Summer solstice of course. I wouldn’t want to be here for the other one.
We planned a 5 day trip to get north. We routed through Flagstaff, 4 Corners, Cortez, and Durango for the first day. It was familiar territory, fairly uneventful, little worth shooting since we’d been there, done that, several times. What we did note is that is was 210 miles to Tuba City, and a bit over two hours from there to Red Mesa. We'll need to remember that for October 14th since those are our plans for the seeing the annular eclipse, between motel reservations and setting up to see/shoot. It will mean a very early rise to be set up by 8 AM, planning for significant traffic.
An early rise was what we needed to make Estes Park the next day. The alarm was set for 4, when it was still black out. Reloading the car took till 5:30, giving us blue sky but no sun. Still we could see where we were going, scenery and animals. The trip was spectacular on both counts. No sooner had we gotten clear of town than there were elk grazing along the roadside. Females, no racks, no calves, several sightings. They were fairly close to the road, not enough to mandate a slow down, but had we not been in a hurry, or on a highway, close enough to shoot in better light. A bit further was a bull elk with a couple does, and while the light was cooperating better their distance wasn’t. Still, a sighting is a sighting.
So were the many chipmunks, a pair of marmots playing right at road’s edge, a cluster of deer with three fawns among them, and a single moose we passed as we rounded a curve, munching right next to the highway with no place to pull over and a sheriff’s vehicle on our tail for the last 20 miles. Both Steve and I thought some idiot had placed a statue of a moose right along the road in the middle of nowhere… until her jaw moved. And zoom, we were past.
The animals were a bonus. The day was all about scenery. It was all mountain roads, sharp turns, high passes, waterfalls and rushing rivers. The passes were pretty high. We made notes of which there were, writing down names, and height where given or to be looked up later. Steve let me know at least one was over 11,000 feet. With our recent cardiac issues, we kept the finger stall blood O2 monitor in the front of the car for easy access. We both did well, an indication that we might give serious thought to trying Trail Ridge Road after all on the following day. Our last visit I’d cut the trip short much lower, though still almost 10,000 feet.
This day was also about routing and last minute changes. We’d put in a stop at his Mom’s grave in Montrose in the morning, with photos and roses, then originally planned on taking 133 east and following the Crystal River where his sister Sylvia’s ashes were scattered per her request years before on a previous trip. There were other roads involved of course. But as I’d been doing the planning weeks earlier we found out that 133 was closed due to a bridge washout. So a different route got chosen… until two days before we left. They had put in a temporary bridge, no 70 mile detour (or so) was needed, and we didn’t have to skip it entirely, along with Steve’s favorite mountain, Mt. Soprus. The sudden change back meant there were a few details missed in the trip plan and a few wrong turns were made. Most were corrected in less than a mile.
On the day Syl’s ashes were scattered, the Crystal River was a placid, blue mountain stream. On the repeat visit it was a roaring tossing white and brown monster. This last winter had been high in snow fall and even now remains relatively high in rainfall through the area. We got the unexpected bonus of seeing rapids and waterfalls. Fortunately for those of us with cameras, there were lots of places to pull over and stretch our legs, collecting photos and videos.
We did manage a bit of freeway travel, via I 70 which currently is in terrible shape, but elected to get off on the east side of Idaho Springs and head north via more mountain roads, behind the front range. It’s about 70 miles from there to Estes Park. Or three-plus hours, but we decided it was a better choice on this trip than Denver at rush hour. Of course it wasn’t a single highway going north. It changed numbers every few miles, a bit more than every little town on the way. We even had a detour getting into Estes Park, which resulted in a charming chat with a fellow in a little town which turned out to be a mere collection of mountain cabins on either side of a long winding road. No gas stations, no stores, no place to ask for information, except for one fellow out on his afternoon stroll. But it all worked out. That route was our moose sighting, and the turnoff for that “town” lost us our official rear escort. Being the solstice gave us plenty of daylight to take all the various roads through all the mountains, most of which were actually in better shape than the freeway we'd been on.
It did turn out to be a bit later than hoped before we hit our motel for the next two nights, so we inquired about any local pizza take-out options. Following a recommendation, we found out that they only take orders in person or online. Since both of us are reluctant to plug into motel wifi, it meant a trip. Just a little more driving! While it was only about a quarter mile, it was on the canyon road with no cross streets to give a sense of how far there was yet to go, and only two buildings along the way among all the motels and condos and a light sprinkling of small businesses had displayed any address numbers. Frustrating! And right then I was something less than in the mood for that kind of nonsense. Once I found the place, I sat in the lobby (at least they had seating) for half an hour. The place was deafening! It sounded like a raucous party was going on, and people kept walking in and turning the corner to the room where the noise was coming from without stopping at the front like one does waiting to be seated. The place officially closes at 8. I arrived at 7:30 and left with our dinner (and breakfast, lunch, dinner, and next breakfast!) in hand after 8 while people were still arriving.
I asked for a large pizza (without a menu) as the plan was to eat supper, put the rest in the mini-fridge in our room and bring it with us into the park before 5 in the morning so we could get in without bothering with the timed entry permit system. “Large” turned into a 17” square pizza cut into 9 pieces. Two-thirds of one one piece made supper with the super thick crust tossed. The middle crustless piece made breakfast and lunch on its own. Once I saw the box I asked them for a bag as well, so the leftovers could go in the mini fridge. That box never would! In the end, I packed our future meals (until we couldn't take any more) in our own supply of gallon zipper bags, each getting its own shelf. The last pieces got tossed. Don’t even begin to ask what that pizza cost!
Thursday was about touring the Park. We set our alarm for 4 AM and were on the road in half an hour. Unlike our end of summer visit last year, our permitless entry was blessed by skies which were lightening by the time we had passed the entry to Bear Lake Road, so we could see the scenery as we passed it, not just white lines in a winding world of black. The mountain tops had streamers of fog descending down their sides after last night’s wet weather. We’re not sure how much it rained, though we’d watched clouds build in the early evening and had water on the car in the morning. Like yesterday, the tallest mountains had some snow left on them, particularly on their north sides. They’d make beautiful pictures, if there were just more light. TV weather had talked about a high pressure system stuck in place while the eastern half of the country was getting hot wet weather with a generous sprinkling of twisters. Expect late day rain, and again, and….
As before, our first stop was Bear Lake, furthest and highest on that road. No color in the sky, but that orange lake last fall was a blue moon event, if that. My camera wasn’t cooperating with the light unless I was shooting in video, so that’s most of what I did in the morning. There was too much light to trigger the flash so the camera left the shutter open longer, with everything blurry. Not my choice. I’ll have to figure out how to remedy that. Luckily there were an abundance of small rushing streams all over, all much larger than any previous visit, so the video feature had a lot to record. I did a bit of hiking, nothing strenuous, though more than Steve would venture, but he happily sat in the car with the dog, windows open, gorging on fresh mountain air, watching people and chipmunks, fog rolling down the mountains, and getting every shot in with his camera that he could from the car.
He was the one who spotted two bull elk with huge racks in velvet lounging in the shade of thick pine trees along the road to Sprague Lake. There was no way to get close enough to shoot them there, but around the corner was a pullout. Another family was out and pointing cameras at them from that direction so we stopped too. Several others did as well, one set advancing on the elk until we admonished them to stop. We didn’t want either to lose our opportunity to get our pictures nor their possible injury from upset elk. From this direction we could see there were actually 4 of the large bull elk, friendly with each other for now, enjoying their shade but making photography challenging. All is sure to change come fall.
Sprague Lake was where I’d managed to convince Steve to take a short hike. Just over a hundred feet at most from the car was a bridge over the pond below the beaver dam where in all previous visits some trout resided. These were spectacular with orange fins and backs. Unfortunately the heavy amount of water still rushing through had deposited a large amount if silt in the small pond, leaving most of it with a water depth of under two inches. No trout. Lots of disappointment.
We tried Upper Beaver Meadows road, a site of past elk herd sightings. Its is notorious for its lack of upkeep, and this last winter hadn’t improved it. (We discussed this with a ranger later. The lack of upkeep is intentional, discouraging tourists for the safety of the elk.) As soon after the first turn as possible we found a wide spot to turn around in and go back. Next we tried the alluvial fan site. Even without any animals for all the people there, it’s still good photography because both of us love dead trees. That particular spot has a selection of still-standing pines which have a bright orange-brown and soft grey combination of colors, making them extra striking against the now blue sky. One old snag, minus all branches and hollowing out from the top, has picked up a patina of green on its north side as well. I've been shooting it for years now.
From there it was Trail Ridge Road. We had expectations of the possibility of reaching the store at the top. We did make it to the point beyond the 2 mile high sign with a restroom building and a great overlook of the main valley way below, known as Horseshoe Park. It is typically the first place they close for winter and the last one they open. It is still below the tree line, but not by much. We’d passed snow on our way up, had expansive views of the burn scar from a couple years back, but decided before going any further, we’d check our blood oxygen levels. Both of us still felt fine, but we let the monitor make our decision. Since we both were in the 80s, we decided to turn back. It’s not a place to take those chances.
On the way down we decided to check in on Hidden Valley. Somehow it’s always been a disappointment to us. I’m not sure what we’re hoping for there, but it never delivers. Perhaps if we were hikers?
We were feeling disappointed by then on the whole anyway, with the lack of animals thus far. I suggested it was the permit entry system that was messing everything up. We had to get there before the animals were active if we were to see the whole Bear Lake corridor, and we got into the rest of the park late enough that most of the animals had gone to find shade and hide. We had actually seen one new to us for this park, though common in Minnesota: a wild turkey. It was walking through a meadow, lit from the back so its wattle showed up red against black. Still….
It was time to start heading beck to the motel. We could return to the park after 2 PM without a permit to see who/what was moving before sunset if we wanted. (Would it rain again? Clouds were building faster than yesterday.) This time we’d head out 34, very much under construction, instead of 36, see if the mountain sheep were coming down to the salt lick, maybe. No mountain sheep, but three elk out in the meadow, working their way across, one a bull with a fairly decent rack. Since the salt lick was now one of three ponds where a tiny lone pond had been before, there was also a moose, a young male. We speculated it might be the grown calf we’d seen the year before with its mom in a thicket about a mile away. Anyway, lots of photos were taken, perhaps one or two worthy of the effort, before we gave it up for the day and headed back to our room. Naps had been earned.
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