Colorado Backcountry Hiker

"Day 1. Hike from Fulford Campground via Iron Edge Trail to Peter Estin Hut."
-- from The World Outdoors' hike description

And here we are, bright, unbowed and uninjured. Some of us are standing on large boulders to, em, be more easily seen by the camera. Yeah, that's it. The hiking party (clients, that is) consisted entirely of women, ranging from their 20s to their 50s. The exceptions: Rebecca, the intern on the far left front; and the two menfolk, our guides, Eric (left) and Mark (right) in the back row. Behind us is a large pond with some beaver dams; in front of us is a fair-sized parking lot, to our left is an outhouse which is one of the last chances we'll have to um, have privacy before we get to the hut that night.
I'd signed up with The World Outdoors because they seemed competent, had a good Web site, were affordable by me, and were going where I wanted to go with their Colorado Back country Hiker trip. I did some general Googling to see if anyone had anything bad to say, and couldn't find anything. I picked the week of July 15-20 because it was listed as "singles," which -- trust me -- I wasn't going on to find a cute boy or anything. I just figured it would be more interesting in a family-free, couple-free group. Anyway, that's how I ended up in this place, at this time, and with these fine people for six days of some of the hardest walking I've ever done.
But back up a moment. Before we get to this group pose, a brief look at Vail, Colorado. We'd been told we'd be picked up on the 20th by the World Outdoors guides just outside the Evergreen Lodge, and WO had arranged for a discount there, so it made sense to just bunk there for the night. If you have the option to stay there for any reason whatsoever, here is my advice: Think again. It wasn't like saggy-mattress, moist towels, buggy bad, it was just crappy customer service, unimpressive amenities, a remote control that didn't work and the inability to find a teabag for those of us who don't drink coffee. Then again, there was a little "Welcome" sack in the room, which gave you a tiny bit of peanut butter, two bottles of water, a razor, some raisins and one or two other doodads. Here's a bit of Vail, which overall was delightful:

And had a lot of little bridges and streams and whatnot to increase the Quaint Factor:

So, after a night at the iffy Evergreen (with another one promised once we return, hurray!) I headed down with my oversized backpack and had to choose between two assembled groups in the lobby: One was a loose grouping of much older men and women with nametags, and one was made up of three or four sturdy-looking younger women. I chose wisely -- and quickly we were getting acquainted with where we were from, how we were looking forward to this, all the usual stuff. And of course, it would take me days to remember everyone's name because I am completely hopeless with that kind of thing.
The guides showed up with a big white van and attached trailer and introduced themselves; we were all on board and heading into the mountains in no time. We passed Eagle airport (where I'd flown in; many in the group had instead flown to Denver and gotten a long ride through the mountains), into residential neighborhoods, then farms, until the track began too narrow for more than one vehicle and the right-side drop off became more precarious than when I drove up the Pacific Coast Highway a few years ago.

"Our group assembles in the sitting room of the Manor Vail Resort [changed when the Manor underwent renovations] in the heart of Vail Village at 9:00 a.m. After a short orientation and a shuttle, we lace up our boots for a day of hiking into the heart of the Rocky Mountains and the rooftop of America!
Today's trailhead begins in the White River National Forest at the Fulford Cave Campground. Exercise your lungs as we head up the Iron Edge trail for a great warm up hike to the majestically situated Peter Estin Hut."
-- from The World Outdoors' hike description
Now, the hike information said this: That we'd be going 4.5 miles, with a 1700' elevation gain. And the weather was just gorgeous: Crystal blue sky, no clouds, no humidity, a light breeze, in the 70s. Conditions couldn't be better for hiking. Except: We were approximately 10,000 feet above sea level, and I live in New York City, which essentially exists on sea level. I was on the altitude sickness pills, so I wasn't really worried about feeling nauseous, and 4.5 miles is a hairball of a walk. But I also haven't hiked this high up before and I was about to have a very rude awakening.
I actually started out leading the group, which I knew wouldn't last because I don't like being way up front like that, but I at least thought I'd have a say in the matter of dropping back. Nope. Pretty quickly a few women shot up front and one or two lagged in the back, but I spent most of my time in the soft back center of the group, huffing and puffing like there was no tomorrow. Unless you've done this, you can't quite understand it -- explaining just makes me sound like I have no endurance and that I've been a couch potato all my life. But I work out with cardio and weights six to seven times a week. I can do hiking. What kicked my ass was hiking a continual uphill ... at 10,000+ feet. About every ten or fifteen minutes, after switchback after switchback, I would just have to stop and rest, whether the rest of the group was taking a break or not.

We were in the midst of dense old-growth forest cut through with brilliant sun and the wonderful scent of evergreen trees. I'd like to say I took it all in and reveled the whole time, but not having breath to concentrate with made appreciation a little difficult at times. But we would stop as a group here and there to snack on gorp or energy bars, sitting on fallen trees -- there were a lot of fallen trees, which were cut through if they crossed the path, but a few we had to clamber over -- and listening to everything. And then after just a few minutes rest we'd start up again and continue through the firs, the white Aspen groves and wildflowers until we were exhausted again and asked our adult equivalents of "are we there yet?" To which the reply was inevitably something like "not much further now" or "doing great" or "almost halfway there" or something incredibly noncommittal and -- after a few days -- annoying. As a relatively grown-up person I've discovered I like straight answers: If I say "how far along are we" and I know we're doing 4.5 miles, I'd like an answer like "3 miles." Not having any sense of how to pace myself wore thin quickly. But I swore: No complaining. Back when I was younger and somehow ended up doing outdoor things I turned baby the first time I had to do something like pee at 3 a.m. and find my way to the outhouse in the dark. Or if I got cold. Wuss, seriously. Not fun at all. So for this trip: No complaining. Some sarcasm? You bet. But no wimping out, and no bitching. It's a vacation! Suck it up!

"A guide favorite, Peter Estin Hut is perched on a lofty knoll at 11,200 feet. This idyllic setting is the perfect place to relax and marvel at the magnificent views of the Elk Range's jagged peaks."
-- from The World Outdoors' hike description

Now, this may just be local lingo, but folks: This is a cabin, not a hut in my estimation. I expected something a lot rougher and smaller; the Peter Estin Hut is just fantastic, rustic in all the right ways, clean and beyond all expectations. (The van on the right side had ferried our large sacks to the hut, and we just carried daypacks. Thank God for my Camelbak.) The solar panel you see on the left was there for things like lights in the evening and (I think) to keep the stoves going inside. But it wasn't for heat -- the cabin had a woodstove in the front parlor and that was it. The latrines were in a separate building behind this front entrance. The hut had three floors including a basement, and the front deck. The guides set out large water bags on the far left of the deck so we could have solar showers later, and we ate a lunch of salad, potato chips and cookies, with tea later on.

Inside, I managed to snag one of two single rooms for the night; we ended up staying here two nights and no one kicked me out, so I had it for two nights straight. Luxury! That's my sleeping bag on the left and my daypack resting against the bunk. It was quite comfortable and I wasn't chilled or overheated or anything, and no bugs bothered me. The hardest part was in needing to use the latrine probably four times that night.

Here's the view from the front yard area just outside the hut; those are the Elk Range mountains I presume.
So because I'm a glutton for punishment, or just felt that I'd recovered enough to explore further, I went out walking again down a nearby trail with the woman who'd walked most of the day with me, Alison. We didn't know if we'd get down this path the next day -- the guides could be incredibly vague when they chose to be -- and we didn't want to miss anything. So we struck out not long after lunch.

And almost immediately had our first wildlife sighting.

Okay, so, yes, it was just a deer, but we were impressed. Just to note again: Look at the angle of the landscape. We're climbing up that, folks. Appreciate and honor our commitment!
We didn't stay out long hiking; quickly we remembered how dreadful it was to have no breath, and feeling like you're an emphysematic 60-year old is not a pleasant experience. So we got to the top of this hill with a lovely cliffside overlook and took a few pictures, then came back down again. Time to rest up and see if the solar showers were available yet.

If I seem to have a worried look on my face, trust me, it's no joke: We were slated to do 9 miles the next day, with 700' up, and 2000 feet down -- with an option to go another 4 miles.
No complaining!