Tales from the Trails
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​by T. Duren Jones
​

Helen’s Angels

 I came upon a group of hiking elders sitting trailside on boulders, resting and rehydrating. 
I hike. I discover. I observe and report. Sometimes I struggle on trails or outright fail, get lost or fall down—but that can all be part of the story. I do all this either so that you don’t have to, or so that you are inspired to go out and do something similar (except for the failing, getting lost and falling down). 

I don’t go out specifically looking for stories. Sure, I do hope to find them. But they usually find me, and often in unexpected ways. Such was my hike in Alderfer Ranch/Three Sisters Park, a designated Jefferson County Open Space outside of Evergreen, Colorado.
Picture
Some members of Helen's Angels
I was interested to survey this 1,128-acre wilderness park. I had learned from my online research that this area—just about an hour and a half from my home—was a mix of hiking scenery including emerald meadows, marshy bogs with croaking bullfrogs, huge granite boulder piles, and ponderosa pine forests, all accessed through 18 miles of intersecting trails.

Soon into my exploration, I climbed a granite rock pyramid to get an elevated perspective of the region. Looking across the open grassland, encircled by thick woods, I could see some of the original ranch buildings by the trailhead parking lot. The Alderfer family operated a sawmill, raised silver foxes and pastured horses. The original property and the surrounding land was purchased in segments by Jefferson County from 1977 to 2002. The public can now enjoy this beautiful park crisscrossed with well-maintained, moderate-effort trails.

Halfway through my hike, on a steeper portion near the base of one of the Three Sisters (three dramatic, connected rocky rises out of the forest) and a brother, I came upon a group of hiking elders sitting trailside on boulders, resting and rehydrating. I stopped and we chatted for a while. At first I thought my story from this trip might be some history of  the Alderfer Ranch or the heavy-set triplet sisters. But instead, meeting this group of seniors, passionate about hiking, was my story … well, their story.

I discovered that their hiking group had a name: Helen’s Angels (named, appropriately, by their founder, Helen Angel). Most were in their 80s, with their youngest member being 78 years old. They hiked wilderness trails regularly together, although their numbers (currently about 30 of them) and their pace had dwindled a bit.

“We were not always this old,” Dick said, the one gentleman with the group of ladies this day, and the oldest at 86. “Somehow, that just happened,” he added with a twinkle in his eye. Dick had a toothy, contagious smile, two hiking sticks, two hearing aids, two manufactured knees, and too buoyant of an attitude for a man of his age.

Most of Helen’s Angels had been hiking together for over 30 years. Back in the beginning, Helen and a couple of friends were involved in leading some Girl Scouts, and one day when a trail hike was planned and no girls showed up, the ladies decide to go hiking anyway. So started years of trail adventuring together, shared memories and deepened friendships. Today, not every member can make every hike, and some weathered by the years can hike no longer. Others, like Helen herself, now hike with the angels in heaven.

I hope that one day when my hair is white or missing altogether (probably along with my teeth), when my old bones and muscles are failing me, and the spring in my step is a bit rusted out, I will still be full of life and have an enthusiasm for the wilderness like the Angels whom Helen inspired. I’d like that to be my story.​

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