We are camping at Estes Park on Mary’s Lake right outside town and the Rocky Mountain National Park. It is beautiful here but very windy (more wind!). We got up early this morning to beat the crowds to the park. Riding the winding road, we saw elk grazing in a residential area and one crossing right in front of us. I mistook them at first for moose because they were so large. Beautiful creatures. We arrived at the park just after 7:00 am and the parking lots were already full! We set off on our first hike from the Bear Lake trail head (we totally missed Bear Lake though). We chose this one because it was supposed to be ‘easy’. Of course, it was predominately uphill and for someone who sits at a desk all day it did not feel that easy.

Along the trail I paid special attention to what I was seeing because I wanted to drink it all in. We didn’t say much; we never really do when we are hiking. I’m not sure why but maybe it’s because I don’t want to say anything that may alter Dave’s perception of things or his own experience of the scenery. Whatever the reason, it makes for a quiet adventure where your sense come alive. You can smell the pines and the fresh air. You can see, of course, all the living things and the incredible vistas. You can hear the bird songs, the whistle of the wind and the tumbling of stones under your own feet. You become acutely aware of your body. Like the sting of your quads and the beating of your heart in your ears and throat as you gain elevation. And that nagging, stabbing pain I get in my left ankle when I land on my foot a certain way. You let your thoughts wander and your imagination soars. I started noticing that things in nature looked like other things. For example, a knot on a fallen tree looked like an elephant’s eye. The way the wind carves designs in the dead trees looks like a topographical map. You almost become one with nature. On this hike, the trees became of particular interest to me. I’ve seen thousands of them before but they stayed with me this time. I saw trees that had trunks running under and around huge boulders; trees that twisted and stretched in surprising ways so they could get a drink of the sun. There was a young pine along the trail that had been cut and new growth sprouted up right next to the point of assault. There were some that appeared to grow into each other or join together.  There were those that seemed to grow right up from the rock. I couldn’t help being philosophical; this trip of ours is riddled with philosophy so I guess pines and aspens are no exception. I saw these trees as a metaphor for life. No matter the obstacle, these trees seemed to find a way to work around it, to survive. When something bad happens to us humans or when we are down on our luck we can either give up or find a way through it. We need to find a way to keep trudging along; to overcome our obstacles. The sapling grows among giant pines so it gets creative and bends itself to the direction of the light. It’s like David and Goliath. No sun, the trees find it. Little soil, the tree stretches around, over and under until they reach it. Not strong enough, the trees seem to lean on each other for support. Not all of the trees made it, nor will all of us, but I got the distinct sense the trees did not go down without a fight. A lesson for me, one for all of us.

Our destination was Lake Haiyaha which was 2.1 miles. It was surrounded by huge boulders you had to navigate through to get to the lake’s edge. It was nestled at the bottom of multiple mountains, some still shedding their winter’s coat of snow. The water was a spectacular green and I could’ve sat there for hours taking in the beauty if it weren’t for the chilly air. Rather than head back the way we came we decided to go the long way back which meant a longer distance. Not long after I agreed to this I was filling with regret. I was losing steam. Like so many times before I tend to give up so easily. To stop, sit and say “I’m not going any further!”. Dave’s my biggest cheerleader. He’s that way for his students also. “You can do it” he always says. When he believes in you, you can believe in yourself. He didn’t have to say anything this time though because I simply thought of those trees and knew I had to keep moving my feet. And, so when we came upon some fellow hikers who suggested we visit Mills Lake, 1.2-miles off our current course, I shrugged my shoulders and said why not, we’re here. Dave smiled. And, as always, I was glad I did. It was the prettiest of all the lakes we saw. Another metaphor: when you push yourself beyond your imagined limits, there is a nice, big reward on the other side.

Our loop was about 6.8 miles and 750 feet in elevation. Not bad for our first one this trip, this season.

And now the spectacular views.  Enjoy.