IN TO THE WILD - A TOUR OF WILD BASIN LAKES

Hike dates: September 1-3, 2007 Trailhead: Wild Basin, elevation 8,500 feet; Highest elevation on the hike: 12,300 feet Total trip distance: About 24 miles. Weather/trail conditions: Partly to mostly cloudy all three days with some heavy rain. All trails snow-free. Route:

DAY 1 - Hiked from Wild Basin Trailhead to North Saint Vrain backcountry campsite, via the unimproved "campsite trail", then on to Castle Lakes, Lion Lake #1, and Castle Lake. DAY 2 - Hiked from North Saint Vrain backcountry campsite to Thunder Lake, then off-trail to Box, Eagle and Frigid Lakes. From Frigid, hiked over Isolation Pass to Isolation Lake, Pipit Lake, Lark Pond and Bluebird Lake. Joined the Bluebird Lake Trail and hiked back to the campsite. DAY 3 - Hiked from the campsite to the trailhead via Ouzel Falls and Calypso Cascades.

In 1995, in a series of three hikes over five days, I fell in love with Wild Basin. I continued to dive in to this part of RMNP for the next several years leading up to my second ascent of Chiefs Head Peak in 1999. Having visited over 20 of Wild Basin's lakes in that time frame, and covering every foot of trail system (and a lot of feet beyond where the trails faded out), I felt I had experienced the highlights of the area and turned my attention elsewhere. But, I had left one remote part of Wild Basin unexplored for all of these years... DAY 1 Even though I had only done a few hikes on this trail system since 1999, and not visited a new Wild Basin landmark in this decade, I still had a great sense of familiarity as we started up the trail. My old friend Copeland Falls soon greeted us with the always-welcome sounds of cascading water, as the North Saint Vrain River tumbled its way east toward the Plains. Also familiar was the overall namesake sense of wild in this place, and I was excited for more.

Copeland Falls

Copeland Falls, North Saint Vrain River

My hiking companion on this trip was long-time friend and former college roommate Eric Ruethling. Eric has done some hiking in RMNP, but never had the chance to set foot on this trail. We made good time through the first mile of the trail and eventually to the junction of the alternate trail to a group of four campsites, despite heavy packs. At the junction, we headed west on the unimproved campsite trail, up the rocky path. Eric was smitten immediately with this trail's wild appearance and narrow cut through the dense forest. "People think I'm hiking this weekend on some paved bike trail," Eric laughed, "I wish they could see me now."

Unimproved trail to backcountry sites

Along the unimproved trail

The alternating steep and level stretches finally led us to the North Saint Vrain campsite area, our base for the weekend. We dropped the gear, set up the campsite, and set our sights on Lion Lake #1. We wasted no time heading west, both anxious to see more of Wild Basin. Eric was fueled by a chance to see some new lakes, while I was fueled by the thought that it had been twelve long years since my last trip to Lion Lake #1. On the way, we took a slight off-trail detour to find the tiny ponds named Castle Lakes. The tiny ponds were surprisingly permanent, with no obvious water source and appearing as though they could evaporate in to the surrounding meadows. Yet, they had banks and held a decent volume of water, in defiance of the elements and terrain.

Trail toward Lion Lakes

Castle Lakes

Storms threatened on the horizon, but remained at a safe distance for the time being. So, we proceeded toward Lion Lake #1 under mostly sunny skies. After many miles in the trees with limited views of the surrounding peaks, Tanima, Chiefs Head and other Wild Basin peaks slowly came in to view as the terrain leveled and opened up in to meadows.

Tanima Peak from the Lion Lakes Trail

Eric nearing Lion Lake #1

Pilot Mountain and Mount Alice

Wildflowers and Chiefs Head Peak

Lion Lake #1 was just beyond these meadows, and was a welcome sight after all miles we had covered. The lake and shoreline were bathed in afternoon sunshine, while a large cloud mass built on the western horizon. We refilled our water bottles and enjoyed the views.

Tanima Peak, Lion Lake #1

Lion Lake #1

Above Lion Lake #1

Lion Lake #1 and Chiefs Head Peak

I had never been to Castle Lake (a separate lake from the Castle Lakes we had already visited), so that was the next goal. A brief, heart-pounding ascent east from Lion Lake #1 brought Castle Lake closer and the trail further behind. Navigating cross-country, Castle Lake soon appeared through the sparse trees well below. The moderate-sized lake reflected the afternoon clouds and provided nice views toward Chiefs Head Peak from the southern shore.

Looking southeast from above Castle Lake

Chiefs Head Peak and Castle Lake

Castle Lake

Afternoon clouds over Castle Lake

It was now late afternoon and time to return to the campsite to regroup. After regaining the trail, a slow but easy hike of about 3 miles brought us back to the site and we soon started dinner. Surprisingly, the rain held off, but the cloudy skies kept the temperatures very nice for the evening. As darkness eventually fell, we headed for the tent for the night. DAY 2 The next morning we were up just after 4AM and decided to go through with our plan to watch the sunrise at Thunder Lake. Unfortunately, both of us were weary and sleep-deprived, but quickly drew on our adrenaline to push on. Clouds loomed overhead, leaving some doubt as to what the sunrise would actually deliver; anything from total lack of alpenglow to a sky on fire could present itself at Thunder Lake. So, we pressed on, in increasing light, until we had no need for flashlights. We took our place on the east shoreline of Thunder Lake, where lower late-summer water levels had left a rocky beach, and waited for the show to start. As the first colors decorated the clouds to the east, I started shooting photos until I heard a gasp from Eric and turned to see brilliant sunrise light on Tanima Peak.

First signs of morning alpenglow

Alpenglow on Tanima Peak

Sunrise at Thunder Lake

Tanima Peak, sunrise at Thunder Lake

Tanima Peak, Thunder Lake

Patrol cabin at Thunder Lake

It would have been a jaw-dropping moment in any venue, but here the brilliance of the alpenglow was enhanced by the stillness, silence, and spectacle of the mountain setting surrounding us. In today's world, visual stimulation is inevitably accompanied by noise, as though the two have a symbiotic existence. Entertainment outlets such as concerts, television shows, fireworks displays, movies and major sporting events all present a package of sights and sounds to stimulate your senses. But watching this sunrise, there was something truly to be treasured that this show dazzled us accompanied only by the wonderfully quiet surroundings. This scene did not need noise; it was all our senses could handle as it was. Light rain fell as we worked our way to the outlet of Thunder Lake. The alpenglow had faded and a dull, gray light illuminated the landscape as tiny raindrops splattered in the lake and outlet stream. We found a faint trail heading east and followed it, setting our sights to Box Lake.

Cliffs, east end of Tanima Peak

Cliffs above route to Box Lake

I had consulted several guidebooks and talked to many reliable sources concerning the presence of a trail toward Box Lake. There were mixed answers from these sources, so I did not really know what to expect. Still following a faint trail east of Thunder, our path turned south and one thing was clear...it was time to climb out of the basin and in to the wild.

Approaching Box Lake

Faint path to Box Lake

To my pleasure, the faint path was prominent enough to follow without great difficulty. It was especially nice as we crossed a very steep ridgeline, with rock walls above and a rather displeasing dropoff below as we traversed the eastern arm of Tanima Peak. Looking down on a ridge that was about as steep as one can be and still support tall trees, we got through this area, and continued through moderately steep terrain toward Box Lake. Occasional cairns marked the route, but it was fairly straightforward at this point as we followed a gully southwest toward Box. Climbing over an occasional downed tree and stopping for frequent breaks, we soon found our way to Box Lake.

Box Lake

Looking west at Box Lake

Box Lake, looking south

View of Box Lake en route to Eagle Lake

After a brief lakeside break at Box for a snack and some water, it was time to head for Eagle Lake. The initial ascent out of the Box Lake valley was very steep and led to a broad shelf scattered with small ponds and blocked by stunted trees. We wove our way around and through the obstacles in what appeared to be the path of least resistance (appearances were sometimes deceiving and necessitated some backtracking), bringing us to a point just east of Eagle Lake's outlet.

Outlet stream, Eagle Lake

Pond near Eagle Lake

We hopped from boulder to boulder in the stream to reach Eagle's shore, at the eastern end of the long lake. I had focused so much of my attention leading up this trip on Frigid Lake, I had spent little time thinking about Eagle itself. I had definitely shortchanged this lake, as stepping on to the rocky shore was the highlight of the trip for me up to this point. Dramatic towering peaks were reflected perfectly in the surface of the lake, which was decorated with large submerged boulders. It was certainly a pleasant surprise, and we soaked up the scene and enjoyed the cool morning.

Eagle Lake

View west at Eagle Lake

Longs and Meeker reflecting in Eagle Lake

Eric dwarfed by boulders at Eagle Lake

Yet, the best part of the hike was still ahead of us. After surveying the terrain visually from where we sat at Eagle Lake, Eric and I decided we would proceed to Frigid Lake by climbing the slopes south of Eagle and proceeded due west from there. Our plan worked well, and rewarded us with views that no superlative could overstate. First, reflections of Longs Peak and Mount Meeker to the north danced in Eagle's waters, which became increasingly emerald-colored as we climbed. Then, the blue skies and white clouds joined the lake surface, reflected in the lake far below. We needed the frequent breaks to take in the view anyway, as we now scrambled well above 11,000 feet over steep rocks, tundra and occasional scree. The scenery was fantastically beautiful.

Eagle Lake, Isolation Peak and Eagle's Beak

Looking north across Eagle Lake

Scrambling above Eagle Lake

Reflecting clouds and view toward Longs Peak

Well above the basin now, we continued up the steep slope, with no hint of trail or route. The footing was mostly solid as we stayed close to a rock wall initially, and gradually got to more open and increasingly level areas as we climbed. Box Lake came in to view below, and Isolation Peak to the west. We had now gained most of the elevation we needed to gain, so we turned west toward Frigid, finding the best route through stands of low bushes and grasses. This gorgeous alpine basin undoubtedly holds large snowbanks well in to summer, as even now in early September the area was still damp and littered with runoff streams. We continued west, enjoying every moment and building our anticipation as we headed toward Frigid Lake.

Looking north across Eagle and Box Lakes

Tanima Peak and Eagle Lake

Heading toward Frigid Lake

Pagoda Mountain and Longs Peak

One of Wild Basin's defining characteristics is its quantity of remote lakes, a trait that I find quite endearing. Frigid is arguably the most remote of all of them, at eight miles one-way from the trailhead, with about two of those miles without aid of a maintained trail, and at a lofty 11,815' that ranks it among the highest lakes in all of RMNP. So, both of us were getting pretty excited to reach the shores of Frigid as we made our final push up the rocky slopes, and the fact that I had saved this Wild Basin lake for last on my visit list made the moment very powerful for me.

View northeast from near Frigid Lake

The final push to Frigid Lake

We arrived at the Frigid Lake area, and had a long boulder field to negotiate to reach the shore. The sound of running water was obvious well under our feet, as apparently in the absence of a visible outlet stream, the lake drained hidden under massive boulders. The glaciation around the lake was obvious, and it appeared the surrounding boulders actually rode on an underlying sheet of ice. Scanning the slopes here at Frigid, it was difficult to see where the rock ended and the snow began, as talus slopes and boulders masked the underlying snow and ice of Moomaw Glacier. The lake itself presented a grayish-blue tint, vaguely reminiscent of the famed glacier-fed sky blue lakes of the Canadian Rockies, a lake color typically not seen this far south.

Frigid Lake

Moomaw Glacier, Frigid Lake

Looking southwest across Frigid Lake

Frigid Lake, with Eagle's Beak on the right

Frigid Lake, elevation 11,815'

Testing the frigid water

We filtered some water and grabbed a snack, as I began to be concerned about the weather and suggested we make only a brief stay. We paused enough for a quick foot soak in the well-named waters of the lake, and sat quietly in awe of the setting. Even with all of last year's snowfall long melted away, the surrounding glacier was impressive, and I could only imagine how dramatic this cirque would be earlier in the season before the snows melt away. In the end, I had to concede the only option was to come back some time and see it for myself. We tore ourselves away from the grandeur at Frigid, agreeing that we would have enough of a weather window to get over Isolation Pass and down toward Bluebird Lake. The white clouds overhead were turning to gray, and expanding quickly, spreading to envelop the sky. So, we quickened our pace in the thin air up to Isolation Pass, now passing above 12,000 feet over grassy tundra.

View of Eagle Lake valley from near Frigid Lake

Longs and Meeker, tundra near Isolation Pass

Approaching Isolation Pass

Isolation Pass

We topped out at the 12,300' pass, the saddle between Mahana and Isolation Peaks, now in the absence of sunshine. The stark, bare, rocky peaks around us were uncharacteristically snow-free, as this deep part of Wild Basin generally holds large amounts of snow well into summer. Patches of red on the surrounding plant life suggested that autumn was already beginning here, and soon the snows would return. We did not linger at the pass, but continued down the very steep tundra to Isolation Lake, visible about 300 feet below us.

Descending to Isolation Lake

Isolation Lake

East shoreline of Isolation Lake

View toward Isolation Peak from Isolation Lake

My only previous visit to Isolation Lake had been nearly ten years ago, when I hiked here on a day that was so rainy and foggy that I could not even see the opposite shoreline of the tiny lake. Today, though, visibility was no issue, although the lake certainly did not convey the dramatic sense of awe of others that we had visited on this trip. Still, very few lakes in RMNP sit at nearly 12,000', and the desolation of the boulder-choked slopes where little life takes hold conveyed just how rough life must be up here. This lake was powerful in its serenity. We continued our descent from here, with occasional pika chirp coming at us from all directions. The sun was not giving up yet, but the gray clouds looked even more ominous, and it was clear our moments in the sun were numbered. Descending to Pipit Lake, we were greeted by the last rays of sunshine for the day, as they brightened the barren, bouldered slopes rising from the lake. After fighting through more low brush, a break appeared in the vegetation, leading to nearby Lark Pond.

Mahana Peak

Looking west from above Pipit Lake