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North Inlet/ East Inlet
Rocky Mountain National Park - August 2003 North Inlet Trail – cross country – East Inlet Trail Sara and I (my name is David) are reasonably fit, middle-aged people. Sara is on the young side of middle age, and I am on the middle side, the Age of Colonoscopy. Unlike many of our friends and relatives, we actually like walking uphill with heavy backpacks, prefer to go without air-conditioning, don’t feel a need to prevent perspiration, don’t feel a need to wash it off every day and replace it with fragrant chemicals, don’t mind bugs or snakes or dirt, and think we are normal. Sara is beautiful, smooth, outgoing, female and American: I am rough, hairy, quiet, male and Australian. It’s a mixed marriage. I usually think no further than the Grand Canyon for vacations, but Sara convinced me that Rocky Mountain National Park would be just as spectacular, just as good a motorcycle ride from St Louis, and probably a little cooler in August. That wouldn’t be difficult, since during our hike last summer in the Canyon it was 114ºF in the shade, and the thermometer in the sun had maxed out at 125ºF (51ºC). I perused trail guidebooks (Hiking Rocky Mountain National Park), topo maps and web sites (estes.online.com, nps.gov), emailed for advice (Mike Molloy and Frank Smith through the estes web site), and created a new (I thought) and exciting loop hike. I planned to camp at Grand Lake on the west side of the Park, have a couple of days of short hikes to acclimate to the altitude, then head east along North Inlet Trail, cross over to East Inlet Trail near Andrews Peak, and back to Grand Lake. I had read that you could get to Andrews Peak from both North and East Inlet, so I assumed that you could cross over from one to the other that way. As it happened, there is a safer route past Lakes Nokoni and Nanita, and across two saddles between Andrews Peak and Mount Alice. And as a bonus, there is also a Crosscountry Area with an unnamed lake between the saddles for a night of camping at large. Later I read reports describing parts of this hike, so I don’t think I invented it. Four nights, five days. One day along N.I. Trail to N.I. Junction, a day trip to the high lakes and back to the Junction, a day to the unnamed lake, a day to E.I. Trail near Lake Verna, and back to Grand Lake. I estimated that each day we would reach our target in the early afternoon, walking a maximum of ten miles per day, less in the cross-country area. We expected about two miles per hour walking speed on reasonable terrain and good trails, less on steep terrain with no trails. This allowed for unseen circumstances such as side trips, thunder storms, or over-estimates of our abilities. It worked out fine. A couple of weeks before our trip, two campers had been attacked by a black bear in the Park. One had been bitten in the head through his tent screen, and as the bear was being chased away he swiped another camper through the tent door. This happened all the way over on the other side of the park from North Inlet, but this bear being in the same state, let alone the same park, would be a worry. Black bears are supposed to be the nice ones! Rangers went out looking for the bear after the attacks, and the bear made the mistake of stalking one of them. Very unusual behavior for a black bear, even more unusual now that the ranger shot the bear. I didn’t tell Sara this story until after I heard that the bear had been shot. The news may have changed our plans, although a friend offered to loan us his 44 magnum, no license needed in Colorado he said. The two campers were not seriously injured, by the way. They had cuts to the head, lots of blood, but they walked out to the trailhead under their own steam. One camper said that he blamed stupid previous campers who had taught the bear that there was food to be had in tents with humans. So we planned to be very strict about hanging our food in “bear trees”. Day 1, Friday, August 8, 2003, 6.00 am, elevation about 8,500 feet. Cool, clear. Shorts and long-sleeved shirt weather. We had camped at Elk Creek Campground for a few days, a little way outside of Grand Lake, and we felt good about our acclimation. We left Elk Creek early (after watching a moose wander through! - my first wild moose!) and walked about a mile and a half down the horse trail to Grand Lake and the Rocky Mountain Coffee Shop. Being civilized hikers, we stopped for a “skinny triple” and a bagel for me, and a chai tea and a breakfast burrito for Sara. We were at the trailhead by 8.00am. The first mile or so is a fairly flat dirt road. We found ourselves closely following a horse-riding group. I had a deja vu as I thought I recognized someone I have worked with. The road ended at a large field where the horses turned off. There was a house there, too, and we couldn’t help wondering which lucky people lived there with the National Park as their backyard. After the house, the trail narrowed and climbed gently through beautiful ponderosa pine forest. The trail was always well maintained and easy to follow. At about 10.00 am we reached Cascade Falls where North Inlet Creek tumbles over a long stretch of big boulders, turning them black wherever they were wet. Watch out, the blacks ones are slippery! We stopped for about 30 minutes. A little way further along the trail I heard a twig snap amongst the trees. Your heart always skips a beat in bear country? But no, another moose! And then the little nose of a baby moose also appeared! Just about thirty feet off the trail, slowly grazing along. We watched them for several minutes. This was a real thrill for us city folk. The trail continued gently uphill through pines, mostly shaded and sheltered. Granite towers lit by the sun appeared regularly through the treetops if you looked up. There were also a few open meadows, often with the creek meandering through. If these clearings are large enough they get to be called “Parks” in the mountains. They look like meadows to me, but it says “Park” right there on the map. Except for a park called “Big Meadows”. Maybe Big Meadows is a small Park, I don’t know. At one such meadow or park, which was big enough to appear on our map but not big enough to get a name, we stopped for lunch for about an hour. We quickly fished out our mosquito repellent. The only times we were really bothered was when we stopped in the shade during the day. We even slept two nights with our tent flaps unzipped and had no trouble. We asked some hikers from Minnesota if the mosquitoes bothered them, and they said, ”No, it’s our State bird, we’re used to them.” By lunch time, about noon, we had taken off our long-sleeved shirts. I guess the temperature was about 80°F. Beautiful! We continued the gentle uphill trend and reached North Inlet Junction about 1.30 pm. North inlet Trail continues on to the Continental Divide and over to the east side of the park, the “Junction” is with the trail to the high Lakes Nokoni and Nanita off to the right, tomorrow’s hike. There are three campsites in the N.I. Junction group, and there are other groups (Pine Marten and North Inlet Falls) within a few hundred yards. As we set up camp, another moose came up to greet us! Four moose in one day! It must be good luck! I told Sara that the moose were a good sign because moose chase bears away from an area, like dolphins chase sharks. Her face brightened up, “Oh, really!”, she said. “No,” I said, “I cannot tell a lie. I made that up.” I cannot write her reply; suffice it to say that she equated me with a part of anatomy associated with the disposal of waste. She’s a biology teacher and she knows the technical names, so I don’t know why she had to use the colloquial word. We searched for a “bear tree” from which to hang our food bag. We looked around at the ponderosa pines and almost despaired; they just don’t usually have such branches. Their branches usually slope down and start close to the ground. I recalled a trip report I had read in which the author described helping another camper get his food bag down from a “perfect” branch by breaking it off!! It may have been the only good branch for miles! After looking around for several minutes, I found that I was peeing against a perfect bear tree. It even had a strategically placed large nail in the trunk. Of course the nail was highly illegal, and unnecessary if you know your knots, but since it was there I used it. The chipmunks were going to be more of a hassle than bears, they were already circling our campsite, their beady eyes on our backpacks. They will eat right through a backpack in minutes if given the chance. About 3 or 4pm it started to rain. This was to be the normal pattern for the next few days. A comment: Toenails will eventually be eliminated by evolution, they’re nothing but a nuisance. Especially for hikers. Day 2, Saturday, August 9, 2003, 6.30am, elevation about 9,600 feet. A cool, clear morning after a rainy night. Long pants and sweatshirt weather. Today was to be a pleasant sightseeing stroll to the high lakes Nokoni and Nanita, and a scouting of tomorrow’s route as far as possible. At about 8.00am we left our camp. We first went downhill to North Inlet Falls, a spectacular chute of whitewater churning through a narrow chasm of solid rock. Up and up and up. A steady slope, unrelenting. We started shedding outer layers of clothes. Soon we were looking down on the tops of trees. We came to a series of switchbacks as shown on our map. I had downloaded a topo map from the Internet and it was proving to be very accurate. Some of the switchbacks gave us a good view of the North Inlet valley, steep and rocky. We could hear the creek splashing over rocks below, but it was mostly out of sight underneath boulders. The switchbacks ended and the trail ran along the side of the valley with a high overview. Trees started to thin out and there were large open hillsides full of tall grass and wildflowers. There was less shade and the day was warming up. We were down to shorts and T-shirt by now. As the trail turned a corner, we found we were looking down on a green meadow with a stream running through it. The stream emerged from a rock wall close above us and the trail went over it. As we approached the wall our eye level rose above it and the expanse of Lake Nokoni was revealed, our eyes only barely above the water. It was a dramatic moment. Incredibly rugged broken granite mountains frame the lake, Ptarmigan Mountain being the highest, with great slopes of loose stones, and sparse pine forest. A grassy saddle rose out of the trees opposite us, inviting us to climb. Nokoni is at about 10,800 feet, and it’s very spectacular. I had read that you can climb the saddle opposite the outlet creek, make it up Ptarmigan Mountain and across a ridge to Andrews Peak. It was about 9.00am, so we stopped for second breakfast and scanned the saddle for the best route. We thought we saw a faint trail slanting across the face, and a sign marking the trail. The sign proved to be a square rock, but the trail was there. It was steep and loose, but there was a tuft of grass or a rock in strategic locations for footholds most of the way. The top of the saddle was a beautiful park, with sparsely scattered trees standing on a field of short grass flowing in sweeping curves from a huge boulder pile on one side to a point like the prow of a boat on the other. It gave us tremendous views to lakes far below on both sides. We started up the boulder pile, keeping to places where there was grass and flowers between the rocks for better footing. We came upon happy little patches of columbines, Colorado’s state flower, which look like two flowers, a white one inside a blue one, with spindly, delicate stalks and clover-like leaves. The slope was not dangerous for the first half hour or so. But, the route we had chosen by following the grassy patches to the left of the summit became very steep about two-thirds of the way up. At a small level shelf we stopped to consider the cumulus clouds in the west and the route ahead. We weren’t in the best place to avoid lightning, in fact we were probably in the worst. We soaked in the breathtaking panorama for a little while, and then turned back. To cross from Ptarmigan to Andrews Peak would really require starting at dawn, which means camping on top of the saddle, which is not allowed, or leaving North Inlet at midnight. The better route would be to the right of the summit, looser boulders but less steep at the peak. It took us an hour and forty minutes to clamber up, and only forty minutes to clamber down. The highest elevation we achieved this day was about 11,600 feet. Not bad. It’s about 4,200 feet higher than the tallest mountain in Australia. We continued on the trail to Lake Nanita. There is a steep climb over a ridge through forest, and on the down slope there are teasing views of Nanita through brief openings. The trail wanders through a magical little flat-bottomed valley, with streams, ponds, boulders, thick grass, and thousands of wildflowers. If elves or fairies live anywhere they live here. We saw many large piles of elk droppings and elk footprints all over the place. Over another little hill and the deep green water of Lake Nanita opened to view. About half of its circumference has heavy forest right to the edge, there are some rocky points perfect for picnics or fishing, and the rest is crammed up against the towering ridge capped by the pyramid of Andrews Peak. Directly opposite us was a grassy saddle, rising beyond the trees, between a high forested knob on the left, and the tall peaks on the right. We saw a few fishermen to the right and left, people we had met earlier on the trail. They said that they had caught a trout with the first cast of the day, and thrown it back. Not even a nibble since then, about four hours. It was about noon, so we stopped for lunch. We could see a faint trail continuing around the lake to the left (east), the wooded side, so after lunch we followed it to look for the inlet creek and the start of our route for tomorrow. The trail crossed the outlet stream, wandered right to the water’s edge, and back into the trees, sometimes petering out or splitting into forks. But the terrain made it obvious where to go, and there is no poison ivy!! Or chiggers!! Yay! So we made it to the inlet creek with no trouble. It’s a happy little brook, bubbling and dancing over rounded rocks through tall grass and wildflowers in the shade of the pines. Just locating the creek and the start of the uphill slope to the saddle was enough for today, so we headed back. The hike to the creek is very entertaining in its own right, whether you’re scouting or not. I recommend it. It was about thirty minutes one way from where the main trail hits the lake. The hike back from Nanita to our camp at North Inlet Junction took about two hours. We were back at about 3.30 pm. Day 3, Sunday, August 10, 2003, 7.00am, elevation about 9,600 feet. Another cool, clear morning after a rainy night. Long pants and sweatshirt for breakfast. We took off our sweatshirts before we started, a good idea as we warmed up quickly. We crossed the creek again and started the uphill trek. We were always noticeably short of breath in the mornings, but got better as the day went on. Drinking water while walking was always tricky. You have to take a mouthful, take a breath, hold your breath, swallow, take a breath, repeat. If you drink normally for flatlanders, you start gasping and spluttering, and then some goes down the wrong way and you’re incapacitated for several minutes. But that was the full extent of our trouble with the altitude for the whole trip. Going uphill with packs meant very short steps and very deep breaths. We eagerly anticipated that stunning moment as our eyes rose above the water level of Lake Nokoni. Just as breathtaking as yesterday! We stopped for a snack, and suddenly heard what sounded like a rifle shot in the distance. Before its echo had died away, another sharp sound cracked the air, then several jumbled together. They all echoed around the bowl of Lake Nokoni and sounded close. We first thought that it must be illegal hunters who were bad shots, but then we figured that it was a rockslide. We couldn’t see it, but then the mountainsides that look so close in the clear air may really be half a mile away. We continued over the spur, through the fairy valley, and around the shore of Lake Nanita to the inlet creek, as far as we had gone yesterday. It was about 11.00am. We pumped some water and had another snack, and considered our route. We were in woods and couldn’t see too far ahead, but what we saw looked like easy climbing. Firm, grassy ground with a lot of embedded boulders, quite open with the forest on our left and the bare rock slopes of Andrews Peak on our right. We pressed on and soon came to a flat, swampy area with many elk prints. There was a very steep slope confronting us at the end of the swamp, like a wall. More rocks and grass, large boulders, more clumps of columbines, and some heavy brush. The way through the trees looked more open, so after boulder hopping for a while, we walked along and just inside the tree line, following elk trails which were usually diagonal to the slope. It was very steep here, and areas of loose earth made it tricky. We had to use our hands quite a bit. We were both taking extremely short steps and very deep breaths at this stage. We came out through the trees over a little ridge to a flat spot. To our surprise there was a good sized pond in a hollow. It was surprising because you would think that eventually you’d be too high up for water to gather any more. Behind us, far below, glistened Lake Nanita like a sapphire. Above us was what looked like the last grassy slope to the top. But we have learned not to trust ridges that look like the last one, they more often reveal another ridge. It was very steep again, with firm footing in short grass with wildflowers bobbing their heads in the warm breeze. We had to take care and watch our feet all the time, so it was a surprise to look up and find ourselves close to the top. It was about 1.30 pm as we reached the crest. A sweeping vista opened up on the other side revealing a new spectacular valley. Straight across at eye level was a rocky mountainside, to the left of which was tomorrow’s saddle, and loose slopes of tumbled rocks and gravel swept down to a broad valley floor of grass and boulders. There was a large moraine of huge boulders forming a ridge below and to our left, and the forest crowded down to the top of it. Many snow banks were scattered across our view, and we could hear waterfalls off to our right. We paused for another look back at the wonderful valley out of which we had just climbed. Sometimes, it’s great to be alive! Well, it always is … but at this moment, we looked around, and felt a peak of euphoria. We started down across the grassy slopes, clambering around boulders, and headed into the trees where the slope got steeper and rockier, looking for the unnamed lake. We had to pick our route carefully. As I was looking around, I glimpsed movement at the edge of my vision. We both stopped and looked in that direction, and soon a huge elk with massive antlers appeared, framed perfectly in an opening in the branches. He stood facing away from us with his head turned back to look at us, his large rack silhouetted against the sky. It was like seeing a god, the king of the mountains. After several long seconds of regarding us he trotted away. We continued down the steep slope, and soon caught a glimpse of deep blue sparkling water through the trees. The unnamed lake, another beautiful jewel framed by trees on one side and craggy slopes and precipices rising on the other. It was almost circular, and smaller than Nokoni or Nanita. There was a gentle grassy slope beside the inlet creek, which afforded just enough flat ground for our small tent. There was a waterfall opposite our camp, and the inlet creek was nearby tinkling away happily. We were at the lake by about 2.30 pm, the elevation was about 10,600 feet. It was now a warm and sunny day. We took baths in the lake, even though it was only three days of strenuous hiking since our last one, and we didn’t really smell too bad, at least not to each other. And the nearest other people were probably five hours walk away. I say “baths”, but we just stood knee deep and splashed ourselves liberally. The water was painfully cold, fresh off the snowmelt. It was about 80ºF in the sun, and not very many degrees above freezing in the water. Our feet were going numb standing there. Afterwards we lay on a rock and dozed off in the warm sun. Walking around later, I came across a trail leading to the outlet side of the lake. It could have been a human trail. People usually hike up to this lake by following North Inlet Creek along its valley, but I had read that the valley was choked with deadfall, and the ranger who issued us our permit said the same thing. I’m glad that we took the alternate route over the saddle. Nothing could have been more beautiful. The afternoon had been without its usual thunderstorm, and the night sky was clear, and so far we hadn’t been cold, so we decided to have fresh air until the mosquitoes got too much, which they never did. We opened up both sides of the tent, tying open the screen flaps. The brisk evening breeze had died down, but there was a lovely slight waft of air. We wanted cross ventilation after two nights of being zipped up tight in the rain. As it grew dark, we had just put our books away and turned off our flashlights, when we heard a tree fall in the forest. It made a noise. A loud noise! The sound was just like a tree would sound if it had been pushed over by a bear! A bear that likes black beans and rice which we had for supper! I sat bolt upright, and for the next hour or so, kept sticking my head out of the tent, peering into the darkness and listening intently for the pitter-patter of giant feet, expecting the hot breath and enormous face of Yogi Bear to emerge from the darkness. Eventually I convinced myself that the tree had fallen down by itself, and was able to doze off. The night was cool and clear and became windy again. I woke up during the night, thinking I had heard rain, but it was the wind flapping our tent. I looked out at the night. There were brilliant stars above and blurry stars below reflected in the lake. A hidden moon brightened the sky, and the forest and mountains were pitch black silhouettes. The waterfall sounded as happy as me. Day 4, Monday, August 11, 2003, 7.00am, elevation about 10,600 feet. Another cool, clear morning after a windy night. Long pants and sweatshirt. In the morning, the wind had died and the lake was glassy smooth. As the sun came up over the mountaintops it slowly lit up the lake. Where the sun hit was a bright, reflective blue, where the water was still in shadow it was black, and at the transition there was a band of deep, deep green. So deep it looked like a portal to the universe. The cool morning warmed up as the sun peeked over the peaks. This day we had to head over another saddle, and down what looked on the map like a steep slope to Spirit Lake. We took the route that we had scouted the day before, up the right side of the valley through the trees to the top of the moraine. The footing was good through the forest, although there was a lot of awkward walking across the slope. Behind the moraine there was a little valley filled with boulders and large patches of snow. We amused our small minds by walking on the snow and leaving footprints. The stream flowed underneath the boulders, we could hear it but not see it. We scouted the saddle from the valley floor. It was all boulders as far as we could see. To the right there were a few grassy patches, so we headed that way in the hope of more secure footing, less jumping and clambering. The slope became very steep, and a bit loose. So we wondered whether going straight up over the boulders would have been better. The slope got to be such that we could touch the ground with our hands in front of us quite easily. We found ourselves off to the side of the saddle, right under the craggy face of Andrews Peak. We had to cut back across the slope, and in so doing we had to cross a large patch of steep, hard-packed snow. I was able to kick footholds into the surface, and we only needed two steps in the snow. Sara said that if she fell and died, she would kill me. Thank goodness we survived the snow crossing. We then made our way around the lower side of a house-sized boulder hoping it didn’t pick just then to topple down the mountain. The first ridge was very close. A short hopping scramble up the last rocky slope and we were on a little, grassy flat area with yet another surprise pond! The final ridge of the saddle was a short grassy slope away. It was steep but easy walking. Once again, we were rewarded with magnificent views in all directions. A short way below us, two deer were drinking at a pond. East Inlet Valley disappeared downwards to the right (west), and ended upwards to our left against the Continental Divide. Across the valley was a stupendous crag that looked like Devil’s Tower. At our feet, a long, grassy slope disappeared into large trees, at first scattered then becoming dense. When we turned to face the way we had come, yesterday’s saddle was slightly above eye level, to the right our unnamed lake twinkled in the trees about a thousand feet below, and to our left Andrews Peak towered another thousand feet above. We were now at about 11,400 feet, a little lower than yesterday. It had taken us only about an hour from our camp at the unnamed lake. Nothing could have been more spectacular than this route, unless maybe you prefer a 14,000-foot mountaintop route with views over the whole range. There was enough actual danger to produce some adrenalin from time to time without technical climbing, enough effort to feel a sense of accomplishment, and the added excitement of going cross-country with no trails. We finally headed down the grassy slope. It was easy walking at first, but as we entered the tree line the slope grew steeper and steeper, and there were so many fallen trees that it made for very hard going. We had to keep changing direction around blockages and slopes too steep to walk down. A couple of times we used dead trees that were pointing down the slope as ladders. Ponderosa pines make very good ladders. The map indicated a boulder field to our west that reached all the way down to the valley floor. That may have been an easier way, but we had seen enough boulders for a while. We were clambering down another tree ladder, when we landed on slightly more level ground, and from there it leveled off dramatically and we burst through some heavy trees into a meadow, with Spirit Lake right in front of us, just where it was supposed to be! Lunch time! Mosquito repellant was necessary as soon as we stopped in a beautiful little clearing beside the lake. After lunch, we headed west, along the trail towards Lake Verna. We noticed the afternoon thunderclouds rolling in, looking very heavy, so we donned our rain ponchos even though it was still sunny and warm. Beside Lake Verna we passed a large group of Boy Scouts and their leaders heading east. Some had rain covers over their backpacks, but none were wearing any other rain gear. They looked at our bright red ponchos, and one asked, “Do you think you’ll need those?” we said, “Maybe not. But we’re just being prepared.” No sooner had the scouts disappeared up the trail, when we heard the first few drips pittering amongst the trees and pattering on our ponchos. The noise got louder and we could start to feel the drops through the plastic. The rain became mixed with hail, large hail! It’s pretty loud inside a plastic poncho with the hood up in a rain storm, and in a heavy hail storm it’s deafening. But even above the poncho noise, we could hear a thunderous tumult on our left like applause from an audience of thousands. It was the hail pounding into the lake surface and churning it into froth. We wondered about the scouts. They would have been drenched by the time they unpacked rain gear out of backpacks, the storm was so sudden and so strong. The storm was now a true deluge, and the trees offered no good shelter. It lasted about thirty minutes, then the warm sun broke through again. The trail beside Lake Verna was in serious disrepair. There were many fallen trees, forcing continual detours off the main trail. There were numerous side trails and it was hard to tell in places which was the main trail. There were a few log bridges that had rotted, and some had fallen into their creek bed. But as we traveled west, near Lone Pine Lake, there was a lot of trail repair work newly completed, and there were quite a few brand new log bridges. We assumed that the trail crew was working their way east, and that the bad Lake Verna region was on their schedule. Our last campsite was Slickrock, between Lakes Verna and Lone Pine. It was aptly named, on top of a smoothly rounded rocky outcrop, with only one small place flat enough for a tent. The tall pines and looming granite peaks formed a close horizon on three sides, the valley opening and dropping towards the west. About twenty yards away the stream was nestled down low amongst huge boulders. We arrived at about three in the afternoon. The thunderstorm had gone and the sky was clear. It was becoming a little cool so we put long-sleeved shirts on. Slickrock is at about 10,000 feet. The night was mild, the sky stayed clear and we had another open-tent night with no mosquitoes. We slept with mats, sheets, and one sleeping bag, which we used unzipped like a blanket. That arrangement was plenty warm enough every night. Day 5, Tuesday, August 12, 2003, 7.30am, elevation about 10,000 feet. Long pants and sweatshirt again to have breakfast. Shorts and long-sleeved shirt to start hiking. There’s a lot to be said for mountain hiking compared to canyon hiking. Going downhill when you’re most weary is a good thing. Still, it was with a bittersweet feeling that we started our last day’s hike. We would be back in Grand Lake, “civilization”, today. We passed Lone Pine Lake. There is a little island that once had a lone pine growing on it, but it has accumulated some companions. It should now be called Three or Four Pine Lake, or maybe A Few Pines Lake, that should cover it for a while. The trail was wide and good and flat here. The flatness was a ruse, though, there was still one big ridge between Lone Pine and Grand Lake. It was a steep tough climb, but as it rose above the tops of the pines we were treated to a last walk beside high open slopes covered with beautiful mountain brush and flowers in a dry micro climate. Just on the west side of the ridge top there is a spot on top of a rocky cliff that opens onto a fantastic panorama down the valley to Grand Lake and beyond. The trail descended into thick forest again, punctuated by those bright, open meadows with East Inlet Creek running through them. It was sunny and warm. The trail was a gentle downhill amble with a few slight rolls over little hills. We started meeting more and more people. When we met groups with tiny little children and elderly men and women walking with assistance we knew we must be close to the parking lot. We were sad to be almost finished, but happy to be close to a sit-down lunch and a beer. All the people on the trail were happy, too. It was great to all sorts of people. I know many will plan vacations back-to-front compared to us – a couple of one-hour walks squeezed into two weeks of driving, eating and shopping – but that’s OK by me. I’m glad they’re here. They might vote to keep it. Not that they’re waiting for by blessing. From the trailhead it was a two-mile walk into town. It was an easy stroll along an asphalt road. The houses were interesting, there were some huge luxury houses and some cute little rustic log cabins side by side. We lunched on an outdoor deck at EG’s restaurant in the middle of town. There were tables under umbrellas, and when it started to pour with rain, everyone rushed inside except us. We still had our rain ponchos ready and stayed snug under the umbrella, safely sheltered with our sandwiches and beers. Only a short walk up the horse trail back to the Elk Creek Campground and we partook of the simple joys of showers, laundry, and a bed in a cabin.
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