Rocky Mtn Rox

At least I think it does. It hinted at scenery and vistas--Dr. Ken swore up and down on a stack of Bibles it was there, but I kind of had to take his word for it. But hey--his word is good, no reason not to assume he's not good for it. And what little we were able to see when the snow and wind calmed down was compelling enough to make me drive straight home and buy an annual pass to find out more. Okay, not quite straight home--after the mandatory pint of beer and plate of eats, then.

Oh....speaking of eats...my belly feels vacuous and is making me feel a bit peevish. I'll be right back.




So much better! I continuously underestimate the power of low blood sugar to make one feel crappy. And may I gush for a moment about how happy I am that it is pomegranate season? I don't care if pomegranate-flavored/juiced foods are so totally last year, it will always be one of my favorite fruits, filled with those succulent garnets as they are. Tonight they went on my barley and wild rice pilaf. For the last 3 days they've gone in kale salads. Tomorrow, I don't know. I need to roast the butternut squash I bought last week, make pumpkin bread, and shop/cook all the tamale fillings and sauces. I know! Maybe I'll make pomegranate molasses and incorporate it into the sweet tamales...and I'm totally blogging that stuff this year--way, WAY too much of a 3-4 day process not to.

So yeah, RMNP. About the same distance from Denver as some of the trails in the Angeles high country, of which I thought nothing when going for a hike or monster training run. I find that I'm needing to put distances in terms of LA equivalents because everything feels so much further here I find I don't want to drive--nah...too far! Drive to Boulder for a road ride? Or even the foothills for a 10k? I'm having a hard time, but Wash Park is beginning to get very tiresome. Anyway.

I set out early after getting way too little sleep staying out late and Craig and Jen's holiday sweater party. But it was worth it to catch the sunrise hitting the Flatirons--holy nature show! And it was already in the high 30's in Boulder. As I rolled through Lyons, however, the bright sun disappeared. As I climbed higher still, so did the mountains. As I got to Estes, I could see furious maelstroms of snow blown off the Divide whipping around the ridgelines. On getting out of the car I discovered the wind was an icy knife as well--nothing but the snow pants I haven't worn since 2000 would do, and on they went. I really, really need better true coldweather gear, btw.

Ken and I set out and ditched my car at the visitor's center, which was near empty. Apparently in the height of summer you have to be in by 6AM or so if you want a spot. Which, I guess if you're going to be bagging peaks or otherwise climbing up high you need to be up and below treeline by the time the storms come in around 1, so... After a brief start up the trail we decided to go back and retrieve the snowshoes. Which turned out to be the call.

Fortunately, we stayed in among the trees most of the time and there wasn't much wind. I was temporarily fooled into thinking the temp wasn't so bad. Ha! As soon as we got to the frozen lake, I discovered my folly. We paused long enough for Ken to point out some of the ice hanging off some frozen slabs in the rock above us where ice climbers go to play. It's still wild to me how gigantic icicles can get, or that gushing, unruly waterfalls can be tamed into silence when they freeze solid. We pushed on toward Black Lake. I began to feel sparkly, either from not enough food or altitude or both. We got close to the lake, but decided to turn around (ok, I decided, Ken kept shrugging good-naturedly and saying he was fine with "whatever") when it got too blustery--the kind that stings your face as the snow scours off the top layer of skin.

We headed back, and found the downed tree on which we rested before, to eat lunch. Ken brought hot chocolate. I have GOT to replace my thermos--I have no idea where it went but a thermos of hot tea or soup or something is mandatory gear when it's cold like that. I also learned that you should pack a down jacket for when you sit down to eat or rest for more than 5 minutes. Before too long we were back at the first lake, looking up at the ice climbing formations underneath the lacy veil the snow makes as it fills in the cracks of the rock wall. Ken swore the ice was in enough to walk on, and we still had the snowshoes on so we opted to take the shorter route across the middle. I didn't fall flat this time (man, the stuff is !) and it's totally neat-o how the bubbles freeze in the very thick layer of ice--like you're going factor five in space when you look straight down into it. Anyone who gets that reference award yourself 500 bonus nerd points.

At the fork in the trail we took the fork untaken to a small, frozen waterfall. Not big enough to climb on, but interesting nonetheless. You could hear the water running under the ice in the creek, too. Yeah, so I'm easily amused in wilderness. There are way worse things to be, right? Right. Before we knew it we were skittering across the icy parking lot to the car, and my indecisive fingers which had been thawing and refreezing the entire time were grateful. My frozen behind was sorry, however that Ken's car had no butt-warmers. Butt-warmers are the business. There's something about radiant heat that just makes you feel safe and happy. And whatever they don't take care of the post-outing beer and eats will. Unfortunately, my fingers were too cold to feel like whipping out the camera and taking lots of pics. Or any, for that matter. Not that there was that much to see vista-wise. You'll just have to trust me that it was awesome in the purest most slang-free sense of the word.

So yeah. I finally got out since that embarrassing ride up Lefthand in October. I remembered why I moved here, why I fell in love with this place at first sight. Why I would be perfectly content to call myself a near-lifelong Coloradan.