Vacation - A Mixed Bag

The week leading up to vacation many people asked me if I was getting excited. No, no I wasn't. I think I had some deep knowing that this trip would not be one of our best. For some reason, I hadn't spent much time scrutinizing the details of our journey as I usually do in excited preparation, and checking in with the weather forecast only dampened my spirits (rain, rain and rain). I don't think my pre-vacation outlook created a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it did help me keep expectations low, which was an asset on this Rocky Mountain adventure.

Vacation Stats:

• Hiked 84 miles over 7 days = 12 miles per day
• Ascended over 14,000 ft.
• All hiking done at altitudes between 8,000 ft. - 12,300 ft.
• Summitted Flattop Mountain twice from different directions
• Encountered 5 Moose, 3 Bull Elks, too many female Elks to count, Marmots, Pika's, Ptarmigan, Black Tail Deer, many birds and rodents

Vacation Story:
Four hours after leaving hot & humid Wisconsin, we arrived in rainy, 50° Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). It was colder then the weather forecast predicted. Images of catching a tan while hiking under bright blue 75° skies were replaced with past memories of layers, shoulders hunched with shivers and nights spent in a fetal position. It's common to have afternoon storms in the mountains, and with this being the first day of vacation, I kept a positive attitude with this knowledge. When we pulled into our car campground site in Moraine Park, I felt confident that the sun would return and all would be well. And it did. We set up camp, ate our foot long Subway Veggie Delight and went for an evening walk before the Ranger Program on "Birding in RMNP". On our walk we were treated to the emergence of a herd of female elk in the meadow near our site with one lone bull elk sniffing butts and bugling his mating call. As dusk fell, we mosied over to the campground amphitheater for the ranger program, where Joe Walsh's "Rocky Mountain Way" blasted through loud speakers. The funky tune nearly distracted me from the chill settling into my bones, but that chill was persistent and would be with me for many days. The birding program was fun and interesting. The main points I took away are that my favorite birds (hawks, owls, ravens, etc.) are in the Corvid family and that the best way to distinguish a Raven from a Crow is via the tail - Ravens have a V-shaped tail, while Crows are rounded.

The first day of backpacking dawned sunny yet chilly, and windy. Windy is a relative term, so let me be specific. We had sustained 50mph winds most of the day. When hiking above treeline, the strength of a 50mph wind is enough to throw an adult off balance. With temps at 45° each gust of wind (and mind you, it was constant) stripped our bodies of heat. While climbing 3,000ft straight up,up, up from the Bear Lake Trailhead to the summit of Flattop Mountain, I was still shivering. There came a point as we summitted Flattop, and then began our descent along the North Inlet Trail, that I was convulsing. I felt hypothermia would set in. Hiking in this wind, and at altitude with less than 24hrs to acclimatize, is exhausting and rapidly drains one's coping skills. This is why I nearly cried when we'd finally entered treeline again (less wind there), had only a few miles to go to get to camp (we were so tired) and were stymied by a mother (thin, with showing ribs) and baby moose lying in the middle of the trail. They both stood up, facing us with ears standing tall, and we made quick haste to back up and develop a new plan. Joe realized they were near a bend in the switchbacks we were descending, so we were able to bushwhack straight down to the next portion of trail. We reached our Pine Marten backcountry site by mid-afternoon. This would be our home for two nights - an amazing spot above a river gorge, with mountains across from us, lodgepole pines surrounding us and plenty of flat rocks and large log surfaces to spread our gear out on. The wind tapered down and we were in the tent by 6p.m. ready to read and rest. Inside our new Tarptent, we commented on how well it worked the previous night (our first night ever using it) - so luxurious for us to sit up and to each have our own side door! It didn't take long to fall asleep, but our bladders got us up at 11p.m. Though one is loathe to leave a warm sleeping bag to squat in the woods, this provided an opportunity to see a sky without light pollution - we're talking a gazillion stars and the Milky Way. Back in the tent, with eyes closed, we're able to see bright flashes of light. What the heck? We climb back out and see portions of sky below the mountains light up. Could this be the Northern Lights??? Within 30 minutes we had our answer. The lights were lightening strikes at lower elevations. Our clear sky turned purple with clouds and rain began to fall. As the rain pattered on our tent, a fine mist began falling on us. WTF? Remember how we'd just sang the praises of our new tent? Well, what was happening now was condensation within the tent was being released onto us each time rain smacked the ceiling. Cold & rain don't mix. Worry began setting in. Our tent is supposed to be the one place we can rely on to find dryness and warmth...

Day 2. Tap, tap, tap. It's still raining. Condensation has been knocked onto our heads and sleeping bags. It's 40° and I have to use the bathroom. Stat! We decide we're going to hike a short distance to a pit toilet shown on the map (as opposed to digging our own hole in the woods), but end up doing a 2 mile hike without ever finding the commode. The woods it was. There's no better way to have gratitude for the comforts of indoor plumbing down the hall from your bedroom than walking 2 miles to go behind a rock! The rain bugs off by 9a.m. and we hit the trail for a day hike to Lakes Nokoni & Nanita. The uphill climb to these sub-alpine lakes feels easy without our full backpacks, and we easily chat and climb until we reach Lake Nokoni. It's a magical spot (pictured here). Beautiful, peaceful, serene. A Bull Moose grazes on the shore nearby, the sun comes out and though it's still cold, mentally we begin feeling better.

Upward to Lake Nanita - a larger lake that has cold energy and an inhospitable vibe. Clouds return, we descend to Lake Nokoni, and bump into a couple from DC. The woman is wearing a running skort and flimsy shoes. Very strange. The husband is trying to fish, but declares the lake to be dead. We have stilted conversation with them until they head up to Lake Nanita to try their fishing luck. Eventually, we return to Pine Marten Camp and enjoy the warmth of the sun for a couple hours in the late afternoon. Then that night, more rain.

Day 3 is going to be a long trek from Pine Marten to South Meadows, but an easy hike with less than 1,500 ft. elevation gain over 16.5+ miles. It's warmer with filtered sun overhead, and for the first time, we can hike in shorts and a short sleeved shirt. The trail follows a river with lovely scenery - rapids, unique rock outcroppings. We run into multiple hikers, many from the Midwest, and have fun swapping stories of where we've been and where we're going. Inevitably, the conversation turns to who has the latest weather info - everyone is reporting high chances of rain. Phooey! This entire route thus far has been on the North Inlet Trail, but this trail ends near Grand Lake, at which point we pick up the Tonahutu Falls Trail. Grand Lake is a crappy, cheesy tourist spot on a large lake. We make the executive decision to hike into the town for our annual French Fry indulgence, a decision that took one hour out of the day, but may have cost us a dry tent. After french fries and a coke, we return to the trail. The sun has steamed temps up to the high 70's and we break a sweat for the first time since landing in Colorado...and then clouds fight back and by the time we reach our next camp, South Meadows, it's raining. Our wet tent from the previous night does not have the chance to dry out. Temps tumble into the low 50's, our layers come back, but n the bright side we have time to stand in a dry spot watching an almost too-close-for-comfort mother and baby moose. Our camp is another amazing site. A spacious spot with rock faces behind us, pine trees strewn about, and an open view of a vast meadow with a winding creek and mountains on the far side. The moose eat the grass like candy, and begin working their way into our camp! Not cool. "Hey moose, get outta here. We don't want no trouble. Keep it moving, keep it moving." Momma's ears perk up and rotate towards our bellows. She leads her kid in front of our camp on their way to parts unknown.  With a rainy night ahead, there's nothing to do but to turn in early, read and hope for better weather in the morning.

Day 4 brings worse weather. A wet night leaves our tent saturated, again. The color of the sky, suggests a lasting rain. It's cold and much of our gear is damp. Lovely. Today we hike to our final site, Renegade, reportedly another beautiful camp. Early into our hike we come across a sign warning about the dangers of falling trees and unstable earth in an upcoming burn area. The small acreage was struck by lightening and burned for several days about a month before our trip. When we hit it, there was a carpet of wild flowers growing over the scorched earth. Nature already reclaiming itself. Burn areas are always pretty and joyful spots -I love encountering them on trips. We break for lunch on a large boulder overlooking the edge of a burn area. As we finish, two rangers come down the path. They ask where we're headed and when we say, "Renegade", they say, "Good Luck". These rangers are doing backcountry QA - checking on how the sites are holding up, how signage is, etc. If they can't find Renegade, how are we gonna find it? We pour over maps and discuss alternative plans with them for quite some time before shoving off. As we head steeply uphill, it begins to hail. Fifteen minutes later we reach Renegade without issue. It was easy to find, but was the most depressing find ever. In fact, I didn't even realize we'd reached camp. I thought we were stopping to stand under trees to stay a bit dryer. The closed in spot with downed trees, no view and puddled patches of earth (this is where the ten had to go) could not be a site, surely this was just a ugly stretch of forest? Wrong. So, it's 41°, we're wet, our tent is still wet, and we're n the suckiest site ever. Tears threatened my eyes, but I reminded myself that in the wilderness hesitation can be deadly. With that thought in mind, I started pulling out warmer clothing before I got too chilled. Meanwhile, problem-solver Joe was busting up a dead tree trunk, placing threads of pulp into puddles on the tent pad to soak up excess water. He also figured out how to un-dam a huge puddle. Up the wet tent went. In a brief reprieve from the rain, we cooked dinner, fetched water, dried our sleeping bags in an odd moment of fleeting sun, and were in the tent by 5pm with a new round of rain. It was the longest, coldest night of my life. The ground was slanted, causing me to roll onto Joe, Joe onto the tent door, and the tent door onto a puddle. I put every article of clothing on (2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of pants, 2 shirts, a fleece, a puffy jacket, and hat), curled into a ball and waited endlessly for morning to come.

Day 5 - we get to hike out of this mess! 40°, fog, and a steep ascent to the top of Flattop Mountain. We begin with mist, then light rain, then crunchy rain, sleet and by the time we reached the summit, snow. I was a moving popsicle. Flattop Mountain is a popular day hike. Even on a cold wet day, there are people heading up the mountain. We encountered these people on our way down - people, also known as idiots, who were in short sleeved shirts, without water, without gear. Dumb. It's frustrating that people don't educate themselves about the environment they plan to visit. 55° at the trailhead does not mean it will be 55° at the summit. Rangers must lose their minds with people like this. Reaching our car was a relief. Relief to be out of the cold, out of the rain and off the ground. Our next two nights would be spent in a comfortable hotel.

Before heading to the Peak to Peak Hotel, we stopped at the backcountry ranger's office to ask about weather conditions for summiting Longs Peak the next day. We were told it's a no go. Snow and ice have made the non-technical climb unsafe and impassable. Bummer. Frowny face. Though the silver lining was that we'd get to sleep in, rather than getting up at 1a.m. for a 2a.m. climb. We got tips on other good day hikes at safer elevations and were off to a shower and warm bed.

Our final day in Colorado was great. We slept in, took our time, and arrived at the sunny Lumpy Ridge Trailhead by 9a.m. This was a challenging, and scenic loop through Ponderosa Pine, arid sage brush, "lumpy" mountainous formations, views of Longs Peak and the Front Range, creeks and the bizarre oasis of Gem Lake. We hiked 14+ miles, with more than 3,000 ft. of elevation gain, giving us a final thorough work-out. By 11a.m. storms were brewing all around us. Thunder ricocheted off granite towers, adding nervous excitement to the hike. Though storms never hit us, we watched the sky blacken over the Front Range as columns of lightening reached down to Longs Peak repeatedly, and felt grateful that we weren't on that mountain! We ventured into Estes Park for dinner at an exquisite Nepalese restaurant. The decor was authentic, the owners were authentic and the food was out of this world. Less than 24 hours later we would return to hot-n-steamy Wisconsin.

Vacation was a mixed bag. It was often something to be endured, but also provided us with beautiful sights, lots of wildlife encounters, a 3 pound weight loss and cleared our minds of work chaos.