next, we split a pint of Brett Ellie's, a beer found only in the tap room and only when the brewers feel like making it. This beer began as an Ellie's Brown, a delicious but pedestrian brown ale named after founder Adam Avery's chocolate lab. The beer gets much more interesting when it undergoes a secondary fermentation with brettanomyces yeast ("brett"). While brett is often viewed as a contaminant in beer (and especially in wine), creative brewers have begun to use brett in secondary fermentations or even brew 100% brett fermented beers. In my experience, beer drinkers either love brett beers or hate brett beers due to the "interesting" flavors brett imparts. These flavors are commonly described as "barnyard," "horseblanket," "leather," or generally as "funky." Sounds delicious, right? I suggest everyone try a brett beer or two before you make up your mind.

The next stop was the Boulder Beer Company (www.boulderbeer.com), Colorado's first microbrewery (founded in 1979). This was the first time any of us had been to the brewery. We had three pints on the back patio - I had a nitro Imperial IPA, Annie had a small batch stout and Jamie had an unfiltered blueberry wheat beer. I thought the IIPA was too sweet (too much residual sugar from the malt that the yeast didn't ferment into alcohol) so I traded with Annie. The stout was good but not great, as was Jamie's blueberry wheat beer (although I generally don't care for fruit beers or for wheat beers, so take my opinion of a fruit wheat beer with a grain of salt).

Finally, we headed a mile or so down the road to the Twisted Pine Brewing Company (www.twistedpinebrewing.com) where we ordered a ten beer flight. This was also the first time any of us had been to Twisted Pine. The tasting room was very laid back and there was a small patio out front. In general, I thought Twisted Pine's beers were very good. I especially enjoyed their IPAs - Hoppy Boy (IPA), Hoppy Man (Imperial IPA) and Hoppy Knight (Black IPA). They also produce a tasty chile beer called Billy's Chilies, which is delicious as a taster but I wouldn't order it as a pint (the same holds true for Wynkoop Brewing Company's Patty's Chile Beer). Twisted Pine also makes "the world's hottest beer" - known as Ghost Face Killah because it is brewed with ghost peppers (200 times hotter than a jalapeno) as well as Anaheim, Fresno, jalapeno, Serrano and habanero peppers. Unfortunately for us, one of Twisted Pine's empty kegs that used to be filled with rootbeer somehow got filled with the Ghost Face Killah, so the beer smelled and tasted like root beer as well as ghost peppers. Personally, I was upset that they knowingly served imperfect beer and emailed them to let them know how I felt.

The next day, Jamie and Camden and Annie and I loaded our bikes (my other year-round passion) in the truck and drove north to Fort Collins to explore some more breweries. First, we rode the bike path through town, then headed to New Belgium Brewing Company (www.newbelgium.com) to rehydrate. New Belgium is an incredibly popular brewery (for good reason) and they book free tours online that sell out weeks in advance (even on a Wednesday afternoon). We were there early and lucky for us one of the employees organized an impromptu tour for us and some others hanging out in the Liquid Center (tasting room). Before we set off on our tour, I sampled a "Partially Blonde" (Belgian single) and a Munich Helles (pale German lager). I've been on the New Belgium tour a number of times now, but it's always fun and hearing the story of how the brewery got started is always inspiring to a homebrewer like me. In short, an electrical engineer/homebrewer took his mountain bike to Belgium to tour breweries and learn about Belgian beer. He fell in love with Belgian beers, which were essentially unavailable in the US in 1989 and decided to homebrew Belgian style beers exclusively. Two years later, he went commercial with his beers (still being brewed out of his basement). Today, New Belgium is the seventh largest brewery in the country and distributes to 26 states.

At this point, it was past Camden's nap-time (he is two years old) so he and Jamie drove back to Denver and Annie and I biked to O'Dell Brewing Company (www.odellbrewing.com). O'Dell was started by another homebrewer about the same time New Belgium was, and the two breweries are located about three blocks apart. About a year ago, O'Dell underwent a big expansion which doubled their plant size, increased the size of their tasting room, and also increased their parking capacity (both vehicles and bikes). Check out the custom fabricated O'Dell logo hop cone bike rack!

O'Dell Brewing Company's new bike rack

Annie and I ordered a taster of "pilot" beers that are only available in the tasting room. The curry-spiced wheat beer was surprisingly good, and the Imperial Oktoberfest with brettanomyces and the barleywine with brettanomyces were both spectacular.

The last stop on the bike brewery tour was the Fort Collins Brewery (www.fortcollinsbrewery.com), which also just completed a major expansion and moved three blocks down the street from O'Dell. The quality of breweries in such close proximity is unbelievable. We ordered a tray of their seasonal beers (including a delicious Stranahan's Colorado whiskey barrel-aged amber lager) and finally a tray of their year-round beers before heading back to Denver very satisfied.

Thursday, we rode our bikes to Strange Brewing Company (www.strangebrewingco.com), Denver's newest and smallest microbrewery. It opened in late May in an industrial strip center near Invesco Field. The neighborhood is a little rough, but the tasting room is comfortable and there is even a bike rack inside! We had tasters of every beer, then ordered a pint of Tainted Black Pale Ale and got an impromptu tour of the brewhouse from Tim, one of the two owners/brewers.

On Friday I made a spur of the moment trip to Asher Brewing Company (www.asherbrewing.com) in Boulder since I happened to be in the neighborhood (picking up a permit for a slot canyon backpacking trip in Utah - blog post forthcoming). Asher is Colorado's first all organic brewery. I ordered a pint of Tree Hugger Organic Amber, then sampled the Green Bullet Organic IPA and Asher's Kolsch-style beer. Kolsch is an interesting style of beer that is technically only produced by fourteen breweries in the world (although many other breweries, like Asher, produce Kolsch-style beers). The term "Kolsch" is an appellation established by the Kolsch Konvention in 1986, which serves to restrict the use of the term to only breweries located in and around Cologne (Kolsch), Germany. This is similar to the protection of the term "champagne" to describe sparkling wine produced within the Champagne region of France. Enough with the history lesson - try one sometime!

The Unemployment Chronicles

For those of you who haven't heard, I quit my job last month. Since then, I've been busy having fun. In an effort to keep friends and family updated on what I've been doing, I present "The Unemployment Chronicles."

In mid-September, I loaded my pack and my dog into my truck and drove to Aspen to backpack the Four Pass Loop, a highly touted 26 mile loop that crosses four mountain passes over 12,000 feet and circumnavigates the Maroon Bells. The Bells are a pair of fourteeners (peaks over 14,000 feet in elevation) in the Elk Mountains, a rugged mountain range in central Colorado.

I left my house in Denver at 6:00 AM and made the scenic 160 mile drive to Aspen in good time. I was on the trail and standing on the shore of Maroon Lake before noon. Directly in front of me was the postcard panorama of the Maroon Bells, probably the most photographed peaks in all of Colorado.

The Maroon Bells from Maroon Lake

Many tourists make the 100 yard walk from the parking lot and go no further, but I had 13 miles and two mountain passes to tackle that afternoon so my time at Maroon Lake was shortlived. I decided to hike the loop in a clockwise direction, climbing West Maroon and Frigid Air Passes on day one to avoid having to switchback my way up the much steeper Buckskin Pass from the east.

An hour or two after leaving the trailhead Ranger and I were above treeline and approaching West Maroon Pass. I passed a group of women from Crested Butte on their way back to the trailhead and overtook a man backpacking with a pair of llamas. He said it was nice not to have to carry any gear, but the llamas were more stuborn than he thought and were slowing him down.

The stretch of trail between West Maroon Pass and Frigid Air Pass was wonderful, never dropping below 11,500 feet and offering tremendous alpine views to the west and north.

As I crested Frigid Air Pass, the southwest flank of Maroon Peak came into view again. By mid-September in the mountains in Colorado the days are noticeably shorter and the sun was low in the western sky. I could see that the trail ahead (and 1,000 feet below me) was being overtaken by shadow. After a few dozen downhill switchbacks I was in Fravert Basin. I continued down the trail for perhaps two more miles and then found a place to sleep for the night. I dropped my pack, pulled out my beer, and bushwacked through some willows to the creek, where I moved some river rocks to create a spot to chill my beer without risk of it floating downstream. Priorities taken care of, I set up my shelter and got dinner cooking before returning for my now cool can of Avery IPA. I ate my dinner and watched the alpenglow dance on the ridge in front of me. By 8:00, it was dark and cold and it was time for bed.

I awoke at sunrise but couldn't talk myself into giving up the warmth of my sleeping bag (it is COLD at 11,000 feet in September!) so I napped for another hour and let the sun rise a little higher in the sky. I followed the trail down Fravert Basin and passed a cascading waterfall before coming to the trail junction for Trail Rider Pass.

Approaching Trailrider Pass

At the top of the pass I could see Fravert and Hasley Basins to the south and Snowmass Lake to the north.

Snowmass Lake from Trailrider Pass

Snowmass Peak from the shore of Snowmass Lake

I stopped to eat a snack on the shore of Snowmass Lake before crossing the marshy Snowmass Creek drainage and climbing once again toward the fourth and final pass of the loop, Buckskin Pass. I passed a large group of Aspen Middle School students on their way to Snowmass Lake, then another group, then another and another, and thought to myself how lucky I was to be able to do this trip mid-week and after Labor Day to avoid the crowds that usually go along with this popular trip. After passing what seemed like the entire Aspen Middle School, I switchbacked my way up to the top of Buckskin Pass and looked back to the direction I came.

Ranger at the top of Buckskin Pass, with Snowmass Peak, Hagerman Peak and Snowmass Lake in the distance

I knew I was the last person to crest Buckskin Pass that day, and it was all downhill from there. I cruised the remaining miles down Minnehaha Gulch and an hour or two later found myself back on the shore of Maroon Lake just in time to catch the sun set behind the Maroon Bells!

No trip is complete without a post-hike beer, so I stopped at the Aspen Brewing Company on my way out of town to rehydrate. A pint or two of Independence Pass Ale later and I was back on the road headed for home.