Hiking Guide to Red Mountain 3 in Colorado (and Why It Was My Worst Travel Experience)

Updated 11/10/2025

Red Mountain #3, a.k.a. Colorado’s Rainbow Mountain, was a hike I’ll never forget for many reasons. Breathtaking views, cool mining ruins, and though you’d never know it from the photo above, one of the most gut-wrenching hours of my life.

My dog Elgie and I did this hike on a random Monday in mid-October and pretty much had the whole trail to ourselves. Normally, I love that, but this time, I wished there were people around because 1.) I might not have gotten lost myself. And 2.) I was all alone when I thought I had lost Elgie forever.

Don’t worry, though–Elgie’s okay. I’ll get to that story soon. First, here’s what you need to know about the trail itself.

“All Halloween orange and chimney red.” –Tom Waits, as he hiked Red Mountain #3. Probably.

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What to Know Before Hiking Red Mountain 3

The trail is a literal road. An old mining road, to be exact. There were a few dilapidated mining structures along the road, which were interesting to look at. No context as to what they were used for—anyone know?

It’s steep. Especially the last half mile or so. I stopped and sat on the ground numerous times on the way up.

Parking’s a little weird. If you have an AWD with clearance, you can drive right up to the gate, no problem. You’ll shave over a mile off your hike, and there’s space for about 4 or 5 cars at the gate. If you don’t have an AWD, you can either park on the shoulder of Highway 550, or you could drive partway up the road to where the St. Paul Lodge is. Across the road from it, there’s space for about 4 or 5 cars.

What to Bring on the Rainbow Mountain

Water bottle with plenty of water. Elgie and I underestimated how much water we’d need, and we were eating snow by the end.

Sunscreen. A lot of the trail isn’t shaded.

Hiking boots.

Toilet paper and a Ziploc bag. For, ya know. Or in my case, to wipe away tears.

If you’re accident-prone, some extra clothes. I always bring extra clothes on my hikes, even short ones. But that’s my preference.

Red Mountain #3 Hike Stats

The Hiking Experience

You know you’ve reached the gate when you see this sign.

The gate and the parking situation

My car has AWD, but it’s a sedan, so I was too afraid to try going all the way to the gate. I drove partway up the road to a space in front of the St. Paul Lodge. Mine was the only car parked there.

The whole hike felt tresspasser-y, and I was never quite comfortable. Plus I didn’t see any other hikers for quite some time, so there was a doubt in the back of my mind that I was even in the right place. 

We came upon an imposing building. A log cabin with a dead animal skull mounted on the front. And on the wraparound porch, on a table, was another skull of some sort that appeared to just be sitting there. As we wound closer, I wondered again if we were going the right way. Was this whole thing just somebody’s long driveway?

A Steady, Desolate Climb

But Elgie and I climbed anyway, and we were, in fact, on the right path. For a while. My pants were wet because I’d spilled water in my lap earlier in the car. After walking for a bit, trying to decide if I should change them, I decided to go for it, and I did it right there in the middle of the trail. There weren’t any convenient bushes to go hide behind, but that didn’t matter. The trail was deserted.

As you can see, it’s a pretty steep trail.

You get some nice views of the San Juans to start with, and they get even better along the way. I stopped and took some photos and then took my first wrong turn of the day, which would cost me pretty severely.

On top of the world…for about 5 minutes.

As the mining road winds, you’ll see some pretty cool old structures.

A Wrong Turn

The trail winds up and behind the second old building, pictured above. However, there’s another road that veers off to the right, and that’s the only path I saw at first.

So, blissfully ignorant, we took the wrong path, as we would later find out. But it wasn’t a deserted path–we saw a cabin in the distance, and later on, we saw a few yurts in the distance too. This spot could make for some cool glamping!

The Casa

Eventually, we came upon an imposing building. A log cabin with a dead animal skull mounted on the front. And on the wraparound porch, on a table, was another skull of some sort that appeared to just be sitting there. As we wound closer, I wondered again if we were going the right way. Was this whole thing just somebody’s long driveway?

The cabin had “Casa” and then a name I couldn’t quite read, then “established 1812” carved onto the front. I’ve since tried to Google this Casa, but haven’t been able to find any information on it. I’m really curious about its history.

There weren’t any signs of life at the Casa. And there weren’t any No Trespassing signs or anything that indicated to me that I was in the wrong place. So as the road reduced to two tracks of gravel behind the house, we marched forward.

We hiked and hiked. I kept looking back at the Casa, half-hoping someone would come out and tell me to get off their property. I had a feeling something wasn’t right, but didn’t see any alternative way to go.

Whoops

Finally, Elgie and I reached a vantage point. And from that vantage point, I saw the correct road. How did I know it was the correct road? There were hikers on it!

After taking a few seconds to curse myself for geetting lost on a mining road that was very clear to see, and should have been easy to follow, I had a choice to make. Either find a low spot and try to slide down through the snow on my butt to the correct path, or backtrack and find the correct path.

I chose the latter. The second of many mistakes made that day.

Backtracking

We backtracked. We went back around the Casa and back down the hill to where the second old mining building was. Elgie stopped to sniff, and I spotted the correct path. I had taken a few steps up when I realized he wasn’t behind me. I stopped, looked back, and figured he was probably absorbed in something with the old building. I called him, but he didn’t come.

Annoyed, I walked back down to the old building and looked inside, but he wasn’t there. I looked all around at my surroundings, but there was no sign of him anywhere. I called his name. Silence in return.

Where could he be? He couldn’t have gotten that far, I reassured myself. His legs are short. He’s 12 years old.

I walked a little way up the wrong path we had just come from. But I was nervous because that area was wooded, and I couldn’t see the clearing where I’d lost him, or where hikers, if there were any, would pass by, who I could ask for help. I called his name some more, but he still did not come.

Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?

Hindsight is 20/20. I should have walked all the way back to where we had come from, back to the Casa. But I was starting to panic and wasn’t thinking clearly.

On our previous hikes, I’d noticed that he would always lead the way down, so I figured that was his doggy instinct. I decided to check the parking area. 

A reasonable thought at the time. I knew that he knew my car. Maybe he’d be there waiting for me.

I felt bad about leaving the spot where I’d lost him in case he was just out of view, but I didn’t know what to do. Also, there had been a creek when we first came in. Perhaps he was thirsty.

So I made my way back to the car. I shouted his name over and over, which I later read you’re not supposed to do with lost dogs because it can scare them and they might think they’re in trouble.

He wasn’t at the creek. My mind was racing by that point, and I feared the worst.

I reached the gate where we’d come in, and there were a few more cars by then. However,  I still hadn’t seen a single soul that day except for the hikers in the distance when I was on top of the hill. I also had no cell service, and there was no service along most of the Million Dollar Highway either. So I was all alone with a missing dog and no way to get help.

I got to the area where I parked, and he wasn’t there. It didn’t look like there were signs of life at the St. Paul Lodge (I’m unsure if it’s still in operation, actually) across the way either. It was the off-season—the season in between summer and skiing. It was desolate.

Time to panic

And that was the part where I lost it, I sobbed and bawled, all alone, with no one around. And to make it worse, I was back to where I started and had to climb the trail again.

Now, imagine sobbing and hyperventilating at high altitude while struggling to climb up a steep mountain trail. That was me. The fact that I couldn’t walk normally or faster because of the incline made me panic even more, and I had to stop and sit on the ground a few times to catch my breath.

As I pushed forward, finally, something gave me hope. He howled!

I’d only heard him howl once or twice in the 12 years I’d had him, and that was when he had bad separation anxiety. My poor baby was in distress.

Now, I’d like to point out that I have absolutely no sense of direction, and my hearing isn’t what it used to be. So do you think I could tell which direction the howl came from?

“Elgie!” I called. Howl again, baby!”

It felt like the whole world was separating me from Elgie. There were so many directions he could have taken into the wilderness, and I had no idea which one.

I trekked back to the place where I’d last seen him, alternating between hopefulness, despair, and panic. By the time I got there, it had been a while since I’d heard him howl.

Return to the casa

But as I was standing there calling his name, he barked! And that time I could tell exactly which direction it had come from–the wrong path we had taken earlier.

So I raced back up the wrong path as fast as I could, calling his name the entire time between heavy breaths. He didn’t come to me, but I knew that was the direction the bark came from.

Finally, I turned the corner and the imposing Casa came back into view. And there Elgie was, standing on the wraparound porch with the skulls.

I hear they renamed it Casa Elgie

I called him then, and he still wouldn’t come! I was confused that he wasn’t coming to me, but I later learned that lost dogs panic too and sometimes don’t even come to their owner. 

He kept pacing the length of the porch, back and forth. I thought I was going to have to climb up the Casa’s steps and get him, and that maybe my skull would be the next one displayed with the others. But finally, as I got closer, he came down to me, and he was covered in red mountain mud. He likely had a big time at first, until he realized I wasn’t around.

The hike must go on

I put his leash on him immediately. THEN I hugged him. I thought about just going back to the motel and cuddling him for the rest of the day, mud and all, but since I was already there and had figured out where to go, I decided to finish the hike.

So we climbed. When I ran into those hikers I’d seen earlier making their way back down, I spewed my story like vomit to them as they stopped to meet Elgie. I’m sure I sounded insane.

I was already spent from all the commotion earlier, so the steepness was extra tough. I took several breaks.

Word to the wise: bring plenty of water. I drank more water than I expected because of all the chaos, so I ran out before I ever got to the summit. Elgie and I were eating snow by the end.

Another mining structure in the distance.

The Rainbow Mountain Summit and Beyond

Beautiful…

You can also explore the ridges beyond the summit for even more amazing views! I didn’t go out on the ridges because I didn’t want to put extra stress on Elgie, and we’d already had a long day. It was time to go back to the hotel for that nap and cuddle.

FAQ: Red Mountain 3 Hike

When’s the best time to do this hike? I’d say summer to early fall. Even if you enjoy hiking in the winter (one of those people, are you?), I’d recommend not visiting this one in the dead of winter because the snow will cover the gorgeous red and orange colors, and to me, that’s kind of missing the point.

Can a beginner do this hike? I would say this is more for an intermediate hiker because of the steepness and altitude.

Is this a good solo hike? Well, you see how my experience went. If you’re cool with having the whole thing to yourself, go for it. If that thought makes you nervous, maybe don’t do this one alone, or at least tell someone where you are beforehand.

Doing some more Hiking in Colorado? Check my Guides

Have you hiked Red Mountain #3? Or maybe you know who owns the Casa? Let me know in the comments!

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