Planning
This trip can be considered a twenty-year celebration, when in 2006, Brad first joined me on a backpacking trip. The other special thing about this excursion is that I chatted with artificial intelligence to plan it. From the beginning, I asked Claude.ai for suggestions for a loop or in-and-out trail within two hours of Colorado Springs (location of this year’s Western Orthopaedic Association meeting) or Denver, where there are scenic alpine lakes and lofty peaks. Claude presented several choices, and after narrowing down to permit-free locations, the James Peak Wilderness in the Roosevelt National Forest took the top spot. I also asked Claude for fly patterns and size for alpine trout; terrestrials like #14 ants, he suggested, and in particular, the hi-vis type so they are easier to see from above.
Getaway
The night before, Brad and I toasted to twenty years of friendship at the Penrose Room, overlooking Cheyenne Lake at the Broadmoor. It was one of the best dinners we’ve ever had. The sun, first shining into our eyes, eased behind the mountains while casting long shifting rays.
This morning is planned to the minute. We have very little time to spare in order to make it to the trailhead. Leaving the Broadmoor, with Chipotle to-go burritos, we make a beeline out of Colorado Springs towards Denver, skirt west around the city, and turn onto a dirt road just beyond Rollinsville. After a few miles, we arrive at the East Portal Trailhead, which is situated just outside of the Moffat Tunnel. The large parking lot is about three-quarters full. While packing up, a passenger sightseeing train whizzes by and is swallowed by the tunnel. It’s a quick pack, since we had already gathered things into the backpack and its compartments.
On the trail
Brad and I strike out at 3:20. The trailhead starts off winding its way through a dusty path around some stands of aspen trees. We cross the Roosevelt National Forest boundary into the James Peak Wilderness. As we hike up the gradual incline, the hum of the tunnel remains palpable. It would be a long time until the sound of trains disappears. We hike past the fork to Forest Lakes; we had been debating between doing the loop from Heart Lake up to the Continental Divide and over to Forest Lakes, but given the late start, we opted to head to the lower Crater Lakes. At the next junction, we climb up the steep trail, where much of the path is more like granite stair steps up the side of the mountain.
Crater Lakes
The first lake we come to is the smaller of the Crater Lakes. From there, we bushwhack our way northeast to the next lake. After scouting around, we settle on a small site nestled among young fir trees. Just steps away, the trees part open to a pretty meadow of wildflowers and meandering braids of the lake’s outlet stream. Next to camp, a large flat granite boulder perches by water’s edge, making a platform for cooking and eating.
Brad sets up the clothesline. We pitch the tent in a spot barely big enough for the tent plus its vestibules, surrounded by trees dripping with sticky yellow sap.
After setting up and the hair washing routine, I head back to the wildflower meadow and jump into the creek to clean off. As I look up half-naked, I am startled by two llamas staring straight at me from twenty yards away; now, I’m in a hurry to finish the bath. When I get out of the water, the sky breaks open and pours large raindrops. I quickly gather my clothes and hike barefoot over the rocks back to camp, put my camera under cover, and finish putting on dry clothes. The now gentle drizzle and the smell of damp earth transport me back to the last day of our Rainier backpacking trip, heavy and refreshing at the same time. The afternoon monsoon quickly passes, clearing to occasional raindrops beneath a cloudless patch of sky.
We warm ourselves with miso soup followed by spicy noodles with fresh spinach. I love having fresh produce in the wilderness. For dessert, it’s tiramisu. Brad brought the main ingredients, and I brought the powdered milk to complete the recipe. With measurements being inexact while at camp, the espresso with Mr. Black turns out to be a little watery but good nonetheless.
The clouds roll back, the sky clears, and the inky curtain descends as day turns to night. All of our important gear is tucked underneath the vestibules. It’s been a packed day, from meetings at the Broadmoor, the drive, and the speedy late afternoon hike. Soon, we’re both asleep.
Morning at Crater Lakes
I wake up early and stroll to explore the meadow on the other side of the lake, where I find a gentle creek feeding the inlet. Around the grassy knoll are a few good scattered campsites. On the way back, I tiptoe through carpets of wildflowers while chasing sun star photo compositions.
Returning to camp, I find that Brad had helped me pack up my sleeping bag and pad. We enjoy a hot breakfast of quick oats loaded with coconut, almonds, blueberries, cranberries, cinnamon, and brown sugar. I prepare pour over Blue Bottle light roast coffee.
Hike to Heart Lake
Soon, we strike out. The mountain drops us quickly as we descend those giant granite steps. At the junction, we turn right and head up a more gradual trail towards Rogers Pass. Several well-made log bridges carry us over little creeks. As we near Rogers Pass Lake, we pass large clear cascading pools.
“Let’s fish right now!” I exclaim.
“Right here?” Brad asks.
Of course we’re going to fish. There’s nothing more fun than sight-fishing. They are hanging out in the pools, so let’s present the flies. We get out our tackle, and before long, the ant pattern suggested by Claude.ai lands a trout. We release the fish after getting pictures.
Heading further up the trail, we skirt around Haystack Mountain to arrive at the outlet of Rogers Pass Lake. This is a picturesque setting, clear blue lake surrounded by slopes carpeted in lush green. Our destination is up over the next shelf. A narrow and steep trail leads us higher as we emerge from tree line, and I mumble that this path reminds me of the final ascent to Kearsarge Pass from Onion Valley.
I tell Brad, “Let’s look for sites along the northern or western shore of the lake if we’re lucky, so we can see the Milky Way arc reflected in the lake.”
Soon, we are walking through low bushes and reach the southern shore of Heart Lake. We scout for campsites. The western shore and northwest rim appear to be sloped fields of rocks, not suitable for camping. Crossing the logjam at the outlet, Brad hikes ahead to the northern shore. He finds several overused sites under a thicket of dwarfed trees. Because the previous night was within forest cover, I suggest finding a more open area. He continues searching along the shoreline, and before long, he comes across a grassy patch. It is perfect! We settle in, set up camp, and swim. Brad wants to full-on swim in the lake, but he just dips. I do some butterfly strokes. Meanwhile, a group of six girls congregate on the bluff directly above our campsite; their incessant chatter carries down to our site and across the lake. We hope they find another spot to camp.
Camping at Heart Lake
We do some more fishing. I ask other anglers what they’re using, and they tell me caddis flies, parachute Adams, and beetles—but none of those fishermen land any fish. I convince Brad to hike down the steep trail to Rogers Pass Lake, and near its inlet, we spot several dinner-size trout cruising the shoreline. Brad drops the ant. I try elk hair caddis and various other patterns. They would inspect the fly and swim by. Without success, we decide it’s time to head back to camp.
We find the girls still on the bluff above us.
“They look more mobile now,” Brad observes.
And sure enough, they look like they are slowly packing, maybe reluctantly. As they trickle down and walk by our campsite, I strike up a conversation. They are all from Colorado College, Brad’s alma mater. The ground is too rocky and too sloped, and while some really want to wake up to a breathtaking sunrise, the experienced one convinces them to find a better spot. They backtrack and pick the overused covered site we saw earlier.
I boil water, soak the rice noodles, and head back for a second bath, since the hike down and back was sweaty and dusty. After hanging up laundry, the noodles are now soft. I pour the used hot water into another titanium mug to rehydrate soy curls for the tom kha soup. Brad shaves the carrot and cuts up the lime. I finish the pad thai and dish out portions into Sierra cups. Topped with carrots and crushed peanuts, the pad thai is brightened by a squeeze of fresh lime. We warm ourselves with creamy soup to finish our dinner.
Along the northern shore, a field of rockfall made of boulders and talus invites us to fish. Several large trout tease us. There will be no fish for dinner this evening.
Dessert tonight is one of my favorites—strawberry cheesecake on a crushed Oreo cookie crust. I divide up the portions, and soon, we’re overfull and very happy.
The night sky
We climb up the bluff and sit on a rock where the girls were earlier and watch the stars come out. Scorpius emerges from directly across the lake above Haystack Mountain, and I point it out to Brad; its curled tail is obscured by the tall slopes. To the left, there is the teapot of Sagittarius. I wave across the sky, showing Brad where the Milky Way will unfurl. Behind us, Polaris and the Big Dipper peek at us, the latter’s handle carrying us to Arcturus and further to Spica.
As dark sky begins and the Milky Way comes to life, I scout for a place where I can frame the arc directly over our tent, which Brad lights with the LED lantern. He gets irritated at me for asking him to turn on and off the light one too many times. Nonetheless, I capture the arcing band of our galaxy, its center rising from the southeast over the lake and its leftmost end slithering behind the northern escarpment flanking our tent. In the distance, behind the far stand of stately fir trees, the glow of the Denver metropolis reminds us that we’re not far from the grid. But, we’re still disconnected, off grid, and more in sync with the rhythm of the ancient universe.
The bright moon awakens me at 2:06. I hadn’t planned to take star trail pictures, but the thought occurs to me. I look out from under the awning. There is enough light to bring out details in the landscape. The Big Dipper is no longer visible, but Cassiopeia’s W makes orienting and positioning the North Star easy. I frame the picture, take a few test shots, and program my camera’s intervalometer for two hours of exposures. I set my alarm to go off at 4:10 and fall asleep. The next thing I know, I’m awake, grab my phone, and look at the time. It’s 4:07, and there is no alarm set; I somehow didn’t start it, but anyways, the body’s clock worked. I retrieve the camera and bring it inside the tent. Brad stirs and wakes up. Something prompts me to tell him the story of camping with Tony and Sean by Chicken Spring Lake, where they farted in stereo and I was stuck in between, eventually forcing me to sleep outside.
The story touches off Brad’s nerve, and he grabs my shoulders and shakes me: “Go back to bed! No more stories at 4 am!”
Morning at Heart Lake
Dawn sneaks up on us. The sun turns the hillside a glowing golden hue. I walk around the lake and take pictures of wildflowers with my macro lens. There are a lot of pretty ones near the girls’ campsite.
Back at camp, Brad is up. I make pour over coffee and boil water for the loaded oatmeal. After breakfast, we head along the shore to the boulder field to try fishing. The warm sun feels good on shirtless skin. As we arrive, there’s someone already there: a guy sporting dreadlocks, and beside him were a bottle of vodka, a backpack, and a gun. We prepare our line and cast. Suddenly, the guy in dreads lands a fish, his first of the morning.
“What pattern are you using?” I yell.
“A hopper. You can come over and look at it if you’d like.”
I talus-hop over and peek; it looks just like a little grasshopper.
We try for another half hour, and he does as well. There are a lot of fish swimming along the shoreline but no luck. I tell Brad I enjoy stream fishing more, since the fish have less time to inspect the fly to decide it’s a fake.
Giving up, we return to our tent. I gather the remaining laundry items and Brad puts away the line. We pack up, take our departure photo, and bolt down the trail.
Trout for lunch
We retrace our steps, pass Rogers Pass Lake, and soon arrive at the stream crossing with multiple clear pools. I suggest we fish. Brad agrees. He gets out his tenkara rod and line, and the ant drops before he gets organized. That instant, a fish strikes at it and gets hooked. There’s excitement! He catches two more. I show him how to gut the fish the way Mark taught me on the High Sierra Trail trip. Soon, the garlic cloves are sliced, the butter is brown, and the fish pieces go into the pot. The trout sizzles, the butter-infused flesh melts off the bones, and the taste lingers as we bound down the trail. This is definitely a highlight of the trip.
Back at the car, we quickly organize and head to Estes Park to unwind.
Trip’s end
To finish off the trip, we pack a lot in during our tour of Rocky Mountain National Park, itinerary suggested by Claude. The ranger hands me the park map, and I show Brad where James and I did the Tonahutu Loop over the Continental Divide. We check out the Alluvial Fan, picnic at Hidden Valley, and drive up Trail Ridge Road. The evening culminates with us perched on a tall rocky stack (a short class 3 climb) at the end of the Tundra Communities Trail; here, we watch the red sun drop below the hazy horizon.
The final morning, we get up at 5:15, reach the park for the 6:00 timed entry, and speed-hike from the Bear Lake parking lot. My goal is to catch early morning reflections at Dream Lake. The trail is packed with people strolling with no sense of urgency. Right after passing Nymph Lake, we see the red sun paint the rocks with a warm glow. There’s not much time within this morning’s golden hour, so we rush up to the lake. Along the trail, a cow elk draws attention from gawkers. I ignore her. To the east, I notice a long stray cloud lingering about five degrees above the now-orange sun, so I break into a faster pace. The shore of Dream Lake is teeming with day hikers. I had hoped for a mirror to reflect the high peaks, but a light breeze makes ripples all across the surface. To my left, away from all the people, at the outlet of the lake, boulders and fallen logs create calm pools sheltered from the wind. There they are: mirrors! I step into the mud and take some of my favorite shots. Then suddenly, the glowing blond hue on Hallett Peak switches to dull gray; that cloud is making for a very long blink. Brad and I decide it’s time to leave and return to the Riversong Inn Retreat. After breakfast, the drive up the Old Fall River Road brings us face-to-face with a marmot gathering food and bull elk gazing across the valley. They, too, must be enjoying these majestic mountains.
Afterword
This wilderness trip planned with the help of Claude turned out spectacularly. The route suggestion was perfect. The ant pattern was spot on, as none of the other flies worked on the trout. And we maximized our time in the national park.
AI helped make this another memorable trip. Just like Brad’s first trip with me twenty years ago.
