Backpacking the Never Summer Wilderness: Day 2

 The next morning, I hiked for a few minutes around the lake to warm up and had the treat of watching the sunrise over the far western mountains I mentioned earlier, including Longs Peak. Parika Lake had frozen overnight and my tent was still standing. It was so quiet, serene and jaw-dropping picturesque. I found a run-off stream that had a tiny opening melted away, big enough for me to fill my water bottle with and boil to make breakfast: dehydrated biscuits and gravy and fruit. Keeping the stove lit, I collected more water and boiled it for drinking.

While spooning away at my dehydrated food pouch, I heard a big crash. I looked over my shoulder and up on the edge of one of the peaks surrounding the lake were a group of bighorn sheep, two of them bashing their horns into one another in a fit of rage. They would stare each other down for a few seconds and attack. It was the only noise you could hear at this elevation, everything else was silent. Fascinating. This may go down in my books as the best backpacking I’ve ever done, up at Parika Lake.

I tore down my tent, packed up and took one last prolonged look at the alpine lake I fell in love with. Originally, I had hopes to climb to the top of Parika Peak, but there was, way too big of an avalanche risk judging the terrain and snow coverage on the way up. I found my trail I carved the prior night and headed down back a few miles to the trail split to start day two of exploring the Never Summer Wilderness.

As the elevation dropped from 11,371 to about 10,000ft, the weather was splendid and allowed me to shed some layers. A Colorado bluebird sky and sun above. Temperatures were probably in the high 40s/low 50s at the trail split. I veered right and attempted to make my way up the Baker Pass trail, which after only about ten minutes completely disappeared into snow. The destination was at the top of a gulch, meaning if I kept the jagged peaks at my right and a stream at my left, I should be able to get there by heading north. Bushwhacking through the pines, only a few hours of daylight left and reaching knee-deep snow cued the “Is this worth the risk?” question.

I thought about it, looked at the terrain ahead and at my Garmin GPS which I had been solely relying on, and turned around. Not worth getting hurt or deeply lost. Risk management and mitigation are key. Big thanks for all the training you folks at NOLS and Outward Bound gave me back in 2014. I returned to the split I had departed form an hour earlier, kicked off my boots and socks in the sun to dry and sat there for half-an-hour, hydrating and soaking in this killer panorama view. We are so lucky to live on such a thriving, living planet and have unrestricted access to these public lands.

Pulling up my Garmin GPS, I saw that I had only about three hours of daylight left, so I hit the trail and headed down the Baker Gulch. Retracing my footsteps from Saturday morning, I kept hiking downwards, scanning for possible clearings to pitch a tent for the second night.

The beauty of National Forest Land is that you can pretty much throw a tent wherever you want. Success, about 2.75 miles from the main trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park, where I parked my rental car, I saw an opening in the woods off trail to my right. It was the perfect area to set up camp and then hike back the next morning. A plot of stable ground beneath some aspens and lodgepoles, earshot away from a stream, I set up tent fully this time. Meaning, I had enough room and flat ground to rig my tent the way its supposed to be. Compared to the dwellings I had it pitched the prior night at Parika Lake, this was like glamping. I could fully stretch out inside the tent, hang up gear to dry from the ceiling and my sleeping pad was on level surface! I gathered a bunch of water from the stream, cooked up dehydrated chicken breasts and mashed potatoes (gosh that was yummy after a full day of hiking) and soaked in the sunset above the trees. 

Before heading to bed, I filled my Nalgene bottle to the brim with scorching hot water I had boiled, and put it at the feet of my sleeping bag. Classic backpacking hack- do this and your sleeping bag will feel like a sauna for hours. It was the very best and as night came, I was able to read and write inside my tent in a state of upmost comfort. That boiling hot Nalgene bottle kept my sleeping bag warm for hours. I woke up Monday morning, stirred up some dehydrated eggs and fruit and started tearing down camp. I hiked out the final few miles back to my car. But it was a slow hike, a very slow hike where I was repeatedly stopping in my tracks, and looking all around, taking it all in. It’s not every day I get to backpack through thick Colorado forests, past roaring streams and in the shadows of mountains.

Eventually I reached the Never Summer Wilderness/Rocky Mountain National Park property line, marked “Out 10/16” next to my scribbled name I jotted down two days earlier, and kept hiking towards the original trail head. When I arrived back at my rental car, I checked-in with my Spot beacon one last time, set my pack down, looked behind me up the gulch at those snowy peaks and raised both arms in the air, letting out a celebratory“Yes!” I’m on this redeye flight back to Milwaukee now and I’m already missing those mountains and that glassy alpine lake, otherwise known as heaven. Good thing I have a trip scheduled for January to explore Pinnacles National Park in sunny California. Time to start working on that next adventure.

Cheers,
Robby