Rather strenuous climb but with four waterfalls.
The trail head for Fern Lake is in RMNP’s Moraine Park. As I headed to the TH I stopped to take a picture of the peaks in the area. I happened to look over to the side of the road across from me and saw three elk grazing. Kind of startling. I had brought my grandmother up to RMNP the night before and it was the first time in 50 years grandma hadn’t seen any.
Down the road was a herd of about 30. I rolled down the window and sure enough there was some bugling going on. Then I heard the clash of antlers. I actually saw two bucks going at it. They were circling around and hitting their racks together (not the butting of heads like Rocky Mountain Sheep). I’d seen it on TV but never in person. Awesome!
Then someone in a very loud 4WD truck pulled up on the tail of my car. They left the engine running and their lights on. That was the end of my elk watching the jerk. So off I went to the TH pretty ticked off.
I met a couple of ladies coming down the trail. They had been up photographing things. They were loaded down with lots of equipment.
One of these days I am going to get a beefier camera. But the one I have now works pretty well. It fits in my pocket and is easy to get to.
Up the trail you pass under some interesting orange-red granite rocks that lean towards each other above you. It’s wild to think these 30 foot plus boulders fell from the cliffs next to the trail and landed upright like this.
A short way further brings you to The Pool. Here three water courses come together—the Big Thompson River, Fern Creek, and Spruce Creek. Being low level this time of season it appears as any large pool on a river. During high water season it is described as having whirling eddies and rolling crests.
At The Pool the trail divides into two paths. One goes to Cub Lake while the other goes to Fern Lake. The marker is a little askew, not spot on, but fairly clear. I took the left branch and climbed up.
I got to see a delicate waterfall right next to the trail. It doesn’t appear on any map and thus has no name. But I’d have to say it ranks as one of my favorites. The form of its shape as it fell, almost dripped down its 20 foot watercourse was simply beautiful.
Also along the trail was a fascinating row of boulders covered by moss. Pretty cool formation.
I hiked the almost vertical mile to the top of the trail and encountered the trail marker broken and on the ground. I lifted it up and it said Cub Lake. Cub Lake? I wanted Fern Lake. Cub was in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Crap. Somehow I took the wrong trail. So I trudged back down the hill to The Pool.
On the way down I met two anglers on the way to Fern Lake. One of them said he had been to Fern and said that had been on the right trail. Had someone put the sign up at the top as a prank? The guy was so sure this was the trail that I followed him and his buddy back up the hill.
We got to the top and he thought the sign was odd. And it just wasn’t looking like the Fern Lake he remembered. He took out his trail map and decided he was wrong. Oops, this was Cub Lake.
It’s a small pretty lake at 8600 feet. It has water plants floating near its edges all around its circumference. At this time in the year, the plants have turned a golden color.
I wish I could have enjoyed it better, but I had climbed 3 extra miles, gained 1080 foot in elevation, and lost a couple of hours of hiking time. Timing would have been OK, but I had a Longmont Symphony rehearsal that night. Looking at the pictures I took of Cub Lake the next day, I found the lake to be simply beautiful. My mistake was worth the extra miles. To Cub Lake I could add the waterfall and row of moss covered rocks; it was worth the effort.
I left the guys at Cub Lake and got back down to The Pool. I discovered how I screwed up on which trail to take. Oh well. This one got past me.
I started up the right trail which was again very steep. Since I had read a book on Colorado waterfalls, I knew there was a falls kind of hidden on the north of the path. Since a lot of leaves had fallen, it was easier to find it. The books’ authors named it the Overlooked Falls and I could see why. If you didn’t know it was there and made the effort to see it, you couldn’t find it. It’s a 20 foot hoursetail surrounded by cascades.
En route to Fern Lake is Fern Falls. There was a young couple there so I tried to be scarce. The falls are 60 foot high and full of washed down boulders and trees. It looks kind of rough compared to others I’ve seen. It looks like the little brother or cousin of Ousel or Alberta Falls. In fact, the book said the type of rock under the water is the same for all three falls. I wish the author had noted what kind. I think it’s granite.
I continued up (and it was up) the trail to Fern Lake. I lost my pace and got winded. Eventually, I found my stride and plugged along to the lake.
Fern Lake is at 9530 foot in elevation and still below timberline. So the locale isn’t as stark as other high lakes I’ve been to. The Little Matterhorn and Notchtop Mountain rise above the lake to the southwest.
The lake was OK but my true objective was to find Marguerite Falls. The problem was I had to bushwack down Fern Creek. I’m not a particularly bushwacking kind of guy. I prefer trails even if they are steep and going in the wrong direction. I had a general idea where to go so I followed a game trail for a bit then pushed my way through underbrush and fallen trees till I heard the falls, maybe a third of a mile off the beaten path.
And it was so worth it. The falls lie in a stretch of cascades about 50 yards long or so. It was a tad bit difficult to find the two parts of the falls. Yet cascades are a form of waterfall imho—water falling over a downward pitch of rocks or other natural obstruction. On the other hand, a waterfall may be a form of cascade. Maybe that’s a better angle. Anyway, the falls were a beautiful patch of water – in form and sound - nestled in a private nook.
I sat down and relaxed by the lower falls. I had some trail mix (don’t get the “tropical” kind unless you like dried bananas) and water. [I now have a hydration bladder for my daypack. I still like the gallon jug better, but the bladder takes up less space which I’ll need for winter climbing gear like clothes and snowshoes.]
The trip back to the car was uneventful—took some pictures and said howdy to a few people. I didn’t hurt myself or get mobbed over my Chick-fil-A t-shirt like last week [see Sky Pond and Fall].
Overall, this was a nice hike even going up to Cub Lake twice. And seeing four waterfalls—who could ask for more?
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Sky Pond and Fall (9-29-10)
It was a fun and interesting hike up to Sky Pond in RMNP. Got to see three waterfalls along the way. Just too cool.
Started out before 7 AM as usual. Still dark, but as the sun came up and lit up the trees around me--what a sight.
I stopped to take a picture of the color mixed with rocky outcrops and fell over backwards from a crouch onto my butt. Wouldn’t you know it--I smashed a hole into my gallon jug of water. I dumped all the water out leaving the ice. I wrapped the broken bottle in a poncho and checked it from time to time, dumping out the water caught in the plastic. I put the hand towel I carry on the bottom of my pack. I just wrung it out whenever I stopped, so my stuff stayed pretty dry.
Passed by Alberta Falls as I went up the path. Third time this year and it still captivates me. Big 25 footer.
Since I started out so early in the morn and on a weekday, I figured I would be alone on the trail for most of the AM. Nope. I met a backpacker on his way out of the forest. “Been too long in the wilderness. Time to go home,” he said to me. I wish I had that problem.
Timberline Falls beckoned to me across the valley. I made my way over to it stopping a few times to check on the broken jug.
En route one passes by The Loch, one of RMNP prettiest lakes. The reflection of the surrounding mountains upon its waters make for really beautiful photos. And the tranquility of its setting adds to its appeal. I’m glad I got to visit it before anyone else was there.
In order to get to the falls, one needs to climb a moderate cliff. The only problem is, is that the path goes up a small stream. Not a lot of water flow, but enough to make the rocks slick and in need of close attention.
Timberline Falls is well worth all the effort. In fact, it is my favorite falls so far. It may not be the biggest, but it has the most charm. It’s about 80 foot tall and ends in the most interesting feature I’ve seen so far. The area below it is mostly damp rocks. You can walk all the way to the very bottom. I sat on a damp rock and tilted my face up into the spray. Awesome. Of course it is the season for low water levels, but so what. It was really cool. And as the sunlight hit it at 10 AM, the water glowed; the top of the falls was wreathed in a halo. Simply enchanting.
I could have stayed there all day, but I wanted to get to the top of the falls and over to Sky Pond before noon. So I dragged myself over to another round of cliff/stream bed climbing. At the top of this was a meadow and Glass Lake. I hiked around the lake to get to Sky Pond.
The path ended in a jumble of boulders. Here I lost the trail. I wandered around trying to pick it up. I found something that looked like it--it was marked with rock cairns. No go. Went to the north not the west. Luckily I brought the guidebook along. Soon I had a general idea were to look.
You know when you are watching a sci-fi movie and the marine guys are clearing an area. They look front to back side to side. But frustratingly not up. And where does the creature jump them from--up above. I still find myself yelling at the dudes and dudettes to look up for goodness sake!
The cairn to mark the way onward to Sky Pond was up on a tall boulder. Duh.
From here it was pretty smooth going. Someone had even put in a row of square rocks in the marshy areas. Pretty elaborate for a trail above timberline.
I even got to pass by a 15 foot unnamed waterfall. Bonus waterfall for me.
Sky Pond is a beautiful high alpine tarn at 11000 feet. It sits at the base of Taylor and Powell Peaks. It is fed by water from Taylor Glacier; a hike to for next summer.
The Sharkstooth is a technical 5.4 rock climbing spire to the north of Sky Pond. There were a couple of people climbing it that day. I could hear them talking from over a half mile away. I want to do some alpine mountaineering in the future. But the rope work is intimidating to me. After hearing one guy yell “Rock”, “Sorry,” and “Are you alright?” I’m not so sure about alpine climbing.
As my ETD closed in, I had to get down the trail. Couldn’t say the 200 foot of stream bed/cliff climbs was overly easy going down (up was easier), but they were kind of fun in a way.
The scenery going down was spectacular. Going up for me is more looking at my feet and briefly upward to gauge my progress. Although I do stop often enough to take pictures. Going down is a delight. The colors and sounds blend together to make it often seem like a dream.
Funny thing: I was wearing my “I Love Chick-Fil-A” t-shirt on this climb. I had six people come up to me on the way down and say they loved it also. One was a guy from Houston celebrating his anniversary.
I stopped to talk with a man that has come to RMNP the last week of September for the last 30 years. He rides his Harley from out East. Pretty interesting conversation.
A mile from the TH a tree root decided to reach out and touch someone--me. What a header I took. Landed on my chin, left hand and knee, and right shoulder. My face got off without injury, just a little scrap on my chin. Wrenched my neck pretty good. I hope the plate and screws in my neck are ok. They should be--they’re made of titanium. Left knee was shredded. Sprained my shoulder, and somehow punctured my hand. [Gross part.] Hit the palm just right so it bleed like an open spicket. Also forced out stuff that looked like very tiny grapes. At first I thought it was scraped skin. So I tore at it. And more and more come out of the wound. Now I believe it was fat deposits. Tore off most of it and pressed the rest back into the wound. Wrapped my hand in the soaked hand towel. After getting myself together I stumbled down to my car.
A ranger passed me going up, looked me over and asked if I was ok. I said I thought so. She kept going on up the trail. Out checking up on her territory--probably Glacier Gorge. It’s a lot of area for one ranger to cover.
I was stopped again by a couple that liked Chick-fil-A. Great fast food imho. Took their picture and talked a bit. They were from Loveland.
Finally, got to my car and cleaned up what I could. Another ranger kept looking over to me across the parking lot, never saying a word. I think he was ticked off at me. Maybe because I wasn’t leaving the parking area fast enough. He had to send other people away to the other shuttle lot all the while looking over at me. It wasn’t like my leg was bleeding all over. Just not a people person.
And to top it all off, I has the misfortune to use the outhouse with a broken lock on the handle. Never occurred to me use the dead bolt. A college girl walked in on me and backed out in shock. Or whatever. The ranger said loud enough for me to hear that the upper lock should be used as she entered the john next to me. By this time the ranger was starting to register on my jerk scale. Not even a hello from Mr. Icebox.
Then again, maybe liability issues keep the rangers from helping people who are hurt if they are ambulatory. Who knows.
Overall, it was a great hike. I lucked out that I didn’t get hurt worse or at the beginning of the morning. My injuries did make playing my cello in the Longmont Symphony concert the next weekend a little tough. But it went off pretty good. A nice coda to a really wonderful hike. I’ll do this one again (without the drama at the end). ;-)
Started out before 7 AM as usual. Still dark, but as the sun came up and lit up the trees around me--what a sight.
I stopped to take a picture of the color mixed with rocky outcrops and fell over backwards from a crouch onto my butt. Wouldn’t you know it--I smashed a hole into my gallon jug of water. I dumped all the water out leaving the ice. I wrapped the broken bottle in a poncho and checked it from time to time, dumping out the water caught in the plastic. I put the hand towel I carry on the bottom of my pack. I just wrung it out whenever I stopped, so my stuff stayed pretty dry.
Passed by Alberta Falls as I went up the path. Third time this year and it still captivates me. Big 25 footer.
Since I started out so early in the morn and on a weekday, I figured I would be alone on the trail for most of the AM. Nope. I met a backpacker on his way out of the forest. “Been too long in the wilderness. Time to go home,” he said to me. I wish I had that problem.
Timberline Falls beckoned to me across the valley. I made my way over to it stopping a few times to check on the broken jug.
En route one passes by The Loch, one of RMNP prettiest lakes. The reflection of the surrounding mountains upon its waters make for really beautiful photos. And the tranquility of its setting adds to its appeal. I’m glad I got to visit it before anyone else was there.
In order to get to the falls, one needs to climb a moderate cliff. The only problem is, is that the path goes up a small stream. Not a lot of water flow, but enough to make the rocks slick and in need of close attention.
Timberline Falls is well worth all the effort. In fact, it is my favorite falls so far. It may not be the biggest, but it has the most charm. It’s about 80 foot tall and ends in the most interesting feature I’ve seen so far. The area below it is mostly damp rocks. You can walk all the way to the very bottom. I sat on a damp rock and tilted my face up into the spray. Awesome. Of course it is the season for low water levels, but so what. It was really cool. And as the sunlight hit it at 10 AM, the water glowed; the top of the falls was wreathed in a halo. Simply enchanting.
I could have stayed there all day, but I wanted to get to the top of the falls and over to Sky Pond before noon. So I dragged myself over to another round of cliff/stream bed climbing. At the top of this was a meadow and Glass Lake. I hiked around the lake to get to Sky Pond.
The path ended in a jumble of boulders. Here I lost the trail. I wandered around trying to pick it up. I found something that looked like it--it was marked with rock cairns. No go. Went to the north not the west. Luckily I brought the guidebook along. Soon I had a general idea were to look.
You know when you are watching a sci-fi movie and the marine guys are clearing an area. They look front to back side to side. But frustratingly not up. And where does the creature jump them from--up above. I still find myself yelling at the dudes and dudettes to look up for goodness sake!
The cairn to mark the way onward to Sky Pond was up on a tall boulder. Duh.
From here it was pretty smooth going. Someone had even put in a row of square rocks in the marshy areas. Pretty elaborate for a trail above timberline.
I even got to pass by a 15 foot unnamed waterfall. Bonus waterfall for me.
Sky Pond is a beautiful high alpine tarn at 11000 feet. It sits at the base of Taylor and Powell Peaks. It is fed by water from Taylor Glacier; a hike to for next summer.
The Sharkstooth is a technical 5.4 rock climbing spire to the north of Sky Pond. There were a couple of people climbing it that day. I could hear them talking from over a half mile away. I want to do some alpine mountaineering in the future. But the rope work is intimidating to me. After hearing one guy yell “Rock”, “Sorry,” and “Are you alright?” I’m not so sure about alpine climbing.
As my ETD closed in, I had to get down the trail. Couldn’t say the 200 foot of stream bed/cliff climbs was overly easy going down (up was easier), but they were kind of fun in a way.
The scenery going down was spectacular. Going up for me is more looking at my feet and briefly upward to gauge my progress. Although I do stop often enough to take pictures. Going down is a delight. The colors and sounds blend together to make it often seem like a dream.
Funny thing: I was wearing my “I Love Chick-Fil-A” t-shirt on this climb. I had six people come up to me on the way down and say they loved it also. One was a guy from Houston celebrating his anniversary.
I stopped to talk with a man that has come to RMNP the last week of September for the last 30 years. He rides his Harley from out East. Pretty interesting conversation.
A mile from the TH a tree root decided to reach out and touch someone--me. What a header I took. Landed on my chin, left hand and knee, and right shoulder. My face got off without injury, just a little scrap on my chin. Wrenched my neck pretty good. I hope the plate and screws in my neck are ok. They should be--they’re made of titanium. Left knee was shredded. Sprained my shoulder, and somehow punctured my hand. [Gross part.] Hit the palm just right so it bleed like an open spicket. Also forced out stuff that looked like very tiny grapes. At first I thought it was scraped skin. So I tore at it. And more and more come out of the wound. Now I believe it was fat deposits. Tore off most of it and pressed the rest back into the wound. Wrapped my hand in the soaked hand towel. After getting myself together I stumbled down to my car.
A ranger passed me going up, looked me over and asked if I was ok. I said I thought so. She kept going on up the trail. Out checking up on her territory--probably Glacier Gorge. It’s a lot of area for one ranger to cover.
I was stopped again by a couple that liked Chick-fil-A. Great fast food imho. Took their picture and talked a bit. They were from Loveland.
Finally, got to my car and cleaned up what I could. Another ranger kept looking over to me across the parking lot, never saying a word. I think he was ticked off at me. Maybe because I wasn’t leaving the parking area fast enough. He had to send other people away to the other shuttle lot all the while looking over at me. It wasn’t like my leg was bleeding all over. Just not a people person.
And to top it all off, I has the misfortune to use the outhouse with a broken lock on the handle. Never occurred to me use the dead bolt. A college girl walked in on me and backed out in shock. Or whatever. The ranger said loud enough for me to hear that the upper lock should be used as she entered the john next to me. By this time the ranger was starting to register on my jerk scale. Not even a hello from Mr. Icebox.
Then again, maybe liability issues keep the rangers from helping people who are hurt if they are ambulatory. Who knows.
Overall, it was a great hike. I lucked out that I didn’t get hurt worse or at the beginning of the morning. My injuries did make playing my cello in the Longmont Symphony concert the next weekend a little tough. But it went off pretty good. A nice coda to a really wonderful hike. I’ll do this one again (without the drama at the end). ;-)
Saturday, October 09, 2010
LSO Concert Fiestas Patrias 0ct 9 2010
http://longmontsymphony.org
Tonight we are playing a concert of Mexican music. Special guest is the singer Dinorah. Should be fun.
Silvestre Revueltas (Mexico) Sensemaya http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZO2VkKKR7o
Silvestre Revueltas Janitzio http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tf8sn8E0El8
Arturo Marquez (Mexiso) Danzon No 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vwZAkfLKK8
Aaron Copland (U.S.) El Salon Mexico http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69uVFYh1lkE
(music by other orchestras)
Tonight we are playing a concert of Mexican music. Special guest is the singer Dinorah. Should be fun.
Silvestre Revueltas (Mexico) Sensemaya http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZO2VkKKR7o
Silvestre Revueltas Janitzio http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tf8sn8E0El8
Arturo Marquez (Mexiso) Danzon No 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vwZAkfLKK8
Aaron Copland (U.S.) El Salon Mexico http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69uVFYh1lkE
(music by other orchestras)
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Pawnee Pass September 26, 2010
I bagged my first pass and the Continental Divide by foot on September 26, 2010. I’ve driven over both but wanted to hike over them. It was a time of adventure, rescue, and perilous encounters with dangerous wildlife.
It was a ten-mile hike round trip to the top of Pawnee Pass at 12541 feet with an elevation gain of 2419 feet. Patti didn’t feel too well so I went solo. I know, you really shouldn’t do that climbing a mountain. But it was such a great opportunity with the weather being so nice. And the path was heavily traveled, so if I got into trouble, someone would be around eventually.
You get to the trail head by entering the Brainard Lake Recreational Area. A few miles north of Ward, the rec area is on the west side of Peak-to-Peak Highway (SH 72). I arrived at the parking lot before 7:00 AM. There were two other cars already there. So someone was up the path I was going to trod. I was not alone.
I started out walking a little fast so I slowed down a bit. That’s when I heard it. Something was in the bushes next to the path following me. I turned around peering into the gloom and saw nothing. So I figured it was my imagination. I began walking again and the noise in the brush was shadowing me. I gripped my trekking pole ready to do combat like a gladiator of old.
And then I saw my nemesis; the predator at my side. It was a three-striped ground squirrel measuring some eight inches long. He might have been ten inches. I don’t know. He was a beast. Stalking me for half a mile. Or maybe not. Maybe it was a group of ninja rodents tag teaming or running a relay after me. Maybe for their size it was more of a marathon. Anyway, once they were found out they left me alone. Or so it seemed.
The little buggers just went into stealth mode. The ground squirrels showed up again when I took a break at two miles. I was still below timberline and being followed. I can’t say they were the same group, but their hungry little eyes looked familiar. Anyway, I must have been pretty bad pickings because I never saw them after that.
I made it above timberline before I felt less and less energetic. But I kept slogging along taking breaks as I needed them, seriously wondering if I bit off more than I could chew.
Then a backpacker came down the trail in pretty bad shape. He and a friend had been camping on the eastern side of the Divide. He had fallen and blew out his right thigh on the way back to the trail head. He could barely walk. His friend was offering support, but the trail was so narrow and steep that there was only so much the friend could do. They just couldn’t walk side by side. So I gave him my trekking pole to at least give him some support down the slope. I heard that he got down OK and to the hospital. He was lucky to be camping with someone.
Eventually I made it to the pass. One of the three people who passed me was there taking a break. He gave me pointers on what to see and how to get on the peak. And of all things, he was from Lafayette--fours mile from where I live. What a small world.
There is no official trail to the top of Pawnee Peak. But others have made a faint path to mark the way. So up I went to the top, or so I thought. It was a false summit. And to make matters worse I had little energy to keep going.
Now, I could keep at it and make it to the top of the peak and have no reserves of strength to make it down. Or I could get back to the pass while I still had the steam to do it. What to do? I really wanted to get to the top; I’d planned on it. Just one more stupid slope and a walk along the top of a ridge and I’d be there.
Just then the wind started to blow pretty hard. I had previous experience with the wind up in these parts. Less than three weeks previous I was literally blown off my feet at Blue Lake located near the base of Pawnee Peak.
On top of this, I had read a book the night before about 14er disasters. The book included a chapter about solo hikers getting in trouble.
So what was it to be—reality or the dream? I did the smart thing and got myself off the side of the mountain; slipping and sliding, wishing I was at the bottom already.
Once I descended, I stumbled over to the east side of the divide to look down at Pawnee Lake and the 23 switchbacks one traversed to get there. Pretty amazing view.
My energy gave out as I sat back down at the official Pawnee Pass sign. While eating trail mix and relaxing, I had to try hard not to nod off. A nap really sounded nice even though it was like a party the way people were showing up.
I finally began to feel human again, so I set off back to the car. It was much easier going downhill and a much better time. Go figure.
I had gone a quarter mile and I met Rich, another cello player from the Longmont Symphony Orchestra. Of all the places to meet. He and his friend were off to climb Pawnee Peak, cross a saddle, and then climb Mount Tor. They had decided to do this that morning on a whim. What?! Seemed pretty crazy to me. I wish I could have done it. Oh well. It was still unreal bumping into him. One more of those “what a small world” moments on this hike.
A little ways on I watched a couple trail runners and their dogs go past me up to the pass with their tongues hanging out--their dogs of course.
And then the most amazing thing happened. A small flock of ptarmigan were next to the trail eating. I had hoped to see some of these birds, not having seen any for 20+ years, but never dreamed of seeing six right next to me and just doing their own thing unconcerned about my presence. Wow. I stood there taking pictures till the batteries in the camera gave up the ghost--wouldn’t you know it. I had more but couldn’t get to them.
A guy came down the trail and I pointed out these wonderful birds. They still had their transitional brown and white feathers on. Soon they would loose the rest of their brown feathers making all their feathers white in time for winter. He looked at me like I was mad and picked up this pace as he hurried past me down the path. You know, when the opportunity arises, you just have to stop and check out the birds.
I was pretty uplifted. What a blessing. The next two miles went by pretty quick. I reveled in the beauty on the way down that I missed on the way up.
My next stop was a captivating shady spot beside a very melodious stream. My Facebook friends know of my love (obsession) with how running water looks and sounds, especially waterfalls. So this was a great spot to take a drink, eat trail mix, and take a lot of pictures. It was a nice break.
I finally made myself leave and go back down the path. Then, a deer jumped out into a clearing beside me. The light was streaming down onto the yellow grasses and aspen as they waved in a faint breeze. She was wrapped in a halo as she looked at me and slowly walked off. Magical doesn’t do justice to the moment.
My time up and down the trail was a little over eight hours. I was not very elated or anything besides being tired. Eventually it dawned on me what I had accomplished. Pretty good for a middle aged hiking guy. I made it. I beat the pass with time to spare to get to my grandma’s house for chicken wings. What a day!
It was a ten-mile hike round trip to the top of Pawnee Pass at 12541 feet with an elevation gain of 2419 feet. Patti didn’t feel too well so I went solo. I know, you really shouldn’t do that climbing a mountain. But it was such a great opportunity with the weather being so nice. And the path was heavily traveled, so if I got into trouble, someone would be around eventually.
You get to the trail head by entering the Brainard Lake Recreational Area. A few miles north of Ward, the rec area is on the west side of Peak-to-Peak Highway (SH 72). I arrived at the parking lot before 7:00 AM. There were two other cars already there. So someone was up the path I was going to trod. I was not alone.
I started out walking a little fast so I slowed down a bit. That’s when I heard it. Something was in the bushes next to the path following me. I turned around peering into the gloom and saw nothing. So I figured it was my imagination. I began walking again and the noise in the brush was shadowing me. I gripped my trekking pole ready to do combat like a gladiator of old.
And then I saw my nemesis; the predator at my side. It was a three-striped ground squirrel measuring some eight inches long. He might have been ten inches. I don’t know. He was a beast. Stalking me for half a mile. Or maybe not. Maybe it was a group of ninja rodents tag teaming or running a relay after me. Maybe for their size it was more of a marathon. Anyway, once they were found out they left me alone. Or so it seemed.
The little buggers just went into stealth mode. The ground squirrels showed up again when I took a break at two miles. I was still below timberline and being followed. I can’t say they were the same group, but their hungry little eyes looked familiar. Anyway, I must have been pretty bad pickings because I never saw them after that.
I made it above timberline before I felt less and less energetic. But I kept slogging along taking breaks as I needed them, seriously wondering if I bit off more than I could chew.
Then a backpacker came down the trail in pretty bad shape. He and a friend had been camping on the eastern side of the Divide. He had fallen and blew out his right thigh on the way back to the trail head. He could barely walk. His friend was offering support, but the trail was so narrow and steep that there was only so much the friend could do. They just couldn’t walk side by side. So I gave him my trekking pole to at least give him some support down the slope. I heard that he got down OK and to the hospital. He was lucky to be camping with someone.
Eventually I made it to the pass. One of the three people who passed me was there taking a break. He gave me pointers on what to see and how to get on the peak. And of all things, he was from Lafayette--fours mile from where I live. What a small world.
There is no official trail to the top of Pawnee Peak. But others have made a faint path to mark the way. So up I went to the top, or so I thought. It was a false summit. And to make matters worse I had little energy to keep going.
Now, I could keep at it and make it to the top of the peak and have no reserves of strength to make it down. Or I could get back to the pass while I still had the steam to do it. What to do? I really wanted to get to the top; I’d planned on it. Just one more stupid slope and a walk along the top of a ridge and I’d be there.
Just then the wind started to blow pretty hard. I had previous experience with the wind up in these parts. Less than three weeks previous I was literally blown off my feet at Blue Lake located near the base of Pawnee Peak.
On top of this, I had read a book the night before about 14er disasters. The book included a chapter about solo hikers getting in trouble.
So what was it to be—reality or the dream? I did the smart thing and got myself off the side of the mountain; slipping and sliding, wishing I was at the bottom already.
Once I descended, I stumbled over to the east side of the divide to look down at Pawnee Lake and the 23 switchbacks one traversed to get there. Pretty amazing view.
My energy gave out as I sat back down at the official Pawnee Pass sign. While eating trail mix and relaxing, I had to try hard not to nod off. A nap really sounded nice even though it was like a party the way people were showing up.
I finally began to feel human again, so I set off back to the car. It was much easier going downhill and a much better time. Go figure.
I had gone a quarter mile and I met Rich, another cello player from the Longmont Symphony Orchestra. Of all the places to meet. He and his friend were off to climb Pawnee Peak, cross a saddle, and then climb Mount Tor. They had decided to do this that morning on a whim. What?! Seemed pretty crazy to me. I wish I could have done it. Oh well. It was still unreal bumping into him. One more of those “what a small world” moments on this hike.
A little ways on I watched a couple trail runners and their dogs go past me up to the pass with their tongues hanging out--their dogs of course.
And then the most amazing thing happened. A small flock of ptarmigan were next to the trail eating. I had hoped to see some of these birds, not having seen any for 20+ years, but never dreamed of seeing six right next to me and just doing their own thing unconcerned about my presence. Wow. I stood there taking pictures till the batteries in the camera gave up the ghost--wouldn’t you know it. I had more but couldn’t get to them.
A guy came down the trail and I pointed out these wonderful birds. They still had their transitional brown and white feathers on. Soon they would loose the rest of their brown feathers making all their feathers white in time for winter. He looked at me like I was mad and picked up this pace as he hurried past me down the path. You know, when the opportunity arises, you just have to stop and check out the birds.
I was pretty uplifted. What a blessing. The next two miles went by pretty quick. I reveled in the beauty on the way down that I missed on the way up.
My next stop was a captivating shady spot beside a very melodious stream. My Facebook friends know of my love (obsession) with how running water looks and sounds, especially waterfalls. So this was a great spot to take a drink, eat trail mix, and take a lot of pictures. It was a nice break.
I finally made myself leave and go back down the path. Then, a deer jumped out into a clearing beside me. The light was streaming down onto the yellow grasses and aspen as they waved in a faint breeze. She was wrapped in a halo as she looked at me and slowly walked off. Magical doesn’t do justice to the moment.
My time up and down the trail was a little over eight hours. I was not very elated or anything besides being tired. Eventually it dawned on me what I had accomplished. Pretty good for a middle aged hiking guy. I made it. I beat the pass with time to spare to get to my grandma’s house for chicken wings. What a day!
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