Colorado
Rocky Mountain
National Park
and the Pawnee National Grasslands
July 16-21, 2011
Trip
Reports
Days 1-2: Juneau - the Rockies; riding into Wild Basin (RMNP) Day 3: Thunder Lake: hiking to the continental divide Day 4: Exploring and riding out of Wild Basin; driving to the RMNP alpine Day 5: Exploring and camping in the Pawnee National Grasslands Day 6: Hiking to the Pawnee Buttes and home |
![]() Elk bull in the alpine |
Day 4: Ungulates
We
forced ourselves up earlier than we wanted to
get a head
start on the day. We packed up efficiently, filtered water, then
left our
packs and clambered back up the unimproved trail to the nearby rocks
and
meadows I'd admired the day before. We easily hiked up the rocks
and onto
a promontory around the corner overlooking the valley. We could
easily
see the two burn areas on the side of the mountain and the basin below
and I
finally felt like I had my bearings. The rocky cliffs on the
other side
of the valley were lovely and we relaxed for a bit before heading back
down.
There were no mule deer browsing on the dewy grass as I'd hoped, but
the view
and the grassy glen in the morning were worth it.
Back at Pine Ridge we donned our packs and trudged
our way across the
creek and
up toward Calypso Falls, leaving around 9:00. The trail was a
breeze
compared to what we'd encountered the day before--clearly well trodden
and
built to accommodate all levels of hiker. It was a climb, but
relatively
short and painless and, before we knew it, we were back on the trail
we'd
ridden two days before. We dropped our packs at the junctions and
wrote
Cody a note telling him we'd meet him at the next burn site, attaching
it to my
pack so he could read it when coming down the trail from
Allenspark. Free
of our burden, we grabbed some snacks and headed down to the burn
site.
Unfortunately, I wasted considerable time looking for an area I had a
clear
image of with steep, flowery slopes above and below the trail and lots
of young
aspens, but I couldn't find it. I wound up going much farther
down the
trail than was necessary, turning
back, and climbing up into the first
big
opening we'd passed. We were hungry then, so stopped on one of
the many
downed trees and had a snack. The meadows were gorgeous.
Young
aspens and evergreens grew up in clumps, but much of the mountainside
was still
populated only with grasses, wildflowers, and flowering shrubs, and we
appeared
to have arrived at a glorious time. Trying to take a photo of
every new
flower I saw, I could hardly go anywhere very fast! Among all the
flowers
were the great, gray logs of fallen
trees
as well as the silver spires
of dead
trees still standing, some black and charred. The plan was for me
to
climb around while my mom kept a watch on the trail for Cody; based on
the
agreement to meet at the junction at noon, we thought we had some time
before
he showed up, but we wanted to be careful. While I was making my
way
along a fallen log just after lunch, my mom briefly headed into the
bushes
around a nearby waterfall and I thought I'd better just keep an eye on
the
trail to be on the safe side. Sure enough, I soon saw horses and
called
out to Cody, who stopped on the trail. I grabbed the pack and
hastened
down the mountain to find a very cheerful Cody and four horses.
He
grinned and said "I found your note!" Then he told us that he'd
found Pine Ridge, had, in fact, been dropped off at the Wild Basin
trailhead
via horse trailer in order to pick us up at camp! Compass had
mentioned
how rough the unimproved trail was, so they'd gone out of their way to
make
sure we didn't have to return that way. And here we'd made other
plans! He'd swung by camp about 9:30, half an hour after we
left.
All in all, though, it worked out, and the horses only went .2 miles
more than
they would have had he met us at camp. And we got to explore the
burned
area a bit. Mom had War Paint again, and I had Fancy, Cody's
favorite
horse who he'd finished breaking the year before. She was a
lovely young
mare and we got along extremely well. She was motivated to get
moving and
pushed War Paint along the whole way. The ride back along the
edge of
Wild Basin, the sun bright and warm, the horses well-tempered, was
extremely
pleasant. We saw Long Peak and Mount Meeker on the other side of
the
basin, both of which we'd see later from other angles. On the
road back
to Allenspark I nudged Fancy just a little to catch up and she slid
into a
graceful, short-lived trot.
And so we were back at Allenspark. We said
our goodbyes to horses
and
people and drove across the street to our hotel. Which was
closed!
Apparently the Allenspark Lodge takes a siesta, and we'd arrived just
after it
started. With an hour and a half until it opened again, we walked
down
the street to the cafe and had a drink and relaxed. When we were
done,
the lodge was still at a siesta, so we took it as a sign and went for a
drive. We were interested in driving into the mountains and over
the
continental divide, but weren't sure where to go, so we scoured our
Colorado
map. It appeared that the only nearby road over the Rockies was
through
Estes Park, which sounded familiar, so we took off, immediately
fulfilling one
of my wildlife goals for the trip. Not far from Allenspark on the
right
side of the road we drove right up next to a lovely, very skinny mule
deer doe
grazing on the side of the road. Thankfully no one
was behind us,
so I
quickly pulled over and watched as she grazed for a bit, then made her
way
across the road to graze on the steep slope opposite us. I could
see her
ribs stand out as she moved. What a beautiful thing! Mule
deer may
seem a common and not-so-exciting creature to covet, but I couldn't be
sure I'd
ever seen one and, well, I wanted to. The diminutive Sitka
black-tailed
deer of Southeast Alaska is, unexpectedly, a close relative. Plus
I like
the big ears.
Delighted with our plan already, we continued on into Estes Park and
from there
into Rocky Mountain National Park. Given the few roads crossing
the
Rockies, I was a little surprised at the $20 fee, but we paid it, drove
by some
lovely parkland, and promptly got stuck in a long road-work
queue. We
were there so long that people around us were freely wandering away
from their
cars in the sunshine. We snacked a bit and waited and waited,
beginning
to doubt our plans. Finally they let us through and we started up
the
long switchbacks through the forest; I wasn't particularly impressed,
although
the views in the treeless openings were getting progressively more
dramatic. We stopped at an overlook and I eagerly limped over to
the only
interpretive sign in sight (my mother and I were both a little stiff
from the
morning's ride); disappointingly, the sign only admonished people not
to feed
the wildlife and gave some reasons why human food can impact the
survival of
wild animals. Sure enough, as people gathered to enjoy the view,
ground
squirrels and chipmunks hurried over, followed by several bold Clarke's
nutcrackers; people ignored the sign, or didn't read it, and freely fed
them. So we didn't really need to hike seven miles into the park
to find
them--all we had to do was throw down some seeds at a pullout!
But, we
agreed that we had a much better experience seeing one flashing his
tail
feathers at us "in the wild."
From there we drove on around the sides of the mountains until
quite
abruptly
we drove through a patch of twisted, gnarled, stunted trees and into
the
alpine. Suddenly we could see all the contours of the rounded
mountains,
carpeted in vegetation with a backdrop of other smooth or craggy
mountains
across the valleys, and then I was impressed. We stopped at a
pullout and
started walking up a path just as a thunderstorm struck and it started
to rain,
quickly taking several photos of dense alpine flowers before it got too
wet. People were streaming down off the alpine, which is what
you're
supposed to do in a thunderstorm. Disappointed, we turned around
only to
spot a huge, beautiful animal right on the side of the road. A
bull
elk!! He was no more than a few yards off the side of the road
and cars
were stopped right next to him. We braved the rain to walk a
little
closer, snapped some photos, then retreated as the rain turned to
driving
sleet. By the time we drove by the elk, he had crossed the road
and was
slowly disappearing down the steep mountain slope to the left.
This elk,
wandering through summer wildflowers, his noble face wet with sleet,
and the
blue mountains on the far side of the valley behind made quite the
image.
I'd never seen an elk, and had no expectation of seeing one on this
trip!
Keeping
an eye out for more wildlife and a sign telling us we were
crossing the
continental divide, we drove on as the thunderstorm passed. My
mom
spotted some likely looking white spots on a ridge ahead, and I
happened to
look back to see lots of brown dots on a hill behind us. We
stopped at
the next pullout and glassed behind us. Relaxing on the
mountainside in
the distance were more than 80 elk, most of which appeared to be
resting.
I trekked back across the alpine to get a little closer, admiring as I
went the
carpet of \wildflowers and alpine grass I was walking on (trying to be
gentle). American pipits called and flew around me. I got a
better
look at the elk, but we were still pretty far away. We went back
to the
car and drove on, enjoying the scenery until we reached the visitor's
center,
which suggested we'd passed the high point of the road. Although
we
mourned the fact that we'd miss out on good interpretive information,
we
decided we'd rather take the time to enjoy the alpine a little more, so
we
turned around and headed back, this time stopping closer to where my
mother had
seen the white dots. Others had clearly seen something there, as
we saw
several people with cameras hiking off the road in the same area.
We
never did find any large critters, but we did find several gorgeous
birds
singing and fluttering around the alpine--horned larks! And so
we'd seen
the two quintessential Rocky Mountain alpine birds.
We were closer to the herd of elk there, so I crossed the road and made
my way
a little closer to them (still a gully and a long ways away).
But, with
my binoculars I had a wonderful view--lots of females with young bulls
and
calves, the latter of which seemed to be mostly lying in the
grass. I
often wind up traveling to new places in the off or shoulder seasons,
partly to
avoid crowds and partly to avoid traveling during the summer.
This trip
was an exception--I booked it during the height of a Juneau summer to
make sure
we were there at the best time. It was scheduled, in large part,
to
coincide with blooming wildflowers in the mountains. Although our
hike in
the Wild Basin area was primarily through forest, anywhere there was an
opening
in the trees or along the trail the ground was alive with wildflowers
of all
colors and varieties. I enjoyed trying to figure out what general
type of
flower they were (e.g., pea, geranium, rudbeckia), even though I didn't
know
any of the species. The wildflowers turned out to be prolific
everywhere
we went in Colorado: along the roadsides, in the parkland, and all over
the
alpine. Seeing the elk lolling about the lush carpet of grass and
flowers
with a (seemingly) endless supply of more lush mountaintops to graze
was an
immensely gratifying experience. It did make me ponder, and not
for the
first time, why the Park Service (which does such a wonderful job of
preserving
the wild character of national parks) wouldn't want to reintroduce
wolves to
the park. Surely people would love to hear the occasional wolf
howl, and
wouldn't they help check the elk population? I suppose it's not
that
simple, but it does seem a shame that such a big and wild area
shouldn't see
wolves again. I wondered the same thing about grizzly bears, but
I
suppose people would be less enthusiastic about hiking and camping in
grizzly
bear country, and Rocky Mountain National Park is a heavily used
area.
Still, it seems a shame.
As we drove back through the alpine, we came across two more groups of
elk; the
first, a small group of bulls, we drove by, but the second group (which
my
mother spotted) was more accessible, and so we agreed to stop despite
our
growing weariness and hunger. Unfortunately, they were so far
down the
steep mountainside that they were out of sight from the road.
Although I
was wearing out and feeling the altitude when I trekked around, I made
my way
down slope until I had a pretty good look at them, a group of about a
dozen
cows and young bulls. One cow was collared. Another thing I
like
about the Park Service’s management is the freedom to walk anywhere
(with few
exceptions) in a national park. We were not required to stay on
trails on
the alpine, which surprised me, but made wildlife viewing much
better!
Hopefully enough people stay in cars and disperse over the fragile
vegetation
that it remains healthy; it certainly seemed that way.
After that, the evening was getting on, so we headed
down to the
parklands,
grateful that road construction had halted for the day. We
stopped at
some interpretive signs overlooking one of several natural parks in the
area
with a view of Long Peak and Mount Meeker in the background (the
opposite side
from Wild Basin I think). Long Peak has been a landmark for a
very long
time, including for the Mountain Ute that were lucky enough to inhabit
that
area. The valley parklands around us were unbelievably
beautiful--lush
grass and flowers, wandering streams, clumps of picturesque trees, all
surrounded by tall mountains. A little farther on and lower we
drove past
a confusion of cars parked on the side of the road; people clustered
with
cameras looking avidly into the grass. Something exciting was
clearly
going on, so we parked in the middle, got out, and scanned the area to
no
avail. We couldn't see anything exciting! There was a strip
of
grass and wildflowers along the road 50 yards wide backed by a fence
that ran
along the edge of a forest, possibly along a low stream. I
finally asked
someone what they were looking at and she said there was a coyote and
started
to give me directions. Expecting to catch a yellow glimpse of it
between
the trees on the other side of the fence, I was surprised to see it
stand up
about 30 feet away and calmly walk past a couple of girls in the
field.
Apparently people had been watching it stalking something. With
only one very
casual glance at her admirers, this coyote walked parallel to the road
for a
minute, then sat down about 20 feet from the asphalt and focused her
gaze away
from the road. She sat for several minutes before standing up,
creeping
forward a few feet, her whole body tense, then sitting down
again. She
really did appear to be stalking something, though I can't imagine what
creature would warrant that particular strategy. The coyote was
beautiful
with a thick coat and long, coyote legs. I'd never seen a coyote
either,
but couldn't imagine I'd be lucky enough to even hope for it on this
trip! As we watched, the rain set in again and we eventually tore
ourselves away to head back home. It turns out that the fences in
that
area are meant to protect the vegetation from overgrazing by
predator-less elk.
As we drove back through Estes Park, we considered stopping for dinner,
as we
were both quite hungry, but decided we'd rather freshen up (we were
still
straight off the trail) and eat in Allenspark. We arrived back at
the
hotel worn out and ravenous, so we quickly changed clothes, freshened
up, and
asked out host for dinner suggestions. Alas, nothing was open
that night,
nor was there a grocery store of any kind in Allenspark. He gave
us
directions to a lodge in Estes Park, and so we rather tiredly drove
back there
for dinner. Thankfully, it turned out to be a good pick. We
ate on
the patio overlooking a meadow and had a glass of wine. Plus, I
ran into
a high school friend who I hadn't seen in years! Of all the
strange
places to meet...
That night we called home from the little phone booth in our lodge
(Allenspark
doesn't have cell phone service), heard that all was well, and
crashed.