Finding Our Way Back to Sky Pond: 2013's Fifth Trail Adventure.

The Sky Pond Adventure

     The morning was calm, as mornings often are. This particular morning came as a surprise, catching us off-guard in our most muddled state of mind. Mornings have a tendency toward such surprises.

     It was not long before were were again in Estes Park, meandering through the mountains town almost on muscle-memory. The sun welcomed us to Starbucks in all its caffeine-saturated glory. We were quite satisfied, to say the least.

    Today was the day. Sky Pond was in our future!

     Fellow hikers greeted us kindly. Passing by Nymph lake, laden in the lily pads that come only with late summer, we began to recognize the details of our hikes in previous years. Upended trees, spontaneous streams, even the odd outcroppings welcomed us like old friends.

     Perhaps we simply did not see the sign, but the trail dwindled rather suddenly. We were alone amidst a bare, rocky outcropping that rose treacherously out of a small pond. What to do?

     Obviously, this would be a good time to look at a map. However, if you've been following the general thread of our tales, you'll be less-than-surprised to discover that these things are not always implemented according to plan. We spend much more time cackling and enjoying the view than thinking logically.

     Now that the obvious has been clearly stated, we can move along.

     Taking a short water break, we stumbled along the terrain only to stop, mouths agape, and stare in wonder.

     And so it was that, mostly by accident, we came across Lake Haiyaha.

                   [**Please, say that five times fast. I dare you.**]

     This lake is particularly rocky. There is no shore, per say, but rather a series of rocks that dip suddenly beneath the glaze of the lake. Navigating the edge is more like playing an especially dangerous game of leap-frog than it is walking a sandy beach.

     Out time there was spent in awe of the placid waters and unbelievably blue sky. The breeze was slight-- even the air was still cool in the morning sun. Snapping a few photos, the world was a canvas.

     Of course, a willing model was never far away. All I need do was point and smile, and and my dear friend would be climbing a ledge or making ridiculous leaps above and around the rocky shore of Lake Haiyaha. Kindly, Jesus modeled location after location. His kindness, unfortunately, would cost him dearly.


    After our brief detour, we headed back to the main trail and traversed through the Glacier Gorge cut and onto the trail headed for Sky Pond. This, again, was something inescapably familiar. The switchbacks were somehow manageable, the terrain not nearly the burden we recalled from our initial visit. The forest was damp and green, thick with foliage and the tread of boots on gravel.

     Passing meadows and streams rich with memories now faded, Jesus and I finally came upon The Loch.

     This is a vision for which I have no words to describe. Its vibrant landscape is etched forever in my heart. The Loch is home to memorable adventures and surprises-- it is a place of birdsong and laughter.

     Here, Jesus and I exchanged joking glances.
     "Wasn't that harder last time?"
     "I thought so.. was that the end of the switchbacks?"
     "Maybe? I was sure that should have taken longer..."

     No. In our three-year journey, we've come to grips with the mountain. This trail was no less scenic and more than enough to fill our hearts, but our bodies were clearly ready for more of a challenge. And so we set off again.

     Now, our family is a friendly one. We have made many of friends along these trails. Today, we would make friends of an entirely different species.

     Coming along the trail, we see from a distance a gentle doe grazing on the flora at her feet. If not for Suzie, I may have spent all day as a witness to her gentle spirit.

     Wild is wild, though, and we let her eat in peace.

     And finally, friends, we come to The Lake of Glass. 

     From her body springs a beautiful cascade, at her feet a small glacier. These falls are a wonder-- the waters comes to life as it tumbles over the dark rocks jutting out from the belly of the peak, trickling over a sea of stones before jettisoning once more over the peak into the wilderness below. 

     After a brief moment with the glacier it was decided that clambering along a snowy ridge is much more fun in July than it would be in December. The view of the valley below yielded  a plethora of photographs deep in color and rich in heartsong. Only here, only at the foot of Sky Pond can we lose our breath to a vast swath of unadulterated blue sky. 

     In order to make it to the lake itself, hikers must scale the falls. This is a damp stretch of climbing that brings a small slice of challenge to our day. The loss of breath is hard to quantify-- scaling a waterfall is enough to wind most hikers (if only for a moment), but the vision at the top is the experience that takes what remains of the breath in the first few moments.

     The Lake of Glass is a marvel that has left us without words. Just laughter.

     Here, in a bout of laughter, I begged Jesus for the perfect photo opportunity. With ideal lighting and a magnificent frame, I was sure to yield a picture worthy of the effort...right? I pleaded with him until he, ever so gracefully, made his way onto a particularly large rock that had freed itself from the surface of the lake. The first steps were full of confidence until my beautiful friend took a bit of a fall into the Lake of Glass.

     Oh, the shame.

     Smiling all the while, Jesus rescued his phone and himself from the waters. Just so grateful for his cosciousness, we laughed. Aside from the gashes he received as war wounds, the only injury suffered was a bruised ego.

     Who needs pride on the mountain, right? Hopefully...not Jesus.

     Sky Pond, our final destination, was worth the wait. Unlike the rest of the trail, we had never laid eyes on it before-- our initial adventure had left us too winded to manage it all the way.

    With a much-deserved rest for lunch and life, Jesus and I scrambled over the rocks and laid ourselves out in the sun, as if to soak in the magic of the moment, the mountain. We laughed and reminisced in the hour that passed. Serene.

     Sky Pond was such a gift to us.

     Positively magical.

     We wandered down the train, meeting what we later labeled a Marmot. Yellow-bellied, to be precise.  There are not the friendliest creatures-- though the look cuddly, the one we faced down seemed to have the disposition of a raccoon. That is to say...these are not especially pet-able. Don't be fooled by the soft-looking fur or the big brown eyes. Please. 

    At the end of our day, our hearts were rested. These mountains have brought us such joy. There are no words for the heartsong in this wild land. The purple mountains, in all their forested Majesty, welcomed us. Home, you know, is where the heart is. There is no place on earth that feels more like home than our mountains trail. The mountains rise in the west, old friends ushering us into its sacred heart. 

Perhaps it was Mary Oliver who put is best;

"Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?"

Until we meet again, friends. 

Our Fifth Adventure: The Preview

     Sky Pond, the jewel of our hearts, has come again. Before I sit down to pour my heart onto these blank pages, however, I'd like to tease you with a snippet.

     It was an adventure of the heart and soul-- we laughed, bled, and cried. There may or may not have been a few screams echoing through the wildness of the Rocky Mountain National Park. I won't tattle.

     This place is home to my heart. Because I cannot write it all down without butterflies in my chest, I choose to dedicate a few minutes to the funnier moments.

     From The Loch, slightly more than halfway through our journey, we can first catch sight of a landmark on the way to our destination. A landmark, that is. Please note that the Falls are not the endpoint themselves; rather, they serve as an obstacle that we must climb up to get to the last two lakes. 

What, you can't see the falls in that photo? How about I zoom in?

Mmm. Perhaps that's not enough zoom. Let me try one more time-- What's that, Jesus?

What an excellent question, dear. Let me fill you in.

     Alright, alright. It doesn't do it justice, does it? Let's try one last time. 

     These are the Falls leading to Sky pond and Mirror Lake. 

     Tune in for the full recap. Catch you later, gator!

July 9th's Trail Tuesday: The Shambhala Mountain Center Stupa

     Departing from the regularly-schedules Estes Park adventures, Devi joined Diane on a trek up through Fort Collins to the Shambhala Mountain Retreat Center, home to a gorgeous Stupa dedicated to the Buddha. A Stupa, much like a temple, is a landmark dedicated to the wisdom of the Buddha and the peace of his followers.

     The center itself is dedicated to teaching Ayurvedic remedies, meditation, and yogic retreats. We set out somewhere around 7:00am to head down I-70 to Boulder. It was thirty minutes int out journey that we realized that we had taken the wrong highway. Certain that we could wing it, Diane and I elected to travel the foothills rather than go back for the highway.

   That...may have been a dreadful mistake.

    After meandering north along the gentle slopes of the feet of the Rockies, sharing many stories along the way, we came upon Fort Collins! At last, we could redirect ourselves...right?

    No. We were definitely lost in Fort Collins for upwards of 40 minutes before stumbling upon the correct road. Hey, that's not a bad thing. We just spent 4 hours on a two-hour drive. It's no big deal.

    The sanctuary was home to an intangible aura of peace. Every breath there is restful, even our fellow hikers were noticeably more mellow than normal. We were welcomed by two young deer asleep beneath one of the buildings. Such gentle creatures, we didn't want to disturb them.

      Our walk began a short distance from the center and lasted only a mile or so. The trail was decorated with prayer flags depicting various histories and ideas about the Stupa, leading us with their gentle fingers adrift on the wind. A small shrine rises humbly before the Stupa, decked with offerings and memories of those who had visited before us. Trinkets, photos, letters, keychains, even jewelry hung from its arms and obscured every surface. The smallest gestures of love, aren't they?

     The Stupa, its white form ablaze against the deep green of the forest behind it, lay in wait. It was as if my heart hadn't beat in all the years without its guidance. As the inner chamber is a sacred space, this is where the photos must end. The Buddha's eyes, however, will rest with me always-- such a vibrant green, I was on my knees the moment I caught their gaze.

     Our journey down was uneventful, marked by laughter and open-hearted reverence for the mountainous country here. Our trip home, also full of laughter, was aided and abetted by coffee.

 What a Tuesday we had. I am so thankful. Until we meet again.

The Misadventures, Episode 3

     On this, the third Trail Tuesday of 2013, Suzie Q and I rolled out of bed for a late-starting day of hiking. Though we set out with Sky Pond in mind, an unexpected road closure set that back two weeks. However, we were lucky enough to trek the Onahu trails again this summer. Though our second choice was
deemed unfit for hiking, we did aim for Granite Falls when we hit the trail. If you remember, our adventures last year had Devi in the falls themselves, which was more adventurous than she'd planned. We made no such plans for this trip!
     Our drive on the way out took about four hours. Many photo opportunities offered themselves up, and the ranges were more than accomodating this morning. Photogenic and lovely, we were taken aback by the recurring views that beckoned, again and again, to our hearts and eyes. The scenery was magical, setting the way for another gorgeous wild adventure. Our tiredness prompted coffee and wake-up jamming-- we did need to coax our bodies out of the car and onto the trail.

     Trekking, of course, brought back many memories of our hiking family from the summer prior. Zac's laughter was with us along the trail-- carried on the wind, in our hearts, and on our sleeves. Especially green this time around, we marveled at the water as we walked followed its rumble through the wild.

     Wandering through (and only minorly lost once!), we were unable to make it to our b-plan destination, Granite Falls. The damage done by the recent wildfires was clearly etched into the foliage when seen from afar; it was not 200 feet from the fork where we turned off that the blackened edge of the mountain was visible. Encouraged by fellow hikers, we elected to follow the trail to its loop from Onahu Creek to Long Meadows and down the Tonahutu trail. The meadow, breathtaking as always, was full of green and home to a calm river that we recalled fondly. Peeking in at the Field of Gold, we reached the end of our hike only 5 hours after beginning it. We were so jazzed and so proud!!

     As we sauntered through the denser part of the Onahu trail, we suddenly remembered how dead it had been, and how the beetles seemed to ave brought the forest to its knees. This, in the midst of playful nerd-jokes interspersed with sudden philosophical thought, was such a beautiful insight. What was deplorably decayed last season has sprung up anew-- isn't that the way of things?

     All things considered, this was a very short hike. Clocking in at just under 11 miles, both myself and my counterpart came to the end feeling warmed up for the real thing. Oh, silly geese.






     Missing the trail already, and looking forward to our next adventure.

2nd Hike: Lily Lake and the Day of 20 Miles...

Adventure is out there...right?!

Our story begins with a lovely, gentle dawn giving way to a soft morning and the invasive buzzing of an alarm clock. This, like many other mornings, was an early wake-up call for a day filled with mountains and breathless adventure! Rushing to file everything into place in preparation for a day of stumbling, we made a tired couple on our drive up to Estes Park. It was on this fine morning that we inadvertently cut off a white SUV, both preventing their parking and stealing a parking spot that was not, in fact, a parking spot. Oops.

Utilizing some excellent cartography skills, we set a route for Sky Pond that would carry us along glacier falls, adding some mileage to our trip. Setting upon the trail, we became so engrossed in our conversation that we failed to realize that we had made an incorrect turn until it was far too late. Four miles later, we decided upon a different destination. After all, what's life without whimsy?

Little did we know that this misdirection was not the only navigatory failure we would have that day.

Mountains hiking, somehow, brings our hearts to the surface. Sharing stories and thinking of the many challenges we've faced in our short lives, we laughed our way along the long trail. The scenery itself was incredible-- the surrounding peaks were framed by treeline, reaching to the sky in the gentle majesty that I have come to long for in my purple mountain range. Coming across other hikers, they applauded our audacity. Something about this trail seemed difficult to them. We laughed-- so kind! How is it that other hikers are always so jovial? Perhaps it is the fresh mountain air.

It was in this pleasant way that we came upon Lily Lake. The lake itself is quite scenic, despite being quite close to the highway and manicured like a suburban park. After a short break, we began our journey back to the trailhead. "What a short hike this will be," we thought naively. "Only seven miles one-way? Ha!"

Oh, my.

The trek back was also gorgeous, but now it became clear that our incline has been fierce and relatively unnoticed on our first cycle. The trail never seemed to end, looming from on switchback corner to the next. Now quite hot, we stripped ourselves of our pride and whatever upper layer we may have been wearing and continued in jolly, disgruntled silence punctuated by heavy breathing and (mostly) playful taunting.

In case you have not experienced this prior to reading, hiking can-- somehow-- lead to the development of a temporary Sailor's Mouth. Oh, the words that fly. Creative, perforating dialog springs from otherwise civilized mouths. It's natural, I think-- it happens to the best of us.

Reaching the late afternoon, we began to look forward to our drive home. This was, of course, premature fantasy. Less than a mile from our car, we were once again following the wrong trail.

"I don't remember this stream."

"The trail wasn't this sandy, was it?"

"What lovely Aspens! I must have been thinking so intensely that I missed them the first time around."

"I don't remember this trail being open to horseback riders."

No. It was not that we had not been paying enough attention, or that the lighting was different, or that we had simply "missed" these part of the trail. This was, in fact, a different trail.

One bad omen became another. We had passed a group of riders, navigating the trail from atop their sturdy steeds. Looking back, we should have known. Coming upon horses this season seems to be a bad sign for our internal compasses-- both time resulted in an addition of four miles to our journeys. That's an extra (NEEDLESS) 8-miles to our summer total.

Oh, the shame. Two young adults who think they know it all...well, we're learning. The third time is the charm, yeah?

Needless to say, we loved the adventure. The mountain lives in my heart, and there is something secret locked away that our trails coax out of me. Perhaps it is the sound of the wind or the stillness that is anything but still. Perhaps it is the open sky or the rustle of trees.

In any case, this was a lesson in letting the universe be your guide. Clearly, today's journey was not the trek itself, but the experience we shared. Passing along wise words and heartfelt stories is a day well spent, regardless of the foot pain.

With love.

Fern Falls and Odessa Lake

Greetings, Trail Followers.

     Trail Tuesdays begin again! This summer, sadly, the family has whittled down to Devi and Suzie, who sincerely miss their other halves. After the mishaps of this trek, it was clear that we are in need of the balance provided by our dear KT and Zacc, who are living their beautiful lives elsewhere this summer.

      After being...*ahhhem*...a little slow to the trail, we parked a short way from one trailhead, hoping to make the short trek from the Beaver Creek Trailhead to the Fern Falls trailhead. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. Instincts, really, should not be relied upon before we've had our coffee.

      After getting a bit turned around by the horse trails, horseback riders, and a campsite that skewed our internal compasses, we made it to the Fern Falls trailhead after an additional 2 miles. Who needs feet, anyway?

      The trail itself was rich with green foliage, home to the wildlife that make Colorado an unforgettable state. The butterflies along our way were more than friendly, much to the dismay of my companion.

     Passing mammoth obelisks and following the gentle curves of a mountain stream, we passed many hikers on our loop. The scenery was lush and fertile until this calm green suddenly gave way to blacked earth and ashen tree trunks, stripped to their rawest state. In the December prior, the Fern Lake fire had ravaged this section of the forest, condemning our beetle-infested trees to a trial by fire. The scorched land here left me in heartbroken tears-- I cannot help but feel the earth shudder in anguish.

    Even in the midst of this devastation, there was evidence of life pushing up through the black ground. Small shoots of green had shot up from the soil, which i snot rich with the minerals released by the fire itself. It was Suzie who remarked at its strange beauty. We trekked through this section in reverential silence-- we were left to wonder, unhappily, when we would come to its edge. A bridge that had been burned was in the middle of reconstruction and we posed laughingly.

    The question arose-- What is the proper plural of Moose? No concrete conclusion as of yet, but it we could agree that it was certainly not correct to say, "Look at that one lonely Meese."

    Not ten minutes later, a small boy traveling with his family informed us with a chipper tone that the "moose are back there still. Promise." This yielded the best kind of rest at Odessa lake, having passed the Falls and Fern lake prior to this encounter.

    Turning around, we begin our descent in tired rhythm. Unspeakably beautiful as the terrain was, our legs had been exhausted by the climb and added mileage. Both pairs of feet have yet to fully recover, but the next trail  is looming in its own, inviting way.

    It was in this way that ~13 miles and ~8 hours later we departed from Estes Park for the week.