The outdoor diary of a writer, photographer, and wilderness wanderer
A Welcome Return to Winter
JOURNEYS ARE BETTER when they don’t go as expected, when surprises lie around the corners, when plans go awry. And so are the seasons – or so I think – better when they don’t unfurl as they ‘should’, better when they slip from one to another and then back again in a way that makes mockery of what a calendar might predict, better when spring comes early and then winter returns…
The early onset of spring that hit two weeks ago had me feeling dismay. While it was undeniably pleasant to run up a snow-free mountain in shorts and a tee-shirt, and to bask in comfort and ease on a 13,300-foot summit, it was simultaneously disappointing. It was also concerning, to see winter vanishing so swiftly. What we should have had was heavy falls of snow, but what we had instead was an early thaw – a premature end to snow and ice – a situation that threatened a long dry summer, with all the attendant fire risks that go with it. Peak snow depth doesn’t typically occur in my local mountains until April’s end. And yet April’s start saw a snowpack that had already been drastically reduced by two-thirds.
It was a major negative for the land and its many inhabitants, and a potential negative for me – although I pushed myself to accept it for what it was, not for what I wanted it to be. Still, I couldn’t help but lament it. While most of the American west had been collecting truly massive volumes of snow all winter, the wilderness area I’d committed myself to had almost completely missed out. On numerous occasions through January, February and March, hefty dumps had fallen elsewhere, even close by on the Continental Divide, but ‘my’ area had collected mere inches. It was starting to look as though I wasn’t going to experience a single decent snowfall.
But then, two weekends ago, the elusive winter finally showed its face. A foot of snow was forecast – and this was a promise I couldn’t resist. In great haste, and with childish enthusiasm, I dashed from my foothills home into the wilderness, grinning my way uphill through a mass of downy flakes, and camped gleefully in appropriately-seasonal frigidness, with the recent outings in shorts and tee-shirts happily forgotten.
Alas, the first return of winter only delivered four inches, but fortunately more lay ahead. For a week, cold air remained in place, further snow showers passed through, and by the weekend another decent snowfall was forecast. And, wonderfully, this one delivered. At last, I got to wallow in a snow-softened wonderland that matched everything I’d hoped winter could be.
The following photos come from these two recent camps; from this welcome return of winter. Excitingly, the recent snows may just be the start. As I write this, a storm is kicking off that might deliver 28 inches of snow. Spring may have started early, but winter has reclaimed the mountains, and it is all the better for how unlikely it seemed just two short weeks ago.
Heading into the wild, April 14, shorts-weather completely forgotten.Snow wafting down. The forecast for a foot of the white stuff seemed very believable.By the time I made camp, the snowfall had ceased, but darkening skies and rumbles of thunder presaged another round of snow.Sure enough, the mountains further up the valley began to disappear.Snow showers and thunder gave way to sunshine, which gave way to more snow showers. I sheltered and cooked dinner in a cave beneath a massive boulder. With black bears probably emerging from hibernation, cooking in the tent was no longer a smart option!Snow should have been falling hard all evening, but whiling away the time in camp beneath clearing skies was no hardship.In evening light, Mount Blue Sky – or ‘The Mountain of Great Space’ – down the valley’s end looked even more majestic than usual.Morning brought wind and stinging spindrift. Packing up camp was a bit of a battle. But wonderful for being it!The view up-valley showed snow moving in.The other direction looked more cheerful!I walked out in a rising wind. Clouds lurking over the mountains hinted at fierce conditions higher up, but away from the heights at Echo Lake the world sparkled.A frosted wonderland beside Echo lake.Wind in the forest, stripping away snow, whipping up clouds of spindrift.Six days later, on April 22nd, Earth Day, I climbed back into the hills and forests. Only an hour earlier I’d been eating dinner with my family, but now I was heading uphill through falling snow with dusk almost upon me. The contrast in situations was wonderful!By sunset, I reached treeline and had soon climbed above it – almost climbing above the clouds, too. There was no wind and I pitched my trusty old tent, ‘Auld Leakie’, ten or so feet beneath summit rocks in a bold and exposed spot.It worked out well: the night stayed calm. Approaching daylight woke me naturally at 5:40 a.m.. The view from camp was worth leaving a warm sleeping bag for!A winter sunrise.It soon became one of those mornings where ‘everything’ seemed right.The forest below – an area I’m looking forward to exploring once the snowpack has fully thawed.Summit view south-west toward the big hill, or ‘The Mountain of Great Space’, as I’m starting to think of it. It IS a great space, and the sense of space both upon it and surrounding it truly is great.The winter morning I’d been waiting for.With no wind, delicious quietness, and deep soft snow, I felt a fair measure of gratitude for how things had worked out.To the west, Mount Spalding looked rather dramatic. The slope in the foreground was where I’d seen bighorn sheep, and traveled bare legged and armed, only two weeks earlier.Looking east past the foothills and out into the plains.Sunlight and shadow on the edge of the wilderness.Breakfast could wait. I spent a couple of hours sauntering this way and that.Morning coffee. Unhurried!This peak – Chief Mountain – has almost always treated me well. It’s becoming a popular peak, and for good reason. It’s easy to reach and the views from it are among the best anywhere. But on this Sunday morning, I had it entirely to myself.The summit view north-west toward the Continental Divide showed that those summits were still socked in. By noon, more snow was predicted to fall.Looking into the Bear Track Lakes and Tumbling Creek valleys with a zoom lens. I can’t wait to get in there this summer!It’s said by many that Colorado has become overcrowded – that it’s hard to leave people behind. But from where I stand I see plenty of unpeopled space…Eventually it was time to descend. I packed away camp, making sure I took everything with me, and returned into the trees.Down in the sparkling forest.It will be fascinating to return, especially on the heels of two more feet of snow! We will see, but if the next storm doesn’t live up to the forecast it no longer matters. Winter delivered.
