Lego bounded out of the car, eager to run off some of his endless Aussie energy. Much as he loved to ride, he loved to run even more; he chafed under the constraints of a long car trip, as did I. Now he ran around, sniffing the evidence of previous canine passersby while I changed into my boots and packed up our stuff.
We were later hitting the trail than I would have liked, but I’d had some business to take care of first. Now, in the uncrowded parking lot at the trailhead the soft susurrus of the wind in the pines combined with the scent of sage, conifers, and moisture to melt away my stress, leaving me relaxed and content, eager to immerse myself in the mountains and woods that I so loved.
One of my favorite hikes within a three-hour drive of Denver, the high peaks and crystalline lakes of the Indian Peaks Wilderness always beckoned me; mileage-wise it was closer still to the city, but part was slow, a daunting steep, rocky stretch that required good ground clearance, sometimes even four-wheel drive. It was challenging, but my Jeep handled it effortlessly.
Despite the bad road, on a weekend it would have been crowded, but today, a Tuesday, there were few vehicles. As we entered the shade of the trees the temperature dropped, the rocky trail changing to soft humus and pine needles, our footsteps now virtually silent. I was filled with a sense of peace and well-being, something I come to the mountains for as much as the beauty and the spectacular vistas.
I’d planned a long, strenuous hike, over seven miles each way, but it was late summer so both me and Lego were in good shape from earlier hiking and backpacking adventures and the weather forecast was good. The trail climbed gently for the first mile, then branched to either an old mining site, a nearby peak, or one of three lakes.
One of the lake trails, the one I wanted, climbed steeply for the next three miles, then more gradually again for over a mile until it crested an arete and dropped several hundred feet over the last mile or so into a glacial cirque, to a crystal-blue tarn, a small lake trapped in the bottom of the valley.
We paused at the trail registry where we entered the wilderness area, a few hundred yards from the parking lot, to sign in. I was pleased to see that there were few hikers, most of whom had listed other destinations. Only one, another solo hiker named L. Kelly, had failed to list a destination. As a solo hiker, I always complete the registry in case of an accident of any sort, and I mentally chastised him for his carelessness as I filled in the blanks on my line.
We made good time after that, slowing when we reached the steeper, more grueling part of the trail. We’d gain nearly 2,500 feet of elevation over the next three miles, to a nearly 10,700 foot elevation, so the climb was steep and the air was thin; still, we enjoyed it, Lego with a happy grin on his face and tongue lolling and me feeling the burn in my leg muscles and lungs, my body pumping out sweat to keep itself cooled.
We paused for water and a snack then continued on, buoyed by the knowledge of our special break spot at the top of the climb. I’d been poring over an old topographic map of the area some years earlier and, in tracing the route of this trail, had noticed a smudge of brown just off to the left, south of the trail; it was a whole series of contour lines, the lines that show the elevation of geographic features, all merging and piled on top of each other.
In the case of this old map, with fifty-foot contour intervals, that stack of lines all in one place indicated a very steep – and very high – cliff. Intrigued, I’d gone off-trail the necessary quarter-mile to check it out and been rewarded with a long, narrow tapering rock outcrop extending from the tree line, a few feet wide in some places to nearly twenty feet at its widest, its precipice above a sheer drop of several hundred feet.
The view, with the ranges of mountains, valleys, and glistening lakes and streams laid out before and below, had been spectacular if a bit vertiginous. I’d even named it – Falcon’s Nest – and it had become my own private and very special place, a powerful incentive for taking this tough hike; barring a pending thunderstorm I never skipped it.
A great spot to sit and enjoy a bite of lunch, and, on hot days, to shed my pack and shirt (and sometimes, on hotter days, pants) so that they could air dry after the strenuous uphill climb. Accordingly, when Lego and I reached the appropriate point on the trail, we veered off toward my secret refuge.
The pinewoods at this altitude were thick and mature with little undergrowth, so traveling off-trail was easy and we covered the quarter-mile, a slight downhill slope, in no time. Bushes – wax currant and chokecherry, primarily - thickly fringed the edge of the tree line where it met the rocky outcrop, taking advantage of the sunlight and making the outcrop and view much less likely to be discovered.
I slowly and quietly shouldered my way through the thick shrubs, Lego weaving his way through the less dense lower branches until we suddenly emerged into the open sunlight, the world laid out below us. Even as I drank in the view, I heard a low gasp and caught a sudden flash of motion several feet to my right; I moved away as I turned to look, but Lego sprang toward the sound.
I realized immediately that it was a girl – a woman, actually – and that we’d surprised her sunbathing nude, or at least topless, and she was scrambling to cover herself with her t-shirt. I caught a quick glimpse of smallish but very shapely, perfect breasts, a taut tummy, and long, bare legs; my first instinct was to turn away and behave like a gentleman, but Lego, uncharacteristically, was about to be all over her!
I jumped forward, trying to grab his collar and apologize to her at the same time. “I’m sorry, he’s not aggressive… I mean I’m glad he’s not aggressive, but I’m sorry for barging in on you. He’s just…”
By then I could see that his wigglebutt and his tiny tail stump were going a hundred miles per hour, which was a relief but every bit as uncharacteristic of him as aggressiveness would have been. He’s usually a little shy or stand-offish until he knows someone, and even then, he’s dignified and reserved with his affections. Not this time, however, and as he forced himself on her, demanding attention, she struggled to fend him off and keep herself covered at the same time. Hearing her laugh, however, was a huge relief!
I was finally able to grab him around his shoulders and pull him back. “I’m sorry, he never does that. Caught me off guard, but we weren’t expecting to see anyone here.”
She smiled, looking at him before she glanced up at me, shading her eyes with her free hand. “It’s okay, I’m just glad he’s friendly.”
“Too friendly, in this case; he doesn’t usually respond to strangers like that.”
“I guess he likes me.”
“Apparently.” I was thinking, Good judgment on his part, but I said, “I’m really sorry we came blundering in on you that way. We’ll head back to the trail and leave you in peace.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t own this place or anything, so you’re as entitled to be here as I am. I’m just surprised to see anyone else here; I never have before.”
I shook my head. “No, me either, and I’ve been here dozens of times over the years. I was beginning to think I was the only one that knew about it.”
“Nope, I come here whenever I can. I suppose we were bound to run into each other eventually.”
“I guess. Look, we can just go and let you get back to whatever you were doing.”
She shrugged. Considering that she appeared to be naked other than the shirt she was clutching across her chest, she seemed very relaxed. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just catching a few rays while my clothes dry out a little; they always get sweaty climbing that part of the trail.”
I laughed. “That’s exactly what I do, weather permitting. Why don’t I turn my back while you get dressed? I’m kinda starting to feel a little pervy here.”
She laughed again, as she had when Lego was trying to kiss her to death. I decided that it was a sound that I could really learn to enjoy. “My clothes aren’t quite dry yet, I haven’t been here that long. Alternatively, you could shed your clothes too, which should help with your whole ‘pervy’ conundrum…”
“Umm…” I was caught off guard again and had no idea how to respond to that. I could see that she had a t-shirt, as she was using it to cover up, and I saw a small pair of pale blue shorts lying on a rock in the sun. I didn’t see any undergarments of any kind, and couldn’t tell if she was wearing panties or not, the way she was sitting; if she was they were small, because there was a long strip of bare skin running up her thigh and hip and then up her side past tummy and ribs; only a small area on her hip was covered by a fold of the t-shirt.
When I didn’t answer – or move to undress – she said, “If it makes you uncomfortable to be this close to me, you could move down toward the other end of the ledge. There’s plenty of room here for two of us to have a little privacy.”
“It’s not that. I’m just surprised to hear you say that. Frankly, I’m surprised to find a woman hiking alone here, in a wilderness area; it’s not something I see a lot, and I hike a lot of easier and less remote trails than this one!”
“Does it bother you?”
“What? No, of course not! Just surprised is all.” Even though she seemed a little defensive, challenging my assumptions, I was realizing that I found her very attractive. She wasn’t classically pretty or beautiful in any standard sense, but there was something about her…
She seemed a little larger than the average woman – not heavy, just wider of shoulders and with well-muscled, sleek arms and legs rather than skinny little upper arms or toothpick wrists. My impression, despite her reclining position, was that she was tall, an impression reinforced by those forever legs and a long, lean, whipcord-taut torso.
Feature-wise, her lips were full over a wide mouth, and I’d already seen that her grin was quick and authentic, showing white, even teeth. Her nose couldn’t be described as petite, or pug, or even pert; rather, it was perhaps a bit large on her face but proud and aquiline, gracefully shaped. Noble, even.
Perhaps her best features were her hair, long and wavy, light brown with red highlights that shone copper in the sun, and her pale grey eyes, the beautifully shaded irises huge relative to her small pupils, contracted against the bright sun.
What I really found captivating, however, had little to do with her looks. What was holding my attention and making me long to have a chance to know her better was the healthy, vital glow that seemed to emanate from her, her body vibrant, fit and full of life, and her devil-may-care, almost cocky attitude. She radiated a calm but powerful self-confidence which, to my surprise, I found very sexy.
I sensed that she felt very comfortable in her ability to take care of herself, a confidence that was likely well-founded. A complete non-sequitur, I asked, “Are you by any chance L. Kelly?”
She seemed very surprised, and suddenly uncomfortable. “What? How did you know that?”
“Relax! I checked the trail registry is all, saw that name. I figured it was a guy.”
“Oh. Of course. Jeez, way to freak a girl out! Lara Kelly, yes – and you are?”
“Robert Cooper – my friends call me Coop, or maybe Rob – not Robert, and definitely not Bob, who's my grandfather. You really should fill out a destination when you sign in, Lara, in case you have an accident or something.”
“Well, Coop – I like that name, by the way, so Coop it is – as you pointed out, I’m a woman hiking alone, which I enjoy; leaving a destination in the book is maybe not a great idea. I’ve told friends where I was heading.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good; I like hiking solo too, so forgive me for preaching. I suppose that’s also why you use a first initial rather than filling in your name?”
She nodded. “Do you think that’s fair, that women should have to take those precautions?”
“Fair? No, but it’s probably smart. There are some real dirtbags out there.”
“But you’re not one?”
“God, I hope not! Look at that dog – would anything so sweet love me if I was a scumbucket?”
She laughed and called him over. “That’s a good point. What’s his name?”
“Lego.”
“He’s precious.” As she ruffled his ears and he panted happily, fawning over her, she unwittingly allowed her t-shirt to slip down, exposing her breasts. My first quick impression had been correct; they were small but spectacular, perfect for her lean, toned body and capped with rosy pink nipples, rigidly erect from either arousal or the cool breeze. I was pinning my hopes on the former.
Lego, a beautiful red merle Aussie with markings resembling chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, was always a good icebreaker, but today he was going above and beyond the call of duty as my wingman, literally charming the clothes off the object of my attention!
She looked up at me. “So are you going to strip down too, or have you become comfortable with being a lecherous perv?”
I laughed. “No, still not comfortable – and you’re very beautiful, by the way – but I’m not sure gettin’ nekkid will make us more comfortable; it might just make me a naked lecherous perv.”
She gave me another of those throaty, fascinating laughs. “We’ll never know till you try, and it will make me more comfortable – and besides, your clothes are still wet and sweaty.”
“Valid point.” I dropped my pack and stripped my wet shirt over my head, then sat on a rock about five feet away from her and Lego while I stripped off my socks and boots. When I stood, wearing only my shorts, I realized that I should have left my boots on long enough to walk back into the shrubs and empty my bursting bladder. “Well, crap…”
