It’s like this…

After weeks, months, and finally years of delays, Staunton State Park finally opened for business on May 18. Now, me, I’m not one to attend a gala grand opening on the grounds that they tend to attract attendees and I hate to share anything in general and trails in particular. For some reason, though, Welsh Doug seemed to think we had to show or die trying and, mindful of Welsh tendencies toward hostage-taking, blackmail and legal harassment, I decided it would be easier to cave. As it happened, on May 17 Welsh Doug came down with an acute case of Craven’s Palsy and bailed on the expedition altogether. Having already composed and sent an entire brief email announcing the hike, I had no choice but to continue as planned. That plan started with catching a 9 a.m. Staunton Park shuttle at the Mountain View Park ‘n’ Ride in Conifer, but upon learning that park-service motor-coaches provide no mentholated towels, television monitors or beverage service, I thought it better to take our chances at the main gate. Iron B, MegaWatt and Yours Truly arrived there at about 8:45, and took our place in line behind perhaps 10 early-rising Parkies. Within 10 minutes the line stretched away out of sight down Elk Creek Road 

The gates opened promptly at 9 o’clock, and we raced into Staunton, seizing a parking space at the Mason Creek Trailhead just in time to wait in another line. On a more positive note, the bathrooms were so clean I couldn’t bear to sully their sanitized perfection. But I could, and did, eat a light breakfast of chocolate croissant and soft-boiled egg off the stall’s factory-fresh floor.

There are about 18 miles of trail at Staunton State Park, and most of them are accessed from the Staunton Ranch Trail – 3.3 miles of showroom-quality, neatly-manicured and virtually un-trod multi-use dirt measuring a précised 4-feet in width and still displaying rake-marks left by wooden-sandal-shod gangs of $200-an-hour Japanese feng shui artists flown in at public expense to groom the park.

That’s the ranger’s house. His name is Colin Chisholm. I know that because we spoke on the phone some weeks ago. He was very helpful on the phone, very forthcoming, very accommodating. When I showed myself inside and asked to use the bathroom he pretended to not know who I was and threatened to have me ejected from the park if I didn’t stop rooting around in his refrigerator and leave immediately. I see now that his previous graciousness was all an act. Very disillusioning.

The Staunton Ranch Trail climbs gently, but steadily, into the heart of the park. Sensing that I was growing parched from my manly efforts, MegaWatt offered me a “Fruit Gum” candy. They are English candies, made by the English, imported from England and purchased by MegaWatt at a Denver store that specializes in impoverishing red-blooded American confectioners. He gave me the first one (lime-eel) for free, then suggested a retail price of $5 for each chewy drop thereafter. He seriously thought me so weak and dependent and self-indulgent that I could be compelled to pay five bucks to suck on a 2-cent orange-eel, mango-eel or raspberry-eel morsel. Turns out he was right. I just love eel. Fortunately I had come prepared to pay steep littering and public indecency fines and was carrying lots of cash.

The rock feature called Lion’s Head is visible from nearly everywhere in the park. Remarkably, from no matter which angle one perceives that mighty pile, it looks nothing like a lion’s head.

About 2 miles in we hit a crossroads. Old Mill trail to starboard led up toward Staunton Rocks. As only Iron B aspires to the rock-climber’s moronic arts, we instead turned left onto Scout Line Trail. It’s hiker-only, which seemed a plus, and has a more trail-y aspect, having apparently been entirely snubbed by the Japanese gardeners.

Iron B took pictures of Staunton Rocks, possibly so she can later scale them mentally on her computer in the comfort of her own home. If so, she’s hit upon an activity even sillier and more useless than rock-climbing.

 

 

Scout Line Trail ascends quickly, leaving the open, harvested central areas and rising into densely-forested realms. And just in time. It was upon this gentle woodland resident that I lavished the precious gift of moisture, which blessing it gratefully accepted. A true “circle of life”.

 Staunton Rocks. Yeah, they’re pretty rocky, alright. But then so is my driveway, and you don’t see it getting all full of itself.

Whatever delight we had in hiking biker-free was soon tempered by Scout Line’s precipitous nature. After a few half-hearted feints at switch-backing, it gave up the pretense of gentility and made straight for the mountain top. The good news is the views were splendid. The bad news is that I was too blinded by tears to notice.

Here’s a view I didn’t see.

The intersection of Scout Line and Marmot Passage Trail. Despite my repeated warnings, MegaWatt persists in engaging with strange hikers. This fellow and his dog are from Oklahoma. Either he or his dog saw Staunton’s opening advertised on the Internet and decided to “git ‘er dun’” He had no food, no water, no map, and no compunction about marrying a first cousin. He did have a really big knife. It’s likely he thinks a really big knife is all a real man needs to survive in the wilderness. He’s half right. Take it from someone who knows – a real man also needs all the food and water he can steal from his two hiking companions.

And a map. Unfortunately, that’s a chamber of commerce merchant map of the 16^th Street Mall. Interestingly, MegaWatt didn’t seem to mind, or even notice.

 

 

 

First bicycles, and now this. The whole “multiple use” concept is clearly out of control. What next? Big Wheels? Dogsleds? Segways? Slave-borne palanquins? Actually, that last one sounds kind of cool. I must propose it to Colin at the first opportunity.

 

The Stauntons left a bunch of cabins littered about the ranch. This, on the other hand, is the Staunton Park Visitors Center. It’s much nicer inside.

Staunton Pond. Anybody else catching a theme here?

 

 

 

Still plenty of water in the park. Cool, cool water, on a bed of black aspen leaves. Just right for slaking!

Given my correct and supportable views on rock-climbing, the only destination in Staunton Park I would attempt was Elk Falls. As it happens, Elk Falls lies at the farthest extremity of the very last trail some 6 miles distant from the Mason Creek Trailhead. At this point I’m guessing we’ve done every foot of those 6 miles, and climbed something like 1,500 to 1,800 feet. MegaWatt immediately produced a Sharpie from his backpack and vandalized the sign to read “Elk Falls Overlook H8TIN.” I tried to tell him that only works on stop signs, but he wouldn’t have it.

Iron B and MegaWatt argue before making the last push. Iron B wants to whistle the theme from The Great Escape. MegaWatt wants to whistle the theme from Bridge on the River Kwai. Disgusted, I stepped in and made them whistle the theme from the Andy Griffith Show. And it served them right.

 

There’s the Oakie and his coon-hound, now. Thanks to the masculine power of his really big knife he was able to take a less rigorous combination of trails and arrive at the overlook before us.

 

And there they are. The falls are pretty, sure enough.

 

A plunge of 100 feet, by all accounts. A trail is contemplated leading directly to the falls, but construction can’t begin until all appropriate Shinto purification ceremonies are completed.  By August this view will be considerably reduced. I feel fortunate to have caught Elk Falls in full bugle. By our estimation we were among the first 20 persons to witness this spectacle on Staunton Park’s opening day. That’s gotta be worth fifty bucks, at least. I will submit an invoice to Colin first thing Monday.

MegaWatt brought salted peanuts and nothing to drink. Being saintly, I gladly shared with him my Tum-E Yummies blue-colored beverage. I may as well have shot him in the mouth with a sugar-cannon. What was I thinking?

 

 

Feeling pleased with ourselves and maybe a little fatigued, we took the easier, shorter, quicker Bugling Elk Road, er, Trail back. Do I regret not getting a chance to stick my success in Scout Line’s face? Maybe a little, but only a little.

 

 

Cabins everywhere except this perfect little meadow. Makes you wonder how the Stauntons got so rich

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Look! A rock climber! One, lone rock climber! I guess Staunton really is a magnet for, er, that guy.

 

 

 

 

After our exertions it was a pleasure to glide back down Staunton Ranch Trail. Like a grand trunk road, Stauntion Ranch meanders down the valley at a gentle slope and easy pace. Just what I needed after the terror at the falls.

 

Twelve miles later back at the park entrance, the festivities were in full swing. By festivities I mean this guy in a funny hat. Colorado State Parks must have blown their 6-figure opening-day entertainment budget on fugu box lunches for the trail groomers.

Party on, Colin!