Over the alpine

"Blue ridge" to Cascade Mountain was a cold, blustery, magical hike. The trail was lined with all sorts of wild wildflowers, wicked lichens and shiny gems. If it were not for the cold, I could have spent DAYS up there!

Shadowcliff went on a hike. Bob and Judith led the majority of our staff from the north supply trailhead, up blue ridge, and over to Bowen Lake.

Four and a half miles, one-way.


We started out the hike in two packs- the faster and slower people separated into their appropriate groups within the first quarter-mile. Bob led, and I moved in and out of the two groups as I spent time walking or examining a fine rock or flower on my knees. About half of the hike was spent on the alpine- west of the national park in the Never Summer Wilderness.


I found myself at the back of our caravan after a mile or so of mica flakes and paintbrush flowers. It was nice to walk with Judith, co-director and plant wiz, who shared with me all of the alpine gentians, western paintbrush, and the Old-man-on-the-mountain, (alpine sunflower).





I found some way-cool mica flakes spilled from a small shelf of exposed rock. I took several of them; placed them delicately in between the cards in my wallet. My favorite piece is a crisp, round one-about two and a half inches in diameter and only a few silver layers thick. On the trail I found a large, dark hunk of clear smokey quartz. Snagged that, too.


It was not long at all after I split from the mini-mica avalanche hat Judith, Laura and I caught up with the rest- just above BOWEN lake. The wind tore over the short alpine carpet- it was enough to push you a few inches to the right with each step.


Libby ran to the steepest point overlooking the small, very blue lake, and returned soon after to join the rest of us for a short lunch break. An older man approached us having come from the peak of cascade mountain, a short distance in front of us. He claimed to be a retired geology professor from Alabama. He and Rosemond, our Alabama-native staff member, hit it off immediately.


I ate my sugar and Jan had a sandwich. We said our goodbyes to the group, who would continue back to the vehicles. We had a plan.

Jan gives a big smile at lunch break; cascade in background.

We dropped down the switchbacks to BOWEN LAKE, at a little over 11000ft and under Cascade. There were a pair of bright spots of snow on it's steep slope.


The water was very clear, and Bowen was surprisingly deep compared to some of the other 11000ft-lakes I'd visited. A group of beautiful rose-crowns decorated one section of thin land between the water and the trail. Jan commented of the clarity of the water, the "bloome", and the mushrooms- I was stuck in awe at the mountain above us.





We spent a few minutes takin' the necessary pictures and walked past the lake. Many trails split off to the right of ours, though my sad map showed only one that should be traveling in the direction that we were. Our trail tapered and ended. We back-tracked a while; not a good start to an all-day hike. Jan picked one of the trails that'd split off to the side and made a mad sprint up a steep, loose wall. I followed and after a few miles, we decided that it was the right trail to be on. We were back in the dark forest.

A few creeks after the lake I began to find myself warm. I stripped of my heavy jacket, and Jan of his. A pee-break and we were again on our way. I was, after the first handful of miles, disappointed with the BOWEN GULCH trail, that would lead us into the Kawuneechee valley and into Rocky Mountain National Park.
A larkspur here and there, a fragile trickle of water and a handful of slippery-jacks (boletes) (...yellow mushrooms). Jan shared with me the story of Hansel and Gretel, and again, in German.


We talked about mushrooms, rocks and other exciting things in between long silences. I walked- my feet stepped one in front of another and I sped down the trail, but I exsisted only in my head. It was one of those tired hikes, where you are so easily overcome by a state of thoughtful trace if you cannot stay completely entertained by your environment. My head became swollen with thoughts and ideas- over the period of hours on my feet.
A SNAP- a branch just to our right. Jan seemed not to notice, but I cannot imagine that he did not at least hear it. I glanced unconsciously- I had been focused on he pain at the joints in the front of my left foot and in that knee. Seconds went by an I dismissed the alarm.


CRASH!

The Bull elk was by far one of the largest that Ive ever seen. Jan ducked and I snatched my camera- instincts.
The huge thing rushed through the tiny wet meadow just next to us and broke and tumbled into the woods away from us. The meadow was not a hundred feet wide and the elk had been near fifty; The bull collided with the brush and trees as if it were a wall.
I felt the shot of adrenaline hit my heart and Jan gave out a "wow" that Ive never heard him give before. The Elk was soo massive that it was like watching a train plow through a busy intersection; a very powerful, almost surreal experience that lasted but a few short moments. The buzz hit my head and i needed to move. Still, rapt in sheer amazement, I could not. The bull continued barreling though the forest but that was all lost to me; I was stuck in the image of it first sprinting through the meadow.

Jan hiked faster. I hiked faster. We rolled down the trail and hit the edge of the park just as my legs began to tighten. The did not ache, but burned. The hike was a little over eleven miles to this point and we had only a few more to go. At somewhere around thirteen miles we hit the bowen-baker trailhead in the park. Bob, our ride, was not there.


THUMBS UP, we walked. two cars passed, neither seemed to acknowledge our presence. Jan asked me how hard it was to hitchhike in America; in Australia and through Europe it is easy.
He asked how many cars I thought may pass before we got a ride. I said four. He guessed three. Thirty six cars passed, a bicycle, and a motorbike. We had passed Coyote Valley, it seemed, miles ago. A park vehicle pulled up.


"Where 'y goin'?" the young woman asked. I told her we wanted a ride to the visitor's centre from which we would walk to the tonahutu and into town. My ass and thighs were 'a blazin! Id gotten over the fire on my foot and in my knees, but it was certainly time to get off my feet, "Lucky Number 37... " I told her. Jan laughed. "... but who's counting?".


I left my hikin' stick, mine vanderstalk, out in the bushes where we entered the small van.

Her name was Caleen, and she was interning from Wisconsin. She seemed very nervous at first- I dont blame her; two scary-lookin guys like us! She dropped us off not only at the visitors center, but at the trailhead on the far side of the south parking lot. THANKS !
Another 1.5 miles and we stood at the base of Shadowcliff's steep driveway. Jan wanted to walk into town- to the library. I told him I thought he was nuts, and offered to carry his heavy pack to the lodge. He, and his pain-free legs and feet, walked into town as I signed us back in and alerted bob of our return. HE was impressed with our time, but my legs were done for! `