There is a hurricane ablowing and just by knowing what you know, you have an advantage to the blind morons that surround you everyday. However not everyone can be saved. Ancient proverb: don't bother telling the TRUTH to your friend because he already knows and don't bother telling the TRUTH to your enemy because he won't believe you. Civilize those you can and fuck the rest. There are too many people in this world. It is not our responsibility to be constantly cleaning up after the weak-minded. Nature will eventually run its course and those too stupid to live will fortunately be crushed beneath the wheels of our progress. Assume your individuality. Culture can rob you of your uniqueness. That's how stereotypes exist, and not without reason. Anyone too wrapped up in the sheep mentality of their ethnicity can never truely express themselves as individuals. READ, Watch, LISTEN, DO what you want. BUT BE WARNED! You cannot have this freedom at no cost. You must pay in responsibility. If you listen to MARILYN MANSON and MURDER your FAMILY then you will go to jail. That's reality. If you decide to commit suicide for a song-SO LONG SUCKER! That kind of thinking has no place in our movement. Right now as a Family, as an Army we are limited as a minority. Laws bind us. But it is important to remember the law is only what is popular. Not whats right or wrong. Marilyn Manson rejects conventional morality and societys self-serving standards. When WE become the majority, we will decide who doesn't belong. As misanthropes and throw-away lods we will not submit to the mainstream. You will become it. And America should be very, very afraid. I AM YOU.
Marilyn Manson
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Mary Oliver
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Mary Oliver
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Keeping Hope Alive
***Keeping Hope Alive***
The great Jewish mystic known as the Baal Shem Tov had
discovered four great holy secrets. In order to keep hope
alive in the world, he went to a sacred place in the
forest, built an ancient, special fire, said a holy prayer,
and spoke the long-forgotten true pronunciation of the most
holy name of God.
It was enough. Hope stayed alive for the next generation.
The Baal Shem Tov's successor, though, did not know the
true pronunciation of the most holy name of God. But, when
the time came, he went to the place in the forest, built
the fire, and spoke the prayer. It was enough. Hope stayed
alive for the next generation.
In the next generation, the successor to the successor
only knew enough to go to the sacred place in the forest
and build the ancient fire. But it was enough; hope stayed
alive.
In the following generation, the next successor could only
go to the place in the forest and pray that this last,
single secret would be enough. It was! Hope stayed alive.
But in the next generation, the final secret was lost. So
the successor in this generation sat in his own armchair
and told the story.
Just telling the story was enough. Hope stayed alive in
the next generation - and the next and the next, as long as
the story is told.
from Doug Lipman
The great Jewish mystic known as the Baal Shem Tov had
discovered four great holy secrets. In order to keep hope
alive in the world, he went to a sacred place in the
forest, built an ancient, special fire, said a holy prayer,
and spoke the long-forgotten true pronunciation of the most
holy name of God.
It was enough. Hope stayed alive for the next generation.
The Baal Shem Tov's successor, though, did not know the
true pronunciation of the most holy name of God. But, when
the time came, he went to the place in the forest, built
the fire, and spoke the prayer. It was enough. Hope stayed
alive for the next generation.
In the next generation, the successor to the successor
only knew enough to go to the sacred place in the forest
and build the ancient fire. But it was enough; hope stayed
alive.
In the following generation, the next successor could only
go to the place in the forest and pray that this last,
single secret would be enough. It was! Hope stayed alive.
But in the next generation, the final secret was lost. So
the successor in this generation sat in his own armchair
and told the story.
Just telling the story was enough. Hope stayed alive in
the next generation - and the next and the next, as long as
the story is told.
from Doug Lipman
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saddle between St. Vrain and Meadow Mountains , 10-18-2010
It was a fairly straight forward hike to the saddle at 11,000 feet. This is a very nice trail. It only had patches of ice and a light dusting of snow. Unfortunately there were no waterfalls or water features along the way (except of the snow kind).
Again, I had something following me in the rocks and timber to the side of the path. Probably a clan of ground squirrels related to the bunch living near Pawnee Pass. They must have some kind of telegraph or satellite that let’s they pass messages that Jeff is around. ;-)
I took out my trekking pole in the event they decided to ambush me for my apple granola bars or my Sasquatch Beef Stick I brought for snacks. I’d give up the bars without a fight. But I’d get in a tussle for the beef stick.
I came upon some bobcat tracks. Looks like the kitty was following one of the ground squirrels. From the condition of the tracks it was pretty recent; missed the cat by an hour or two at the most.
I had to break trail about ten times or so due to the snowdrifts along the way. I wasn’t sure if my hikers were water repellent enough to stay dry. They got damp and cold but not soaked. And they dried out pretty fast that afternoon.
At the saddle I ran into my first snow field of the season. It was up to my calves and I didn’t want to scramble in this up to the top of the mountain. It was too risky for me being alone to attempt the climb either peak in the ice and snow.
On the way down I met a man in shorts with his dog climbing up the trail. He seemed pretty enthused, asked about the saddle, and said, “Far out man.” You get to meet all kinds of interesting people out on the trails.
Pretty much a hike up and down. It was nice to have an uneventful trip. Wish I could have made it up one of the peaks, but they’ll be there for me to try later. Better safe than sorry. Although one must always be vigilant for the hidden hoards or maybe a couple of critters that want your lunch.
Again, I had something following me in the rocks and timber to the side of the path. Probably a clan of ground squirrels related to the bunch living near Pawnee Pass. They must have some kind of telegraph or satellite that let’s they pass messages that Jeff is around. ;-)
I took out my trekking pole in the event they decided to ambush me for my apple granola bars or my Sasquatch Beef Stick I brought for snacks. I’d give up the bars without a fight. But I’d get in a tussle for the beef stick.
I came upon some bobcat tracks. Looks like the kitty was following one of the ground squirrels. From the condition of the tracks it was pretty recent; missed the cat by an hour or two at the most.
I had to break trail about ten times or so due to the snowdrifts along the way. I wasn’t sure if my hikers were water repellent enough to stay dry. They got damp and cold but not soaked. And they dried out pretty fast that afternoon.
At the saddle I ran into my first snow field of the season. It was up to my calves and I didn’t want to scramble in this up to the top of the mountain. It was too risky for me being alone to attempt the climb either peak in the ice and snow.
On the way down I met a man in shorts with his dog climbing up the trail. He seemed pretty enthused, asked about the saddle, and said, “Far out man.” You get to meet all kinds of interesting people out on the trails.
Pretty much a hike up and down. It was nice to have an uneventful trip. Wish I could have made it up one of the peaks, but they’ll be there for me to try later. Better safe than sorry. Although one must always be vigilant for the hidden hoards or maybe a couple of critters that want your lunch.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Fern Lake (10-11-2010)
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?
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 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)
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