Chapter One: Are We Lost, Jeff?

An Enthralling Tale About The Time I Took My Mom Jeeping And Got Lost

Legal Disclaimer:  The use of the word 'enthralling' in the above statement is not a legally binding guarantee.  
Results for individual readers may vary.

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Before I became the internationally known and loved artist Jephyr (and everyone still called me Jeff) — I spent my early life exploring the Colorado mountains near my family home — hiking, camping, and fishing — and then after I turned 16 — furthering those adventures in my dad's orange, 1973 Jeep CJ-5 with a black rag top.

I spent hours scouting the rivers, creeks, and mountains around my home and relied on a "sense of direction" that was well honed at that time — and so I'd often just take an old unfamiliar trail to see where it went — knowing I could always find my way back.

Whether it was youthful bravery or ignorance, I never thought once about getting lost — but as you'll read below that confidence was tested one fall afternoon.

A Pic Of The Jeep With A Certain Nefarious Character Behind The Wheel  😉

Taken at the top of a jeep trail that wound upward through a steep canyon just before it opened up to a meadow area.

Adventures In My Dad's Old Jeep

While still a teen and thanks to that old Jeep, my explorations went further and further into the mountains — and I'd simply put it in four wheel drive and steer it up steep rocky and rutted trails — winding past sage and scrub oak, up through aspen tree and towering evergreen forests — and along precipitous canyons that gave way to beautiful meadows filled with bright and colorful wildflowers as high as 7,500 feet or more above sea level.

Along the way there were all kinds of woodland critters, like squirrels. porcupines, marmots, and occasional and thrilling sightings of deer and elk.

It was an idyllic time in my life — and I miss those days tremendously.

My Old Snap Of A Winding Jeep Trail Rising Upward Through
A High Country Meadow — With A Distant Lake Just Left Of Mid-Center

My Fellow Explorers

I had a high school friend who'd often join me either hiking or Jeeping.

One night we camped out at a high country lake and we were treated to the sound of a nearby bull elk bugling in the predawn hours.

It was very awe inspiring — but also a bit scary because an elk in rut with a full rack can be ornery and dangerous — and the only thing separating it from us was a paper-thin vinyl tent.

National Geographic shared this video showing various elk bugles and suggest at the end to RUN if you hear that sound! 😏 The Video is cued to start at 18 seconds. (Bull elk in Colorado look like the very first one shown in this video)

When my high school chum wasn't available for explorations, I'd enlist anyone else I could find.

One time I invited our somewhat quiet and reserved church pastor to go 'four-wheeling' — and during one summer vacation, a younger classmate/co-worker joined me for regular 'jeeping' excursions into the high country.

Jephyr - The Mule-Skinner

1899 Photo Of A Mule-Skinner

On one Jeep trip, my dad was riding shotgun while I was behind the wheel and navigating up a steep boulder strewn trail.  He didn't give praise very often but when we got through that section he said I'd become a pretty good 'mule-skinner.'

If I do say so myself — all my hours driving in that rough terrain had made me worthy of that rare commendation.

https://coloradoearthscience.blogspot.com/2018/08/cripple-creeks-mule-skinners.html

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Cruising Through The Lower Sage And Scrub Oaks Near My Childhood Home

 

Inviting My Mom To Join Me For A High Country Trek

One fall day, I decided to try to find a cave that I'd heard many people in our area talk about.  I had a general idea of its location — but nothing more than that (long before online maps and GPS) — and determined with youthful exuberance to set out in the Jeep to see if I could find it anyway.

I don't recall exactly how it came about — but I asked my mom if she wanted to go with me and recall that she readily agreed — and though it was the first and only time I remember inviting her, now that she's gone I wish I had done that WAY more often.

Looking Down From The High-Country — Our Little Town In
The Right Corner — with A Nearly 1,300 Foot Peak To The Far Left

Our Adventure Begins

Mom and I took off that day — traveling along our little town's paved streets that quickly gave way to gravel roads — and then up the rocky, off-road trails, with tracks made deep by countless other four-wheel vehicles and rain water run-off.

As we bounced along with orange and yellow fall aspen trees brushing against the side of the Jeep, I began to notice the sky getting darker as large storm clouds moved in.  So after we'd traveled a few more miles, I made the decision to pull over and set out on foot — hoping to get a little more exploration in before a rain hit.

Fall Aspen Landscape

Finding a place to park in the colorful aspen — I maneuvered as far off the trail as I could (leaving room for other four-wheelers that came along and needed to pass) — and we immediately set out hiking through the trees.

After a bit, I was pleased to find a game trail and we followed that up for a while — our feet pushing through a thick carpet of yellow and orange leaves.

The Sky Begins To Look More Ominous

As we hiked along the trail that wound upward through the dense trees, I kept one eye on the dark clouds through openings in the canopy above, noticing it was looking more and more like a serious storm was brewing.

As the sky grew darker, I finally determined it would be best to turn around and make our way back to the Jeep before we got caught in a downpour — and my unquestioning mother simply agreed and followed me back down the trail.

Looking For An Orange Jeep In A Sea Of Yellow And Orange

As mentioned, at that time of year aspen leaves were already deep into their beautiful, rich fall colors — so everything was a wash of yellow and orange.

Another Look At Similar Fall Scene

At that point in our hike back down however, I was only casually looking for the Jeep and was just depending on my normally reliable sense of direction — but after we had hiked down the trail for a while, nothing seemed familiar, and so I decided that we'd missed our turn off to it.

Not concerned at that point, I just said something like, "Let's go back up a little, Mom."

So we hiked up the trail again — but this time I was very carefully looking for any landmark or sign that would remind me where I had parked.

Fear Begins To Set In

As we hiked back up again — I was beginning to realize the thick carpet of leaves was making it impossible to see any of our previous tracks — and it was about then it began to dawn on me that for the first time in all my high country adventures — I felt a little lost.

It was also becoming very clear that a big storm was definitely blowing in — and as those thoughts collided — it suddenly hit me that neither of us had told ANYONE where we we going.

As we hiked, I began to consider that I would be OK if I couldn't find the Jeep and had to find a place to hunker down to spend the night — but was worried about my mom and began to feel a sinking feeling about becoming lost with her.

We were both dressed in light fall clothes — and neither of us had jackets, packs, or supplies of any kind — so I knew it would be a long, cold and wet night if I couldn't find the Jeep.

Visions of my rain-soaked mom shivering in the dark began swirling in my head — and I also began imagining my family being worried sick if we didn't return home.

I knew from hearing many news-reports about lost people — that my family would contact the sheriff, and in turn our little town would begin organizing search parties — but with a web of Jeep trails that ran everywhere through the nearby mountains, no one would have the slightest clue about where to begin looking for us.

Mom's Question

Lost in both the thick trees and those thoughts, I led my mom back up the game trail until I felt again we had passed our turn-off to the Jeep — so I stopped and as casually as I could muster said, "Let's turn around and go back down a bit, Mom."

That's when my mom softly asked, "Are we lost, Jeff?"

Not wanting to alarm her or admit that I was in fact at that point feeling completely lost — I reassured her we were fine and said we just needed to go back down the trail a little bit again.

A icy-cold, sinking feeling was growing inside me however — and with every step I took, I strained my eyes for any familiar landmark or sign of the orange and black jeep — which I now realized was completely and perfectly camouflaged in the fall landscape.

Digital Composite — Our Jeep As It Looked 'Hidden' In The Aspen Trees

Eureka!

Fortunately, as we hiked down the trail again — I finally spotted just the very top outline of the Jeep off through the distant trees.

As I led my trusting mother back to it — it became very obvious how well "hidden" it was.

Even walking directly towards it — the Jeep's colors blended perfectly into the fall surroundings — and it was difficult to see.

Once back safely inside, I never uttered a word to my mom about feeling lost — and I don't recall that she ever mentioned it again — but an overwhelming sense of relief washed over me as we headed down the trail to town.

As we did, the rain finally hit and it poured steadily all the way back home.