Riding from Vail to Aspen on Horseback
Ten riders, (mostly) strangers, arrive at Bearcat Stables, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Two couples, two friends, a father and daughter, and two solo travelers including myself, all ready to spend the next four days on horseback deep in Colorado’s backcountry, trekking through the rugged wilderness and rocky terrain between Vail and Aspen.
There’s always a clear distinction between the Western riders (cowboy hats, worn boots, pearl-snap shirts), English riders (helmets, half chaps, comfortable breeches), and the non-riders, although this trip doesn’t tend to attract the latter. Long days in the saddle are no gentle introduction to riding, and even though this ride doesn’t move very fast, there is still some skill involved, as we navigate tricky terrain, ducking under low branches, riding through creeks and ravines, and traveling along narrow single tracks that drop away steeply.
Horses are ready and waiting when we arrive
The horses await us, tied along the stable rail, tacked and ready but calm and bored. For us, this is the start of an epic adventure, but for them it’s just another day at work. They knows their job and they do it well; it takes a special kind of horse to handle this terrain and do so with a different rider each and every time.
The ride begins up the road from the stable, at the quiet Squaw Creek trailhead surrounded by aspens. We begin to gain elevation almost immediately, the aspens and underbrush closing in around us as we switchback uphill. The riders are quiet - it’s hard to carry on a conversation when riding single-file, focusing on the trail and trying to dodge low branches, but we will all be able to multitask by the end of the trip. From time to time the greenery gives way to open meadows carpeted in purple and yellow wildflowers, with views towards the towering New York peaks just beyond the treetops. We break for a picnic lunch beneath the pines, stretching our legs as we sit in the shady grass before remounting. We ride late into the afternoon, arriving at Peter Estin hut just in time to watch the sun set over distant 14ers from the deck, cold drinks in hand and charcuterie and appetizers before us.
Sundowners on the deck of Peter Estin Hut
The hut is a 2-story log cabin with solar lights, a wood-burning stove, no running water and a drop toilet outside. The bunk room upstairs sleeps up to 12 on side-by-side bunks with two small bedrooms each sleeping two. Picture windows on either end look out over the valley below. The best feature is the large deck facing the meadow and the valley, where we enjoy the last rays of afternoon sun.
Whatever type of meal the guests imagine, Chef Adam exceeds all expectations, working his magic whether in the kitchen or over an open flame outdoors. Lamb romesco, grilled cabbage and zucchini, beet carpaccio, miso eggplant with marinated skirt steak, honey charred carrots, pickled shiitake and sweet hibachi style noodles, just to name a few. And the desserts…don’t get me started on the desserts. Blueberry bars, cookies so soft they melt in your mouth, and the best peach cobbler I’ve ever had (don’t tell my mother), made with Palisade peaches grown right here in Colorado.
Breakfast is just as delightful, hearty and filling, and readies us for another long day in the saddle. Our horses await, tacked and ready, and we set off downhill. Much of the ride weaves through pines and aspens, snaking our way downhill single-file. In some places, the angle is so steep on either side that a single misstep would send the horse tumbling into the ravine below, but they are steady and surefooted. The forests open onto meadows, still deceptively steep, until we cross a river towards Lime Creek Canyon and stop for lunch. We can just make out the glint of the sun on the roof of last night’s hut, faraway across the valley on the opposite mountain, just below treeline.
Meadows slant at impossible angles, but the horses cut across them with ease.
Rain starts to sprinkle on our last descent towards the guest ranch in the Frying Pan valley, but it’s welcomed after a warm day. It picks up as we hurry to get the horses unsaddled and corralled, but by the time we drive a few minutes up the road to the guest ranch, the rain has come and gone.
A unique homemade firepit fashioned from an old propane tank.
The ranch is rustic but welcoming. Quaint cabins along the river are clean and comfortable, even if they haven’t changed since they were built in the 1970s, and hot showers await us to ease sore seat bones. We watch the stars come out around the fire pit over another delicious dinner, and are fast asleep in our cabins not long after.
The third day takes us past several stunning private ranches nestled deep in the wilderness of a remote valley dotted with creeks and lakes, and then we begin climbing again. The aspens and pines eventually give way to open meadows as we emerge above treeline and trek over the peak of Mount Yeckel. One of the few spots on the whole trip with reliable cell service, we take a pause to call and text loved ones as we take in the sweeping panoramic views. We remount, and continue on to our third and final cabin.
Panoramic views from the peak of Mount Yeckel
The “phone booth” - everyone searches for sell service on the remote mountaintop.
Like the first hut, the deck of Margy’s hut faces an open meadows that sweeps downhill, with an excellent unobstructed view of distant peaks - Maroon Bells, the New York Mountains, and the Flattops - some still snowcapped even in August. We build a fire after dinner, roasting s’mores and telling jokes and stories. It feels as if we’ve all known one another for years rather than days. Something about long hours in the saddle and the remote wilderness, difficulties shared and overcome, amplifies the short time we’ve spent together. We’re all looking forward to the last day of riding, but dreading the moment when our trip and time together will come to an end.
We set off after breakfast and meet a light mid-morning rain. Donning our dusters, we watch the mist drift through the valley, clouds moving below us. Before we begin our descent into Aspen, the clouds part and the rain clears, revealing the cut paths of the distant ski slopes bathed in sunlight. Towards the end of our ride, the trail winds past stately homes and ritzy neighborhoods, a stark contrast to our accommodations over the last few days, and we pass hikers and bikers on the trail who don’t look like they’ve endured anything near what we just have.
The descent into Aspen
At the trailhead, the horses are loaded into trailers and people into the van for the 2+ hour drive back to the stables where we will say our final farewells. The ride is quiet, everyone processing the adventure, reminiscing already, and although our bodies are still together, our minds are all focusing on the next thing. At the stable, it’s as if the spell has broken, everyone is sorry to see one another go, swapping contact information and promising to keep in touch, maybe even come back again for another go on this particular whirlwind adventure.