Elusive Pikas

Tuesday I ventured into RMNP to climb Sundance Mountain.  It was the first time I had been in the park since July 17th when Laura and I climbed Storm Peak with our friend Aaron.  After bushwhacking up Storm Peak, we had our planned ascent of Mt. Lady Washington cut short by an approaching storm.  Here is the view from the summit of Storm Peak with the massive north face of Longs Peak towering above us:

We navigated the ridge towards the Keyhole (the easiest route used to climb Longs Peak) and then descended into the Boulderfield.

While Mt. Lady Washington was tantalizingly close, we made the wise decision to head back via the Longs Peak Trail.  While we made as fast a descent as possible, we were still caught in the thunder and lightning hailstorm for over 2 hours on the way down, as there are many miles of trail above treeline.  With every step I took, my not-at-all waterproof boots expelled water like a saturated sponge.  Needless to say, due to the wet and miserable nature of the hike, I didn't take any more photos that day.

The weather in the mountains wasn't looking promising Tuesday as I approached Sundance Mountain.  The easiest way to climb this mountain is from Trail Ridge Road, as it's only about a mile and 1000 vertical feet to the eastern summit.  I parked opposite the Ute Trail and bushwhacked towards the summit (there is no trail).  The approach is from the left in the photo below.

Because this is an easy climb, my real goal was finding beasts.  I thought I had seen some elk up on the tundra, but if so, they were gone by the time I got there.  Luckily, I found a couple of fatties kickin' it in a rocky area.

This guy was peepin' things when I showed up, no doubt unaware of my harmless nature.  After a while I looked over towards his nearby chill buddy, and lo and behold, he was yawning!!

No morning coffee for this marmot!!

Once I reached the eastern summit, I stupidly sprained my ankle while boulder hopping.  I decided to abandon the traverse to the western summit of the mountain at that point, as it was going to take longer with a bum ankle and the weather didn't look promising.

On the way down I heard some pikas and decided to try and get some photos.  So far pikas have been much less cooperative than marmots.  It took me a long time to spot this guy, as he kept calling, then ducking behind the rocks.

This was shot with my telephoto lens and then cropped; you can imagine how hard it is to spot one of these guys.  I was able to get a little closer, and got one more picture of him sounding the alarm before he darted away.

On the way back, I passed this tarn with views of Longs Peak and the Continental Divide in the distance.

Back near the road, I found some awesome marmot condos.  Unfortunately, my presence scared them away.

The sun was playing peek-a-boo all morning, and I waited awhile hoping the marmots would reappear.  They didn't.  When the sun finally came out for a few seconds, I took some photos of this very attractive marmot neighborhood:

As the storm clouds started to approach, I decided to call it quits and head home to nurse my ankle.  Hopefully I'll be sufficiently healed to climb Longs Peak this weekend.  Longs Peak is the highest mountain in RMNP at 14,255 feet and the 15th highest mountain in Colorado.  Because it's a long hike and thunder storms are attracted to the mountain (usually developing in late morning or early afternoon), we're aiming for a 3:30am trailhead departure.

Hiking and Drinking

A long day, an even longer blog post.

Taking the advice of a friendly hiker we met drinking beer on the trail last month (him, not us), we did a loop hike this Saturday, starting at the Storm Pass trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park.  NO DOGS FOOLS!!!

What was initially a short loop intended to keep us out of the high country on a potentially stormy day, became more and more ambitious as the day progressed, until we had been hiking for 10 1/2 hours and covered at least 14 or 15 miles.  Before embarking on our journey, we had decided to add a bushwhack up nearby 11,482 foot Half Mountain (at the far left in the above photo) to the loop we had been recommended.  We followed the Boulder Brook Trail for the first 2.5 miles on a pleasant climb devoid of tourists, dogs, horses, and other unpleasant animals sometimes encountered in the wild.  The solitude of the woods was interupted often by the thundering sound of nearby Boulder Brook, which was absolutely slammin' with snowmelt.

At one point a hummingbird mistook Laura for a giant flower.  After buzzing around her bright pink shirt, it couldn't find a place to extract nectar, and moved on disappointed it hadn't found the world's largest flower (photos of the shirt appear later).  At the junction with the North Longs Peak Trail, we started our bushwhack southwest through the forest.

Without the aid of my battery deficient GPS, we ended up at Point 12,158 (700 feet higher than Half Mountain), the first of our extra mileage.  After being pummeled by an absolutely ferocious wind on the summit, we made our way north towards Half Mountain.  Despite the clouds and wind, there were no thunderstorms or rain.  Here is a view looking down at Glacier Gorge and Lake Mills from the saddle between the two peaks.

After a quick snack on Half Mountain, we started the descent down to the North Longs Peak Trail.  Despite the awesome marmot habitat, we saw none; only a few pikas were heard (but not seen) on way down.  Route finding was rather easy without the GPS, and after a very steep descent, we were back on the trail near Glacier Creek.

Glacier Creek was massively out of control.  It was loud, angry, and definitely not a good place to go for a swim.  At this point, the initial plan had us returning to the Glacier Gorge trailhead and taking the shuttle bus back to our car (as recommended by the aforementioned beer drinking hiker), but Laura suggested a short side trip to see The Loch, 1.5 miles in the opposite direction.  Once there I suggested adding another mile to see Glass Lake and Sky Pond.  Why not?  We hadn't seen any wildlife (hummingbirds, bumble bees, and butterflies don't count), and for a day that was supposed to be stormy, the weather was still very cooperative.

After a mile or so of hiking through the woods, we had to climb a very steep snowbank to gain access to the basin where Glass Lake lies.  It got dangerously steep past the point of this photo, but our perseverance would soon be rewarded when we reached the lake.

As we were about to leave, I spotted a rather good looking marmot making his way around the lake, no doubt returning home from a visit with his lady friend.  He came all the way around the lake to the outlet, where Icy Brook was racing along.

He was going to cross the creek!!

Sizing things up, he hopped from rock to rock with amazing dexterity!!

Marmots may look like lazy fatties, but they can really move when they have to.

As he made his way across, it became clear that he was heading straight towards us.

He darted behind a rock, and then all of a sudden, we were standing face to face.

We exchanged knowing glances, and then as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

While we only saw one marmot that day, we saw one totally awesome, never to be forgotten, marmot.  We decided to abandon the short climb to Sky Pond, as the clouds were threatening and it was getting quite late.  On the way down, we helped an older couple that had slid down the steep snowbank.  I retrieved one of their hiking poles, but the other was in a precarious spot right above a crevasse.  After watching the husband stubbornly retrieve the pole, it started to rain, and we rushed down the trail 4+ miles to the Glacier Gorge trailhead and our shuttle bus ride.

When we noticed that our trailhead was not on the list of bus stops, I started to think, that perhaps, listening to the advice of strangers drinking beer in the woods is not always a wise move.  Then when the bus driver told us he didn't stop there, I really started to question my judgement.  The driver told us the next closest stop was Bierstadt Lake.  How far we asked?  A mile away from the Storm Pass Trailhead.  I decided 2+ miles of trail hiking beat a mile of road walking, so we were off.  The trail paralleling the road was unsurprisingly devoid of people, and we made good time, reaching our car at 6:15pm, 10.5 hours after we had left.

At this point I noticed another parking area a short distance down the road.  Less then 2/10's of a mile away was the Bierstadt Lake trailhead, and a couple of lessons learned: it's OK to trust jovial beer drinking hikers, it's not OK to trust incompetent bus drivers.

In Search of Moose

I went in search of moose earlier this week, as they are often seen on the west side of RMNP.  Laura had seen them there a couple of weeks ago, and I was determined to see them myself, especially since I've only seen moose once, ever, in my life.*

* OK, Laura blew up my spot; I saw quite a few moose in Alaska, but somehow I managed to forget that trip.  Probably because Alaska is a magical fantasy land and I thought it was all a dream...
Edit: I've seen moose once ever, in the Continental US, in my life.

On my way I decided to stop for a short hike on the Ute Trail, since the wildlife viewing is always good there, and our last trip into the high country didn't yield much.  Booyah!!  Practically as soon as I left my car, I spotted my first marmot on a rock up the hillside.  I was so focused on spotting marmots, I literally walked right past a couple of elk grazing next to the trail.

I moved past them a bit and took some photographs as they slowly moved through the tundra.

It seems the elk have mostly left the lower elevations, as I again saw none in the lower meadows and near town, but there were quite a few up on the tundra kickin' it with the marmots.

It didn't take long to find this marmot doin' what marmots do best: straight chillin'.

Part of the charm of marmots is their relaxed demeanor.  Marmots keep it so real.  Nice sunny day?  No predators around?  Why not find a comfy rock with a view, and get some good relaxing time in?  Marmots just know how to chill better than any other beast I've encountered.  I didn't see any really close marmots as on previous trips, but I sure did observe a lot of maxin' and relaxin'.

This guy was a little more alert than the last marmot, but I'm sure the minute I left, he rolled on his back and started sipping his beverage of choice.  After "hanging out with the fatties" (as Laura's friend Sharlene dubbed this blog) for awhile, the clouds started to roll in, and I decided it was time to head out to find moose.

After crossing the Continental Divide, I entered the valley on the west side of the park where the moose like to hang out.  Soon I saw what I had been looking for: a beast jam ahead!!!  As I pulled up I was a bit disappointed as it was only a group of elk crossing the road, though two of the males were larger than any I had seen to date.  I got a picture of this smaller guy crossing the road, as the idiot park ranger had already scared the bigger elk away by the time I had the camera ready.

I drove around some more, but as you can see by the pictures, I saw no moose.  The weather began to worsen, and I headed home still waiting for my first Colorado moose sighting.

Indian Peaks - Part 2

On Sunday we went hiking with Laura's labmate Greg and his significant other Ingrid.  The objective this time was Pawnee Pass and hopefully Pawnee Peak.  We ditched the snowshoes for this jaunt, and I brought the beast lens instead.  Despite hiking in the area just the day before, the sheer amount of snow we encountered in the woods was still mindboggling to me.

While snow conditions were good (snowshoes were not needed), there was substantially more snow on this trail than the one we took the day before.  This was probably because the Pawnee Pass Trail stays at a lower (forested) elevation for longer, as well as being a little closer to the Continental Divide.  While a lot of snow has melted, there are still places where the snow is probably 10 feet deep in the woods.  Here is a comparison of the trailhead in February and July:

One more comparison showing how much snow has melted:

While it's amazing how much snow was on the ground back in February, it's even more amazing how much still remains further up the trail.  Here Laura crosses a bridge that has been totally submerged by snow melt.  At first, I didn't even realize there was a bridge here!!

Shortly into the hike, our feet were soaked, and would remain soaked for the rest of the day.  After losing the trail frequently in the first few miles and being greatly slowed by the massive amounts of snow, we were greeted by this ridiculous waterfall above Long Lake:

Words (and pictures) cannot describe this insane waterfall.  Raging melt water had punctured a hole in this giant snowbank, but then somehow retreated behind the snow and disappeared.  It didn't even look real when we were there.  If it weren't for the roar of the raging water, you'd swear it was an optical illusion.  I'm certain I'll ever see a waterfall this awesome again; I don't know how you could possibly top it.  Perhaps if a kayaker came shooting out of it, or something equally preposterous happened.  But even that probably wouldn't seem odd, since the waterfall already seemed to defy all physical laws.  A closer view:

After soaking it in, we climbed around the waterfall and discovered its source: Lake Isabelle.

At this point the trail was completely obscured by snow, so we again just climbed towards our destination.

My thoughts of glissading were soon interrupted by this feathery fellow.  A Ptarmigan!!!

The birds have shed their winter coats, and blend in pretty well with the rocks now.  They are easily approached and I was able to snap some good shots thanks to the aforementioned beast lens.  In the first photo you can see their unusual feathery feet and legs.

At this point, I still hadn't seen a single marmot, and wouldn't the rest of the day.  I got a few brief glimpses of pikas, but nothing else.  Thankfully the ptarmigan was a nice change of pace and also a willing photographic subject.

After reaching the pass and summiting Pawnee Peak we turned back quickly as there were threatening clouds to the west.  We skipped a few good glissades that may have been overly steep (according to someone else...).  I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity at the next major snowfield though!

After the first glissade, prior skepticism vanished and glissade mania set in; everyone was having an awesome time.  We hiked up one snowfield two extra times, just so we could glissade down again.  Despite miserably wet feet, all discomfort was forgotten.  Here Laura races down the second slope:

We reached the flat part of the trail way to soon and some sadness set in, knowing our fun was over.  Despite the general lack of wildlife, it turned out to be an epic adventure, as the glissading was once again the highlight of the day.  Next winter is going to be crazy!!!