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.
No comments:
Post a Comment