`Looking over dream lake from flattop trail- longs peak on left!I followed.
Kate took some photos and explained the difference between a pika and a chipmunk to an older white couple who encountered their first mousy, striped pika in front of us. Even the chipmunk was confused!
Libby stuck behind with me. We worked to avoid collisions with all of the excited visitors who rushed around the loop and back to their minivans and SUVs.
I tossed Libby the keys to the truck and a mouthful of warnings of the harsh consequences of an auto accident. She only laughed. A minute went by and all of the necessary 'goodbye's and 'good luck's were exchanged. My clock said 12:43
The first mile or so of my adventure was full of bright yellow aspens, figuring out clips and buttons and straps- the trail was flat, smooth and easy! It was Long before I had completed my second mile that all of the warm M&Ms were gone and my right hand was left stained with yellows, reds, greens...
I stashed the wrapper and washed down lunch with a few good swigs of warm water from the half-empty bottle that I had forgotten to fill. I was happy to be on the trail! The people seemed to thin after I passed the dream Lake over look. Longs peak, the parks famed 14,000-footer, appeared massive, but equal in height to all of the puny peaks that stood closer to me. It made for a cool photo.
I played leap-frog with a friendly Australian woman up to the top, and became very hot in the sun- 'too lazy to stop and remove a layer. She led by better than a quarter-mile distance before I overtook her about the time when the forest dissipated into a very thin layer of dwarf, wind-swept pines and spruces. I was excited to near the top when I passed the last visible tree.
The snow cooled me off! I sunk deep into the first patch that I discovered covering the trail. The Rocks and Snow brought many pleasant memories of my time in New Zealand- only worsening the hurt I was overcoming for traveling. I imagined my winter visit to the foreign volcanoes as I neared Flattop's summit- sometimes knee-high in the wet ice. Had to stop and make way for a couple descending the icy mountain- they seemed to be slipping and sliding more than they actually walked. The gentleman passed with a pair of ice picks and without acknowledging me- a nasty, rare occurrence on the mountain!
I remembered thrusting my bent pick into the side of Ruapehu to keep from falling and glanced at my wooden staff..was I stupid?!
Minutes passed with the gone couple, and I began feeling very tired, -mellow after my first real stop. I noticed my calf muscles burning; The unusual, almost painful sensation was a good one.
I stood for a while- thinking and watching my foggy breathe. It was a warm day- maybe fifty or sixty on the summit, but the snow seemed to repel any warm air from getting too close to the ground. It was cooler when I sank.
.....I decided that spacing off on the wonderful excursion that I had taken more than two years ago was only going to prevent me from having a similar one, now- in Colorado.
There was a glossy sheen on the ice when I proceeded. It is magical- reminds me of continents and landmasses siting on the white ocean. Sometimes the hard layer is thick enough to support me, though it is slippery !
If I could break my staff through the layer, to hold myself upright, walking on the slick surface was like walking on another planet. I learned to walk quick, and became distracted. I threw myself across the surface- I was skating; I stopped only to prevent going off the edge or tumbling over an exposed rock. FUN!
I noticed the Australian far up the trail and it was time to get serious. I couldn't loose the race to the top!!!
I stomped my feet into and over the four sets of footprints following an imaginary trail though the ice. There were places that the bare ground was exposed and the snowy footprints would move over ten or twenty feet to dump me off there, on the REAL trail. The bare spots were more common near the top, where the earth got more sun. I hit the top out of breathe (and not just because of the view!)The last miles of the trail seemed to have taken hours... it was 3:27. I completed the first 4.4 miles when I reached the top- the section of trail that I had feared the most.
I walked very slowly over the alpine- 'took my time to enjoy the inspiration and awe that was evoked by any degree of the 360. After the summit, one-third of a mile took more than half of an hour. When I reached the point of the trail at which the Tonahutu and North Inlet trails branched, I saw the Australian nearing the peak of Hallet- far above me! I sat and had a snack and a drink. I felt so light! ! With my pack at my feet, which weighed a bit over twenty pounds, I felt energized and ready to hike! Ptarmigan peak tempted me, aways down the tonahutu to my left. I had all night and one and a half days to get back to shadowcliff- I'd requested the time off to do just such a hike!
CAN YOU SEE thos two tiny lakes below bighorn flats? The Smaller of the two is GRAND LAKE, the other is shadow lake. A closure examination of this photo will show the GORE range- far South of grandby!
My backpack and stick leaned on the trail sign when I sprinted down the tonahutu- I bet that it was somewhere just short of a half-mile before I broke off the trail and climbed the sharp, steep 
rocks that were Ptarmigan mountain. IT WAS HARDER THAN IT LOOKED! The face of the small peak was steep, jagged and at times, loose. I got to the top amongst all of the marmots- they barked and screamed at me in defense of their mountain...
My camera hung from my mouth, at 18mm, and with auto focus and a timer. I put my arms in the air in expression of my great achievement in time for the camera to catch my shadow in front of a great mountain scape. Far off- just on the other side of Estes Park as it appeared, were the great plains. The mountains looked like they stopped abruptly at the edge of the big, flat plains.
I returned to my pack, the trail sign and my vanderstalk- Threw it on without taking a break.
The North inlet, Many miles later, was invisible; The trail was sometimes four or five feet under the surface of the snow.
sometimes, so were my wet boots.
I had seen nobody for hours when I descended the first set of switchbacks. July was at the bottom; the campground at which I had planned to spend the night. I had walked well past eight miles on the trail- from bear lake- by the time I reached that refuge. 'never even stopped- walked right past it; there was far too much light in the sky when I arrived, and I was sure that I would be able to reach the next camp sight or two by the time I NEEDED to be sheltered from all of the evils of the night. ... honestly, I was not afraid to pitch camp right on the trail if necessary- it wouldn't be the first time.
I whipped out my tent only a mile or so after I'd passed July; found myself under the second set of good (bad) switchbacks, at the NORTH INLET JUNCTION campground. I was not surprised when I found the camp area empty.
The sound of tumbling rocks and boulders echoed through the valley; The rock slide was obviously just above me, and to the left a bit. The sound of the falling debris was heard for several seconds.
My feet were wet- I could feel my toes beginning to wrinkle up in the puddle of my boots. It took a long second to decide if going bare-footed was worth the cold. I went skin through dinner, and until I smeared the sticky sap from the bottoms of my feet to put my fry socks on... I knew the night was going to be cold.
I heated my canned stew on the little stove that I'd brought, though I was somewhat nervous about what beasts the strong smell would attract. When I'd finished with the meal, I walked the can, a smelly rag and the messy mess kit down the trail a way. I left the bear-bait under a bush about 400 yards from my tent. The sleeping bag was a cold shock when I hopped in, but I warmed up quick after a whole lot of shuffling around. I laid there, waiting to hear a bear or 'coon become interested in my dinner mess. 
Never happened. I woke many times during the night; it was colder every time I rolled over. Each time I had a glance of consciousness, I would get a slow review of the previois moment's dream. I dreamt of being beaten by cops, then of photographing wolves. I dreamt of takin' shots at a silent bar, of a fire engine and of my workmate Rosemond, who had a very concerned, very confused look on her face.
When I could become conscious enough to process a thought I found the odd string of dreams to be disturbing. The tent was still- there was no wind, and the light from the full moon was like camping only a few hundred feet from the base of a streetlight. The moon started out at a slight angle to my left when I first opened my eyes; when I got up to start my hike it was far to my right.
I sat up- frustrated with the cold, my wet jeans and all of those odd dreams that could be described as nothing less than troubling.
When I was able to convince myself to leave the warmth and comfort of my tent for the ice-cold woods- several minutes after I had awoken- I broke out to find the moon even brighter than the sun which shown from the opposite side of the sky. My feet were so cold; I was not sure whether to deem them frozen or injured.
I stepped completely out of the tent- into a freezer. I stomped my feet into the appropriate boots; an unfamiliar, bad sensation of both numbness and pain?
I retrieved my things from the surrounding bushes and trees- my food and pack from the tree above me and my dirty meal things from the bushes down the trail. Finding them the way I left them was a pleasant surprise! My tent was dry- the lack of dew or frost was also a nice thing to wake up to. When I swung my heavy pack to my left shoulder and began to fasten it to my body on the first few steps of the trail, I identified the sun as an equal source of light to the pale moon. The western horizon displayed the slightest tint of pink.
I passed a sign that read GRAND LAKE 8.0 and I was well on my way! 'Was excited to see what the cool day would bring...
I walked for miles- past many campgrounds and trails- before I found anything of special interest to me. Walking along the creek was pretty nice- It is where everything is still green. There are still mushrooms around.
I walked thoughtlessly- my mind was all blank and I simply followed my feet. I was sure that I was not tired, but I wasn't about to spend any effort on thought. I walked and walked- the beautiful sound of one rapid or fall would give way to that of another every few hundred steps. I heard the summerland pack of coyotes screamin' and hollerin'...
My fingers were so cold that they hurt- my right hand, which held my staff, was frozen! I fiddled around with trying to get both hands inside my shirt, without loosing the stick or my camera. My feet were warm again. The stick was cradled in my crossed arms until it's tip nicked an aspen.
I reached Cascade falls- took the trail just far enough to get a glance of 'em...
They were not too special; I remembered the great waterfalls of Arkansas, Missouri and Nebraska that I'd recently discovered. By far, however, were the rainbow falls of the John Muir Wilderness, near Yosemite park... I imagine that Cascade falls would be more impressive in the sunlight. I took a crooked photo of one section of a small tributary - the tilt I had to give it when I leaned over the cold rocky bank gave a cool effect- My fingers were so cold and stiff; I had to work to summon the energy to rotate the lens and push the shutter!
I did not get into direct sunlight until just before I entered summerland park. I found myself to be surprisingly unexcited when I found me so close to home. After a miserably cold night like last night, I assume that many people would welcome a warm bed and a nice meal. I turned the last bend before I caught sight of the little red cabin; A skinny man with a huge camera. I stopped to allow his photo- "come'n" he said- requesting that I pass him. He asked about my camera- an action that would spark a 30-min conversation. He told me that his GIANT Pentax thing used a special high-contrast film and compared his work to that of Ansel Adams.. I was doubtful, but anyone who'd be willing to haul such equipment up into the mountains could be assumed to be pretty passionate about photography!
HE told me about a duo of large moose that he'd seen just off the trail- about 30min. back.
I found only a large group of female 'mulies' on the last flat hour of my hike.
The folks at shadowcliff were surprised to see me so early- I still had more than a day until I had to work.
I sat in the lodge, which had become strange again in only one night- maybe I'll walk back?
libby told me about some of the shorter hikes around bear lake they'd taken. She told me they returned to my truck last night to hit Estes park and returned in the dark and moonlight. She was excited about the full moon they had seen!
By the time I got up, though, I could feel all of the injuries and sores on my body. My ankles were by far the worst- my ass-muscles were sore., but I felt good enough to take on another hike.!
TO BE CONTINUED.....
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