A DAY OF CONTRASTS - TAYLOR AND OTIS PEAKS

Hike date: July 19, 2009 Trailhead: Bear Lake, elevation 9,475 feet; Highest elevation on the hike: 13,153 feet Total trip distance: About 15 miles. Weather/trail conditions: Partly cloudy and cool early morning, with increasing clouds through the morning leading to a late morning storm. Clear and warmer in the afternoon. Flattop Mountain Trail was all dry and snow-free except for one lingering small snowfield near the summit. Route: Flattop Mountain Trail from Bear Lake; from Flattop went off-trail following the tundra above Tyndall Glacier and Chaos Canyon. Skirted Otis Peak to Andrews Pass, then hiked directly south up Taylor Peak. Retraced the route back to Andrews Pass, then scrambled to the summit of Otis. Returned from Otis to the trail on Flattop's summit, then back to Bear Lake.

In the cool darkness, I walked across the Bear Lake parking lot in unusual solitude. Only the distant sound of a car door shutting and the soft light from headlamps indicated that anyone else was here. A few other hardy souls had made their way to the Bear Lake parking lot well before dawn; it was 3:15AM. I followed the beam of my flashlight as the asphalt gave way to rock around Bear Lake, and found the familiar start of the Flattop Mountain trail. My reasoning for starting early was simple; get up to a high elevation to watch the sunrise. My hiking plans for the day also involved a lot of off-trail miles well above timberline, so an early start was necessary by conventional RMNP hiking wisdom, to avoid the frequent afternoon storms.

View east from Flattop at 5:00 AM

Looking east as sunrise approaches

I hiked for over an hour in an engulfing darkness, broken only by my flashlight beam and an eerie glow of a crescent moon that had just risen. It was cool but not cold, as a pre-dawn stillness welcomed the ever-brightening skies to the east. I kept pushing upward, focused on getting above timberline to watch the sun ascend from the horizon. It became clear as darkness gradually gave way to daylight that there were more clouds than I expected, and I began to think my early start may have been in vain. But as 5:40AM approached, the fiery sun cut through the distant clouds and set the sky ablaze.

View of Estes Park before sunrise

The sunrise begins

Sunrise, 5:40 AM

Sunrise from Flattop

I have watched the sunrise from high-altitude vantage points several times before, but as I watched this day begin, I could only think about how I need to do this more often. I certainly understood why many people consider watching the sunrise from a high mountain perspective a deeply spiritual experience; I had to completely agree. After hiking for over two hours in darkness and pre-dawn light, the glow of the tundra on and along the trail was quite a contrast. My eyes tried to adjust as the whole landscape was bathed in a orange-red glow that seemed unnatural. I turned my attention toward the summit of Flattop, now less than a half-mile to my west.

View north from the trail at sunrise

Heading for Flattop's summit

Alpenglow on the trail and Hallett Peak

A July snowfield and Hallett Peak

Several days prior to this one, the weather had been unusually dry and storm-free, but all indications this morning were that storms were lurking. Although the clouds hovering over the park were not threatening yet, their mere presence this early in the day was a bad sign, and I would need to pay special attention to the weather throughout the morning. As the terrain on Flattop gradually transitioned from steep to level, I knew I was nearing the summit. Arriving at the main junction on the summit, new views to the west opened up. In contrast to the foothills and plains of the east that I had watched all morning, the new views were dominated by craggy, snow-covered peaks.

Trail junction on Flattop, 12,324'

View northwest from Flattop's summit

Hallett from Flattop

Looking west from Flattop

It was now time for me to leave the trail and head across the tundra toward Otis and Taylor Peaks. Skirting the west side of Hallett, I made may across the gentle slopes that give way to the deep valleys of Tyndall Gorge and Chaos Canyon, now on my left as I hiked south. I occasionally found hints of paths across the tundra to follow, but mostly had to make my way gently across the landscape with no path of any kind. As I approached the slopes of Otis Peak, I was at a crossroads. My original plan was to head for the top of Otis before proceeding to Taylor, but my growing concern about the weather prompted me to head for Taylor first in case I might not have a chance to visit both summits. It was still mostly clear overhead, but clouds were developing to the west. At just below 12,000' at Andrews Pass, I was still over a mile and 1100 steep feet from the top of Taylor. So, I bypassed Otis and headed to Andrews Pass, then began the long journey south. Flowers and grass gradually gave way to rock as I continued to ascend slowly, making my way up Taylor.

Taylor Peak above Andrews Pass

Nearing the summit of Taylor

Taylor had been on my hiking wish list for many years, so as I began to approach the summit for the first time ever, it was with growing anticipation. Having already hiked about 7 miles, the increasingly rocky terrain and grade were a bit of a challenge, but I patiently made my way up the mountain. Eventually I could tell I was reaching the summit ridge, with only a small section of more boulders to cross. I soon noticed the summit cairn and knew I had made it.

Summit of Taylor Peak - 13,153'

Looking over Sky Pond and Loch Vale

View south from Taylor Peak

Upper part of Taylor Glacier

After the broad, open summit of Flattop and the mostly gentle slopes of the Continental Divide I had hiked all morning, the sheer dropoff from Taylor's summit was an exciting change. I was also greeted with views to the south that had been blocked all day, primarily by the bulky Taylor itself. Among the scattered boulders, life still endured at above 13,000' in the form of many tiny wildlfowers, which added wonderful decoration standing in opposition to the otherwise rocky terrain. The most striking feature of the summit, though, was the glorious view to the south and east, as the entire drainage of Loch Vale stretched out below my feet. Hanging in defiance of gravity were the snowfields of the steep upper reaches of Taylor Glacier, which gave way to high alpine lakes of Sky Pond and Lake of Glass among a boulder-strewn valley below. From there, the valley continued to the east, including The Loch and fading in to the hazy foothills on the horizon.

View of Ptarmigan Mountain, Lake Nokoni

Looking north toward the Mummy Range

View south from the summit

Looking southwest

I walked around the summit to enjoy all the different vantage points for nearly an hour. Bathed in sunlight and cool high-altitude air, it was undeniably perfect. The mix of summer wildflowers and green tundra against the backdrop of craggy, snow-covered peaks was a classic RMNP summer setting. It was also perfectly still and silent, a truly natural setting with no hint of civilization, as if frozen in time.

Chiefs Head Peak

Taylor Peak summit

Sky Pond and Lake of Glass

Summit wildflowers

As always, it was difficult to leave. Despite the blue skies and sunshine overhead, clouds continued to darken the skies to the west, so it was time to keep moving. I made decent progress heading down to Andrews Pass, not needing the frequent catch-my-breath breaks I required on the ascent. I noticed a pair of rosy finches on the way down, another testament to the enduring qualities of life as they seemed right at home in a field of boulders at 13,000'. Soon, rocks began giving way back to grass and flowers, and I made my way to Andrews Pass.

Rosy finch at home at 13,000'

Tundra slopes, north side of Taylor

Hallett and Otis Peaks

This time, I took a few minutes to peer over the edge of the pass. Although the sun was still primarily shining right at me, it was a little higher in the sky as I looked east than it had been when I passed by here earlier. Andrews Glacier and Andrews Tarn dropped down from where I stood, hanging to a high valley that then fell away abruptly in to Loch Vale. The contrasting bright snow, deep blue water, dark cliffs and bright skies were a showcase of summer in the Rockies.

Andrews Pass

Andrews Tarn from Andrews Glacier

Otis Peak from Andrews Pass

View east at Andrews Pass

Storms were still brewing in the skies to the west, and it was clear I had a narrow window to get up to Otis. Although the ascent from Andrews Pass to the top of Otis was not comparable to the ascent of Taylor, I felt it just as much. With tired legs that had now become used to going downhill, it was several minutes in to my trek up Otis before I could shake the "why I am doing this?" feeling. I also had to keep a good pace, as the storms to the west were no longer just to the west, and rain and wind were now dancing across the tundra and closing in on me. After a nice little scramble, I found my way to the 12,486' summit of Otis, just as a cold wind started to rage across the terrain.

Hallett Peak from Otis Peak

Rocky approach to Otis

Hiker on Andrews Glacier

Andrews Glacier from Otis Peak

With my sunshine gone, I stood atop Otis and took in the views, including watching a hiker ascending Andrews Glacier dwarfed by the massive snowfield. The afternoon storms were early today, as it was just after 10:30AM. Gentle winds had been occasionally blowing throughout the morning, but now a cold, damp, icy blast hit me from the west, and I knew it was time to head down. Although I only had spent a few minutes on the summit, being three miles from timberline was not a great place to be. I took some more photos and grabbed a quick snack before making my way down toward the top of Chaos Canyon.

Summit view, Otis Peak

Taylor Peak from Otis Peak

Approaching storm; summit of Otis

Longs Peak from Otis

Fortunately, there was still no sign of thunder or lightning from the storm, so I was in no great danger. Unfortunately, that was no guarantee that lightning could not develop and prompt me to change my walking pace to a sprint. Sleet began to fall occasionally, but mostly it was the sub-freezing wind chill that became menacing as I continued back toward Flattop. My body was certainly surprised by the sudden change, as just hours ago I was basking in warm sunshine with a short-sleeved shirt and shorts on Taylor; now even with several layers on I struggled to keep warm.

View north from Otis

Overlooking Chaos Canyon and Lake Haiyaha

Starting down from Flattop's summit

As I continued back across the tundra toward Flattop, I had to reluctantly bypass Hallett Peak. I really wanted to get up there, as it had been many years since I last stood on the summit, and I was so close now that it begged for a visit. Although I still had the energy, with the sleet and wind continuing to increase, the prudent choice was to keep heading down. So, after a brief break to regroup on Flattop, I got back on the trail and started back toward Bear Lake. The wind and sleet were now directly behind me, so with my jacket offering protection, the elements were not really a factor. After descending for 30 or 40 minutes, the storm clouds began to push east and there were hints of blue sky. The system would eventually pass, never living up to its threatening potential and unable to muster a single roll of thunder. It was obviously disappointing to me that I chose not to add Hallett to my hike, knowing now that the storm proved mostly harmless. However, it was the safe decision and I had to take comfort in that choice.

Dream lake Overlook

Longs Peak and Mills Lake

By the time I reached timberline, the sun was shining in full force and I went from cold to hot in a matter of minutes. I went back to the short-sleeve shirt and shorts for the rest of the hike, and the bright high-altitude sun was relentless in the early afternoon. I made my way back toward Bear Lake with very few stops, now trail-weary and ready to end the hike as I approached my fifteenth mile. Arriving back at Bear Lake at 2:00PM, it was a typical Bear Lake summer afternoon with a typical Bear Lake crowd. I just put visions of the silence and beauty of Taylor's summit in my head as I walked along a section of trail that more closely resembled a shopping mall than a wilderness path. Fortunately, this was more of an aberration, as 99% of the ground I had covered on this day had offered wonderful solitude. Perhaps that was the best contrast of all on this day of contrasts; my return to civilization, asphalt and traffic helped emphasize what a great experience I had just had in the RMNP wilderness.

Photos and text by Mike Amfahr, Copyright 2009

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