Phantom Canyon, Colorado (#102 & 103)

L I V E R M O R E,  C O

Two hours north of Denver, through a non-descript gate off Highway 287, a fifteen-minute ride atop a rutted dirt road leads to the edge of a canyon.  The drive across the plateau conceals the beauty I’m about to drop down into.  It’s a very special place – one of the last roadless canyons in the foothills of the Rockies in Colorado.  Special too, because it’s where the Great Plains meet the mountains – an overlapping ecosystem of spectacular beauty. 

 

Access to the canyon is restricted to research and special tours.  The gate off Highway 287 is usually locked, but today it’s open for me and a group of nine other very lucky volunteers about to embark upon a special tour.  We’ve come to The Nature Conservancy’s (TNC) Phantom Canyon to do maintenance work on the seven miles of trails which lead to and follow the North Fork of the Cache la Poudre River.  It’s a popular assignment for volunteers but only a lucky few are chosen in each cohort.  Volunteers are attracted here not for the grueling maintenance work, but for the reward afterward: permission to wander the canyon once morning chores are done. 

 

Permission to wander though, comes with a strict warning: Phantom Canyon is a dangerous place. The sternest warning is to not wander off alone.  This time of year, Ursus Americana (black bear) are attracted to the plentiful currants growing along the river.  A threesome of mountain lions was recently captured on a wildlife camera.  And rattlesnakes in profusion seek warmth from the sunbaked trail as the weather cools this time of year. 

 

We split into two crews – one heading downstream, ours heading up.  Down in the canyon, we’re still up in altitude.  6,200 feet is quite high for a guy who essentially lives at sea level.  Adding to the breathing challenge is my offering to carry the heaviest gear – a gas-powered weed whacker and rake, plus my backpack full of supplies which include an oversized old-school camera lens, high-calorie lunch, and two full water bottles.

 

TNC advised there would be river crossings.  At the first, I sink halfway up my thigh and struggle to stay upright amid the slippery streambed.  It’s more challenging than I thought to keep two handfuls of gear dry.  But after the next few crossings I fall into rhythm with the canyon and its slippery river.  By day’s end, the twenty river crossings all go without mishap.

 

Our team’s leader, Scott Baily, is the Conservation Chair of the local Trout Unlimited chapter.  He’s been in this canyon numerous times, knows it intimately, and claims it to be his “favorite place on the planet”.  That’s a bold statement, but he exudes a calm and cerebral leadership style, and our group instantly trusts him. 

 

Our chore is to head to the far end of the canyon and begin clearing as we work our way back out.  The weed whacker is our most effective tool.  Though it efficiently clears the light vegetation which has encroached the trail, its loud whirring is out of character in such a pristine natural area.  Another chore is to help Scott reset a water quality monitoring station at the only spot in the canyon with the slightest hint of cellular reception.  Phantom Canyon is very isolated, so this technology provides a year-round flow of vital information about its health. 

 

By noon, our chores are done.  Our group is relaxed and enjoying lunch.  Stories ensue regarding all the cool places we’ve experienced.  Most stories though, include praise for Phantom Canyon and how well it measures up to the other amazing places we’ve been.  As outdoor explorers and enthusiasts, we’re a bunch of peas-in-a-pod, and the conversation is easy.  Though the clock is ticking and I’m anxious to start exploring, I’m also very much enjoying the chat. 

 

As lunch breaks up, I pair up with Amber - a 40-something from Colorado.  She’s traveled much of the American west and has great stories to tell.  We’re both interested in going downstream toward where the other party has spent the morning. 

 

The first downstream river crossing is a wide one and we stop halfway across to take pictures of each other.  The backdrop is a bend in the canyon where a 5,000-year-old Golden Eagle nest exists.  TNC rappelled down the canyon wall, took DNA samples, and confirmed its age.  We both find it hard to comprehend that eagles have been sharing this nest for an unthinkable time period.  

 

We hike along to get a closer look.  As we do, the magnitude of the canyon comes into perspective.  At the base of the canyon wall where the nest is, the towering nature of where we are becomes humbling, and I begin to understand the bravado of Scott Baily’s bold statement. 

 

We linger at this bend, no longer interested in going further partly because we’re tired, but more so because the views are so spectacular.  Eagles soar overhead.  The glistening river flows cerebrally.  Even a field of poison ivy is beautiful - ablaze in spectacular maroon fall color.  But soon after, clouds and a cool breeze move in.  I’m chilled.  The mood has changed quickly.  Soon it’s time to start the long haul up and out of this canyon. 

 

The warning about rattlesnakes turns out to be quite adept.  Amber and I are startlingly stopped twice on the trek out – once with fangs just inches from Amber’s ankle.  The clouds and coolness have indeed brought the snakes onto the trail.  Instead of looking around at the beauty as we traipse out of the canyon, we’re looking down intently at the warm trail.   Despite the threat rattlesnakes pose, we can’t help but acknowledge how dynamically beautiful they are. 

When we make it out, a cooler of cold beer from Scott is a nice surprise.  I grab an icy IPA, remove wet shoes, sit still, and let the gravity of the day sink in.  It’s been one of the most memorable experiences of my life.  Let me say that again: today has been one of the most memorable experiences of my life.  The feel of Phantom Canyon cannot be properly put into words, and it seems futile to argue with Scott about favorite places on earth. 

 

The effort required to explore Phantom Canyon was extensive.  Many emails, calls, and texts.  A long flight.  A long drive.  A long hike down in.  A tiring morning of heavy chores.  But damn if it wasn’t worth every bit of effort put forth.  It’s an amazing place.  TNC knows what they’re doing in choosing the places they protect, and Phantom Canyon is yet another compelling affirmation of why I seek their properties whenever I can. 

 

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Postscript: As part of this trip to Phantom, I also visited Soapstone Prairie Natural Area in Colorado which counts as another TNC property.  They helped acquire and transfer land which became part of the preserve.  It’s yet another amazing TNC property (#102) that I’ve added to the collection, though no journal entry has been prepared yet.