Sometimes you have an experience so profoundly excellent you wonder if it has ruined you for future endeavors. The hike I took to Ice Lakes Basin near Silverton, Co. recently put just such a musing into my mind. It was, in a word: overwhelming. Overwhelming in beauty, variety, color, weather, and reward. I am one who tends to believes that the best is yet to come; and so I must say; I have miracles in my future.
This is a popular trail and we were hiking on a July weekend, so an early start was a priority. I had read about an upper trail head that cut off 500 feet of elevation gain and a half mile of climbing. You should probably have an all wheel drive to tackle this jeep road, and my little Nissan was able to pull it off. We inched into a space on the side of the switchback heading to the nearby Clear lake and shouldered our packs. After completing this hike, I was more than happy that I had a day pack and not a backpacking rig. This climb goes high and mighty. But it is also semi short, and achingly sweet. I checked with a few ladies shouldering their equipment to see if I was in the right place; and was impressed to see a woman about my age with her Mother! I was even more impressed after doing the climb. If I am doing this at 75 I am living right. Well, I already am but you see my point.
We began by crossing a strong and lovely waterfall. Of which I took a weak and unattractive shot. The trail then begins to wind through a green and rocky basin filled with the first hint of glorious flowers and vistas. Surrounded by granite peaks and strewn with patches of pine we have a taste of the amazing scenery that graces this trail. By 8:30 we are entering some switchbacks through the old growth forest and breaking out the bug spray. Do not forget the bug spray. Flies and mosquitoes like this hike too.
The trail winds steeply up for a mile or so and we are glad for the shade. The only shade of this trail which is blessedly on one of the tough parts. Seasonal wildflowers continue to please the eye. I get a good shot of a new flower for me, a Star Wand, or Death Camus, as it is deadly but lovely.
Easy to navigate but rocky and deep, the trail eventually leaves the woods and opens to amazing meadowland filled with stream off-shoots and flower power picture perfect peace. It also stops climbing for awhile. Life here, suddenly, becomes very technicolor and it's hard to take it all in. The path winds through waist high cow parsnip and there is every Colorado darling you can imagine. For us, right in bloom. I could stay for hours takings shots of the surreal beauty, but the lower Ice lake is here and beckons me to eventually move on to even greener pastures. Many people camp here and venture further without their packs. Several shaded areas and lovely waterfalls complete the awe inspiring basin.
With the exception of yesterday's backpackers, we are still relatively alone in this bucolic lower basin. Our rest and casual meandering end with a somewhat tricky stream crossing. But who cares if your boots get wet. You are gonna appreciate cold feet in a few minutes. The last half mile or so to the upper Ice lake is steep, rocky, hot and getting up past tree line. Puff puff rest. Step step; oxygen please. I make Steve promise not to diss me to others about my slow pace. I am saving myself for the last leg to Island Lake. The rhyme and reason that has drawn me to this place; like a moth to a flame. I saw ONE picture and I knew it was my destiny. Up we go. Up we go. Every time I bend down to take a picture I get dizzy. And I am drinking lots and lots of water. You must drink.
Leaving tree line does not mean you are leaving flower line. If anything, the display becomes even more enchanting and lush. Like so many places in Colorado, a few minutes of movement will bring you a whole lot of change. There is so much appearing at once, I have trouble deciding what to do. I could spin circles and shoot, and not get a bad scene. Good thing my memory card has capacity. How could people cope with the limits of film. I see a few people coming back that passed me earlier. (they were 20-- so there) and I know I am coming close. I have that just over the ridge feeling. How I relish my first sight of the lake. There is nothing that compares to a high alpine apparition. And that is what you feel you see here. The limited oxygen is compensated with breathless beauty. A blue-green blast of planetary wonder. Earth, Heaven, Jupiter.
Steve is sitting on the shore eating Pringles. I am running around like a maniacal photographer as the light, reflections and scenes all assault my senses in simultaneous outrageousness. Little do I know, I ain't seen nothin' yet. There are a few people camped here and there are several other lakes a bit higher in the actual upper Ice Lakes basin. Most folks will choose here or there for their final destination. We are heading over to Island lake. The current reason for my existence. We must traverse along the outlet stream and up the side of a mountain face to reach this turquoise pool nestled in it's private glacial basin. I can't eat. I am on a mission. I am so glad I took an easy pace. I got enough fuel left to scale this last third mile or so.
There is nothing that can go wrong today. I have been gifted with some type of Nirvanic blessing. As we begin our last ascent, the flowers get better and the clouds you dream of for perfect photos start rolling up over the peaks. We have to scramble a little up here in the highlands. A young couple passes us coming down and she is rightly very cautious with a pack on her back. I try not to slip as I shoot. Steve crosses the ridge first. He doesn't say anything. I guess I shouldn't ask why. I'm speechless. The only other couple around passes us. They went swimming. It was frigid. They got there by accident. They must have been in shock when they saw this 8th wonder of the world. Steve says he doesn't know how any hike can ever match this. I say I can die a happy man having seen this, and I'm a woman. I'll just let you look at a few pictures here. I didn't have to touch a single one. The elements all cooperated with my lens. Who am I to mess with perfection.
We have the planet to ourselves for 20 minutes of uninterrupted bliss. I take 8 million pictures of the same thing but it's different each time. I stop to gobble a few chips. We do some selfies. This is real life and I am living it. The marmots squeak and pop their heads up. We can see a few climbers across the glacial cirq way the heck up there. I guess it's time to roll. The clouds and light continue to morph and amaze. We know Colorado though, and would like to get down the hill before lightning strikes.
The climb back down to Ice lake is glorious. The clouds and snow throw off the hook shadows on the lake. The flowers seem even brighter. How good can you take it. Just about this good. I am filled to the brim with purple mountain majesty. We stop and talk to a few hikers coming and going. Not many have heard of Island lake. Or they don't seem interested. Good. Lets keep this under our cowboy hats shall we! I found this lake on another blog. Maybe someone will find it on mine. With the slow traffic around me lately; no one can blame me for blowin the whistle on paradise. Milton be damned.
There are tons of people struggling up in the heat as we shimmy down. They are sweating and grimacing and swatting flies. Even the kids. That makes me feel a bit less wimpy. Getting up early is everything good when high mountain hiking. We're tired and glad we are soon in the shady woods. I see the 75 yr. old woman just hitting the last tough push with her daughter. I tell her it's hard going, but that she's almost there and that the rewards are great. She thanks me and means it. We relay a message from a worried Dad, down to his kid who went off trail to fish. They will be happy to see each other and see the rest too. For us, it's back to Silverton to wash off the trail and wash down some cold ones. Ain't life grand.
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