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.