Putting in Some Miles

My trip over to Colorado started off pretty chaotic. I was supposed to be in Boulder for an 11 am setup on Friday July 15- but also had a Nature First staff meeting online that morning. I decided my best approach would be to drive in to Ft. Collins the night before (about an hour north of Boulder) get a room, hang out there long enough for the meeting (instead of trying to log in from some random roadside parking lot as I've done the last several) then continue on to the show. I'd hoped to hit the road by mid-afternoon that Thursday and get in at a decent hour, but of course that didn't happen. A late arriving photo order and last minute show prep left me scrambling, it was 6:30 by the time I got out of Logan and well after midnight before I crossed the Colorado state line. I made it to Ft. Collins, slept a few hours, and my meeting the next morning ran late. That put me on the run again- knowing I'd need an absolute minimum of 4 hours to set up, my GPS insisting I wouldn't get to Boulder until noon, and the festival opening to the public that afternoon at three. 

I doubt there's a word in any of this that would come as a surprise to those of you who have followed me for any time now. It's pretty much par for the course, especially with my crazy schedule this summer. But there's one minor detail that I should mention, kind of resulting from this chain of events, that would have weekend long repercussions.

My intentions were to pack a lunch that day- make a few sandwiches before leaving the motel room- but after the meeting ran long I really had to just grab my bags and go. I knew it was going to be a long, hot, stressful afternoon and I needed to both hydrate and get some food in my stomach. So before heading out from  Ft. Collins I ran into a convenience store for a few bottles of Powerade, and on a whim grabbed one of those foil wrapped gas station burritos.  

Yep. Brilliant move.  

The nausea hit a couple hours later, followed by some of the worst abdominal cramping I've ever experienced. Friday and Saturday were both awful. I swear, most of those days were spent doubled over in the corner of my booth. It was super hot, and so hard trying to talk to potential customers. I was terrified that I was going to vomit right in mid-conversation. I never actually did throw up... not out of my mouth anyway... and I'll spare you the flattering details of my quarter hourly runs/awkward waddles to the row of sunbaked port-a-johns a block and a half away...

Needless to say, it wasn't a very good show. 

By Sunday though, I started to feel a little bit better. And while the art festival was a bust, I'd scheduled myself a couple extra days after to stay in Colorado and take pictures, and was still pretty determined to make the trip count. I managed to grab a last minute entry permit to Rocky Mountain National Park for Monday morning, so after getting packed up in Boulder I drove back to Ft. Collins, slept a few more hours, and pulled into the park the next morning just before dawn.

I have a few spots, scattered around the country that I keep going back to with a particular photograph in mind. One of those is at Dream Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park. I'd love to see (and photograph) a really vivid sunrise there, reflected with the mountains on the lake surface on a nice calm morning. I've tried a few times, but conditions have never come together quite right for me.

That was actually my original plan for this visit, but when I didn't get to the room until around 10 Sunday night, and realized I'd have to leave four hours later in order to drive to the park and hike to the lake in time, I decided to go easy on myself. I had plans for a big hike the day after, and coming off a rough weekend- having barely eaten in three days (not to mention being left with questionable hydration levels) I realized it would be best to use Monday to kind of test the waters a bit, and acclimate to higher elevation. I did have to second guess this decision, driving in under the clouds seen at the top of this page- the sky component of a Dream Lake sunrise I've been waiting for. But it was also extremely windy that morning and the choppy water would have eliminated any detailed reflection. I instead opted for a more easily accessible scene in Moraine Park (allowing an extra hour of sleep,) and while the wind still proved a challenge with motion blur in the wildly blowing stream side grasses, I did manage to get a few nice shots as alpenglow painted the mountains to the west. 

After the sunrise I continued  to the Bear Lake trailhead, and took the relatively easy hike up to Dream and Emerald Lakes, passing the blooming lily pads on Nymph Lake en route. This is one of the more highly visited areas of the park- and for good reason. It really is gorgeous and I enjoy returning to the trails here nearly each time I come. I added a new twist this time though. Feeling good with those first few miles of the day under my heels, I decided to swing over to see Lake Haiyaha. To my recollection this is one I haven't hiked to before, and I'm so glad  that I finally did. It was a classic high alpine lake, jade in color due to glacial flour (very fine sediment suspended in the water) and its shore lined by huge jumbled boulders. The name actually comes from a Ute term, loosely interpreted as "big rocks."  I spent a good half hour getting up close and personal with these namesakes, scrambling to navigate the lakeshore while trying to find the best vantage for photo ops. Hoisting myself up on those boulders did leave me with some fresh scrapes and bruises, but as I reminded myself that day, skinning knees while climbing rocks and trees is one of those things sure to keep us young (no matter how hold we get.)

I had a good time exploring, and have to admit, it might come down to a coin flip if I head to Dream Lake or Haiyaha for my next Rocky Mountain National Park sunrise. Both are really stunning.   

Click HERE to see more photos from my hike that morning.

After checking out Lake Haiyaha I hiked back down to the trailhead and drove into Estes Park. I needed to grab a few groceries, and was  eager to try and talk to my son, who was in the middle of a trip to Ireland. That turned into a three hour ordeal, patiently waiting for him to call me back as I sweltered in my hot vehicle (knowing I wouldn't have a signal for a couple days after leaving town) all for a 45 second conversation where it was clear he really didn't feel like talking to me anyhow. The boy's five going on fifteen some days, and that was one of those moments in parenting when all I could do is say, "Okay... I love you buddy," and know that at least I tried...

By that time it was mid-afternoon. I drove back into the park and into the high country, but didn't stop except for briefly at a couple of overlooks. Storms were passing through- typical of a Rocky Mountain summer afternoon- and most of the parking areas were full. I continued on to the west side and stopped for a quick hike along the Colorado River trail. My hope was to find some nice patches of wildflowers, but the path ended up being more wooded than I expected (at least as far as I traveled before turning back.)

You can see some images from that afternoon hike by clicking HERE.

As mentioned in the post above, had I continued several miles out that trail I could have accessed Thunder Pass on the border of Rocky Mountain National Park. This would have allowed me to connect the dots with a hike I'd taken last summer on the other side, which I would have loved to have done, but just didn't have enough time on this day. As evening approached I needed to collect myself, put a wrap on the casual wandering and get focused on the day ahead. The next morning would bring a 1:45 am wake up, and a rendezvous with a mountain that I've been waiting years to see. 

Lone Eagle Peak sits deep in the Indian Peaks Wilderness of Arapaho National Forest. It's a little over eight miles by trail to view the mountain from the lake shown above- a scene I found in a book a long time ago; and one that has stuck with me and which I've wanted to see and photograph for myself ever since. Ideally you would backpack into the area, spend the night nearby and photograph it in the early morning hours with the water surface calm for optimal reflections. It's a popular area though, and highly regulated, so overnight wilderness permits are hard to get. I tried, but there were none available, so I had to opt for Plan B. I'd have to attempt it as a long day hike.

I knew that I wanted to arrive to the site before sunrise. I'd studied the surrounding topography and envisioned how the peak might catch first light (again, as always, if conditions came together right.) . Official sunrise for that morning wasn't until about 5:40, but terrain and elevation also factor in, so I decided to shoot for a 5 am arrival to be there and ready. Considering both distance and the 2,200 feet of elevation gain that it was going to take to get there, I knew I was going to need to be on the trail by two o'clock in order to make it happen. 

The first couple miles were pretty mellow. I signed the register at the trailhead with breath filling the beam of my headlamp at 2 am on the dot. The path was fairly smooth, starting out alongside a good sized lake with moonlight dancing on gentle waves. Coming to the head of the lake and rising higher into the mountains, the hike became a little more strenuous; and venturing deeper into the forest the trail got a bit more challenging, with rocks and roots, streams and waterfalls to navigate past, or over, in the dark. 

I faired well and kept moving at a pretty good clip. Then some time around 4 o'clock, probably somewhere around six miles in, I saw what I thought was  a small light on the trail ahead of me. Kind of weird, I thought, I didn't really expect to see anyone else out at this time. Could it be another photographer? Then another flash and I realized it wasn't a single beam, but two... and not a light, but a reflection- which stopped me dead in my tracks. 

It was like deja vu all over again. 

Fifteen years ago I was hiking through the Ansel Adams Wilderness in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. I'd actually lost my camera of all things, and told the guys I was hiking with to go on ahead while I went back to where I'd last taken my pack off to try and find it. Luckily I did after several miles of backtracking, and continued on alone through the dark to where my friends had said they'd probably stop and make camp. 

I figured I had to be getting close when I saw what I first thought to be one of their headlamps ahead of me. Or possibly the reflective guy line of a tent. I just caught a glimmer through the trees, but taking a few steps more realized it wasn't my friends, but a glowing pair of eyes. 

I couldn't make out the animals body. It's gaze was locked on me. Guessing from it's size for some reason I thought it might be a bear. The black bears in that area are fairly habituated to hikers, but usually scare off pretty easily.

"Hey!" I shouted, expecting to see whatever it was turn and run.

It didn't. It didn't like that at all.

Instead, the eyes dropped about six inches, still honed in on me, and slowly started coming my way.

"Hey!" I shouted again. It paused, still crouching, and took a few more steps. I still couldn't see it's body, but the animal's motion was unmistakable. It was a cat getting ready to pounce. 

I drew my bear spray, the only defense I had. My heart was racing. Everything suddenly felt beyond surreal. This couldn't be happening. Was I really face to face with a mountain lion, all alone in the middle of the night? 

The animal took two more steps toward me.

"HEEYYYYY!!!!!" I yelled, letting out the most primal scream I've ever unleashed.

The animal froze, and time stood still. It's body still cloaked in darkness. All I could do is focus on those eye, which remained fixed on me. I tried to stay calm. 

"Relax,"  I remember thinking to myself, "you're not going to get eaten by a mountain lion tonight." 

Then my sarcastic smart ass whit decided to chime in.

"Yeah, that's probably what most people tell themselves right before they get eaten by a mountain lion..." 

I don't know how long we stood there staring at each other. It felt like an eternity. Somewhere in my mind, we still are. But after that last yell, the animal didn't come any closer. It stood half-crouched, waiting to see what I wanted to do. I held my bear spray at the ready, knowing that I'd have a split second if it decided to attack. 

But it didn't. I think what it probably was, was a territorial male. It wasn't looking for a confrontation, but wasn't going to put up with me challenging it either. After a few minutes, I took a slow, cautious step backward. It let me. So I took another, and then another. I walked slowly, deliberately, backward down the trail, keeping my light fixed on the animal's eyes. It stayed where it was. I continued walking backward until it was no longer in sight, then turned, took about ten steps, and did a complete three hundred sixty degree scan of the forest to make sure I wasn't being followed. I repeated this over and over, continuing back down the trail. I'd passed a group camping with a small fire a mile or so before that, and decided to try and make it back to them. It was the longest mile I've ever walked. But I never saw the eyes again. 

Back in present day Colorado, after that same mistake of initially thinking I'd seen a headlamp only to quickly realize it was a pair of eyes, all I could think was "here we go again..."

But this time I was a little more cautious in my assessment. Again, I couldn't make out the animal's body- couldn't tell what I was looking at. It stood above me, but appeared to be upslope, so I couldn't tell how tall it was. The eyes weren't that same yellowish-green as the encounter described above- or at least I didn't think they were. It was hard to tell. I didn't yell this time. I spoke calmly, and after a minute realized that the animal wasn't actually on the trail, which continued a few more steps then turned the other way. So I cautiously made my way past. 

I don't think what I saw this time was a mountain lion. It didn't exhibit typical cougar behavior. For one thing, it didn't try to eat me, nor did it ask to make itself more comfortable then come out wearing a bathrobe and holding two glasses of cheap chardonnay. (Ahhhh- I should probably delete that... Lame joke, but I couldn't resist!) This animal had a less aggressive demeanor. It didn't run or act spooked, but kept looking away as I sweet talked it. It was probably just a deer or elk.

But whatever it was, it sure woke me up that morning! 
 

The rest of the hike was fairly uneventful, by comparison. The trail got harder the higher I climbed, but I made it up to the lake with time to scout out compositions in the dark. There were a few scattered clouds, and for a minute I thought a really dramatic scene might unfold, but they dissipated before the light hit. At the time, as far as photos go, I wasn't really confident in what I got that morning. There's always a bit of a let down when the clouds don't quite hold like you hope they will while waiting for the dawn. But after looking again with these edits, I'm actually really happy with the results. I love how the tip of the peak lit up in the first photo above, and how it reflected in the lake. I'm definitely excited to see that one in print. 

Click HERE to see more photos from that morning's hike.

I spent about an hour and a half photographing Lone Eagle peak, then made my way back down the trail, getting to see all of the pretty views I'd passed in the dark . All told I hiked about 17 miles roundtrip that morning, and about 30 in a little over 24 hours counting my time in the park the day before. Not bad for a washed up old flatlander. 

And a trip to Colorado, well spent. 

*******

Alright everyone. I'm actually writing this morning from Jackson, Wyoming- in town this weekend for Art Fair Jackson Hole. I was trying to get it sent out earlier this week but just couldn't, so wanted to be sure and do so before the show starts. The battery on my laptop is about to die, and after this weekend's show I plan to drop completely off the grid for the better part of next week anyhow. I'm going to wander off into the Winds for awhile, visit some more mountains that I've wanted to see for a long, long time. I should re-emerge in about a week- grizzly bears willing and if the creeks don't rise- with more photos and stories to share. 

Have a great weekend, everybody.