Sounded like a fun challenge.
Leaving a car at the south end, I was dropped off at the north end filling out a slip of paper to register my entry into the Massive Wilderness Area. I tucked the ticket into the slotted lock box and set out from the Windsor Lakes trail head. During the initial climb, the trail was well trampled and eventually introduced me to some crystal clear alpine lakes. Rising trout made the glassy surface ripple with concentric circles as I encountered many forks along the trail. At one point, a trail sign screwed to a tree spun like a board game dial (unfortunately, only Twister comes to mind!) and not long afterwards, the trail evaporated and I was forced to create my own Tour de Massive routes.
Creaking up my chin, the high targets were easy to identify. After scurrying onto the ridge line, I selected the closest high point and set off with the goal to stand on top of it. Time after time, I was forced to retreat and find different routes as sheer drops were encountered. One by one, high points were touched as I target locked on the next.
Being alone, the solitude was absolutely splendid as views spanned over layers and layers of mountain ranges. My only company were the bird-like chirps made by local pikas, which remind me of hamsters on steroids, as they were working hard harvesting mouthfuls of forage to store underground for the winter. Their much larger cousins, the marmots, also sounded their high pitch whistle/bark warnings.
I kept pursuing high points and frequently was forced to stop, backtrack and search for alternative routes as cavernous gaps, large drops or spooky footing on steep terrain were encountered. Partial trails were briefly located, but quickly disappeared.
Eventually, distant people on forthcoming high points looked like ants silhouetted against the sky. Gradually, voices could be heard and then the emergence of a worn trail where I later ate a sandwich with locals. They screwed their faces at me after asking where I had started and learning what was my plan. After lunch, I hopped on the well beaten cow path that squiggled down into a basin. I was still chasing high points and veered off the trail. A hiker yelled how I missed the turn and looked quizzically at me as I pointed to the next point I needed to touch.
One by one, they were slowly checked off the list as the day wore on. Dark clouds slowly gathered and made me nervous. My pace quickened as I very, very much enjoy my body temperature at a steady 98.6 degrees instead of being roasted at 53,540 degrees Fahrenheit when amped up by a bolt of lightning. Thankfully, the dark clouds did not flicker with dancing electricity and I headed down the final slope, knees wildly complaining of the prolonged pitch. I found a trail, but it did not zig-zag back and forth across the mountain. Instead, it shot straight down with no hint of switchbacks as I cursed the foolish hikers who made such a trail. My shoes occasionally transformed into short skis sliding down the gritty portions of the trail and several spots in the trail appeared rototilled. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't humans who created the trail as mountain goat hoof prints had churned up the ground who had also graciously sprinkled the trail with their turds. I marveled at their mountaineering abilities and was disappointed by not seeing a single goat. The final high point had a glass jar containing paper and a stubby pencil. Several names were scribbled on the paper with dates that went back a few years and, oddly, a golf ball was also inside the jar. I added my name and date and ventured on.
Quads screamed on the final never-ending descent and ultimately, I encountered the Colorado Trail that skirts the base of Massive and dumped me out to the waiting car parked at the trail head.
Massive Mania.
Nothing is overly technical since one can drop off the ridge line and scramble around the difficult spots. But, bring plenty of water and fuel and expect it to take most of the day while enjoying far reaching views in every direction.
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