Skookum Traveler: Rocky Mountain National Park (CO)

Long's Peak, Emerald Lake from Flattop Trail.

On the way back from Wyoming in early June 2012, I made sure I had a long weekend to dabble in Rocky Mountain National Park, long on my A-list of hiking destinations. I drove from Casper to Estes Park on Friday afternoon, then to my reserved campsite at Moraine Park. I had a small down sleeping bag stuffed in my daypack, but was without a tent—I wanted to fly with carry-on luggage only and would have had to check the tent. So, it was either sleep on the hard table or in the back seat my compact rental car. A motel room sounded too stuffy (and expensive). The picnic table was obviously roomier than the car and the night temp was comfortable, so after downing a fat sandwich and reading awhile under a dim light, I crawled in my bag and amazingly slept through most of the night, notwithstanding a few minor disturbances rustling in the bushes and in neighboring campsites—and a hint of distant thunder.

I was up at first light and soon booted it down the road to catch the first shuttle bus of the morning, a good walk away. I had done my homework in Casper beforehand and had a game plan in mind to shuttle up to the Bear Lake trailhead early and hoof it on up to the indeedly flat top of Flattop Mountain. If a lingering foot injury (a case of good ol’ plantar fasciitus) didn’t slow me down, I would continue up nearby Hallet Peak’s 12,713-foot summit. It helped tremendously that I had most of a week to acclimate in mile-high Casper. The trek went smoothly with minimal groans. I was sure I would be gasping for air by 12,000 feet, but I hardly lost a step all the way up. At the top, however, I was engulfed in a veritable cataract of speeding air, a stiff and steady wind blowing perhaps 50 mph or more. It was cool but not cold, so I leaned in and hung on, trudging the final 390 vertical feet up the Hallet rockpile. Happily, a sunny spot on the lee side of some rocks at the summit offered a perfect lunch counter. I sat and enjoyed the view over these mighty mountains for most of an hour.

Off to the northeast, a plume of smoke I'd noticed on the hike up seemed to grow rapidly. I learned later it was caused by a lightning strike overnight. It was the start of the High Park Fire near Fort Collins, which would become the second-largest fire ever in Colorado. It charred 87,000 acres and 259 homes. And if that wasn't enough, the Waldo Canyon Fire a couple weeks later would consume another 346 homes near Colorado Springs.

The day was early still, but the wind dissuaded me from carrying on to the next peak, so I backtracked down the mountain, escaping the wind and soaking up the ever-warming sunshine. At a junction northwest of Bear Lake, it was decision time. I could ramble around the lake and explore another loop to more lakes and canyons to the south with lots of options and an easy return to the trailhead; or I could hike most of the way back to Moraine Park by way of Odessa and Fern Lakes, a highly scenic, though somewhat committing nine-mile alternative. The night before, a park ranger had some good things to say about this option, but noted there was still snow in the high spots where an ice axe might come in handy. I had no ice axe in my carry-on bag, of course. I’d already done ten miles getting up to Hallet and back, but I felt strong and it was a spectacular day with plenty of time to savor the miles. Warm weather and a light winter snowpack had conspired to open up many of the higher trails several weeks earlier than usual. And it set the stage for a more than memorable fire season. Then there was the issue of my foot. It was a little tender, but had been well enough behaved on Flattop that I was feeling sufficiently confident to opt for the nine-mile option. Heck, I would just whittle me a crutch if things became desperate.

It was a surprise to encounter snow on the trail less than a mile from the junction, having regained barely a hundred feet. I hoped it was a fluke. My trek up Flattop had been almost completely snow-free. The next snowfield was even longer and the trail was quickly lost beneath several feet of snow. Old boot tracks seemed to circle back or disappear. I wandered on, while also paying greater attention to the landforms around me. I passed an open avalanche slope buried in white and reentered the woods with no trail in sight. As I often do in such situations, I asked, now if I was a trail, where would I be? I pushed on, more or less maintaining the grade that was traversing the mountainside when the trail was still visible. Onward and upward. It was too nice to turn back and I still had my bearings. As I headed into the sunny upper basin of Mill Creek, the trail finally reappeared and it was no trouble reaching the 10,600-foot pass near Lake Helene, though it, too, was buried under snow.

The next leg was the most scenic and passed far too quickly. After negotiating several very steep snow slopes where you dare not slip, I realized I was so focused on getting past the hazards that I’d already descended into the trees. I was leaving the last of the greatest views behind. A side trail led to Odessa Lake and a good break in a placid scene. This put me nearly half-way to the Fern Lake Trailhead near Moraine Park. From here, the trek home was uneventful. At Fern Lake and beyond, the number of hikers on the trail increased considerably and I felt a little smug for having come over the long way from Bear Lake—and smugger still for my morning trek to Flattop.

The last couple of miles down the Big Thompson River were longish and my right foot was getting sore-ish, which made the well-earned trailhead quite a happy site—that is, until I realized I had to walk most of another mile to get to the shuttle stop. But the extra plodding rounded up the day’s miles to an even 20. Truth be told, it was only another mile to the campground, but my work for the day was done and I had my sights set on some cheesy enchiladas and a Corona at a place I’d spotted in Estes Park. Can a Saturday in the Rockies get any better than this? Ole!