Ouzel Lake Backpack and Huffing Moose 8.31.18

Ouzel Lake Backpack and Moose Terror

Last summer I attempted to climb Isolation Peak, aptly named because it is so far inside Wild Basin that it takes a full day to climb it and return.  I stopped short of making the peak last year and determined to make it this year.  I was able to get a one- night permit for Ouzel Lake in Wild Basin, with the idea that hiking the first five miles would put me in a great position for an early morning assault on both Ouzel Peak and Isolation Peak.

Late Start

Arriving at the trail head, I hurriedly enter the Ranger Station to pick up my permit.  Chatting with the ranger for thirty minutes puts me behind schedule.  Nevertheless, regulations state that you show your bear canister to the ranger, causing the hiker to have to repack their pack after proving the canister is full of food.  It is 4:30 pm by the time I am packed and on the trail.  Intermittent drops of rain thump my head and press me forward.

End of Summer

I set a quick pace and enjoy a quiet trail – the summer tourist season has come to a close.  The Park is returning to its quieter state of being, and while the days are shorter, the trails are quieter and offer a respite from hustle and bustle of daily life.   The broad trail follows the North St. Vrain Creek and leads to a series of water falls that are the main attraction for tourists and day hikers.  Even the waterfalls are slower and quieter as the season comes to a close.  Even though they still gush, they are but a fraction of their Spring runoff size and splendor.

Colors of Fall

Colors of Fall

The last vestiges of summer are on display as flowers are beginning to wilt and fade.  A single flower here or there is still bright and full of color, reminding the hiker of the not so distant summer.  The wild flower season has come to an end and the colors of Fall begin to fill the forest with shades of yellow, orange, and burnt red.  The Spring runoff has run its course, leaving a tamer, less wild creek running through the valley.  I enjoy the colors and sounds of the changing season and the cooler weather as I hike along this well- worn path.  Soon the road will close, and the Park will enter its deep slumber for the winter.

Tattered flower

Report of Moose at Ouzel

Despite the lateness of the day, I pass a couple coming down the trail and stop to chat.  I learn they have been at Ouzel Lake the previous night and saw a large bull moose.  Broad smiles and dancing eyes show their excitement and marvel at watching the moose swim in a pond and snack on water lilies.  I thank them and continue my way.  The skies darken and bolts of lightning streak through the sky.  I want to get to camp before dark and ahead of the threatening rain.  My mind spins in anticipation of finding the moose.  I remind myself to remain in the moment, the cyclical pace as my feet find their way along the path, my heavy breath, the sweat trickling down my face, and the beauty that surrounds.

Panoramic Views

As I climb higher onto a shelf the landscape opens and a 360- degree view astounds.  I take a short break to stand in silence, to look and listen and drink in the cooling sights and sounds of the forest.  A gentle breeze sends a chill through my body.  As the day comes to an end, the forest quiets down, affording me a brief moment to appreciate the thick forest below, rock walls and mountains around and the solitude of standing on an outcropping at the end of the day.

Camp

The split in the trail to Ouzel Lake, the marks a half mile to camp.  The final distance is covered in ten minutes and I arrive with anticipation of finding a moose.  The single campsite sits above the lake, nestled in the woods near an open meadow.  Camp is set up quickly, but I suddenly have a sinking feeling.  Desperately, I pour everything out of my pack and onto a rock. I stand in the middle and realize I have forgotten my tent stakes.  I contemplate sleeping without a tent, however, reconsider after looking at the clouded skies.  It would be just my luck for it to rain tonight.  Looking around my camp site for things that will suffice, I spy some rocks that look large enough to do the job.  The rocks help me complete the last chore of setting up my camp.

Evening Chores

The final tasks of the evening are to collect water and make dinner.  I head to the stream below the lake and fill my water bottles.  In anticipation of finding my moose, I take my camera.  No moose immediately obvious, so I take a short detour to walk the edge of the lake in search of my moose.  No moose! Disappointed, I focus on sterilizing water and head back to camp for dinner.  As the sun slides from the sky and darkness envelopes me, I crawl into the safety of my tent and a welcoming, warm sleeping bag.

Things that go bump in the night

I fill my eyes with the nightly ointment that makes me functionally blind.  As I drift off to sleep I hear branches breaking, twigs snapping and a huff, then a snort.  It is close and raises my anxiety as I cannot see, and I fear that some critter will trample me in the dark.  I holler “Hoosh, get out of there”.  Huff, snort, crash.  Shit.  I search around my sleeping bag for my bear spray and pull the safety clip off.  Crash, huff, snort.  “Hoosh, get out of there”.  The sounds in the trees move closer as I hold the bear spray at ready.  I turn on my headlamp and look out, I see the hazy film covering my eyes.  Useless.  I contemplate scraping the ointment out of my eyes to improve my vision, but experience tells me it does not help.  More huffs, snorts and thrashing through the trees on the outskirt of my camp.  I decide I can get trampled whether or not I can see what is coming.  I set down my bear spray and relax into my sleeping bag, resigned to let nature take its course.

Now what

Slowly, my body relaxes, my mind settles and I drift off to sleep despite the thrashing and huffing.   As I rest the fluid that accumulates around my joints daily begins to drain, causing an urgent need to visit the trees.  Lightning lights the sky and I cautiously leave my tent.  The huffing/snorting creature cannot be far, and I absolutely do not want to wake it (or, worse yet, bump into it).  I rapidly take a few steps, relieve myself and race back inside the safety of my tent.  Returning to the warmth of my sleeping bag with disaster averted, I quickly return to my slumber.  My alarm rings at 4 am.  Tiredly, I roll over to hear the gentle patting of rain on my tent.  Now what, it seems my window for climbing Isolation is closed.  I turn off the alarm and slide back into a deep slumber.  The peak will keep for another wander.

Huff, snort

Young Bull Moose

Huff, snort, thrash rattles me from a deep sleep.  Sun fills my tent warming my face and convincing me that it is time to discover the creature behind the huffs and snorts.  Donning layers, I cautiously exit my tent.  Expectantly, I scan the trees right outside my tent.  Nothing.

Young Bull

Finally, I hear huffing and snorting coming from two directions.  I walk in the direction of one and cannot find the source.  I head the other direction to discover a huge bull moose in a meadow.  His rack is bright red with strips of velvet flopping around as he trots through the meadow.  I envy how swiftly and effortlessly he covers ground, as if he is skipping across the meadow.

Old Boy

All of a sudden an older, larger bull moose comes out of the forest and approaches the younger bull.  I can’t believe my eyes and run back to camp to grab my camera and phone.  Standing safely in the trees, I watch the bulls do their dance of dominance.  The sun, still low in the sky, casts shadows across the meadow, making photos difficult.

Young vs Old

The young bull grazes as if to ignore the old bull.  Eventually, they look at each other and the older bull moves closer.  My excitement is difficult to contain, but I do not want to interrupt the dance that has begun.  As the old moose gets closer the young moose holds his ground, then suddenly snorts and dashes away.  Score one for the old boy.

Moose sizing up each other

Sun filled meadow

The excitement of the morning has distracted me from my morning tea.  I head back to camp to get my morning fix.  My trusty stove purrs along and soon enough water is ready for tea.  With a mug full of tea I head back to the edge of the meadow, where the sun has begun to fill the long grasses with its rays of light.   Sunlight highlight the changing colors and the arrival of Fall.  Grasses range from green to yellow to spots of red and brown  Shrubs have turned red and orange and it is a perfect arena for male cavorting.

A log makes a convenient chair to witness the male drama unfold.  I begin to take photos, trying to catch the blood red antlers in direct sunlight to highlight the color and capture the hanging velvet.  Unbelievably, I hear another moose huffing and he soon enters the meadow.  Three bull moose!  I cannot believe my good fortune.

Dance of dominance

The male ritual captivates me for several hours.  The choreographed dance spans across the meadow, the crack of locking antlers, a huff, a snort, a trot and a return to grazing, as if not interested in the joust.  In between jousts, time is spent scraping antlers along tree trunks and limbs, an ensuing huff and snort as if to posture their virility.  Scraping antlers removes the strips of velvet and shines the rack to make him more attractive to the absent mate.  I think to myself "silly boys, the girls have not yet arrived."  It will be a few more weeks before the rut begins.

Dance of Dominance

A quiet morning

The moose loose interest in their ritual and leave the meadow.  I return to camp and make breakfast and another cup of tea.  The sun is warm, I am tired and decide to take an easy morning.  My soul is fed by watching moose and a quiet wander through the forest.  Age has mellowed the drive to climb a peak at any cost and the delight of a walk in the forest and a morning of watching magnificent creatures trot through a meadow is as gratifying as bagging a peak.

I take care of water chores and pack up camp to avoid inviting any other critters into my camp while I wander through the forest.  Camera and phone in hand I walk along the lake shore.  Massive Mount Copeland forms the border along the far edge of the lake.  I scour the flanks in search of a route to climb and put it on my list for next summer.

A walk in the forest

As I come around a bend I am surprised by one of the moose, who gives me a snort and moves along.  I find a small stream trickling into the lake and skirt around the marshy wetland, filled with the tell-tale tracks of moose.  Another meadow shows the changing season with grasses turning to yellow and flowers coming to their end.  I wander deeper into the forest and find treasures of mushrooms, single flowers and gentle creeks winding their way through the forest.  Sun filters through the trees, highlighting the colors of Fall.  The moist forest is thick with the decomposition of organic matter.  Thick grasses carpet the forest floor, fungus, flowers and wood in various stages of returning to the soil illustrate the cycle of life.  A moose is tucked into the trees, resting after his night of romping around my camp.

Napping Moose

The Forest as Art

The eye and camera are drawn to interesting shapes, texture and color of wood scattered throughout the forest.  Time and weather turn each piece of wood into a unique masterpiece.  A morning is spent investigating these pieces of art, pleasure at the rich textures and shapes.  The camera is challenged to capture the essence of each piece, doing it justice to illustrate its beauty and character.

Interesting wood

Time to Say Goodbye

Slowly I make my way back to camp, stopping to chat with a couple.  The moose tale is spun,  and they excitedly head off to find their moose.  Upon return to camp, I do a last check to ensure the camp is nice for the next hikers.  Shouldering my pack, I head towards the trail head.  It is early afternoon, and the skies fill with black clouds with the threat of rain.  Lest I get caught in a lightning storm, I scurry along to get into the tall forest.

More Treasures

A tree root stands out with long, blackened shoots standing in the air as if horns of a wild animal.  A squirrel scampers across the trail, rapidly scaling a tree and giving me a chirp.  He finds a safe branch in the middle of the tree and stops to look back at me.  He is an impatient model, but I manage to catch a quick picture of him on a branch with his mouth full of a treat.  A berry bush catches my eye, stopping to capture the dried berries and warm colors of Fall.  I am surprised a critter did not find these berries during the summer forage.

Squirrel in tree eating

Moving along, an old stump along the edge of the trail catches my eye.  It is quite old and has stood there for many seasons, as the holes and worn wood attest.  The character of the wood draws me in, my eye scouring every line, hole, texture and color.  I want to capture its story, its essence.

Soul Owl

The stump has a set circles, one empty and one filled with a knot.  I see a set of eyes, brows, a beak, intricate lines and cracks in the wood, as if feathers.  An owl stares into my soul.  I stare back, searching each line, crack, and feature, being sure to not miss any detail.  A smile of gratitude and I continue my hike.

Coming to an end

The afternoon is young, I have only a handful of miles to travel and I am in the safety of the trees.  I afford myself the pleasure of chatting with hikers as they pass.  Mutual pleasure of the forest is shared and adds a delightful gift to this wander.

Finally, my wander concludes in the parking lot.  Three women with back packs are readying to start their hike.  I ask their destination and they tell me Ouzel Lake.  I smile and tell them of my adventure and wish them a moose.

WanderJill