Dear Lowlanders,

Last Sunday, my buddy Steve said we should go on a hike this Wednesday. So I contacted beartoother Chuck and asked for suggestions, saying only that, “Steve wants to go high.” Chuck suggested we go to the ghost-town of Hessie (at 9500′ in the Indian Peaks), and start from there. So Wednesday dawned and off the 3 of us went. We found that the melting snow had turned the road near Hessie and the local trails into streams. As we hiked/sloshed our way into the headwaters of Boulder Creek, snow started to fall. Steve hadn’t brought a warm jacket, so I gave him my extra jacket (ever since I got caught in a Sierra snowstorm when I was 19, I’ve always carried spare warmies when hiking in alpine country.For similar reasons, Chuck does too.) We continued on hiking on alternating snowpack, bare ground, and marigold-strewn marshes. I even used my snowshoes for a few minutes (Chuck & Steve preferred to post-hole.) After an hour or snowfall, the sun came out, and we had to doff some layers. It became a glorious spring day in the mountains.

We had to turn back a little early when Steve suddenly discovered that his new boots were disintegrating. (The company he bought them from will remain nameless, but it begins with R and ends with I. I’m sure they’ll replace the boots.)

While we returned towards the trailhead, the sun went back into the clouds, and it started to snow again. We met some surprised hikers coming up the trail. They were wearing shorts and light shirts, and said they’d be going up just a short ways. (I would sure hope so.) Steve stopped a little later and looked up through the falling snow at a greenish hill, and said, “Isn’t that beautiful!” So I made a short movie of it. In the background you can hear the roar of Boulder Creek).

Because the Colorado Front Range had a cold May and early June, the alpine wildflowers haven’t been as prolific as they were last year. But the Marsh Marigolds and Globe Mallows were abundant. They are among the first to appear when the snow melts. And there were zillions of little quarter-inch pink flowers that I identified later as Jacobs Ladder.

Steve’s boots managed to hold together until we returned. On the way back we stopped at the venerable Pioneer Inn and quaffed a Fat Tire Ale to celebrate our safe return to civilization.

-Ed