9/17-9/22: Mountains Don't Care

No they do not.  Now I can't say just why mountains have such an unsympathetic temperament- but I also can't say that we weren't warned.

As we left the foothills of the Rockies that make up the western boundary of Fort Collins and Loveland, we climbed several thousand feet up Big Thompson Gorge on Highway 34.  Winding our way through the gorge, jagged outcroppings of rock became more pronounced and ever looming, yet the mild weather and abundance of sunshine left us in a gregarious mood.  Upward and upward we asked our Ford Ranger to tax all four of its cylinders but it was reluctant to press out of third gear.  We quickly realized that the "Slow Vehicle Pull Off" areas had been designated for our overly ambitious request of our underly ambitious engine. 

The town of Estes Park, nestled in a mountain crest just east of Rocky Mountain National Park, was a welcome sight.  We knew we were close.  We pushed onward through the shop-strewn main street and continued on Highway 36 to the Beaver Meadows Visitor Center.

I had looked at booking what I call an "RV Campsite (you know- the smell of frying bacon wafting in the air as you eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches-again, the sounds of generators powering satellite cable receivers, the sights of your neighbors going about their daily RV lifestyle merely feet from your treeless site)" in the park several days earlier.  Because we were entering the park during the weekend, all of the nearly 400 RV campsites in the park were booked.  "Of Course!" I thought to myself, this park is a short hop for the Denver weekend warriors.  What a stupid idea to make such a popular park our first destination.  After all, one of our goals was to find a little solitude on this trip.  I was feeling distraught, but Juliet insisted we go to the back country office anyway just to see if maybe we can squeeze into a back country campsite within the next week. 

The two very hospitable rangers had only one question for us when we inquired about permits.  "When do you want to start?" My spirits were lifted.  We decided to take one day to do a day hike and get acclimated and then head off for five nights, covering a fifty mile loop that would take us over Flattop Mountain (12,500ft), south down the North Inlet Trail, back north on the Tonahutu Trail, and finally completing our loop by crossing up and over Flattop Mountain on our last day. 

But as I was saying, the mountains don't care.  They don't care that we left our hometown telling our friends and family that we were taking a cue from the migratory birds and heading for warming weather.

We camped at the base of Flattop Mountain during our first night.  That night, we fell asleep to the sound of freezing raining hitting our tent.  The next day we awoke at sun rise and hurried up Flattop in hopes of eluding the afternoon storms.  Below the treeline it was cold but with the prospect of a blue sky allowing the rising sun to warm us.  Once above the treeline, however, we fought the deafening howl of head-on wind for several hours as we drug our feet through snow and ice. 

Alas, being the hardy Northern Minnesotans we are, we didn't think much of a little snow and ice.  We pushed on following the massively piled rock carins that marked the trail- an indication that a snow covered trail here was not an anomaly. 

The rest of the week was cold, but pleasant when wearing all clothing that one had brought, while hiking uphill, in the sun.  The other challenge we faced was a food shortage due to having only one bear canister.  It is required that back country campers use bear canisters while hiking through the park.  Juliet and I constantly reminded each other of our one rule for the trip: "No Whining."  It was funny at first but soon became a major source of annoyance as persistent cold and growing hunger fueled our competitive spirits.  Upon a post-hike reflection, we realized that we had been humbly reminded that being able to eat until you are full every meal is a luxury that we have come to take for granted and a luxury not afforded to many.

Back country camping in Rocky Mountain National Park was, overall, everything we expected it to be.  Challenging but rewarding with sweeping views, an abundance of wildlife including moose and elk, and as much solitude as we have had in a long time.  In fact, most of the back country campsites are one-party only offering a sense of wilderness immersion not found in many other parks.  Back county camping also proved much cheaper- we paid $20 for all five nights of camping compared to the $20/per night fee charged at the RV sites. 

We are meeting up with two friends from Duluth this weekend, Peter and Sara.  Sara is actually living in Colorado for the season and we may go check out her place as we continue west.  Then it will be down I-70, leaving the Rocky Mountains behind as we descend into the Utah desert.

julietandjon@gmail.com

Getting acclimated to the altitude- our day hike

First morning- making oatmeal... it's cold

Boulder fever

Back country Tuna Melt - anything to stay warm

Sun highlighting a distant Flattop Mountain

A rocky mountain sunrise captured by Juliet

Tundra walk at 12,000ft

Post-hike chaos