(This is the fifth in a series of posts about our Colorado vacation)
On the Monday after Bike MS, we bid a fond farewell to Snowcatcher and the Lizard, packed up our bikes and bags, and headed down the road to Boulder to spend a few days with my favourite nephew and his wife.
On Wednesday we went hiking. Potential routes were discussed: "We could do Mitchell Lake," said Nevvy. "It's a 2-mile round trip. Or we could continue on to Blue Lake - that would be a 5-mile round trip." "I can do 5 miles," I said. (What the heck was I thinking? Is there something in the Colorado air that inspires ludicrous over-confidence in my own physical stamina?)
Mr. M, who knows his limits, wisely stayed behind to sit on the patio in the sun and catch up on some work-related reading. Meanwhile, we three headed up gloriously scenic Highway 119, on our way to Roosevelt National Forest and the Brainard Lake Recreation Area.
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The parking lot closest to our chosen trailhead is inaccessible, so we park as far in as we can and "hike to the hike" (as Nevvy's Wife puts it).
Nevvy and I setting off across the parking lot, backpacks laden with water and snacks:
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| Photo courtesy of Nevvy's Wife |
I feel dizzy and breathless, overwhelmed by elevation (or possibly the spectacular views):
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| Photo courtesy of Nevvy's Wife |
After gasping quietly for 20 minutes or so, the dizziness clears and breathing becomes easier. Still, I welcome any excuse to stop and pose for a photo:
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| Photo courtesy of Nevvy's Wife |
Eventually we reach the trailhead and begin the hike proper.
Words cannot do justice to the beauty of this area; even the best photos fall short. But that doesn't stop me from snapping away:
Who can resist the magical rush and tumble of a mountain stream? Impossible to capture the true charm of its dancing foam....
The gal at the park entrance has warned us of snow on the trail. Though dry at first, the path soon becomes a trickling downhill stream, which then turns to squelchy mud and rock ... and then the snowy bits begin. Rather large snowy bits - perhaps banks would be a better word - of all sorts and conditions of snow. Soft snow, packed snow, ridged snow, piled snow: sometimes barring our way, often obscuring it completely. (Luckily Nevvy's Wife has snapped a photo of the trail map.)
I slither along, doing my best to keep up with my companions, who kindly moderate their pace for my middle-aged benefit. "Hiking", to me, has always meant a reasonably groomed - or at least visible - trail, with the occasional log or rocks to negotiate; this arduous scramble over and along a series of miniature alps is something else. (My twist-prone ankles don't like it at all.)
"It's another quarter of a mile to Mitchell Lake," says Nevvy. "Are you okay, or do you want to turn back?" "I can make it to Mitchell Lake," I reply. "But I'm afraid Blue Lake is out of the question."
More scrambling and sliding along the snow-packed trail, and then we've reached it:
Mitchell Lake, the reward for our labour. Definitely worth the climb:
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| Photo courtesy of nevvy's wife |
Mitchell Lake lies serenely under Mt. Audubon, a 13,223-foot summit in the Indian Peaks wilderness.
Nevvy and his wife sit down for a snack, while I prowl around spying out wildflowers near the lake's edge. These tiny pink buds are less than 1/4" long:
There's also a small and fascinating black-headed grass:
When everyone is fed and rested, we head back down the trail, passing yet more glorious views:
Back at the trailhead we turn right, then walk across to Long Lake.
Long Lake offers a spectacular panorama of the Indian Peaks, but there are also smaller beauties nearer to hand:
The out-and-back Long Lake trail is blocked by both snow and a sign that reads "Closed for Revegetation". So after a few photos...
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| Photo courtesy of Nevvy's Wife |
...we turn back and follow the path to Brainard Lake, though our progress is rather slow. "I brake for wildflowers," I tell my companions.
And there are some lovely specimens here. This looks to me like a kind of buttercup:
And these, like pearly everlasting:
These unidentified lavender beauties are tiny and breathtakingly lovely:
Here's the black-headed grass again, open this time:
A very rare Rocky Mountain Dandelion (ahem):
No idea what these are (other than gorgeous):
More of the buttercup-ish blossoms, with Nevvy and his wife in the background:
I am out of my depth here. Toadflax perhaps? It comes in both cream...
...and purple.
Really, these wildflowers deserve a post of their own.
Soon we are back at Brainard Lake, where we started. What a glorious spot.
Nevvy's Wife looks at a watchlike thing on her wrist (here I reveal my technological ignorance), and announces we've walked 4.59 miles.
Not quite 5 miles, but pretty close!
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Two days later our Colorado vacation had ended; we set off on the road for Wisconsin and home.
It seemed ironic to take a vacation that involved so much strenuous physical activity. (My usual ideal of relaxation involves sitting around reading or crocheting.) But here, in the space of seven days, I rode, walked, and hiked farther and higher than I've ever done before. And, apart from some painful moments on the bike, it was wonderful. Voluntary hard exercise, especially in such beautiful surroundings, certainly has a way of clearing the mental cobwebs and reducing everyday problems to their proper proportion. (And if you're lucky, it shaves a few pounds off the waist and hips. I was lucky.) :)
A very good vacation.
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