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[zzcoop]

Hoo-boy! This hike had been sitting near the top of my bucket list ever since we started visiting way back in aught-eight. I can't really explain what it was that intrigued me so much, but whatever it was, I was drawn to it immediately. After poring over this year's trail condition reports for the last few weeks before we left, I was reasonably confident that the snow along this trail would be fairly manageable, which it was (for the most part… more on that in a bit) so I decided to go for it.

After the girls had returned from their morning outing, they dropped me off at Ute Crossing at 12:15. I usually like to allow about an hour per mile of hiking to allot for photos, snacks and labored gasping, so we set a pickup time of 6:15 at Upper Beaver Meadows. The fun began before I even set foot on the trail. Since the wind was whipping along pretty good out of the west (imagine that) I walked around the car and opened the rear door on the driver's side in order to gather up my accouterments. Pretty brilliant, I have to say. I then proceeded around and opened rear liftgate so I could grab my trekking pole out of the back. Which, since I forgot to close the other door, funneled said tundra slope rocket wind right through the vehicle, sending all sorts of crap sailing out across Trail Ridge Road. Before I could say "Holy SHI…" Jen had jumped out of the car, slammed the door, bounded across the pavement and grabbed everything like one of those people in the booth full of swirling cash. I then got "the look," and sheepishly nodded in acceptance of my complete failure to, how you say… think ahead.

But, once again, I digress.

After a quick triple-check of the agreed-upon pickup time, I set off across the tundra. Now maybe it's just me, but I've never understood why people insist on taking pictures of trail signs. I mean, what's the point? It's a sign. A piece of wood with words on it, attached to another piece of wood without words on it. Who cares?

By the way, here's a picture of the trail sign.



The girls sat there in the car until I was just about out of sight, which means they were either watching with pride as a stalwart father and husband gallantly faded away over the horizon, or they were mocking me and high-fiving every time the wind tried to blow me over. Feel free to assume the latter. (I do.)

The views, which were alight in the glorious midday rays of the Swadleyglow, were spectacular. There were even a few early season wildflowers along the way, none of which I'm going to even attempt to identify. These ones were… uh, pink. And stuff.



You've got to love tundra hiking.









Somewhere along here, I met a group of hikers (a pair of older couples) on their way back from Tombstone Ridge. They asked me how far I was going. I said, "Upper Beaver Meadows." Then one guy said, "Really! All the way, huh?" Then he turned to his wife and said, "Hey, this guy's gonna do what we did that time!"

He then told me what a beautiful hike it was, and that I was going to love it. Pretty encouraging words. Then he proceeded to tell me that it really gets difficult once you start down. Then he put his arms so far apart that you'd think he was telling me about a giant man-eating fish he'd just caught, and said that I'd be heading down steps "THIS BIG! For MILES and MILES!" Not so encouraging words. Nevertheless, I moved along.



The wind eventually subsided as the trail continued to steadily cut across the tundra.



The view looking left, up the ridge.



Your friendly neighborhood cairn. (And perhaps a bit of foreshadowing, who knows…)



Continued…

Edited by zzcoop, 22 July 2011 - 10:19 AM.

[zzcoop]

After a while, I arrived at this snowfield, which was not a problem at all and was easy to get across.



The view back up the trail.



A bit further yet, and I came to a much larger snowfield. Also by now, the runoff had turned the trail into a gentle babbling brook.



Looking back at the first snowfield.



And looking out across, and up along this second one.





Since this second snowfield looked to be considerably deeper, and because the snow was pretty slushy from basking under the mid-June sun, I decided to just skirt around it to the left. A little soggy, but no problem.



Looking back across.



Not too much further up the trail, I came across this impressive cluster of Rocky Mountain Cocoa Puffs, which is usually a strong indicator that there's critters in the area. Or John Swadley.



The trail continued to climb gently up this slope, and the clouds started to build a bit.



Continued…

Edited by zzcoop, 22 July 2011 - 10:24 AM.

[zzcoop]

Looking back again, partway up the next slope.



Storm clouds still building.



After cresting the ridge, I spotted these two just as they spotted me.



A bit further along, and the storm clouds were really starting to get organized. Nothing in my immediate vacinity, but I kept a very close eye on them.





Not too much further up, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, lying in a puddle a few yards off the trail. I thought, is that what I think it is? I mean, could it be? Is it?



IT IS!



YEEHAW! FREE HAT!!!



Even though I threw it on for a quick thumbs-up photo, I kept it slung around my neck for the remainder of the hike, because A) This thing was on some other dude's sweaty head, and B) it reeked of Old Spice. But never one to turn down a freebie, especially when it's a goofy-lookin' hat, I claimed it as my own.

Of course, frolicking around in my new hat like a goober was not without its own embarrassing consequences. This crowd of lookie-loos saw the whole thing.



I didn't see any high-fiving, but I'm pretty sure they were all having a pretty good laugh at my expense.

Continued…

[zzcoop]

The storm clouds kept on firing, but seemed to all be going around me. Still, it was comforting to know that I was starting to descend toward treeline.





A couple more flowers. These ones are, I believe, sort of purple. With some yellow and stuff.



Looking back up toward Tombstone Ridge.





Looking down towards… oh, great. More snow.



This is is the point in the hike where I started to get a little bit nervous. But I figured since I'd crossed that snowfield a ways back, surely this one wouldn't be so bad. There were clear, well-defined tracks (both people and elk) that were relatively easy to negotiate. But being unfamiliar with this trail, and having zero clue as to the actual depth of the snow, I stepped VERY carefully.



And just after crossing that, I came to this. This section was slightly more packed, but the depth was a lot more mysterious.



By following the cairns and hugging the edge of the trees, I was able to get around a lot of the snow here.



Ahh, dry ground. Perfect.



Continued…

[zzcoop]

Hmm… looks like another couple of little snow patches ahead. No problem.



Or so I thought. By now, walking in the soft snow was like walking in the world's largest ICEE. Not fun. I was postholing quite a bit, but the depth wasn't bad, so it was pretty manageable. Until…

*THUNK*

About halfway across the snowfield, there was an area that I determined would be best navigated by walking across a half-exposed log, then going up and over a low point in the main drift to dry ground. Unfortunately, my left foot slipped off the log and shot straight down into the snow, leaving me postholed up to my waist. And the snow, in this half-melted state, was just like concrete. My foot WOULD NOT BUDGE. It was like quicksand. The harder I struggled to free it, the more stuck it got. And I'm not afraid to admit that I freaked out a little bit.

But eventually, I calmed myself down, and slowly dug my foot out by chipping away at the surrounding snow with my pole. Then, after waiting in vain for a few minutes for my legs to stop jackhammering, I maneuvered my way carefully down. On my butt. On my knees. Holding my pole horizontally for support. Chucking rocks onto the drifts so I had something to step on. I tried just about everything I could think of. I was determined to "keep on keepin' on." (Help me, Igloo Ed Kenobi. You're my only hope.)

Quick! See if you can spot the elusive tracks of the flailing snow jackass!



Upon reaching the edge of the next set of snow fields, I did a bit of route finding and eventually stumbled upon this cairn.



Unfortunately, it seemed to lead to nowhere. I had come to a dead end. I was completely surrounded on all sides by drifts that were several feet deep, and completely impassable. Seriously, 360 degrees of slushy white nothing.











I wandered around for a good long while searching and searching for any sign of the trail. But, nothing. Nothing at all. I thought maybe I'd found it two or three different times, but I kept returning to this same spot. I finally just sat down for a while and tried to clear my head. Believe it or not, I actually considered giving up at this point and heading all the way back. Problem there was that my phone was AT THE CABIN (not that I would've had service anyway) and the girls were to meet me, y'know… where I was supposed to be. So I tried looking around one more time. But, just like before, I saw nothing but waist-deep drifts as far as the eye could see.

Just as I was literally seconds from turning back, I spotted this little cairn, tucked down beside the edge of one of the smaller drifts. Apparently, there was one direction I failed to head while I was busy heading in every possible direction.



EUREKA! Eventually, I managed to wander completely out of the snow's ICEE grip and back onto the trail. I don't know which is more shocking… the fact that I managed to miss seeing that spot, or the fact that I managed to actually find that spot. Either way, it was once again game on.



Continued…

[zzcoop]

The runoff was really flowing now. It was starting to look more like Ute Creek than Ute Trail.





One last snowfield to cross. Fortunately, this one was child's play, thanks to these exposed rocks.



Completely out of the snow now, and ready to head down the, uh… "trail."



I stopped at a nice spot along the creek and took a few waterfall shots.



Yours truly.



This one's for you, Snady.



Continuing on down the trail, you follow the creek for quite a while, and I took several more waterfall shots (I'll post more later.)





Continued…

[zzcoop]

Ultimately, the trail comes to an area where you have to cross the creek. At which point, the trail itself wants you to go this way:



While common sense says, look to your left, moron:



I'll take a mere trickle over a roaring cascade any day. After hopping across the creek, the trail opens up into this lush and flat-out spectacular valley.



I could've easily hung out here ALL FREAKING DAY.



All the drama of a couple miles back had completely distracted me from the weather, which by now was building back up and it was starting to sprinkle a little bit. Also… hey look, another sign!



Once you re-enter the forest, the trail follows the creek again for a while, providing numerous waterfall opportunities.





After a while, it once again opens up. This time, onto some pretty terrific overlooks.





More flowers along the way. This particular variety is called "yellow."



Continued…

[zzcoop]

A couple more signs for your viewing enjoyment.





Ahh… the end is in sight. By now the skies were really dark, and the thunder was getting a lot closer.



Even with the delays, I still managed to beat the girls to the trailhead with 15 minutes to spare.



After Ally got in a bit of frolicking, we headed back to the cabin (where pie and cupcakes awaited) and enjoyed the rest of our evening. Every delicious, maple bacon calorie of it.

I felt great. ICEE grip of death aside, this was an AWESOME hike. I was exhausted, soggy and wishing I'd planned ahead a little better, but who cares? Would I do it all over again? You bet your Cocoa Puffs I would.



(Oh, and in case you're wondering… yes, I kept the hat.)

Fin.

[John]

The worst thing about this trail for me is that I lost some of my crap on it. But amazingly, YOU FOUND MY CRAP! (And some other moron's hat!) Best report of the season!

[Allie]

Loved this report, Coop. This is one that I want to do, also. Loved your storytelling and your photos are awesome.

[mwilson]

Great report and pics. We did this hike many years and I remember it being tough on the knees. Maybe it was those big steps the guy told you about. I'm so glad you found the hat, because that reminds me that I need to get mine out of the closet. I'm glad you found the trail again!

[soatley]

We did that hike in reverse, but it was a lot drier and way less exciting. Way to conquer the streams.

Sandy O

[rcw]

Great report. I was pretty much unaware of this trail but it is now on my bucket list of hikes. You have a wonderful way of reporting your trips. Keep it up!

[jflo]

Awesome report Coop!!! I must try a maple bacon cupcake... Mmmmmm.... great story telling!

[Rhonda]

Laughed my head off at your report and loved your awesome pictures.

Explain the sign that says Beaver Meadows Trailhead 1.5 Miles one way and 3.5 Miles another way. Is that to the same trailhead, one just meanders a lot? And I guess you took the 1.5 mile one?

My son did this hike solo many years back, 2002 I think, and I was not exactly sure where the trail ended up in Beaver Meadows but I guessed right. It was a bit of a stressful afternoon for me since I had let my son out at the top of TRR and had no idea where he was going to come out. Kind of like sending a toddler into the Chuck E Cheese overhead tunnel maze and not knowing what slide they are going to come out of. But we connected fine. He said at one point in the forest he had a feeling something was watching him, the hairs stood up on his neck and he just kept booking it through without looking around.