IN THE MEDICINE BOW RANGE 



By CHARLES M. CARROLL 



INCE the first issue of the 

 new Recreaton I have 

 been a constant reader of 

 that publication, and I 

 look for its appearance on 

 the newsstand, and devour 

 every line of its contents 

 before the day is over. I 

 have failed to see any- 

 thing from this part of 

 the country for some time, 

 so win endeavor to outline in brief a 

 camping-out experience in Grand and 

 Routt counties, Colorado, some two 

 years ago. 



My companion's experience in cam- 

 paigning in the woods tided us over 

 many difficulties,, and I wish to say 

 that, while I have been an enthusiastic 

 woodlover all my life, I soon found out 

 that woodcraft is a science and an art, 

 of which most of us know too little. 

 I had intended to spend my fall out- 

 ing in the Flat Top Mountains or Gore 

 Range, in Routt county, 250 miles 

 cross-country from Denver, and when 

 I was apprised one morning the latter 

 part of August by my cousin, Matt 

 Ray, that he had been chosen by a 

 prospecting companv to examine into 

 the mineral resources of 150 miles of 

 the western slope of the Rocky Moun- 

 tains, from Arapahoe Peak to the Medi- 

 cine Bow Range, and that I was to ac- 

 company him at a salary of $100 per 

 month, I stopped my editorial on "Ir- 

 rigation" on the spot and secured my 

 release for a three months' trip. We at 

 once begun preparations — the purchase 

 of good saddle horses, a good strong 

 burro for packing, a one-pole pyramid 

 tent with a two-foot wall, a medium- 

 sized Dutch oven (a very important 

 article), and various other traps for 

 such a trip. We were on the highway 

 before September 1st for a 1,000 mile 

 journey to last three months. 



The first day we reached Boulder 

 City, thirty miles further on our jour- 

 ney, and the next morning made camp 

 at Caribou, a small mining town at 

 the foot of the snowy range, twenty- 

 two miles from Boulder. The next 

 day placed us over the continental di- 

 vide in a fair game and fish country, 

 but we arrived too late to reconnoitre, 

 so we had bacon for supper. The next 

 evening found us camped on the south 

 fork of the Grand River, in Grand 

 county, near the source of the Grand 

 or Colorado River, which enters the 

 Grand Canon in Arizona and then be- 

 comes a point of national interest. Here 

 we managed to capture a few beauties 

 from some of the deepest and darkest 

 pools ; and the next day we pulled into 

 Grand Lake, the largest and most pic- 

 turesque sheet of water in Colorado. 

 While in this neck of the woods my 

 partner, Ray, took the blue ribbon, 

 which he managed to keep in posses- 

 sion of the remainder of the journey. 

 One evening about 5 o'clock we took 

 a parallel course through the jack pines 

 some 200 yards apart, our destination 

 being a number of small parks covered 

 with swamp grass aiid about a mile 

 distant from camp, where we were told 

 deer were frequently seen by local 

 sportsmen. On the way I was tempted 

 to take a shot at a plump grouse sitting 

 on a log. In the still woods at this 

 time in the evening the report of my 

 .40-. 82 sounded like a volley from a bat- 

 tery of cannon. I was sorry after I 

 shot, for I considered all hope for deer 

 gone. I proceeded further some 200 

 yards when I encountered fresh deer 

 tracks, the animals evidently having 

 been disturbed by the report of my rifle 

 in shooting the grouse. I followed these 

 tracks for a quarter of a mile, when, 

 just before emerging into one of the 

 small parks, I heard three shots from 



