Further up the Arkansas

Mt. Princeton Hot Springs and Chalk Creek

I didn't intend to trek through Canon City and the Royal Gorge twice in three days. But the route made sense for stops in Salida, Buena Vista and Nathrop, a good day trip loop through the mountains.

By noon Tuesday, I stood on the rim of the Royal Gorge, looking down on the Arkansas and enjoying a 15-degree drop in temperatures. The flowers had bloomed a little more, and we walked a little along deeper along the ridge to new some vantage points.

Other than hiking further than I the first stop, a more comfortable temperature and the sudden appearance of two C-130 military cargo planes over the gorge, there was little differences in the days. The cacti blooms seemed more pronounced, and orange firecracker blooms were now spread among the grasses. The planes’ massive propellers outroared the river for a moment, then both moved east over the Rockies.

Nancy didn’t want to go to the gorge bridge any more than I did, so the overlook worked just fine. Yes, the same Nancy, who is now is friend in good standing. We know how to manage a road trip together, and a day trip around Colorado could utilize our knowledge about the place. Most of mine were new, barely days old.
 
Leaving the tourism outposts of the Royal Gorge, we crossed the Arkansas at a much lower elevation and followed it all the way to Salida. At many points, the canyon had room for the river, the road and little else. A good spot for spotting bighorn sheep, Nancy eyed a small herd grazing along a fence on the opposite bank.

Despite the heavy snowmelt, whitewater rafts were thick along the river every few miles. At some points the river splashed the lip of the road. There were no riffles in this river, just rapids and swift currents, rock walls rising hundreds of feet above the water in many places.

The daily mountain thunderstorm brewed as the canyon dropped us into Salida. The skies doused Salida and sent people scurrying indoors. Wandering the streets for a lunch place was out, so we popped into Mo Burrito for a satisfying meal. The rain wrapped while we ate. The tacos were excellent.

Leaving the band of rain behind, the 14’ers shined as the sun broke in. We came upon Mount Antero and pulled off the admire the snow-capped peak. The snow receded significantly since I passed through two months earlier, summer heat slowly melting the snow to feed the creeks and rivers. After Nancy bought some ground coffee for her sister, we drifted through the streets of Buena Vista. The town felt like a place of contrasts, a dusty stretch on the mountain highway, a low-key older district and brand-new development closer to the Arkansas that tried to emulate the older parts with too-dense modern construction.

There was more to see, but time was running low and the day would be capped west in the foothills of the Collegiate Peaks. I had seen pictures but had no idea what to expect from Mt. Princeton Hot Springs.

Mountains north of Salida

At Nathrop – basically a wide spot on the road – we turned toward the Collegiate Peaks, named Mt. Princeton and its chalky cliffs which gave name to Chalk Creek, along which the springs flow. The bathhouse was built more than 150 years ago, at the end of the Civil War. The resort had two pools, the soaking pool at 105 degrees Fahrenheit and the exercise pool at 90 degrees. The water in both felt excellent. Whenever the soaking pool felt a little uncomfortable, we switched to the exercise pool. A little time sitting poolside at 8,200 feet above sea level on breezy Chalk Creek readied the body and mind for another spin in the soaking pool.

During most summers, the creek trickles through the rocks and people enjoy the hot pools formed by the springs. Chalk Creek was a raging torrent, and the resort had blocked access to the Creekside springs. No one sane would jump into that water. The cold snowmelt water obscured the hot spring water that normally drew visitors to rocky pools.

Two-plus hours of soaking left me relaxed in ways I never expected. The waters felt rejuvenating. I cannot explain the relaxation that overtook me. The combined rush of wind, road of water and ambient heat from the spring-fed pools left a deep impression. I would feel the ease of the waters until I slept later that night.

Wrong day for a creekside soak

The Mt. Princeton foothills would vanish as we turned into the winding terrain east of Buena Vista. The road climbed steeply, the last of the whitewater outfitters fell behind us. Only at Trout Creek Pass, when we reached the expansive high-mountain valley of South Park, did we leave the influence of the Arkansas. Despite a small sample size, South Park has always been welcoming in its emptiness. With giant ranches, little vegetation and tiny towns, it’s as wide open as any space in the West.

The pale grasses that typically waved in the alpine breeze were replaced by tentative green pastures and hills. At some point, the land would dry and the greens would fade. But the branches of the South Platte River still swelled against the banks, ephemeral ponds along the river’s course toward its sister branches then Denver.

South Park

There were a smattering of cattle herds and grazing horses, but for once we saw the big private bison herd around Hartsel. At several hundred animals, the herd was sprinkled with little red dogs, the baby bison less than a few months old. Their nickname stems from the red fur that gradually turns bison brown during their first year.

We chased the sun and growing shadows the rest of the way back to the Springs, stopping briefly to take the backroads through Florissant and Divide, then coasting into a mostly quiet Woodland Park on our way down Ute Pass. In the mountains, the Arkansas still charged out of its headwaters, the melting snows bolstered its currents all the way to the Mississippi.

Mount Antero