longs peak hike... part the fourth

Six hours after I set off from the trailhead, I step up onto the summit of Longs Peak at 8:04 a.m. on Sunday, 18 July 2010. The weather is absolutely perfect— bright sunshine, so warm that I’m perfectly comfortable in my shorts & long-sleeve t-shirt, and (most appreciated) there’s not a breath of wind.

I shed my pack, get the camera out, and look around the summit. There’s one other guy nearby, over by the large boulder that is the actual 14,259-foot high point up here, and then there are four other guys who are coming back over this way from the western side of Longs’ HUGE summit cap. What a difference from my hike in 2008, when there must have been thirty people already up here when I topped out on the summit.

Most folks stay congregated around the eastern end of the summit, and that’s what I did on my last visit here, but today I resolve to make a complete circuit of the summit cap. This is no small undertaking, as the flat summit covers several acres of broken, jumbled rocks. It’s like a mini Boulder Field. My counter-clockwise tour of the summit takes quite a while, but I’m so glad I do it. The views in every direction are breathtaking. This is the top of the world in Rocky Mountain National Park and northern Colorado.

Back over on the eastern end of the summit, I finally sit down to rest. I’m astounded to see an hour has passed since I first stepped up onto the summit. I dig out my cell phone and turn it on. I see I have a weak signal, so I try to send my wife a text message, letting her know I made it to the summit safely and am about to start back down. The text goes through— yeah!

I probably only spend five minutes actually sitting down & resting on the summit and then I make my way back over to the top of the Homestretch. Making it to the summit of Longs Peak via the Keyhole Route is quite an accomplishment, but I know I’ve only completed half the journey. I still have to get back to the trailhead safe & sound. Going down the Homestretch, across the Narrows, negotiating the Trough, and taking the Ledges back to the Keyhole all will pose their own challenges, so I tell my tired self to take my time and be safe.

On the Hometretch, the joke is that a person goes up the cliff on all fours, and down it on all threes. And, really, the easiest way to make it down a few tricky spots is on the seat of your pants. About halfway down the Homestretch, I meet a guy who is on his way up and see he’s wearing a Steelers cap. I have on a Steelers shirt, so we each recognize a kindred spirit and stop for a few minutes to chat about football. When he finds out I took my Terrible Towel to the summit, he kicks himself for not thinking to bring his on the hike.

Back down at the base of the Homestretch, I have to wait for several people to come up over the small chockstone before I can descend onto the Narrows. Once I’m out on the Narrows, there are a couple of times I meet people who are ascending and we have to carefully make way for each other. I take quite a few pics as I recross this section of the route. It's interesting to watch people traverse the Narrows. Most people are visibly a bit leery of the exposure, but are doing their best not to let it get to them. Some people, though, just stroll along like they’re out for a walk in the park. Well, I guess technically they are walking in The Park.

When I get to the chockstone at the top of the Trough, I again have to wait for people who are coming up. Then, when there’s a break in the action, I scoot down to the left on that narrow, eroded ledge I mentioned in my previous post.

Descending the Trough is, in its own way, just as not-fun as going up it. Going down is definitely quicker, but my quads are getting quite a workout as I carefully descend the steep slope, making sure each step is firmly planted in the loose stone & trying not to send any rocks tumbling downhill. (Mostly from descending the Homestretch, the Trough, & the Boulder Field, on Monday my quads will feel like someone had beaten them with a baseball bat.)

Exiting the Trough and getting back onto the firm footing of the Ledges is a relief. I take special care to follow the bulls-eyes all the way back to the Keyhole. There's a crucial point where the bulls-eyes take me on a sharp descent & if I miss this, I'll end-up ascending off-route toward the False Keyhole. Both times I've done this hike, I've seen people fail to go down here and go up instead, despite the bulls-eyes and a bright red sign close by that says “KEYHOLE” with an arrow pointing down.

Popping back through the Keyhole, I take a quick break to remove my gloves and stow them in my pack. On both hikes, I brought along my light cycling gloves and they’ve saved my hands a lot of wear & tear on the scrambling/climbing sections of the route. In fact, on both hikes, I’ve had folks see them and say they wish they would’ve thought to bring gloves to wear on those sections.

On the way down, it seems as if a lot of folks like to take an extended rest break just after exiting the Keyhole. There in the upper part of the Boulder Field, there are tired people lounging around, laughing, eating… but I just want to get through this part and back down onto the “real” trail, so I press on. My plan is to take an extended rest break down at Chasm Junction.

Boulder-hopping down to the area of the campsites is rough on the old knees, but finally I’m back down on the trail. I take another quick break to get out my trekking pole, and then I’m off. Coming down from the Boulder Field to Granite Pass, the wildflowers blooming over the nearby alpine tundra are gorgeous, the view to the north of the Mummy Range is grand, picturesque puffy white clouds fill the sky, and I have a hard time remembering to look down and watch for rocks on the trail, lest I twist an ankle.

By the time I roll through Granite Pass and make the long gradual descent to Chasm Junction, I’m getting concerned about the dark ominous clouds that have started to pour over Mt Lady Washington & Longs Peak. Hey, what happened to those picturesque puffy white clouds??? Stink. So much for my extended rest break at Chasm Junction. There’s a reason people start this hike at 1 or 2 or 3 a.m., and it’s to be well down off the mountain & hopefully back below treeline before an afternoon storm rolls in with rain and lightning. Here in the Colorado High Country such storms are regular fixtures of summer afternoons.

I blow through Jims Grove Junction just as it starts to sprinkle & thunder is booming off in the distance. The raindrops & rolling thunder are all the incentive I need to ignore the protests of my fatigued legs & sore feet, and I press on at something just short of a jog until I get down below treeline. At “The Lightning Hazard Bridge” over Alpine Brook, I consider stopping to dig out my rain jacket, but it’s still just sprinkling, so I keep going. The thunder never stops, so I keep up a pretty fast pace until I get to the ½ mile-to-go sign and then I allow myself to relax & slow down.

I get back to the Mini about a quarter ’til two. I throw my $30 “Skyline 8.0” Walmart pack (which has performed admirably, by the way) in the car and then sit down at a nearby picnic table with some water & snacks. It feels so good to take off my hiking boots and wiggle my toes in the cool air for a bit before putting on my sneakers for the drive home. It has been a looong day & I’m dog-tired, but I’m also elated that I’m now two-for-two on my summit attempts via the Keyhole Route. Standing on top of Longs Peak is an incredible experience for anyone, but it’s especially memorable for someone who spends a lot of time in Rocky Mountain National Park.

When I get home that afternoon, the elation has faded and I’m so weary I’m not sure I can stay awake long enough to have the traditional post-hike pizza. My aching body is letting me know it’s not very happy with me and I tell my wife to seriously never, ever, ever let me do Longs Peak again.

Of course I said that last time, too.

longs peak hike... part the third

As soon as the twilight before sunrise provides enough illumination for me to see without my headlamp, I start to make my way up through the jumbled mess of granite blocks for which the Boulder Field is so aptly named. Longs Peak’s mighty North Face is just to my left, as is the small permanent ice field known as the Dove. Looking a bit farther to my left, I can also see the top section of the Diamond (the awe-inspiring vertical wall in the middle of Longs’ East Face). From this perspective, Longs is a massive presence in the early morning light. It’s impossible not to be a bit daunted by the thought of what lies beyond the Keyhole, where the route will corkscrew three-quarters of the way around the summit in order to follow the least difficult route to the top. “Least difficult,” of course, being a relative term.

For now, though, I simply concentrate on reaching the Keyhole (6.3 miles—13,160 ft). Except for the final scramble up to the opening, this section of the hike isn’t really all that physically demanding, but it’s certainly tedious. The Longs Peak Trail peters out in the area around the backcountry campsites, and from that point on, there are cairns which mark a couple of possible routes I can take up to the Keyhole. Some of the cairns, however, can be a little difficult to spot… “Oh, you mean that small pile of rocks in the midst of this rocky sea of rocks??” Based on my previous experiences here, I don’t worry too much about the cairns and just keep myself pointed more or less directly toward the Keyhole. It’s hard to miss that distinctive notch in the ridge between Longs and Storm Peak (13,326 ft). As I draw closer to my objective, the strengthening light allows me to make out the Agnes Vaille Memorial Shelter where it nestles in the southeastern corner of the Keyhole.

Just before I tackle the final scramble up to the Keyhole itself, I turn and look behind me. The rising sun is just cresting the horizon far to the east. Beautiful.

The final scramble up to the opening requires that I use my hands for the first time on the hike. This is the third time I’ve been up to the Keyhole and each time I step through that gaping hole in the ridge, my thoughts come to a screeching halt at, “Wow!!!” From tediously slogging my way up through a rocky sea of rocks, I’ve suddenly come upon an eye-popping scene of alpine grandeur. The floor of Glacier Gorge, with its shimmering string of mountain lakes, lies nearly 3,000 feet directly below me. Spread out before me, seeming near enough to touch, are the majestic peaks and steep ridges that rise up to form the gorge’s magnificently rugged headwall. As I watch, alpenglow paints the tops of those peaks and ridges a divine rose-pink. Wow!!!

After soaking in the view for a few minutes, I start off south across the Ledges. It’s here, just on the other side of the Keyhole, that the hike up Longs becomes something more than a simple hike. From the Keyhole to the summit (and back again, of course), extreme care is called for.

Once I’m out on the Ledges, I find the first of the yellow and red painted circles called “bulls-eyes” which mark the route all the way to the top of the mountain. I carefully follow the bulls-eyes on a bit of a roller-coaster, up & down, ¼ mile scramble across the rock shelves that take me over to the Trough. Partway across, I clamber over the only truly difficult point on the Ledges— a steep V-shaped niche between boulders where an iron rod has been placed to provide a much-appreciated handhold.

As I exit the Ledges and crane my head back to look up the Trough, my heart sinks. I’d forgotten how steep this sucker is. I stand there a minute, wondering just what possessed me to do this hike again, and then I start off. The Trough is a steep couloir (from the French word meaning "passage" or "corridor," it’s a deep gorge or gully formation found on the side of a mountain) which actually rises from upper Glacier Gorge all the way up to a notch on the west ridge of Longs, where it meets the Narrows. The Ledges connect with the Trough about midway up the couloir.

The Trough is not only wickedly steep but it’s also unhelpfully filled with loose stone. If I accidentally knock a rock loose, I’m supposed to yell “Rock!” so those below will know I’m a klutz and there's a good chance they're about to be maimed or brained by the stone projectile I’ve just sent tumbling down the steep slope. Some people wear climbing helmets on this part of the hike. My painfully slow climb up the Trough is given new life when, on each of my frequent stops to catch my breath, I turn around to admire the view down into Glacier Gorge.

Finally, thank heavens, I find I’m at long last closing in on the upper section of the Trough where it curves up & around to the right to meet the Narrows at 13,865 ft. Before I can access the Narrows, though, I need to scramble over a chockstone which inconveniently sits at the top of the Trough. If I go up to the left, it is indeed a scramble… or what my trusty Rocky Mountain National Park: The Complete Hiking Guide says is “a move or two of semi-technical climbing (Class 3+).” But on my previous hike, I’d watched a couple of people tightrope-walk up a narrow, eroded ledge to the right, so that’s the route I now use to surmount the chockstone.

I exit the Trough and make my way out onto the Narrows. Again quoting my trusty hiking guide: “A sheer drop-off to the south strikes fear into the hearts of many hikers at this point, but a broken rock wall on the opposite side provides good handholds and presents the option of leaning into the wall, away from the abyss.” On my 2008 hike up Longs, I was ascending the Trough when I met two guys who were coming down, having turned around at the Narrows. That made me wonder what I was in for, but— truth be told— the Narrows may be my favorite part of the Keyhole Route. The footing is stable, the view south into Wild Basin is marvelous, and the passage across the exposed but straighforward route over to the base of the Homestretch is exhilirating.

A brief scramble up a small chockstone at the end of the Narrows brings me to the base of the Homestretch (13,980 ft). The Homestretch is comprised of a series of vertical cracks in the otherwise smooth slab of this steep cliff on Longs’ upper south face. There are still bulls-eyes to guide me up this section, but this final push to the top is pretty uncomplicated: stay off the smooth slabs as much as possible, and utilize one or two of the cracks in the cliff to climb up to the cairn which marks the point where you step off the Homestretch and onto the summit. Easy, right? Except at this point, fatigue and the thin air at 14,000+ ft are conspiring with each other so that I’m gasping like a fish out of water as I sloooowly make my way up the last hundred or so feet.

Even though my goal is so close I can taste it, I’m reduced to creeping up the top section of the Homestretch in twenty foot increments. Fifteen feet below the summit, I have to stop one more time to catch my breath. I know I probably could’ve covered this last segment in one final manic burst, without stopping again, but I don’t want to puke or pass out just as I pop up onto the summit.

Okay, deep breaths… wait… be patient… a few more deep breaths…

And then I’m climbing the last few steps up to the 14,259-foot summit of Longs Peak.

longs peak hike... part the second

It’s a few minutes after 2 a.m. on Sunday, 18 July 2010, and I’m signing the trail register at the Longs Peak Trailhead. There’s a plaque beside the door of the ranger station here that reads: “ELEVATION 9,405 FT.” Being a transplanted Easterner, I'm aware that just standing there looking at that sign, breathing in the crisp cool mountain air, I’m over 2,700 feet higher than Mt. Mitchell in North Carolina, which is the highest point in the United States east of the Mississippi (6,684 feet). There’s no need to just stand there, gazing at the sign, though… the dark East Longs Peak Trail beckons me farther in & higher up.

I say a silent prayer, thanking God for the gift of this day, and then I switch on my headlamp and start off up the trail. Ahead of me is a 7.4 mile hike to the top of the highest peak in Rocky Mountain National Park. Hiking the famed Keyhole Route to Longs’ 14,259-foot summit will take me past Chasm Junction, over Granite Pass, through the Boulder Field and to the Keyhole, along the Ledges, up the Trough, on a stroll across the Narrows, and then to a final climb up the Homestretch. Having done this hike once before, I can picture each section of the route in my mind, and I also know how to pace myself so that I’ll be passing through the Boulder Field just about sunrise. My previous experience in reaching the summit has also allowed me to pare down the contents of my pack to what I consider the essentials. When I did this hike two years ago, you would’ve thought I was setting out from Everest base camp. Longs was my first 14er, so I might have been a bit, um, overzealous in what all I packed and humped up the trail. But today my light day pack carries only my trusty Canon 40D with wide-angle lens, a rain jacket, light cycling gloves, swiss army knife, cell phone, small first aid kit, some fruit roll-ups and chocolate bars, & 3.5 liters of water. For some fun summit shots, I found room for my Terrible Towel and Mr. Bill figure, too. Of course, I’m also putting my headlamp (with fresh batteries) & trekking pole to good use right from the git-go as I set off from the trailhead and up into the dark forest.

A quick ½ mile later, I come to the junction with the trail to Eugenia Mine and Storm Pass. I bear left to stay on the East Longs Peak Trail. As the trail begins to switchback up through the pines, I concentrate on moderating my pace. There’s no sense in coming out of the gate too quickly, so to speak— it’s going to be a looong day. Alpine Brook is off to my left, mostly heard but not seen, except for two spots where the switchbacks take you right up to its banks. At each spot where this happens, the trail cuts away from the babbling brook and then continues to climb up through the forest. 1.2 miles into the hike— at 10,120 ft— there’s a sign that points off to the left, showing the way to the Goblins Forest backcountry campsites. Every hike I’ve done up this way, that sign always brings a smile to my face… it sounds like a spot straight out of Lord of the Rings.

The trail crosses Larkspur Creek on a wee footbridge (or if the water is low enough, I can simply hop across on the rocks) before reaching a more substantial footbridge that carries me over cascading Alpine Brook (1.85 miles—10,615 ft). I always think of this as “The Lightning Hazard Bridge” since there’s a large sign on the far side of the stream that gives helpful hints on what to do if I’m caught above treeline during an electrical storm.

As I continue on in the predawn darkness, I very shortly find myself beginning to pass through treeline. Hiking in the dark is a novel experience for most people, and on this hike— if you get an alpine start— you spend quite a while hiking by headlamp. Your world is reduced in scale, defined by the small circle of illumination at your feet, and you’re aware of being hemmed in by the trees that march alongside and tower over the trail. If you’re hiking solo, it’s a time of intense solitude when your thoughts can’t help but turn inward. Now, however, as I pass through treeline and the brilliant, gorgeous canopy of stars opens up above me, I feel as if I’m entering a magnificent cathedral and my spirit soars.

Once above treeline, the trail climbs steadily to Jims Grove Junction (2.45 miles—10,956 ft), where I bear left. Before I know it (or so it seems), I arrive at Chasm Junction (3.25 miles—11,540 ft). This is a popular spot to stop and take a short break. Maybe you’ll need to use the privy here. I’ve never personally used the privy here or the ones up at the Boulder Field, but I’ve heard stories about the smell. Anywaaay… when you're ready to start off again, make certain you're heading northwest up the correct trail since folks seem to get easily confused here. Last summer, I was back the Chasm Lake Spur Trail, climbing up the ledges just below the lake, when a small group of three or four hikers ahead of me suddenly stopped & asked me if they were on the Keyhole Route. Oops.

The trail continues an easy climb, skirting around the east flank of Mt Lady Washington. I notice this section of trail is a good vantage point to look back east and note the tiny dots of light bobbing along below me… each dot of light, of course, being a hiker who is above treeline, making his/her way up toward Chasm Junction. After the trail makes a turn to the left, around the north ridge of Mt Lady Washington, I’m at Granite Pass (4.3 miles—12,060 ft). At this point, the North Longs Peak Trail (coming up 6.9 miles from the Glacier Gorge Trailhead off Bear Lake Road) joins the East Longs Peak Trail. The trail sign at Granite Pass tells me it’s 1.7 miles to the Boulder Field.

As I hike the long, shallow switchbacks that cut up through the tundra above Granite Pass, I check the time and realize I’m right on pace to hit the Boulder Field (5.9 miles—12,800 ft) a bit before sunrise. A short time later, as I climb the final stretch of “real” trail up to the edge of the Boulder Field and then enter the increasingly rocky terrain, I feel a bit of anxiety. (I was somewhat stressed by this section the last time I did this hike, too.) My concern is that in the darkness I won’t be able to stay on the “trail” as it winds its way through the jumbled mess of granite blocks and so won’t find my way over to the tent sites. But I take my time, manage to follow the sketchy trail, and… taa-dah! … I’m at the campsites.

Alright… so far, so good. To the east, out beyond the bulk of Mt Lady Washington, the horizon has begun to glow with the promise of a beautiful mid-summer day in the Colorado High Country. Soon enough, it’ll be time to tackle the rest of the Boulder Field and make my way up to the Keyhole. Right now, though, I shed my $30 “Skyline 8.0” Walmart pack (which I’m quite pleased with up to this point, by the way), sit down on a conveniently-sized rock and have breakfast.

longs peak hike... part the first

It’s Saturday afternoon, 17 July 2010, and I’m headed out to buy a new pack. In the midst of my preparations for tomorrow’s hike up Longs Peak, I’ve decided my old pack just won’t cut it— it’s too heavy and cumbersome. I wore it back in 2008 when I did Longs via the Keyhole Route and it was far from ideal, so this time it’s going to get left at home. As I head out the door, I know just the pack I want, having scoped it out on previous visits to REI. It isn’t cheap, though, and since I take my camera backpack on most of my adventures, I’m suddenly having a hard time with the thought of paying a lot of money for a day pack I’ll probably only use a couple of times a year. With a deep sigh, I point the car toward our local Walmart and resolve to “Save money. Live better.”

Later that evening, having finished loading up my new $30 “Skyline 8.0” day pack from Walmart, I set the alarm for 12:01 a.m. and crawl into bed to try and get a few hours sleep. Thinking about what lies ahead, though, I find it impossible to turn off my brain and fall asleep. And having done Longs once before, I do know what lies ahead... a long, demanding hike over difficult terrain, followed by a long, demanding descent over that same difficult terrain. The Keyhole Route up 14,259-foot tall Longs Peak is the standard “hiking route” to the summit, but it’s no picnic and after finishing it two years ago, I vowed never to do it again. So just why am I getting ready to give it another go?

Good question.

Short answer: It’s the greatest challenge I can set for myself in a place that means a great deal to me. Since moving to Colorado several years ago, I’ve come to dearly love Rocky Mountain National Park. And Longs Peak has been called the crown jewel of RMNP… it’s the northernmost 14er in Colorado, the highest summit in the park, and its massive profile is highly visible from many trails, roads, and overlooks within RMNP. To me, Longs represents all that I love best about “The Park.” In the midst of our materialistic, convenience-oriented, strip mall-centric society, it’s a truly wild, beautiful place where I can escape & explore & challenge myself to go farther in and higher up. Sir Edmund Hillary once said, “It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.”

To learn something about myself through accepting the challenge, to test my skills and limits… that may be the reason I’d climb a mountain the first time, but why do it a second (or third or fourth) time? Well…

Sir Edmund also famously said that, when it comes right down to it, the real reason a person climbs a mountain is quite simply “for the hell of it.”

Yep.

flattop mtn - hallett peak hike

This is the second time I’ve done this hike and I think I can now say that it’s one of my favorites in Rocky Mountain National Park. Not only are there some great views of my favorite mountain, Longs Peak, at different points along the trail, but from Hallett’s rocky summit on the Continental Divide, you’re treated to one of the best 360-degree panoramic views in the park.

This popular hike starts off from Bear Lake (9,450 ft). It’s a 4.4 mile hike to Flattop Mountain’s expansive summit (12,324 ft), and then another ½ mile or so over to Hallett Peak (12,713 ft). The trail all the way up to Flattop is well-maintained and, especially in summer, heavily travelled. Expect a lot of company if you do this hike during June-July-August. There isn’t an ‘official’ trail from Flattop over to Hallett, but there is a much-used path that’s easy to follow if you’re patient and look for the cairns that mark the way.

The first part of this hike won’t hold any surprises for anyone who has started off from Bear Lake before. You make your way up through the spruce-fir forest, passing through some stands of aspens on your way up to the junction with the trail to Bierstadt Lake (¼ mile). Hang a left here and the trail becomes quite a bit rockier. You’ll continue on up through the forest and then come to another trail junction (1 mile). The Fern-Odessa Trail goes off to the right, but you’ll continue to follow the Flattop Mountain Trail to the left. From this point on, it’s a steady climb, so you might want to stop up the trail at the Dream Lake Overlook (1.65 miles—10,485 ft) to catch your breath and take a few pictures. The view to the south up Glacier Gorge and to Longs Peak is outstanding.

Between the Dream Lake & Emerald Lake Overlooks, you’ll begin to pass through treeline. The Emerald Lake Overlook (2.9 miles—11,357 ft) offers a vertigo-inducing view down into Tyndall Gorge and is another good spot to stop for a breather and enjoy the scenery. There’s a sign here that cautions you not to descend to Emerald Lake from this spot, although one wonders who would need such a warning since it’s a sheer 1,250-foot vertical drop from where you’re standing to the lakeshore far below.

In the area of the overlook, you’ll quickly pass through the last of the stunted trees & krummholz that mark the boundary between treeline & the spectacular alpine tundra that, for me, is one of the highlights of this hike. Passing through treeline up onto the tundra is an amazing experience— as if the roof of the world has suddenly been removed and there’s nothing around you now except mountaintops and sky.

Once above treeline, and once the trail makes a definite turn to the west, be sure to look around and enjoy the expansive views to the north & east. As you look back east, the layered ridgelines are especially photogenic— if the light is right. You’ll also find the wildflowers that bloom in the harsh environment above treeline to be worthy of a photo stop or two (or three or four) as you continue to make your way upward. There were some lovely pockets of columbine (the Colorado state flower) right alongside the trail when I did this hike last weekend. A bit farther up, there were some pretty yellow arnica (a member of the sunflower family) just off-trail that inspired me to get right down on my belly to shoot them close-up.

So you’re enjoying the view, appreciating the beauty of the wildflowers, and before you know it, you’ll come to a familiar landmark on the way up— the horse hitch rack (3.9 miles—12,115 ft). At this point, if you make your way a stone’s throw to your left over the tundra, you’ll get some excellent views of the headwall of Tyndall Gorge, the top of Tyndall Glacier, & of Hallett Peak’s rounded summit across the way.

Just above the hitch rack, you’ll need to make your way up across a small snowfield (at least it was there when I did both my hikes in early July) to catch the trail again as it climbs toward Flattop’s summit area. Once you top out on Flattop (4.4 miles-12,324 ft), you’ll see why it’s so aptly named. As the view to the west opens up before you and you start wondering just where the true summit is on this wide-open expanse of rocky tundra, just know that if you make it to the sign that marks the major trail junction up here (Flattop, North Inlet, & Tonahutu Creek Trails), it’s generally accepted that you’ve legitimately bagged Flattop.

So once you’re at that trail junction, you’re starting to eyeball the distance over to Hallett Peak (12,713 ft), aren’t you? Well, it’s a shame not to snag Hallett once you’re up on Flattop, so you might as well go for it. It’s a short half-mile (maybe a bit more) jaunt over the rocky tundra and then a moderately steep climb up some granite boulders, and you can bag two summits in one day. There’s not an “official” trail over to Hallett, but as you can see below, there’s a well-used route that is marked by cairns. Once you start the climb up Hallett’s northwest flank, there are also some harder-to-find cairns (just take your time and look for them) that show you the path of least resistance up to the summit. As you stand atop Hallett, I guarantee the jaw-dropping views in every direction will make you glad you climbed up there.

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Many people also include Otis Peak (12,486 ft) on this hike, and that’s what I planned to do, but I had a major camera mishap on top of Hallett that discouraged me so much I decided to skip Otis and just head back down to Bear Lake. (While taking a couple of self-portraits up on the summit, I had hung my pack from the tripod’s center column to stabilize it in the very high winds, but after that as I was moving around shooting a few pics, in just a split-second that I let go of the tripod while setting up a shot, the wind blew it over and smashed camera & lens on a rock. Thankfully, my trusty Canon 40D seems to be okay, but the 28-125mm lens is a loss.)

Despite the loss of a lens this last time out, the Flattop-Hallett combo is still one of my favorite hikes in RMNP and one I hope you’ll get to do sometime. You’ll spend quite a bit of time above treeline, though, so all the standard precautions apply when you do such a hike: start early so you can be back down before any possible afternoon storms; take plenty of water; remember the sunscreen; pack a jacket as it might be quite a bit windier & chillier up top; etc.

I took the photo below as I passed by Bear Lake on the way back to the Mini. You can see clouds had started to roll in over the Divide and I felt a few raindrops as I was changing out of my boots at the car. I even drove through a few rain showers on the way home. Yet another example of why it’s good to get an early start.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~ Rich

cub lake hike

Cub Lake is located at an elevation of 8,620 feet in Rocky Mountain National Park. From the Cub Lake Trailhead (8,080 feet) on the western edge of Moraine Park, it’s a pleasant 4.8 mile (round-trip) hike. Parking at the trailhead is limited, but there’s additional parking available farther up the road at the Fern Lake Trailhead.

Just after you start out on this hike, the trail crosses a sizable log footbridge that carries you across the Big Thompson River. From the bridge, you can look upstream to the Continental Divide and see Stones Peak (12,922 ft), Sprague Mountain (12,713 ft), and Gabletop Mountain (11,939 ft).

The trail, with some minor ups & downs, skirts the western edge of the vast meadow known as Moraine Park. Quite a few wildflowers bloom along this section of trail during summer. Before reaching the heavily wooded ridgeline shown in the picture below, the trail turns to the west and follows Cub Creek.

The trail now begins to wind through rocky forest, with small ponds found in a few of the marshy areas alongside the trail. Wildflowers also abound along this part of the trail. We even saw a few examples of the beautiful wood lily. Scattered up the hillside to your right, you’ll notice large boulders bordering the trail here. They’re called glacial erratics (rocks deposited on the glacially scoured bedrock as the wall of ice melted thousands of years ago).

The trail steepens a bit as it winds its way through the pine forest and up into groves of aspen. I’m sure the aspen trees make this part of the trail very pretty in the fall. Even while ascending through the forest to Cub Lake, the trail never becomes too difficult.

Cub isn’t actually one of the more scenic lakes in RMNP, but its main claim to fame probably isn’t the scenery around the lake, but rather what you’ll find on the lake in July & August… yellow pond lilies. Be careful you don’t fall in the water while trying to get close-up shots of lily pads & lovely yellow blossoms! As far as a landscape shot of the lake & mountains, your best bet will be to cross over the marshy eastern end of the lake on the path that leads back to the Cub Creek Backcountry Campsite. There’s a social trail that makes its way through the trees which closely border the southern shoreline, and you’ll find several good spots along there to photograph the lake with Stones Peak and Sprague Mountain offering a suitably alpine backdrop.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~ Rich

long lake & lake isabelle hike

Long Lake and Lake Isabelle are located within the Indian Peaks Wilderness Area. To reach the IPWA, you actually have to go through the Brainard Lake Recreation Area and (at the time of this writing) an entrance fee of $9 was being charged. If you arrive before the booth is manned, there is a self-pay station. To get to the entrance road near the small mountain town of Ward, I start off following Canyon Blvd west out of Boulder. Canyon Blvd turns into twisty, curvy CO 119 and takes you up to Nederland. At the traffic circle in Nederland, take the Peak to Peak Highway (CO 72) north. Once you reach Ward, watch for a sign on the right for the Brainard Lake Recreation Area (the entrance road is actually to your left, though).

Note: The “winter gate” at the entrance station is closed from around about late October through late June or even early July. There are no set dates for the closing/opening of the winter gate, which is more than a bit frustrating, so just be aware that if you arrive and the gate is closed, you will have to park there & hike back the road into the area (FYI: It’s a bit over 1 ½ miles from the winter gate to Brainard Lake).

The parking area at the Long Lake Trailhead fills up fast, so get there early or be prepared to park down the road and hoof it back up to the trailhead. Even this may not work later in the day when there is literally no place left to park in the entire area. So get there early.

Okay, so once you actually start off on your hike, you’ll come pretty quickly to Long Lake (10,524 ft). It’s less than a quarter of a mile from parking lot to a trail junction at the eastern end of the lake. To get to my favorite spot to photograph Long Lake, take a left at this junction. You’ll cross a footbridge that will take you over Long’s outlet stream, to the southern shore of the lake. (The photo below was taken from the bridge, looking toward the lake.)

Follow the trail up around to the right, through a large meadow that is full of wildflowers (in season, of course), and head into the trees.

Shortly after you enter the forest, watch for a faint side trail off to the right, going down through the trees toward the lake. If you follow this trail, it’ll deposit you on some boggy ground right on the lakeshore. If you don’t mind getting your boots a bit muddy you can look around there for some interesting foreground and shoot westward down the lake, with the Indian Peaks in the background.

To get back on the Pawnee Pass Trail and headed up to Lake Isabelle, you can either continue on around the Jean Lunning Trail or backtrack to that trail junction near the footbridge.

The Pawnee Pass Trail climbs steadily through the forest before a final, open stretch that rises quickly and brings you to Lake Isabelle (10,892 ft). Not counting any detour you take to photograph at Long Lake, the hike to Isabelle is 2.1 miles. Once I arrive at Isabelle, I like to head over to the left to the lake’s outlet area where two small waterfalls are formed by Isabelle’s runoff. You can get some nice compositions in this area, with Navajo (13,409 ft), Apache (13,441 ft), and Shoshoni (12,967 ft) Peaks serving as a stunning backdrop.

After photographing at Isabelle a bit, I decided to take an unplanned excursion farther up the Pawnee Pass Trail. I found that the trail climbs steeply above Isabelle, crossing a couple of footbridges, to a point where you will come to a great view back down to Isabelle. When I reached this spot, I was shooting into the sun, so unfortunately I didn’t bring back a good picture from this overlook. Between Isabelle and the overlook, there were a couple of sections of trail still covered by snow (below). But there were also quite a few wildflowers all along the trail and I can see how just a bit later in the summer, they would be really beautiful through here. Anyway, after the overlook above Isabelle, I continued on until I came to a series of large switchbacks that climbed steeply through the snow (the slope here was still a completely snow-covered expanse) to a rocky ridge quite a ways above me. Not knowing what all was above that point or how much farther the pass itself might be, I decided to turn back there.

I’d like to try for Pawnee Pass again after the snow melts a bit more, but I was very happy with the shots I got at Isabelle on this outing. Without a doubt, I consider Lake Isabelle to be one of the most beautiful spots I’ve come across in my hiking around Colorado, and the shot at the top of this post is one of my favorites from the past three years of photography. I hope you enjoy your visit to the Indian Peaks and I’m sure that you’ll also bring back some great shots that you’ll treasure.

Thanks for reading about stuff I’ve photographed. ~ Rich

half mountain hike

Okay, I’ll admit right up front that this hike up Half Mountain kicked my butt. Once I was off-trail, making my way up through the tangled forest, accursed krummholz, & broken rock, I started to run out of juice pretty quickly. And I didn’t take many pics on the hike because, well, did I mention that this hike kicked my butt?

Half Mountain (11,482 feet) in Rocky Mountain National Park marks the end of the ridgeline that sweeps northward from Longs Peak and that forms the imposing eastern wall of Glacier Gorge. As you’d expect, the views from Half Mountain will take your breath away—unfortunately, so will the hike up to its jumbled, rocky summit.

The first part of this hike will be familiar ground for anyone who has started up the Loch Vale Trail from the Glacier Gorge Trailhead off Bear Lake Road. Once you’re above Alberta Falls, though, you’ll want to take the North Longs Peak Trail and follow it east. You’ll cross a wooden footbridge that spans Glacier Creek as it plunges down a chute that has been carved in the rock walls. From the bridge, you have a good view of Half Mountain’s northwest slope. The steep cliffs & large boulders here will convince you it’s not a good idea to start your climb quite yet, so head down on the trail a bit farther.

Just how far “a bit farther” turns out to be is up to you. My trusty Rocky Mountain National Park: The Complete Hiking Guide recommends going about ½ mile beyond the bridge before heading off-trail. To tell the truth, I’m not sure how far I went, but I started up through the forest when I was still on the near side of a large, distinctive rock formation that cuts south up the slope.

Once you’re off-trail, the fun begins. As I made my way through the thick forest, I came across a large rockfall that had spilled down the slope, through the trees, and followed this up as best I could. When you come out of the forest, you’re faced with steep, rugged terrain that is essentially a big boulder field filled with annoyingly loose rocks & even more annoying patches of krummholz. Threading your way through the krummholz can be insane, but at one point I actually found a small cairn where I was headed up between patches of the gnarled, nasty shrubbery, so I knew I wasn’t the first person to go up that way.

Once I finally made it through the worst of the krummholz, I could begin to enjoy the views north & east & west… but it was also about that same time that I felt my energy begin to fade. I began to realize it probably wasn’t such a good idea to have tried this hike on three & a half hours sleep or to have done it with big pack, tripod, two cameras, three lenses, etc. If I would’ve realized what I was getting myself into, I would’ve got a good night’s sleep and went light & fast with one camera.

Once above the krummholz, I made things worse by heading straight for the summit up the steep, rocky slope. Note to self: There’s a reason established trails have switchbacks up steep terrain. In hindsight, I should’ve made my own switchbacks by zig-zagging up the slope. I was completely knackered by the time I topped out and, to add insult to injury, the wind was blowing so freaking hard that I was afraid to get too close to the vertigo-inducing, sheer west face and, most disappointingly, the view south toward Longs Peak was obscured by clouds. One of the main reasons I’d done the hike was to get that view south down Glacier Gorge toward Longs, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I did get a nice shot looking down at Mills Lake (and Jewel Lake, too, of course) and across the way to Thatchtop.

On my descent through the rocks, krummholz, & forest— just to drive home the point that this was a morning I probably should’ve stayed in bed— my legs started to cramp. Even after I got back down on the trail, my quads constantly felt like they were on the verge of completely seizing up, so by the time I got back to the trailhead, I was literally hobbling up to the parking lot. It was a while before my legs loosened up a bit and I could even begin to contemplate folding myself into the Mini & driving off. I kept thinking, “Man, c’mon, I wasn’t even this bad off after doing Longs Peak. Curse you, Half Mountain!”

I’m not sure how to wrap up this hike report except to wish you luck if you try it. And Half Mountain is worth the try— the views on this hike were stupendous (even though I missed seeing Longs Peak) and it wouldn’t have been such a bad climb if I’d been well-rested & would’ve went with a light pack… and if I would’ve made my own switchbacks up the rocky slope… and if I would’ve had a flamethrower to burn a path through the krummholz…