Today’s wander is to two small lakes in an alpine cirque, Primrose Pond and Loomis Lake.

Healing Body

A long wander through the forest is one of the best antidotes for a body that needs to heal.  The severe bout of pneumonia has cut short my summer season of exploration.  My body is still gaining endurance hike by hike. Today is a chance to quickly get into an alpine cirque with minimal effort.  It offers another building block on the road to recovery.  I am symptomatic, swollen fingers and feet, aching joints.  The need to get into the high country outweighs my physical discomfort, so I set out to explore this magical cirque.

A Parking Lot Surprise

I arrive at the large parking lot and make a quick stop at the last bathroom before the trail head.  I am in a hurry as I want to get into the alpine cirque and be back before the afternoon rains arrive.  However, a small black object in the parking area catches my eye and I stop to investigate. 

On the one hand I want to get going, and on the other hand, I have a strong urge to figure out what is before me.  The initial look makes me think it is a pine cone, but I see two small black triangles that stick out like a pair of ears.  I simply cannot leave it alone.  I grab a piece of paper from my car and gently lift the black object.  Suddenly, shrieks of protest come from the object and wings and spindly legs stretch out from the body.  The mouth opens wide, showing a bright red tongue and little, sharp teeth. A bat! I gently move him to safety in a grassy area where he can rest until the sun comes and warms his little body.  I wish him well and head to the Fern Lake trail head. 

A chilly start

The car thermometer reads 44 degrees – a harbinger of the change in seasons that is upon us.  The hour is early and the walk along the Big Thompson River is absent the usual tourists.  The river noisily runs it course and the landscape is a lush deep green. Morning dew blankets the thick undergrowth of ferns, flowers, berries and vines. Invisible spider webs brush across the face and begin to stick as sweat appears over the brow.  The sun warms my back as I move along the path and I fall into my usual cadence.

The signs of Fall are beginning to show.  

The forest is green and lush, but the subtle signs of Fall are beginning to show.  Leaves are turning red and yellow, flowers wilt and spread their seeds to slumber through the freeze and reincarnate in the Spring.  The smell of organic matter wafts through the air as wood, leaves and flowers decay and turn into nutrients for the forest.  Such is the cycle of life in a healthy forest.  Sharpening senses draw me deeper into the forest and increase the desire to push through a tired body to reach my goal of the alpine cirque.

By the time I have covered the 1.75 miles to the bridge crossing the Big Thompson River, my body has warmed and the sun has risen above the horizon.  I am ready to start the climb.  As I leave the Big Thompson River, the path ascends steeply to arrive at the Old Forest Inn Campground.  The sounds of the river fade and the stillness of the forest surrounds.  Nary an animal, bird or hiker is to be heard.  Not even a rustle of wind through the trees.  A  black squirrel silently scampers across the trail, green pine cone in his mouth. 

Traveling higher on the trail, the thundering sounds of Fern Falls encroaches upon the silence.  Water explodes over and through rocks, creating a raucous when standing at the base of the Falls.  Mist gently settles on my face and I take a moment to soak in the beauty of this spot.  Soon enough the water will slow as the winter freeze takes hold.  

The days left for exploring high alpine cirques are rapidly coming to an end for the season.  The transition to Fall is already beginning but today is warm and clear, and the high country is still be reachable.  

Spruce Lake 

The trail continues to climb through the forest coming to a turn for Spruce Lake.  The unimproved trail climbs briefly through lush meadows and wetlands.  A path of split logs keeps the hiker off the fragile wetlands.  Within a few minutes Spruce Lake appears.  It is quiet save for the sound of water lapping at the edges.  A cool wind blows over the lake, creating white caps and saving the hiker from the pesky mosquitoes ever so present this time of year.

Primrose Pond 

Shortly after Spruce lake I arrive at the start of a rough route that climbs the waterfall created by the draining of Primrose Pond. The forest is a tangle of rocks, trees, logs and ferns.  Patches of flowers grow where sunlight can seep through the canopy of trees.  Twenty minutes of climbing and I crest the lip of tiny Primrose Pond.  It sits in the middle of the thick forest, high in the cirque.   Water from snow melt and the lake above gently trickles into the pond.  While it is a lovely body of water, it does not rise to the standard of a lake. 

Due to the higher elevation and increased wind,  stumpy trees are forced into interesting shapes.  Thick bases hold the trees firmly to the ground, although many lean over, as if they were caught mid-fall.  Wind forces growth in every direction, creating playful images to explore.  The wild landscape draws the eye and the lens to explore, suspending my sense of time.  The cycle of sun, wind, rain, snow and hail shape the wood into captivating shapes, colors, textures and tones.  I squeeze between rocks and through trees trying to capture features that tickle the eye.  Scrapes and bruises appear as a result of my squeezing into spaces smaller than myself.  However, I am pleased with the results.

Despite the harsh winds, new growth finds space within the old, decaying trees.  Animals and insects burrow deep into the wood, leaving holes and pock marks.  Fungus and moss creep along the edges and across the tops of broken trees, creating the vision of a stump with a shock of green hair.

Loomis Lake

Surprisingly, an hour has slipped by, pressuring me to move on to Loomis Lake.  The intermittent path winds through the forest and over boulders and fields of rock fall.  Cresting the ridge offers a fantastic view of Primrose, the Odessa Gorge and Estes Park in the distance.   Castle Rock juts up from the ridge north of the lake.  It is inviting a climb but will have to wait for another wander.  The cirque surrounds the two lakes and terminates on The Gable, another desired destination.

When I finally make it through the thick forest, I have a 360-degree view of the cirque.  A grassy ramp to the West is noted for future exploration.  Late morning and the skies are beginning to fill with thunderous clouds and spurs me to start my descent.  As I climb up from the lake, a small patch of raspberries catches the eye.  It is a delightful find.  While I can imagine the juicy sweetness on my tongue, I leave them there for those who call this their home.

The descent

By the time I begin the descent from Primrose, rain drops gently tap upon my head, signaling the arrival of early afternoon, and the end of a day in the sun.  During the descent, I stumble across a small waterfall flowing under a mound of flowers. 

A lone fisherman crosses my path and explains that he had been to Loomis and caught a large Greenback Trout.  We wonder aloud about how fish got into that lake.  We walk quickly through the forest chatting about all the places we have been.  I discover he has climbed Pagoda and am anxious to hear his experience as it is on my list for sooner rather than later.  We make our way down to Fern Lake.  The rain has stopped, and the sun has returned.  Hikers are enjoying a lunch by the lake.  My fellow traveler bids adieu and heads out to fish in Fern Lake.

I quickly cover the four miles back to the car, passing the usual crowds of tourists out for a nice stroll. Just short of my car I spy a butterfly sitting atop a cone flower, the sun shinning through her many colors.  A bee joins the party and buzzes the butterfly, forcing her to move to another flower.  This dance continues for several minutes.  I allow myself to be drawn into the dance and cherish the play of nature.   However, the day is coming to a close and it is time to finish the hike.  Just as I leave, big rain drops plop on my windshield, marking the end of an enchanted wander.

WanderJill