Rocky Mountain High

There is a moose outside your window.

That is a sentence you don’t expect to hear at 7:00 a.m. [Or most any other time, I’d wager.]

I was spending the long weekend with some friends who live in the Colorado mountains, and a young moose was munching on the shrubbery outside my ground-floor guest room. It seems impossible that creatures as large as moose and bear can sustain themselves by munching on small plants and berries.

It took me a couple of days to acclimate to their altitude (above 8,000 feet). The reduced level of oxygen mostly left me feeling woozy. I lagged behind when we set off on the local trails, especially whenever we hiked uphill. Rusty (the dog) was excited to see me on his home turf. Inexhaustible, he’d bound ahead and double back to guide us through the woods. Each night, he’d stretch out to sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed.

It was a bit early for wildflowers; the ground had been buried by 20 inches of late-season snow just the weekend before.

We headed for Rocky Mountain National Park. The highest continuous paved road in the United States, Trail Ridge Road, had just re-opened for the season. [Less than 12 hours later, fresh snow would close it again.] A few hardy cyclists reached the summit while we were there; I did not envy them their frigid descent.

We followed the tracks of other hikers as we tromped farther uphill through the snow, to the highest elevation I have visited on foot (~12,300 feet). The forecast threatened us with thunderstorms every day, but somehow we always managed to dodge the drops.

After lunch, we thought we might find some snow-free hiking at a lower elevation. [Wrong.] After easily circling Bear Lake, we trudged our way to Nymph Lake. Our hiking boots were up to the task, though crampons would have been welcome. [Especially downhill.] The lower trails attracted more of a crowd and thus were pretty slick. Some visitors, clad in sneakers or thong sandals, were ill-prepared for the conditions; one nearly took me down as he slid behind me.

My stamina at altitude improved after two days, and we made our way along the local trails to Mud Lake (5.7 miles). Property owners are mostly tolerant of the trails that traverse their land, though some resent the mountain bikers. It isn't quite backcountry, given the nearby roadways (paved, or not); it felt more like living in one gigantic open space preserve.

An open space preserve dotted with the remnants of long-ago mining activity. [Watch your step.]

Most of the aspens were just starting to leaf out.

My last visit to Colorado was quite some time ago. (18 years, to be precise.)

My next visit? I hear those aspen leaves turn golden in the fall.