On the second Friday of October, I unexpectedly found myself with the afternoon off. Over the weekend prior, I'd contemplated a trip to Wyoming's Medicine Bow National Forest but ended up not going due to work so I leapt at this new opportunity.
As the sun set on my drive north to Laramie where I'd spend the night, I stopped at Vedauwoo (pronounced vee-da-voo), a section of Medicine Bow National Forest just off Interstate 80 famous for its difficult name and strange granite formations. Here, I non-technically clambered halfway up one of the rock towers then wandered through the skeletal trees surrounding the stone gardens.
Vedauwoo's 8,200 foot elevation and chilly winds forced me to break out my down coat, a pointed reminder that after a balmy summer winter was fast approaching.
The next morning, I woke a couple hours before dawn and drove an hour west of Laramie to Lake Marie, in a different section of Medicine Bow National Forest. The quartzite mountain stands a couple thousand feet higher than the lake, topping out at 12,013 feet above sea level.
Medicine Bow Peak's massive, pillared rock face, black and gray in the pre-dawn light, glowed pink as the sun rose in the east, scoring a direct hit. In the clear light of day, the the rock resembled white marble.
The hike gains elevation quickly, meanders for awhile at just under 12,000 feet, and finally reaches the summit, a bump ever so slightly higher than the surrounding terrain. To the north, I could see Elk Mountain, not far from the interstate. To the south I could see Longs Peak, over a hundred miles away. The descent down the north side is even sharper and quicker than the climb up the south.
En route back to Denver, I made a few more short stops, including at the 60 foot tall Ames Monument, a sturdy pyramid built near the highest point along the transcontinental railroad in honor of Union Pacific financiers Oakes and Oliver Ames.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Lumpy Ridge
In late September, as the aspen flared yellow, I got up early Saturday morning to hike Rocky Mountain National Park's Lumpy Ridge loop. I was somewhat conflicted about going to Lumpy Ridge as this part of the park will remain easily accessible throughout the winter. Access to the mountaintops, conversely, would soon be shut off and the forecast for the day was sunny and perfect. A part of me wanted to climb a mountain while I still could.
These misgivings of not seeking greater elevation eased as soon as I started hiking. Lumpy Ridge is very pretty. The first vista along the trail is of Estes Park, drowsily light up in the cradle of a thin valley. Next up is minuscule Gem Lake and its upright rock walls. At that point along the way, neon orange sunlight spilled through the spindly trees. Then came mountain meadows, pastures of aspen, a view down Black Canyon (a different one than of the Gunnison), and finally hundred foot tall rock pedestals and sculptures, presumably the lumps begetting the name Lumpy Ridge.
Since seeing the aspen is such a quintessential Colorado experience, I'm glad I did. But the trail was a few ticks down on the awe-meter compared to recent hikes. As enjoyable as this relatively flat hike was, here's something far more climactic and fulfilling about climbing a mountain.
These misgivings of not seeking greater elevation eased as soon as I started hiking. Lumpy Ridge is very pretty. The first vista along the trail is of Estes Park, drowsily light up in the cradle of a thin valley. Next up is minuscule Gem Lake and its upright rock walls. At that point along the way, neon orange sunlight spilled through the spindly trees. Then came mountain meadows, pastures of aspen, a view down Black Canyon (a different one than of the Gunnison), and finally hundred foot tall rock pedestals and sculptures, presumably the lumps begetting the name Lumpy Ridge.
Since seeing the aspen is such a quintessential Colorado experience, I'm glad I did. But the trail was a few ticks down on the awe-meter compared to recent hikes. As enjoyable as this relatively flat hike was, here's something far more climactic and fulfilling about climbing a mountain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)