“There are no socialists in the bush” – HPS

All of my physical training only barely prepared me for the difficulty of the Weminuche Wilderness (pronounced with the “e” silent).  It’s National Forest land, not National Park.  The Department of Agriculture no longer prints maps of the area, so we relied on NatGeo for the map, and it’s good, but not perfect.

We have a lot of ground to cover, including traveling with firearms, the modification I made to one of my guns for the trip, the actors in the event, the plan, and how and why the plan got modified on the second day.  I have many observations of things I knew but forgot, knew but was reminded are important, and things that I didn’t suspect would be as important as they are.  So let’s get started.

The Actors In The Event

HPS:

As you can readily determine, it makes no sense to include many photos of me on this blog.

Joseph, my dear second son:

Joseph is the “Eveready Energizer Hiking Machine.”  He has two speeds – flat out go and stop.  He was my motivation during the trip, as he is in so much of life for everything else when I ponder just giving up.

Abraham Gonzalez:

Abe is cool and easy to get along with.  He makes heads explode in Austin, where he and Joseph are from, by telling people that he’s Hispanic, legal, grew up in America, is a Christian, believes abortion is sinful, voted for Trump, and wants illegals to be returned home without delay.  He’s also a good hiker.  We get along well.

The Plan And It’s Modification

We left from the Thirtymile Campground trailhead, but unfortunately didn’t leave until around noon.  That proved to be important in the plan, which was a four day, three night backpacking trip through the wilderness.  We were limited by my schedule and the schedules of my two partners.

This area is rough.  You must travel through Creede, Colorado, from Denver to get there, and some of the travel is gravel road.  The trip takes almost five hours.  There is no cell phone coverage anywhere near this area.  This is untamed wilderness, and the only other things you’ll see are a few backpackers who have braved the area like you.

The hike in is sustained uphill beginning at around 9000 feet elevation.  We ended the first day when we knew we were soon going to lose light and where we had a source of water.  I’ll speak more about water later.

After our first night, there was a long, moderate but sustained uphill trek to begin our slog up the Continental Divide Trail (CDT).

The beauty of the area is difficult to describe in words.  Perhaps impossible.

A hard right after this long, sustained uphill takes you up the CDT, towards “The Window.”

The difficulty of the uphill on the CDT is difficult to describe.  It’s the longest, sustained uphill at high elevation (10,000 feet – 12,000 feet) I’ve ever done.  It includes rocks, boulders, scree, downed trees, a little bushwhacking, natural gravel, undulations, loss of the elevation you just gained, only to have to regain it, river fordings, creek crossings, and on and on.

Eventually the hardest uphill begins towards Ute Lake.  This is where we’d been at one point.

This is where we were going.

And there was much more after that as we’d find around the next turn.  This hike covered more than five miles of the most intense backpacking I’ve ever done, climbing from 10,000 feet to around 12,000 feet.  During the hike I was burning through 1 Liter of water every 30-45 minutes.

It’s funny how water controls your thoughts and forces your decisions.  Every decision is based on sources of water.  Every one.  The temptation is to face-plant in the nearest stream you come across, but we resisted that temptation and filtered every time.

We passed some other backpackers who told us that the climb from the trailhead to Ute Lake was two full days.  We had tried to turn two days of climbing into 1.5 days, and it wasn’t working.  I was the holdup, as I’m convinced Joseph and Abe could have made it to Ute Lake, but I couldn’t.  We had crossed as much water as we were going to find before the lake, and had to make it there for our final water for the day and night.

Joseph made the decision to turn around and lose elevation to the nearest stream, and it turned out to be a wise move.  Over the course of the day, between uphill and downhill, we moved around eight miles, gained around 2000 feet, and lost around another 1000 feet over the same scree, boulders, and downed trees we had just crossed.  It might be the roughest day I’ve ever had on the trail.  All of this was done carrying 45-55 pound backpacks on our backs, depending on the amount of water we had at the time.  Water is heavy.

Part of what makes this area rough is the thin air, and the heavy breathing only accelerates the water loss.  We consumed an incredible amount of water, but only pissed once per day right before climbing into our sleeping bags.  Orange.  It was literally impossible to stay hydrated no matter how hard we tried.

The third day we made the decision to make our way out to the trailhead, another eight miles, once again never having to stop to piss.  The drove back into Denver for the night, and on Friday we made a day-hike in the Rocky Mountain National Park to Lake Haiyaha.

Once again, it’s beauty is difficult to put into words.

Lake Haiyaha in the rain.

Dad and Son

Joseph, the hiking machine.

Let’s discuss lessons learned from this adventure, as well as recommendations for equipment and training.

The Gun

I wanted to carry one of my 1911s, but decided that I wanted something more powerful than .45 ACP.  We’ve discussed 450 SMC before (Short Magnum Cartridge), which is the .45 ACP with a rifle primer, leaving more room for powder.  Most guys who shoot the 450 SMC out of 1911s seem to be using a 22# spring rather than the 18# spring that is typical for the 1911, so I ordered a 22# and 24# spring from Wolff Gunsprings.  I also ordered some 450 SMC ammunition, as no gun store anywhere near me carried it.

I wanted to go by Hyatt Gun Shop and talk with Woody before doing this.  Woody knew exactly what I was doing, recommended the 22# spring, and told me I’d be just fine with the ammo in that particular 1911.  “It’s a good gun, it’s all stainless steel, and the rounds are similar in ballistics to the 460 Rowland.  Just hit what you’re aiming at,” he said.  I replied that I’d field stripped it and wasn’t so sure it didn’t already have a 22# spring in it.  He cycled the slide once, and said, “It has the 18# spring in it.  It’s difficult to tell by looking at it.”  Sure enough, it did.

I field stripped my gun, installed the 22# spring, and inserted a 10-round Wilson Combat magazine for ten rounds of 450 SMC.  The 22# spring makes it slightly stiffer to cycle the slide.  We saw plenty of deer, Chipmunks, and other assorted wildlife, but no bear and no moose.  There were times when my partners went on ahead of me and I solo-hiked, but I would have been fine with that setup when in any danger.

Travelling With Firearms, And The Stupidity Of The TSA

We don’t have any complaints against the TSA in Austin, TX.  They seemed relaxed and not too puckered about guns, and used to seeing them.

Charlotte, no so much.  The airline employees who used to check firearms now “feel uncomfortable” doing it, so call a TSA representative.  The TSA employee who checked my gun actually seemed to know something about guns (he remarked that I had a chamber flag in the gun), but he was a bit puckered for my tastes.

He tried to pry open the box, got it a centimeter or two open on one end, and told me it didn’t meet TSA standards because the gun could be taken out of its box.  I doubt it.  I think he was exaggerating.  Fortunately, I had a cable and another lock, so I wrapped the cable around the handle and locked it where he couldn’t pry it open at all.  If I had not had the extra cable and lock I would have missed my flight.

Denver is just downright stupid.  Checking a gun means having a airline employee take your luggage at a glacial pace to another room where it gets put through an X-Ray machine.  She then asked if the gun was unloaded and locked, to which we said “yes,” and then she lets the same airline employee take your luggage back to a conveyor.  At this point he slams it down on the conveyor and walks away leaving the luggage there unattended.  Joseph and I decided to stay with our luggage until the belt started a little later moving our luggage behind the wall.  We weren’t going to walk away until we saw that our luggage had disappeared.

I would have loved to ask the TSA lady what she thought she was looking for.  If this is like every other airport, every piece of luggage is X-Rayed.  But what she accomplished besides the typical X-Ray every piece of luggage gets is beyond me.  All she did was ask us questions the airline employee could have asked.  Our luggage was never opened, the gun was never inspected.  Not, by the way, that I think the TSA regulations make any sense or it’s necessary for the gun to be in any certain configuration or inspected at all.

Let’s face it, folks.  Since we are dropping off the luggage and we are picking it up, the only necessity for the luggage to be locked up is what happens behind the wall.  The only good of locking up the gun is theft by airport employees.  We know it, the TSA knows it, and the airlines know it.  It’s the truth.  None of this has anything to do with security.  It’s all about airport theft by airline or airport employees.

From there we went to the Denver security checkpoint.  One TSA employee was running up and down the line, up and down the line, up and down the line, back and forth, to and fro, with a dog (presumably a bomb-sniffing dog) stopping whenever the dog wanted to stop.  One lady turned to me and said, “It makes me so scared to go anywhere these days.”

I responded, “I’m not scared.  This is all theater, designed and built to make you think certain things.”  She gave me a puzzled look and moved on.  When asked for my driver’s license, I showed it to the TSA employee, who then said “take it out of your wallet” (it had a window).  I rolled my eyes, which apparently he didn’t like.

He said, “Always take it out.  How we ‘posed to know if it’s paper or not?  Rememba ‘dat.”  My immediate thought was “How are you ‘posed to know whether any information I’m presenting to you is real rather than a complete fabrication, you imperious imbecile?”  I didn’t say that as it would have caused me to miss my flight.  I pick my fights.

Lessons Learned (And Relearned)

The temperature varied between 40 and 70 degrees F, and we ran into some rain.  I cannot say enough about the best parka I have been able to find, which is made by a fishing company.  My particular parka is no longer made, but one similar to it is.  It’s expensive, but it was worth every penny.  I like to buy mine “blousy” to fit fleece or other clothing underneath it.

Put my water filter in an attachment bag on the outside of my backpack.  It drips water just a little and I don’t like the contents of my backpack getting wet.

From the picture above you can see that I carried my gun in a Hill People bag on my chest.  This works for a while but after three days it began to bother me.  In the future I’ll rig up a holster to my backpack belt with zip ties or some other method for carry.

I carried a tactical light.  In the future I won’t.  When ounces matter, aluminum light housing and batteries are at a premium for weight.  It’s a big commitment to carry that weight, even if the light is fairly small.  There is no point in using a tactical light in camp.  It’s so bright that it’s blinding.  Headlamps and small lights are fine for camp, and the only need for a tactical light is on your gun rail with a single 123 battery (like my Streamlight).

Don’t go cheap on important equipment like a hydration pack.  Joseph and Abe had good ones.  I didn’t, and I suffered for it.  Water (and the ability to get to it) is everything.

The importance of trekking poles.  Joseph and Abe didn’t use trekking poles, but I did.  I couldn’t have made the hike without them.  My triceps doubled for another set of thighs.

Equipment.  We are all experienced backpackers and hikers.  We all have either Keen or Oboz boots.  There may be other good ones out there, but I advise against experimentation.  Get the best.  Many of my readers like tactical equipment.  But mostly, tactical equipment sucks.  The civilian backpacking community has more money to spend, has done more research, and has invested more time and energy into making better equipment than the military community.  Dump your combat boots and get Keen or Oboz.  Keen for a slightly wider foot, Oboz for a more narrow or normal foot like mine.

All three of us were running Osprey 50L backpacks.  Dump your tactical packs, folks.  They’re no good.  No one who does this carries tactical packs.  No one.  No one on the trail has something like that.  If you’re running combat boots, you’re destroying your feet for no good reason.  If you’re running tactical packs, you’re destroying your spine for no good reason except that you’re unable to break with the community that trained you.  The community that trained you gave you equipment that sucks.  Accept that, and change.

Teamwork.  The slowest man holds everyone up.  I know that.  I was the slowest man.  In camp, everyone has to pull his own weight.  There are no slouches on the trail.  There’s too much to do.  Making camp means processing wood for a fire, filtering water, setting up tents and/or tarps, preparing food and a host of other things.  We divided responsibilities and got busy when we dropped our packs.  There are no socialists in the bush.

Because it means hard work, responsibility and productivity, meeting obligations and learning to survive, every man who is capable should do this with their sons.  What?  You didn’t think that Marines are made by the US Marine Corps, did you?  That’s completely false.  Marines are made by fathers.  The Corps just sharpens the blade.

Carry multiple means of fire starter on different parts of your body or kit.  If one gets wet, you have another.  That happened to me on this trip.

Physical conditioning is everything.  To prepare for this trip I hiked, biked, worked out in the gym three or four days a week, and swam.  My preparations seemed endless.  For a 58 year old man with rheumatoid arthritis, I did okay.  But I was equivalent to other hikers on the trail.  In other words, I couldn’t turn what most of the hikers know to be a two day climb into a one and a half day climb.  The rocks, boulders, scree, streams, rivers, downed trees and thin air worked too hard against me.

A moment of honesty is in order.  Some folks in the patriot community talk about wearing body armor, whether soft or plate.  Don’t even discuss that, don’t even consider that, if you can’t strap on a 50 pound pack and make a climb, perhaps not this difficult, but one like it.

You might be able to shoot 1 MOA, but if you’re injured or dead, you’re no good to anybody.  Every part of my body hurt – triceps, hips, thighs, back, everything.  When you’re exhausted, you make moves that aren’t supported by the muscles, and twisting moves especially can cause real problems for your frame.  Get in shape, or drop the notions of suiting up in armor.  It won’t help you if you can’t carry it. Muscle strength is good, and while I used to be on the powerlifting team in college, I’ve lost some of that muscle mass.  Fitness can partially make up for loss of muscle mass over the years, but nothing can make up for lack of fitness.

Gloves.  I wore Mechanix Impact gloves, and as I had to pound and hit the boulders more than once to keep my balance, it saved my hands.

Finally and again, the TSA is an irredeemable clown show.

Conclusion

“For every beast of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills … And everything that moves in the field is mine … For the world is mine, and all it contains.”

God is the maker of all I saw, of everything I admired and everything that astonished me.  He has made it for His glory, and for my edification.  He had made the world to give it over to mankind for his own dominion according to His holy law.

What men may think about where this all came from is of no consequence to God, who scoffs at His detractors.  Our opinions only have consequences for us and will be our judgment.  I am thankful to the Almighty for giving me this opportunity to honor and worship Him in this way.  He is the God of the universe, and my personal Lord.  Even if he slays me, yet will I serve Him.