After a wonderfully prepared breakfast by my sister-in-law, Robin, I hopped in the car with my brother Blaine and my niece Lauren to head up to the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness. We traveled for 3 1/2 hours from the Denver area on Interstate-70. Since we were backpacking the loop, we could take the car up to the parking area instead of having to take the shuttle bus, which actually arrives every 15-minutes at the trailhead.
When we got to the ranger station, it was spitting rain on us, and the ranger told us that the weather pattern was consistent - clouds build up around 3 p.m. and there's a 40% chance of rain. The ranger also asked me if I knew about the snow conditions on the passes, and I told her that I was aware (I really didn't). She went on to tell us that they had a heavy snow year, and that the snow is still melting off up high, and that we might need ice axes and crampons to traverse the passes. My party of hikers certainly did not plan for that, but I also thought that she was over-hyping the situation. Seriously, this was late-July, and there couldn't be that much snow up there. Right?
After parking the car, Blaine, Lauren and I took a moment to use the facilities and get our gear in order one more time. The skies looked like they might clear, so we put on our sunscreen, "cameled" up on water - that is, we drank as much water as we could to stay ahead of getting dehydrated - and we began our hike. The time was around 4:00 pm.
The first mile and a half is an approach trail to the actual loop hike. It is a well used path skirting the shore of Maroon Lake, and it provides perhaps one of the most photographed features in all of Colorado: the Maroon Bells. The bells consist of two peaks, which rise over 14,000 feet, and it is a popular destination for climbers looking to bag a Colorado 14'er. Striations run evenly and gently through the face of the bells - a seeming uniformity to an otherwise chaotic mass of rock and scree. It is a beautiful sight for the eyes, and it is no wonder that thousands of tourists visit here throughout the year to catch a view of the Bells over the still, reflecting water of Maroon Lake. The approach trail alone was worth the visit, but as an experienced hiker, I knew that there was a lot more the Maroon Bells than this one sweeping view.
On we hiked on this approach trail, passing numerous day hikers and climbers. The tread was characteristic of the Rocky Mountains - yes, it was rocky! However, it climbed gently through a lush, green aspen forest. We arrived at the wilderness permit station, and we made things official for our four day adventure. Again, we climbed over rock and rubble, and then we came to the junction of our loop. Taking a right at the fork led to a steep climb up Buckskin Pass, while a left led to Crater Lake and a "gentler" climb to West Maroon Pass - naturally, we took a left at the fork.
The woods opened up to another stunning and up-close view of the Maroon Bells. This time, Crater Lake provided a foreground view. As we walked down to the lake, a marmot (our first wildlife sighting) stood up among a thick pile of sticks and looked at us curiously. Again, this trail appeared to be well-trodden, yet perhaps the furthest limit of the casual day hiker. Once again, the trail moved into a thicket of bushes, and then it came to our first stream crossing: Minehaha Creek. The creek was wide and shallow, but void of rocks to walk on, so I took my shoes and socks off and crossed.
Beyond the creek, the trail previewed what we would encounter for the rest of the trip: lots and lots of mud. However, along with that mud, came rich, moist, fertile soil filled with wildflowers. Bluebells, columbines, paintbrush, yarrow, and daisies were in full bloom, and in tandem with the already colorful landscape gave deep meaning to the phrase to "Colorful Colorado."
After a short rest break of Clif Bars and Jerky, Blaine, Lauren and I came to Maroon Creek, our first formidable stream crossing. The current was swift, and the creek appeared to be over two feet deep in some places. Initially, I was going to cross without shoes, but looking at the obscured rocks underneath the current made me think twice about that option. So I kept my shoes on, and I crossed the creek. The water was freezing cold, and by the time I reached the other side, I felt like my feet were popsicles. Lauren was next to cross, and had the same reaction to the cold that I had. Blaine also mulled crossing without his shoes, but reconsidered after trying to take a step in the water. All of us had wet, cold feet, yet I made reassurances that since we were wearing sneakers that they would dry out.
Further we climbed up the trail. Again, the mud and water on the trail made the hiking slow and tricky. At one point Lauren stepped in mud so deep that it almost sucked the shoe off her foot. Fortunately for her, we had one more crossing of Maroon Creek, which cleaned all the mud off her shoes.
Since the hour was getting late, and it was beginning to spit rain, we looked for a place to rest for the night. Across the creek and over a wet, spongy mountain side, we found a forest glade next to Maroon Creek, which had what appeared to be an old, seldom used campsite nestled in the trees. This was home for the night. We set up our tents, made a macaroni and cheese supper and got settled for bed. Blaine, Lauren and I gathered in the two-man tent and played a game of Scrabble.
As I lay in my sleeping bag, my head was pounding with an altitude-induced headache. I had come from sea-level in San Francisco the day before, and here I was in thin air at 11,000-feet. My head was pounding badly, so much that I could not fall asleep. Despite my condition, I was happy to be out in the wilderness, with a roaring creek to relax me and fresh, cool air to breathe. I had come home.
