Meadow Mountain Hike in Allenspark

Meadow Mountain (11632')
~7 miles RT, 2700 ft. gain from St. Vrain TH near Allenspark, CO


My bride and I decided to spend a fantastic fall morning with a more leisurely hike up Meadow Mountain near Allenspark. I had spotted Meadow Mountain and its higher neighbor, St. Vrain Mountain, during recent forays into Wild Basin. Since the area appeared to be near-peak in terms of foliage viewing, and the summit would provide fantastic panoramic views, it was nice to minimize driving on I-25 and avoid I-70 altogether. Finally, I would get to check out yet another trailhead and trail, having recently decided there's no reason not to visit every single trail in the park at least once.

Both St. Vrain Mountain and Meadow Mountain are less-popular hikes, but much of the hiking information I do find is in regard to snowshoeing. Undoubtedly, with ample snowfall, the great views and relatively safe approach on the mellow angles of these slopes make it a great choice for winter excursions. In fact, the St. Vrain TH is a turnoff near the end of Ski Hill Road in Allenspark, which is historically named for several ski areas which used to be in Allenspark. Now, the community is a very quaint outpost near RMNP, tucked off of the main Peak-to-Peak highway. It gets almost none of the attention of its famous neighbor to the North -- Estes Park -- yet has more than twice the charm, and is worth a visit any time of year.

The hike is a typical forested creekside trail with a steady climb to treeline. The aspen are immediately stunning near the trailhead, with some brilliant orange on display:




A hike in Fall continues in colourful splendor as the trail leaves the forest for open meadows of deep reds, and distant views of amber leaves below:




So far, the hike nicely met J's requirement of being "Over the River and Through the Woods," which means mostly on trail, without long slogs on talus, snowfields, scree piles, etc., as it approached the saddle and National Park Boundary (having crossed through IPW) at a saddle between Meadow Mtn., some unnamed points just above 11,400, and St. Vrain Mountain. We had planned on a decision between Meadow Mtn. and St. Vrain at this point. Prior to the hike, I was secretly hoping for the "higher-is-better" choice, but seeing the two options in front of us, I imagine words like "steep," "talus," and "krummholz" being thrown about as curse words should we have chosen St. Vrain. Truthfully, Meadow Mtn from the saddle was an appealingly short hike that was mostly tundra, with just enough talus to be fun but not annoying, and would give us better views to the North. Easy decision.

With extra time at the top, low wind, and sufficiently warm temperatures, we lounged around a bit with the summit to ourselves, nicely able to celebrate our 9th anniversary from earlier in the week:



The broad summit had no visible marker or summit log, but has an electric box with a solar panel and antenna, and otherwise sublime views in every direction. We were in no hurry to leave the summit, with only gentle clouds in the area.

In all, this was a spectacular fall hike, even better by enjoying it together, and I can imagine returning for a bluebird winter day. We hadn't left the trailhead until almost 8:30AM, yet had only seen 2 other people on the trail, and took plenty of time for foliage pictures. On the way down, we did see maybe half a dozen parties as the clouds began to roll in. I hesitate a bit, but this hike is a great suggestion for foliage viewing and acclimatization hiking for visitors. It is similar in difficulty and elevation to the much more popular Twin Sisters hike (also a free-parking TH that accesses RMNP), yet has better views and much less human traffic.

On Top of Mt. Albert

Mt. Elbert (14433')
"South Elbert (14134')
11 miles hiking, 1 Mile elevation gain
Black Cloud Gulch, Class 1/Class 2


Mt. Albert is in New Zealand, while Mt. Elbert is the highest point in Colorado, and the highest point in the U.S. outside of Alaska or California, for that matter. So, on the day before Father's Day, 2010, J and I planned on hiking up to the top, where we dropped off some of Grandpa Al's ashes, along with Grandma Charlotte's. Neither of them were particularly mountain folk, but Grandpa spent some time in the Army down in Pueblo, and since the state high point is pretty much homophonic with his, I decided it might be a fitting tribute.

Back to the hike: there are a couple of easier options popular with peakbaggers, but the Black Cloud trail stuck out as a more intriguing option: over 5000 feet elevation gain; a beautiful, uncrowded basin and gulch with great views of La Plata and other peaks to the south; the chance to bag the unofficial "South Elbert", while spending a good couple miles on a high alpine ridge. So, this hike had a lot going for it! Otherwise, Mt. Elbert itself is less impressive and prominent than a state highpoint should be, a rather unfortunate state of geologic affairs for the serious alpinists in a state of more worthy scary, jagged peaks I suppose, but instead it reveals itself to be a democratic mountain, accessible to all.

Also, this hike was to serve as a tune-up for J to get ready for a Longs attempt this year. She's done the elevation, the distance, and bits and pieces of Class 3 and exposure. This hike added the last piece of the training puzzle, by giving her a feel for 5000 feet of gain as well as a true alpine start. One final bit of training: continuing a tradition of camping somewhere on Father's Day/Solstice weekend, albeit with camping being loosely defined as sleeping anywhere outside.

Friday after work, we were off to Leadville, in no big hurry (except I realized I forgot the camera, so we had to settle for cell phone pics!) other than to arrive in time to grab some High Mountain Pies pizza action before they closed at 10pm:


We got there by 8:30, put in a pizza order, then swung over to the liquor store for some a little beer and wine, as the restaurant doesn't serve it, but lets you bring your own in. No problem with that! I thought a large vegetarian pizza and an order of garlic bread might leave us with a few slices for breakfast, but I underestimated our (OK, my) appetite, whoops! Well, we still had 1 breakfast slice left, as well as an assortment of breakfast burritos I brought with us.

Satiated, we headed down to Twin Lakes and over to the trailhead. After reading various reports, I intended on being the first person ever not to drive past the trailhead, but this was not to be, as I passed it once, turn around at the Lodge, then passed it again. Ultimately, we arrived and saw one other vehicle parked there, and another arrived an hour after us. We made camp in the car and drifted off to sleep, though I was pretty wired and restless.

On the drive out, I warned J about every aspect of the hike: needing to leave early; the steepness; various false summits and the long view of the summit from the ridge; unknown snow conditions since last weekend; being exposed to weather (lightning and wind especially) for much of the hike. I've seen trip reports averaging around 8 hours on the low end, and other suggestions of allowing 10-12 hours, so I played conservatively with a 4AM start time.

4AM and we were off, headlamps a-blazin' and on guard for mt. lions. The trail was easy to follow and manage in the dark, and I tried to keep tabs of anything to the side or behind us that might have glowing eyes. Just after 5AM, twilight began, and 10 minutes later headlamps weren't needed. Here, just after an hour, we saw a tent pitched, as well as our first stream crossing, a makeshift bridge of logs.

Now we were near the open basin, but had a few more stream crossings to navigate. One of them was blocked by a fallen tree, so we hunted around for an easier crossing, then bushwhacked back east until we ran into the trail again.

As we made our way up the basin, the rising sun lit up the peaks behind us.


We followed the trail up to treeline, where the ridge came into view, and then began switchbacking in earnest. Now, many switchback trails (RMNP trails, CFI trail on Huron Peak, e.g.) seem to be too conservative, and you can at least appreciate the temptation to cut switchbacks, all the while acknowledging the erosion control properties of a well-planned trail, but these swithbacks were steep! The switchbacks almost needed switchbacks on some of the looser stuff. No, it was actually quite dandy, a calf workout for sure but not overly obnoxious.

It did take awhile to claim the ridge, but before that, our first objective ended up meeting the sunshine level before the ridge, where temperatures and optimism soared.


Finally, after obtaining the ridge, we could see what lie ahead: a rolling ridge and the big knob that made up South Elbert, followed by the ridge curving N-S up to Elbert itself. Snow conditions looked fairly decent, with shaded North spots holding snow of course, as well as leeward East-facing slopes on the final Elbert ridge. Wind wasn't too bad if we stayed on the East. We took a quick snack break and set off for South Elbert.

The rest of the hike was mostly Class 2, although faint hits of trail were scattered about through the talus, so most of it was picking a line across stable Sawatch rock and tundra. Dancing on the ridge, we continued to have great views to the south as well as new views to the North, while not looking ahead to the summit. J kept a great, steady pace: Relentless Forward Motion, just like we talked about, rather than getting anaerobic and taking too many breaks.

Finally, after 4.5 hours, we arrived at South Elbert, firmly above 14k feet.


Feeling good, it was time to press on. Without a cloud in the sky, we had little to worry about with the weather, and I was pleased that it was only 8:30AM. The downhill jaunt to the saddle was a fun relief more than it was an annoyance, and now the last grunt began. The left or West side of the ridge always offered solid, stable rock, but the snowpack remained nicely firm. In general, the snow ended up giving even better and faster travel without postholing. It was quite nice to have options!

After an hour, we obtained the summit, shared with perhaps 8-10 other folks (the first people we had seen after 5.5 hours of hiking) from the other side of the peak, all of them friendly and stoked to be up high on such a nice day:



I let the ashes fly into the wind, and signed my grandparents names in the summit register.

We sat down for a good 25 minutes or so for a nice, unhurried lunch break, and took in the views.

Now it was only 10AM, and time to head back. On our way down to South Elbert, we saw a solo hiker from Kearney, NE heading up in good spirits: he was the one who had pitched his tent partly in, and had his truck parked near ours at the TH. Heading down the softening snow, I alternated between running and sliding. There wasn't any great time-saving glissaditunites on this route, but I found a legit North-facing field with a good runout, and practiced sliding and self arresting.

After reaching South Elbert again, we saw a couple more parties. Among them was a woman hoisting a full-suspension mt. bike. A very nice downhill bike! She was friendly (gun-to-my-head, I'd guess "Swiss", but why didn't I just ask?) and asked about upcoming conditions: I suggested that the snowy downhill between the peaks would be a blast, but...Did you ride that up here? Are you really going to ride down past South Elbert? (Keep in mind, I am generally unflappable about this stuff, but I was momentarily flapped). She estimated ~2% of the uphill was rideable, but 80-90% on the way down. We bid her good luck (why didn't I try a "Berg Heil?") and kept this in mind as we finally finished the ridge and joined the trail again. This is more popular on the Class 1 trail from the North, but I hadn't read about it on this side, unless I misunderstood and she was making a loop out of it. I tried picture riding my bike down any part of the trail...and I just couldn't picture it. Then I tried picturing blasting straight down the tundra: maybe, but it seemed like hematoma-city. Kudos to her, though!

Where were we? Ah, the switchbacks seemed even steeper downhill, but again were in no hurry, as we were now protected from the wind, and shed layers in the warming sun. Tra-la-la-la-la, and we were back in the basin, back over the river, OK this is getting old now, time for a nap! 9.5 hours later, back at the car, where I cleverly had stashed an extra beer in my little cooler. We popped the back of the car open and piled in for a siesta, feet dangling slightly outside, the shade just cool enough to sleep. (I've seen Heaven sold as clouds and angels and harps, the chance to peer over the edge, as a voyeur, watching other people do stuff. Por moi, give me sun, and a chance to watch old videotapes like this one, over and over).

An hour later, we felt sufficiently refreshed, with enough energy to drive to town to get coffee to get enough energy to maybe eat. Oh, J promised herself fudge after a successful hike, so we procured some mint and marshmallow fudge from the tourist-friendly fudge shoppe in town, whose staff was also curiously dismayed when I asked to cut the large hunks smaller (so that we would only be purchasing $7 worth of fudge, for an immediate snack), as they seemed poised to sell $20 worth of fudge to any tourist that came through.

Anyway, fudge and coffee in hand, we now had enough energy to make it up the road to Frisco, where we stopped in by the river for some delicious Mexican food. Now, finally, I had enough energy to make it home. J declared this her favorite 14er hike. Score!

West White Pine

My girl, my girl, where will you go?
I'm going where the cold wind blows.

In the pines, in the pines,
Where the sun don't ever shine.
I would shiver the whole night through

Nirvana, "Where Did you Sleep Last Night?", lyrics from older folk song

This year's aspen showing seemed a bit down from previous years. Admittedly, we were out of town during the peak for much of the state. Still, yesterday's drive through the Poudre Canyon showed that peak was definitely passed, but there were still some spectacular stands remaining.

We love the Pingree Park area, but hadn't explored Buckhorn very much. The only time I'd been up 44H itself, in fact, was almost a year ago, when Caleb and I did a brief scouting of Moody Hill on Thanksgiving Day. From then, it was clear that this area had more potential. I had, though, done some rides on Old Flowers, and heard that Steve and some boyz hit up White Pine a few weeks ago. This by itself sounded like a good mellow hike for today.

Looking out the window at 7AM, there was a solid line of clouds sweeping across the foothills, north to south, but there was an interesting gap just behind them. With luck, we would hit some good weather back there. We took our time getting ready -- the only threat this time of year is rain and cold, but at least not lightning -- and got to the ranger station around 9.

Sure enough, the clouds were breaking enough to let some sun through, and we didn't need winter jackets. It was truly a fall-like 43 degrees, quite pleasant. We took our time heading up the jeep road; I would like to return to challenge it on a mt. bike, as I couldn't find any one spot that was too intimidating with proper planning and tacky soil, but the whole climb, in total, certainly is a beast. Partway up, on the side of the road, we saw some glittering: mica! My geonerd brother-in-law taught me this, and I was surprisingly excited at collecting some. In just over an hour and 15 minutes, we found ourselves at the top, and enjoyed a nice break in the sun as the fog rolled in the distance:


Before the clouds completely socked in the west, we had great views of the Mummy Range


and we headed back down, again taking our time and enjoying the leafy road and some of the still brilliant aspen.


We also checked out the trail leading directly north of the white pine saddle, which eventually connects to Old Flowers. This singletrack looked clean and awesome as it rolled over a bed of pine needles, and there were some nice campsites offset from the road. Definitely worth a future visit!

Near the bottom, there is one intriguing, large boulder just off the side of the trail, that I spotted on the way up. Not being in a hurry, I played around on it.


It was quite solid and fun to practice on, but I still have a hard time downclimbing. Need to practice that more. Interestingly, I descended on an easier, slightly mre reddish rock next to it, which ended up being more flaky. I'll have to ask Caleb what's up with that.

We made it back down and saw a few more folks headed up, but all in all a nice stroll in the woods. The road isn't too rocky, so it might be worth a future ski visit. Before we left, we looked at the trailhead for Donner Pass. This trail has always intrigued me: first, based on the name, but also because it's not overly popular. There's definitely more stuff to check out in this area!

Waxing Gibbous, Rising Sun / Cam'ron's Snowy Tundra Fun

While I was having a self-induced rough day at work on Friday, my friend Ben had just texted about a solid run he had just finished in his Raramuri sandals. I looked outside: it was a perfectly cloudless Fall day, near sunset, and I still hadn't gotten outside to run. Jess was recovering from a tough week at work herself (which culminated in fantastic presentations from Dr. Ratey on the exercise/brain link), and I was still at work, so it was clear we were going to be in town for the weekend.

When I did get home, I did a quick run on the trail across the street under the (nearly) full moon. This made me feel a bit better, and gave me an idea...

I called up Ben with a half-baked plan to see if he had any plans for sometime before dawn. He was already planning a full-moon hike on Sunday night at Horsetooth, and already meeting friends in Denver on Saturday afternoon, but that didn't answer the immediate question: was he up for some sort of full moon/sunrise hike above treeline, somewhere? As the answer was "Yes," we discussed alternatives, eventually settling on Cameron Pass. Initially, we planned on Mt. Mahler, but after thinking about scrambling up a north-facing aspect that neither of us had been on before, with a possible dusting of snow in the dark, we decided against it, and opted instead for some exploration of Montgomery Pass/Diamond Peaks area.

So I picked Ben up around 4AM, and we headed out. We had a bit of a snafu with finding a gas station that accepted credit cards at that hour -- who knew? -- but then we were off, driving west through the silent canyon with the moon still above us. Just before 6, we were at the trailhead, with a very faint dawn and 28 degrees.

Oh yeah, and there was snow at road level. This was a bit of a surprise, as the Joe Wright Snotel showed no remaining snow. But, it was only a dusting, so we headed up in the dark:

Actually, the snow was surprisingly fresh and still in the trees. One more decent snowfall, and a fun October tour in the trees could be had.

Soon, it was light enough to see without headlamps, and then we passed treeline, just as the sun was rising, but not yet quite high enough to overtake orange llama hats:


We made our way up between the North Diamond and Montgomery Pass, cautiously traversing the steeper angles, until reaching a drier pile of summit rocks.

As we suspect, the west-facing aspects were windblown and easier to walk on.
And run on, so we did a bit of trail running on the ridge, past Montgomery Pass and over the next few summits.

Overall, the entire ridge line in this area never ceases to amaze me with it's fantastic above-treeline views and fun, easy running or hiking.


Some day in the summer, I'd like to start from the South Diamond and continue north towards Clark Peak. I'm not sure how gnarly it gets in that direction, but it's intoxicating having such a long stretch above treeline.

We headed back down from the pass and back to town, another good day at Cameron Pass! Fall is truly almost over here, as the snow will be coming soon...

Huron Top

But nothing’s ever as good
As when you’re on top...
I want to wake up / And just start running
Into a ditch / Or straight up a mountain
I want to get / Where no one been gettin’
Make it deeper than hell
Or make it higher than heaven
Jakob Dylan, The Wallflowers "When You're On Top"


'Twas the last week of September, and a BFH ("Big Fat High") was coming through Colorado, so it was a good weekend to head to the mountains, check out some of the foliage, and climb something high. So, at oh-dark-30 (actually, 2:45AM) Saturday morning, we headed up to the Sawatch for the 3rd time this year to hiking sumpin' fun: Brown's Peak and Huron Peak.

Huron Peak is an easy 14er, with gorgeous views of numerous other 14ers and no paved roads. The standard trail is a class 1 walkup, around 2 miles from a high 4WD trailhead, and can get crowded in the summer. But that wouldn't be very interesting, would it? Instead, our plan was to ascend via Lulu Gulch, climbing Browns Peak along the way.

The drive out was uneventful: the sky was perfectly clear, and the low over Fremont pass was 24 degrees(!). We arrived at the South Winfield trailhead with just a tiny hint of dawn, and 30 degrees, but the day would get warmer as soon as the sun started clearing the mountains to the east. There was only one other car at the trailhead, a big change over the summer. We took our time getting ready, eating breakfast burritos, and generally allowing the sky to lighten, which saves headlamp weight and space (more burrito room) and wards off bears and lions (according to Jess).


So we actually started hiking around 6:30. We began down the main road, before taking the first left at 0.4 miles and switchbacking upward. Soon, we began to see the aspen on the mountainsides, surprisingly a bit before peak for late September:


This spur 4WD road continued long switchbacks until treeline, when Lulu Gulch and the Cirque from Middle Mountain to Brown's Peak was in view. At this point, we were to leave the road and find our own route up to the ridge along Brown's. Jessica picked our ascent route, a mixture of scree and tundra.

As we were in the shaded, west-facing aspects that still hadn't seen sunlight yet, the ground was still partly frozen. Rather than being icy, however, it kept it from being loose, so it was quite pleasant to ascend this route in this weather.

Next up was some boulder hopping from the saddle up to Brown's:

Full disclosure: Up until now, we couldn't even see Huron. Before this, in fact, I was arguing with myself as to where the hell Huron was, and after all this work, Jess didn't seem amenable to the mountain in front of us (Brown's) being a 'false' summit (if a separate 13er can really be a false summit). Well, either way, we had to make it up to Brown's, and then we could discuss further plans.

We made it to the top of Browns and had it to ourselves. There was a sparse summit register there -- one or 2 signatures per week during the summer -- and gorgeous views all around. Did I mention we hadn't seen a soul yet all day? Well, at this point, we could finally see Huron, as well as a few folks on top of it. This route was worth it not just for fun scrambling, not just for solitude, but also the sweet perspective of Huron that we'd miss from the standard CFI trail.
To get there, we had about half a mile to go, with about half of that scrambling over the snow-dusted ridge, before joining with the standard trail for the final summit push.
From this vantage point, covered in snow, Huron actually looked kind of gnarly, even given its easy reputation. Jess didn't like the looks of it, as the obvious trail was a ribbon of snow that seemed to go straight up. Either way, though, we needed to proceed to the saddle between Brown's and Huron, join with the standard trail, and then make our decision.

As we moved toward Huron, we took a cautious route to the right/below the top of the ridge. The snow was only a few inches deep, but slowed us down a bit. As we rounded a corner, with Jess slightly out of view, I heard a loud thunk that made my heart skip a beat. It turns out, Jess leaned on a decent-sized boulder at shoulder level, and it actually rolled out toward her! She got out of the way in time, but bruised her left hand in the process. This was especially unfortunate as we continued traversing the right side of the ridge; i.e., the left hand was frequently needed for balance. She shook it off admirably and kept at it, as we proceeded through the boulders to a flat spot where we could intersect the standard trail.

Jess took a more cautious approach slightly downward toward the trail, whereas I'm quite miserly with giving up gained elevation. I intersected the trail a couple switchbacks above her...
And that's when I did the stupidest thing I've done on a mountain.
A pure stupid, stupid rookie mistake.

I set my backpack down to take some pictures. Due to the snow and angle, there was just enough gravity to cause my pack to start sliding...
and then rolling...
and then rolling...
I watched it, entranced, willing it to stop, as it would slow down near a rock, then roll around it, and start picking up speed. It crossed the trail twice, and started getting near another hiker. I was preparing to call it out in warning, when it finally, mercifully, stopped.

The hiker (a friendly German ex-pat) retrieved it for me, as I cruised down past Jess to meet him.
I apologized profusely at my own stupidity (and having it been witnessed), and for small possibility, not realized, that he could have been endangered by my rolling pack or his own effort to retrieve it. I'm sure I've set my pack down dozens of times while skiing, but usually cut my skis below the pack above me (and maybe I have rolled it and just forgot, as skiing down to retrieve it isn't a big deal). Lesson learned, and shared here...

I turned around and met back up with Jess -- I will admit to enjoying a bit of extra-credit heart-pounding descent and re-ascent -- right as the switchbacks ended, and the snowy ascent began. This would have been a good time for Yak-trax or the like -- the very same ones we were looking at in the store the day before, perhaps -- but it was still manageable with some scrambling (on what would normally be a walk), aiming for one rock at a time. We were uncertain of the downhill awaiting us, as we watched one guy biff a few times as he descended.

Finally, the summit was achieved:


We were greeted by 2 women (first 14er for Mom), a dog, and perfectly blue skies. After taking our picture, the ladies left and we had the peak to ourselves for a few minutes -- quite a difference over the summer, I imagine.

Jess's mood improved, and she seemed genuinely happy on her 2nd summit of the day. Here, I must add that it was 2 days before our 7th anniversary, and I could not be happier sharing such a beautiful day with the person I love most in the world.

Soon, the German gentleman and his partner arrived, and we exchanged pleasantries.
We took some more pictures; ate some breakfast burrito and zucchini bread; and I fired off a cryptic text to my brother-in-law. Then, we began the snowy descent down the standard trail.


We passed maybe 4 or 5 folks coming up -- man, it was such a gorgeous day! -- and the snow soon gave way to mud. The views in the valley at the bottom were also spectacular, we were quite pleased with our choice of a loop route.

Now, we did have a bit of schedule in getting back down. We weren't rushed, but if we had no commitments, I would have loved to take a nap out in the meadow. That's how gorgeous and non-threatening this September day was. Alas, we trudged on down a million switchbacks on the standard trail, until finally intersecting with the 4WD road.

We arrived back at the car, still guarded by flaming yellow aspen

and headed back home, about 8.5 hours since we started. I would estimate the snow slowed us down by approximately an hour.

In summary, the Lulu Gulch route is a fabulous alternative to the standard route on Huron. I would consider it equally fun for ascending or descending when doing a loop with the standard route.