PRIMAL SCREAM

I spent 3 enjoyable days in mid-September working in Denver. Well, I should say that I spent 2 enjoyable days working in Denver, because on Wednesday, my laptop died. By noon, working was no longer an option, and I was ready to hit the trail!

I’d spent the previous two nights trying to decide where to hike. On a visit to the massive REI in downtown Denver, I picked up the trails illustrated map for the Holy Cross Wilderness and some free pamphlets. I strongly considered a loop in the Holy Cross Wilderness, but ultimately decided that it was too long for a 3-day trip. Meanwhile, an appealing trip in the Indian Peaks Wilderness seemed too short. Finally, I settled on a loop in Rocky Mountain National Park that has been on my to-do list for several years. I chose this trip despite the fact that it would cost me $60. $20 for the park entrance, $20 for the backcountry permit, and $20 to car camp in the park the first night. At $60, the trip would be roughly $60 more than any of the other trips I’d considered.

The loop I chose starts and ends on the west side of the park, near Lake Granby. I’d hike up the Tonahutu Valley, before crossing the alpine wonderland of Bighorn Flats. After cresting Flattop Mountain, I’d descend into the North Inlet Valley, which would ultimately bring me back to the starting point. With my route picked out, all I had to do was secure a permit for the designated campsites I wanted.

I drove through Boulder and on to Estes Park. On the way, I noticed that the high peaks along the continental divide were dusted with fresh snow. Just beyond Estes Park, I stopped at the Visitor’s Center. There, I eventually found the backcountry office. Luckily, the campsites I wanted were available. I decided to stay at Haynach the first night, and North Inlet Junction the second. From those campsites, I could make side trips up to Haynach Lake and Lake Nokoni.

From the Visitor’s Center, I drove over to the Moraine Park campground. There were plenty of sites available, and I took a tent site a short distance from the entrance to the campground. As I set up my tent, thunder rumbled among the high peaks immediately to the west. Would rain move in? Originally I had planned to take a short afternoon hike on the Ute Trail, which rambles above treeline from Trail Ridge Road. However, between the thunder and the black sky, I decided against it. Instead of hiking, I’d behave like a tourist for the rest of the afternoon.

Behaving like a tourist in Rocky Mountain National Park means looking for elk. As it turns out, they aren’t hard to find. All you’ve got to do is look for a bunch of cars pulled off the side of the road. I found the first cluster at the junction of Bear Lake Road and Trail Ridge Road. Having nothing better to do, I joined the fray. In the meadows nearby, there were a couple of dozen elk grazing. Most were female, but there were a few bulls prancing about. September is mating season for elk, and the males were putting on quite a show, beating their chests and bellowing at regular intervals.

The elk mating call is called bugling, but I can’t imagine why. The mating call of an elk isn’t a bugle, it’s a scream! Every time I heard it, the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. The sound made me want to run away, or find my mother. It’s impossible to really describe, but if you’ve seen the Lord of the Rings movies, you’ve heard it. An elk bugling sounds just like the cries of the Ringwraiths when they were hot on the trail of the hobbits.

During mating season, male elk are not only loud, they’re aggressive. I got out of the Jeep and stood next to it for a couple of minutes, taking photos. Then, a bull got agitated and started jogging towards me. I’m not sure, but I suspect that he was trying to challenge the Jeep. I took that as my cue to get back in the car. He quickly lost interest, and went back to herding his harem around the meadow.

From there, I drove up Trail Ridge Road towards the center of the park. Trail Ridge Road is the only road to cross through the middle of the park. In doing so, it attains an elevation of over 12,000 feet. As you might suspect, it’s an exceptionally scenic drive in good weather. Unfortunately, good weather was a fantasy this afternoon. I didn’t realize just how bad it was until I reached the gate across the road. Later, I found out that they were getting snow and freezing rain at the higher elevations.

I drove down towards Aspenglen, but took the Old Fall River Road up towards the high country. This road follows the canyon of the Fall River, before joining Trail Ridge Road near treeline. Unfortunately, I found this road gated after only a mile or so.

I headed back towards Estes Park, but stopped near Aspenglen to view more elk. Then I drove back to town, as I needed a few last minute supplies for the backpacking trip. From there, I circled back towards the campground. Before heading there though, I took a short drive up towards the Fern Lake Trailhead. Along the way, I saw more elk and passed through a magnificent tunnel of aspens. Unfortunately, they were still summer green. I would love to see them in their autumn gold some day.

Back at camp, I picked up a bundle of firewood before cooking stir fry for dinner. The food was decent, the fire was wonderful, and the rain never reached me. Later the sky cleared, and I enjoyed a couple of Fat Tires along with my campfire. I would’ve slept well that night, if it hadn’t been for the occasional scream from a nearby elk herd. I think those woke me up every 15 minutes! Apparently bull elk get a bit randy after dark.

NEVER SUMMER

I was up early the next morning. First thing, I strolled down to the ranger station to check the status of Trail Ridge Road. From where I was, it provided the best route to my trailhead. Unfortunately, the park had closed it the previous afternoon due to snow and ice. If the road didn’t re-open, my only option was a long, tedious drive around the south side of the park. I wasn’t looking forward to that option. Not only would it be much longer, but I’d miss out on the grand scenery along Trail Ridge Road.

I spoke with a ranger, who told me that the road was still closed, but was expected to open shortly. “Shortly” is a rather vague term. Does that mean any minute now, or sometime before lunch? I decided to break camp, and check again on my way out. If the road was still closed, I’d get some breakfast in Estes Park and kill some time.

On my way out, I discovered that the road had just re-opened! I headed for the high country, chomping on a half-frozen bagel I’d swiped from the hotel the previous day. On the way, I was astounded by the scenery. I’d driven the road twice before, but on both occasions, the weather had been marginal. This time, the sky was crystal clear. On several occasions, I stopped to take photos. By the time I passed treeline though, I was itching to get out of the car. At the Tundra Communities Natural Trail, I had my chance.

At first, I was just going to walk up to the crest of the ridge to take in the view. With each step though, I was compelled to walk a little farther. The views were fantastic. To the south, the snowy peaks of the Continental Divide marched towards Longs Peak. To the northeast, I spied the mammoth Mummy Range. Back to the west, it was the lovely Never Summer Mountains, also coated with a fresh layer of snow.

I ended up walking to the end of the nature trail. By the time I finished, I knew it was past time to get to the trailhead. I was also huffing and puffing, thanks to the altitude. Spending a few nights in Denver helps with acclimatization, but there’s a big difference between 5,000’ and 12,000’!

From there, I headed towards Lake Granby. I crested the Continental Divide, and passed the headwaters of the mighty Colorado River. Eventually I found my way down into the valley below the Never Summer Mountains. Along this drive, I passed a number of marshy meadows that looked like ideal Moose habitat. At one point, I passed an impressive traffic jam, and was tempted to stop. A Moose sighting would’ve been awesome, but I was already running late. After all, I still had a 10-mile uphill hike ahead of me.

I reached the town of Lake Granby, and found my way to the North Inlet Trailhead. I parked, organized my gear, and walked back up the road a short distance to the Tonahutu Trailhead. I finally hit the trail at 11:15, which was a couple of hours later than I had originally planned.

I marched north through a Lodgepole Pine Forest devastated by pine beetles. Most of the trees were dead or dying, as evidenced by the numerous brown needles. Right at noon, I heard the first rumbles of thunder originating over the Never Summer Mountains immediately to the west. I didn’t want to eat lunch in the rain, so I stopped for a quick bite. While I was eating, a couple passed by, heading towards the trailhead. They were the only people I saw all day.

A bit later, I reached the edge of Big Meadows. Big Meadows is well named, as they run for several miles along Tonahutu Creek. The trail generally stays in the woods along the edge of the meadows, but there are many nice views along the way. I kept my eye out for Moose, but didn’t see any browsing during my hike. As I walked, thunder continued to rumble, but the rain held off.

Eventually the meadows ended, and I passed a couple of campsites before ascending to Granite Falls. The falls were really more like a big cascade, but it was a nice spot regardless. After a short break, I continued up the valley to Tonahutu Meadows. This was perhaps the nicest part of the day’s hike. The meadow was lovely, and the aspens on a nearby hillside were beginning to turn gold. There’s a nice campsite here, right at the edge of the meadow. If I do this hike again, I’ll probably try to stay here.

From there, I continued uphill, passing another camping area before reaching the junction to Haynach Lake. I took the side trail, and climbed steeply for the first time all day. Beyond the steep grade, I continued to climb before reaching another junction in a narrow meadow. Here I picked up a path leading to the Haynach Campsite. A few moments later, I reached the camping area, above gurgling Haynach Creek. There was one other tent in the area, upstream from where I was. I was cold and tired, and wasn’t feeling particularly picky about my camping location. I pitched the tent nearby, as the thunder resumed. I was on my way to hang my food, when it began to sleet and snow. This was quickly accompanied by thunder and the occasional bolt of lightning. I gave up on hanging the food, and tossed the bags into the tent’s vestibule. If a bear wanted my granola bars, he could come and get ‘em! I dove into the tent, and dozed as the sleet pelted the tent.

I slept for an hour and a half, waking at 7pm. Rain drops were still splattering against the tent fly, but I took a quick peak outside. The storm had mostly passed, but the ground was covered in a thin layer of ice! I got up, and boiled water for a freeze-dried dinner. Under the circumstances, I was glad I’d brought one. After wolfing down a hearty bag of turkey tetrazzini, I hunted for a place to hang the food. Once that was accomplished, I drifted down to the creek to filter water. By the time my chores were complete, it was fully dark, and the night had turned quite chilly. Despite my evening nap, the high elevation, and more bugling elk, I didn’t have any trouble getting to sleep that night.

THE RACE IS ON

I was up before sunrise the next morning. Although the hike that day wasn’t particularly long, I knew that most of it would be above treeline. With afternoon thunderstorms once again in the forecast, I needed an early start. Despite those time constraints, I was eager to make the side trip up to Haynach Lakes before I left the area. I grabbed ay camera, a snack, and a water bottle, and left camp bound for the head of the valley.

I wandered up through a series of frozen meadows. The grass and the evergreens were decorated with ice following the previous night’s storm. Sheer peaks towered all around me, as the sun struggled to climb above the high ridge immediately to the east. I entered a wooded area, and spooked a small herd of elk. I saw a handful of females, but only heard a single male bellowing and beating his chest.

The hike was longer than I expected. It was a relief when the lake finally came into view, illuminated by morning’s first light. The lake is a beauty, surrounded by sheer, rugged mountains. I was a bit enamored with the view, until I happened to look down the valley to the south. The vista in that direction was staggering. A series of small lakes and ponds, surrounded by icy evergreens, marched towards a cluster of magnificent, snow-covered peaks. I believe my jaw actually dropped when I first gazed in that direction.

The trail had bypassed this stretch of the valley on the ascent, but I wasn’t going to miss it a second time. I wandered down along Haynach Lake’s outlet, walking through the frozen grass. I could’ve spent all morning here, but as the day brightened, I was reminded of my time constraints. I hustled to rejoin the trail, and raced back towards camp. There, I had a quick breakfast and broke camp in record time. Despite my best efforts, it was still 9:30 before resumed the hike.

I rambled back down to the main trail, before beginning the climb up towards Bighorn Flats. On the way, I passed through a rocky gully and a final stretch of forest. Here I encountered a large deadfall that was difficult to pass. I eventually found my way around and left the final trees behind on my way up the mountain.

A few minutes later, I caught up with two of groups of hikers. Once was doing to same backpacking trip as me, but had started at Bear Lake, on the far side of the Continental Divide. They were on their final day of their trip. Another group of guys was basecamping at Haynach Lakes. They were taking a morning dayhike up to Flattop Mountain. We all briefly discussed how long the weather would hold out for us, before I moved on towards the alpine country.

A few clouds were already scattered about that sky, despite the morning hour. They didn’t look threatening, but I knew that could change quickly. I climbed up through the open terrain of Bighorn Flats, and before long I was surrounded by snowy peaks. The best view was southeast, towards the Continental Divide. There were some incredibly dramatic mountains there, including the King of the park, Longs Peak. Longs was already shrouded in clouds, but they didn’t diminish the mountain’s beauty.

I hiked for two hours above treeline before I reached Flattop Mountain. Near the top, I strolled along the Continental Divide by the brink of a small but elegant glacier. Storm clouds filled the valley below, but I was long past the point of no return. As I climbed the final stretch towards the crest of the mountain, the first snowflakes began to fall. At least the thunder and lightning was holding off thus far.

On Flattop, I encountered a surprising number of dayhikers who’d come up from Bear Lake. None of them seemed particularly concerned about the weather, despite the falling snow and the building clouds. I decided not to worry about it either, as I was long past the point of being able to do anything about it. At the junction to Bear Lake, I even wandered farther up the mountain, away from my day’s destination. The area was too spectacular to pass by, regardless of the weather.

At the crest, I drifted over towards the base of Hallett Peak. From there, the summit would’ve been an easy climb. However, I knew the weather could turn even worse in an instant, and I was already miles from the nearest trees. Some folks were actually heading up, but I wasn’t about to break one of the Cardinal rules of hiking in Colorado – never go for a summit after noon. Instead, I circled the shoulder of Hallett Peak, until I had an up-close and personal view of Longs Peak. After enjoying the scenery, I backtracked a bit before stopping for a quick lunch. The sun had actually come out, lulling me further into a false sense of security.

The sun didn’t last long. A few minutes later, clouds began building again to the west. I packed up and started down, hiking cross country towards the immense cairns marking the trail down into the North Inlet Valley. As I descended, I was treated to eye-bulging views of Lake Granby beyond the mountains.

I reached the trail just as another backpacker was passing by. Allister was going my way, and he proved to be an interesting person to talk to. Allister was from New Zealand, but like me, was in Colorado on a business trip. Apparently we think alike – neither of us was willing to pass up on the opportunity to hike for free in the Colorado Rockies!

We chatted briefly, but picked up our pace as the storm swept towards us. The thunder was growing increasingly violent, and we were still well above treeline. At least we weren’t up on the ridge, or even worse, Hallett Peak. We were practically running down the trail as the storm approached. As we hurried on, we dropped into the mouth of an impressive canyon. Once we dropped below the rim, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief. Still, I didn’t relax my pace until I reached the first significant stand of Pines. There I paused for a break, as the first rain drops began to fall.

Allister caught up to me shortly, and we chatted again briefly before parting ways. I put on rain gear, but took it off again a few minutes later as the storm passed by. Another descent, partially along a creek and partially on switchbacks, ensued. It wasn’t even 4pm when I reached the turn to the North Inlet Junction campsites. I headed that way, and took one of the three available sites. Since there wasn’t anybody around, I had my choice. Unfortunately, all of the sites were crowded with dead Lodgepole Pines. I pitched my tent under the tree that looked least likely to fall, and set about doing my camp chores.

It was still fairly early, and I debated making the side hike up to Lake Nokoni. The weather was still iffy though, and I wasn’t sure if 3 hours would give me enough time. In the end, I decided to relax at camp. I did wander over to North Inlet Falls, which is more of a cascade than a true waterfall, but is a pretty spot nonetheless. Then I headed back to camp, and dined on jambalaya and sausage. After dinner, I struggled to stay up to see the stars, but the evening chill quickly drove me into the tent.

BACKWARDS SEASONS

I got up early the next morning for a quick hike up to Lake Nokoni and Lake Nanita. My map showed the one-way distance at 2.4 miles, so I was confident I could make the round-trip and still break camp by noon. However, the first trail sign I passed showed the distance at 3.5 miles. That’s a pretty big difference, when you double it for the round-trip. I didn’t have much choice but to hike on and find out which one was correct.

The climb was steady but the grade was reasonable. There would’ve been many nice views over the North Inlet canyon, but the rising sun blinded me when I looked in that direction. Fortunately, I was able to take in all of those vistas on the return hike.

After a bit more than an hour, I reached Lake Nokoni. This is a lovely lake hemmed in by sheer peaks. After a short break, I continued the climb, cresting a ridge before descending to Lake Nanita. If Lake Nokoni was pretty, Lake Nanita was gorgeous! It’s an alpine beauty, complete with a small rocky island. I invested considerable time and effort into circling the lake, but it was worth it. At the far side, I had a fine view of the sheer face of Ptarmigan Mountain rising from the shore. A ¾ moon hung just above the summit of the peak.

I enjoyed a break there before heading back. The hike had taken longer than expected, so I didn’t have a lot of time at my leisure. Usually, when the map and the trail signs disagree, the signs are wrong, but not in this case. It took me 1:45 to reach Lake Nanita. Even though it was uphill, there’s no way it took me almost 2 hours to go 2.4 miles. I suspect that the 2.4 miles was to the first lake, but that isn’t what the map showed.

I returned to camp at noon. After a quick lunch, I broke camp and headed for the car. Unfortunately, I still had to go another 7.5 miles. Luckily the trail was pretty easy, despite the occasional rocky stretch. Highlights of the hike included the well named Big Pool and Cascade Falls. Big Pool is an impressive cascade and swimming hole that was full of HUGE trout. Cascade Falls is also well-named. The creek tumbles over a long drop, but it’s really more of a series of cascades and drops than a single waterfall. I did spend a few minutes checking it out, but didn’t find much there in the way of photographic opportunities.

From here on out, I started seeing people for the first time since the previous afternoon. I knew I was getting close to the trailhead, as most of them were only dayhiking. Towards the end of the hike, I passed a series of meadows. One of them had a stand of aspens that had already turned orange and gold. In the woods nearby, I found some late summer flowers still in bloom.

I reached the car at 4pm, and began the drive back to Denver. From Lake Granby, I was treated to some nice parting views of the snow-covered peaks to the east. Along here were more colorful aspens, as well as lots of golden Cottonwoods. Beyond Lake Granby, I drove through a downpour. Up at Berthoud Pass, the rain threatened to change to snow, as the car’s temperature gauge dropped into the 30’s. Despite the rain, I was still treated to some nice views of the snowy Indian Peaks Wilderness. Beyond the pass, the weather cleared, and two 14er’s, Grays and Torreys, loomed across the valley. As I descended, an entire mountainside covered in golden aspens came into view. Although I was in a hurry to get back to Denver, I had to check it out.

I turned off the main highway towards Big Bend Campground. The road took me away from where I’d hoped to go, but a minute later I rounded a curve and spotted another gloriously colorful hillside ahead of me. I attempted a few photos here, although the overcast sky wasn’t cooperative.

From there, I headed directly back to Denver, stopping only once for fast food. I spent that night at a hotel near the airport, and caught a flight home early the next morning.

This was fifth hiking trip in Colorado, and it was definitely one of the best. I highly recommend the North Inlet / Tonahutu loop in Rocky Mountain National Park, particularly if you take the time to include side trips to the Haynach Lakes and Lake Nanita. I’m definitely looking forward to my next opportunity to hike in the Colorado Rockies.

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