Up at 6, on the road at 7, trailhead at 8:15, and off by 8:30. Such is the schedule for hiking Rocky Mountain National Park in the peak season. With Labor Day past the crowds will thin, the shuttles will cease, temperatures will drop, and the snow will eventually fall. But today the roads and lots were filled with cars and the trails fairly populated.
Flattop Mountain is one of the more popular summit hikes in Rocky Mountain National Park and is a hike I’ve been wanting to do since moving to Colorado. The additional trek to Hallett was also on the to-do list and I definitely wanted to do both in one day. However, adding on the ascent up Hallett is very much dependent on weather, as afternoon thunderstorms are very common in the warmer months. When the clouds get dark the last place you want to be is above tree line, so tacking on Hallett is not advisable unless the forecast is on your side. And it was today!
The hike begins at Bear Lake, one of the bigger and most popular parking lots/trailheads in the park. After about 9am the lot is bustling with cars, shuttle buses, and all the visitors carried by them, as well as the handful of rangers and volunteers manning the small office.
After a brief walk along the VERY popular Bear Lake Trail (a 0.6 mile circle around the lake, which is purported to be wheelchair accessible) the trail branches off and begins to ascend through the subalpine ecosystem at a moderately strenuous slope that stays fairly consistent. Along the way there are two overlooks for Dream and Emerald Lakes, allowing views of tiny hikers hundreds of feet below.
The trail weaves its way trough subalpine pines and Engelmann spruce, mostly alive in this part of the park where the mountain pine beetle hasn’t been too destructive, and the occasional patch of aspen. The pine beetle is currently reeking havoc on forests throughout the Rockies, and especially in Colorado. The 17 native species of the beetle in RMNP have historically only had periodic outbreaks, but unusually warm winters and dry summers have allowed the beetle to really take off and it is thought that the current blight is the largest ever in North America.
Cold winter temperatures are needed to kill eggs wintering under bark, and lack of water weakens the trees, making them more susceptible to the beetle. This problem is compounded by the fact that the outbreak decreases the ability of forests to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. Lodgepole pine, ponderosa pine, limber pine, Engelmann spruce, subalpine fir and Colorado blue spruce are all dying.
Eventually, with fewer and shorter trees to block the views, the actual summit of Hallett Peak is visible. The more common and dramatic view of Hallett is of the shear cliffs as seen from the trails between Bear, Nymph, Dream, and Emerald Lakes in Tyndall Gorge. They are also very visible and impressive as you hike up to Flattop (as seen in the mid-ground of the photo), but the actual high point is the small, unassuming point in the distance. Around 11,000 feet the trees start to thin and eventually give out to the cold and wind, finally giving way to the wide open views of the rocky expanse that is Flattop Mountain.
With tree line left behind, the rocks thin out (a bit) and the short grasses of the alpine tundra spreads out across the slopes. A chorus of on-guard American Pikas barking can be heard up and down the switchbacks as hikers pass by. Easy to hear, but sometimes hard to spot, these little guys fly across the rocks.
They seem like they would be related to rodents like squirrels, chipmunks and prairie dogs, but they are actually lagomorphs. The two living families of the order Lagomorpha are: Ochotonidae, pikas, and Leporidae, rabbits and hares. As close relatives, Pikas do resemble miniature rabbits, and nicknames for pikas include “Rock Rabbit” and “Whistling Hare.”
Some scurry around with their mouths packed with cut grasses and other vegetation. They carry large mouthfuls to their dens, where the plants are spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun. Once dry, these “haystacks” are moved into the den and stockpiled for the harsh winters the pikas must endure since they do not hibernate. As the they dry, pikas will guard over their haystacks as thievery is not uncommon. It has been suggested that they include some poisonous plants at the base of their stockpiles in their burrows because the toxins act as a natural preservative and help prevent spoilage. Unfortunately, these loquacious talus-dwellers are very sensitive to heat (hence their high-elevation habitat) and cannot travel long distances, so they are very venerable to warming climates. If alpine peaks warm too much, they will quickly die out.
Some scurry around with their mouths packed with cut grasses and other vegetation. They carry large mouthfuls to their dens, where the plants are spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun. Once dry, these “haystacks” are moved into the den and stockpiled for the harsh winters the pikas must endure since they do not hibernate. As the they dry, pikas will guard over their haystacks as thievery is not uncommon. It has been suggested that they include some poisonous plants at the base of their stockpiles in their burrows because the toxins act as a natural preservative and help prevent spoilage. Unfortunately, these loquacious talus-dwellers are very sensitive to heat (hence their high-elevation habitat) and cannot travel long distances, so they are very venerable to warming climates. If alpine peaks warm too much, they will quickly die out.
The tundra in Rocky Mountain National Park is an incredible ecosystem, consisting of the heartiest plants and animals around. Where the soil on the tundra is well established and developed, many different grasses and flowering plants are common, holding on to life through blistering winds and subzero temperatures, growing only a few inches from the ground and taking decades to do so. Lichens, capable of photosynthesis down to 32° F, cling to the rocks and soil. Although very resilient, the tundra is also very fragile. Footsteps can destroy tundra plants, which then exposes precious soil to blow away. Damage to the tundra can take hundreds of years to recover.
Flattop’s 12,324-foot “summit” is a large rock-strewn expanse where it is difficult to discern the true highpoint. Once here through, you are standing on the Continental Divide and have nearly 360 degree views of the surrounding mountain ranges. Trail Ridge Road, the only way through the park, is barely visible to the north, as tiny flashes of sunlight blink off car windows.
At this point, the rocky dome of Hallett begs to be climbed, sitting just to the southeast across Tyndall Gorge, and nearly 400 feet higher than Flattop. The wind coming over the divide from the west necessitated the deployment of my windbreaker from my pack and I was ready for the final push.
The approach is technically off-trail but the route is popular enough to have a noticeable path through the flat boulder-field that follows the Divide, skirts the headwall of Tyndall Glacier, and ends at the moderately steep summit. From here it is a matter of rock hopping the final 100 vertical feet or so, until the flat summit suddenly appears.
Once on the top, you quickly realize how winded, thirsty, and hungry you are. But the seemingly endless views keep your mind off such trivial matters. Grand Lake, the Eastern Plains, Wild Basin, the Mummy Range (the horizon in photo above) all make the trip incredibly rewarding. The peak also offered shelter from the westerly winds, letting the sun warm up my hands and face.
Immediately to the south, Otis (rounded mountain on left edge) and Taylor Peaks (pointed peak to the right and beyond Otis) make the urge to keep following the ridge of the Continental Divide very real. But they will be there another day.
The top offers a nearly complete view of Tyndall Glacier and a small nearby snowfield. A ways below the glacier is the small lake Pool of Jade. I found myself wanting to scramble down between the snow to the lake, and then down another talus pitch to Emerald Lake and the established trails back to Bear Lake which I knew lay further below, blocked from view by the endless piles of rocks.
I can’t help but wonder how much bigger Tyndall Glacier was only 50 years ago. Perhaps in a few decades I can take a photo from the same spot in early September to compare. This is the least snowy time of year, so the glacier is likely at its smallest but it is still impressive and just plain cool to have to hike around the head of a glacier. Since there is no snow to cover them, several crevasses were exposed and visible from the edge above the glacier.
Company soon arrived at the top. A group of three guys on a training hike for their trip up Longs Peak (the only 14er in the park and Boulder County’s highest point) in a few weeks offered everyone some awesome fruity hard candy from Argentina. The perfect dessert for a Clif Bar lunch.
Longs Peak is an interesting mountain, first climbed by an expedition led by John Wesley Powell, one of the true badasses of American history. Perhaps I’ll do some research and a writeup of this iconic peak (quite literally, it’s on the back of the Colorado quarter) and/or Powell one day.
The drop back down Hallett was more fun rock scrambling as the clouds puffed up with the rising temperatures. Once back on the actual trail on Flattop the rocky and thigh-tiring descent into the trees was met with plenty of questions about how much further to the summit of Flattop and how doable Hallett is. On the way down the temperatures warmed substantially and I was eventually cursing my decision to wear long pants.
The Emerald Lake overlook again provided awesome views of the gorge and the distant Longs Peak.
I can’t help but wonder how much bigger Tyndall Glacier was only 50 years ago. Perhaps in a few decades I can take a photo from the same spot in early September to compare. This is the least snowy time of year, so the glacier is likely at its smallest but it is still impressive and just plain cool to have to hike around the head of a glacier. Since there is no snow to cover them, several crevasses were exposed and visible from the edge above the glacier.
Company soon arrived at the top. A group of three guys on a training hike for their trip up Longs Peak (the only 14er in the park and Boulder County’s highest point) in a few weeks offered everyone some awesome fruity hard candy from Argentina. The perfect dessert for a Clif Bar lunch.
Longs Peak is an interesting mountain, first climbed by an expedition led by John Wesley Powell, one of the true badasses of American history. Perhaps I’ll do some research and a writeup of this iconic peak (quite literally, it’s on the back of the Colorado quarter) and/or Powell one day.
The drop back down Hallett was more fun rock scrambling as the clouds puffed up with the rising temperatures. Once back on the actual trail on Flattop the rocky and thigh-tiring descent into the trees was met with plenty of questions about how much further to the summit of Flattop and how doable Hallett is. On the way down the temperatures warmed substantially and I was eventually cursing my decision to wear long pants.
The Emerald Lake overlook again provided awesome views of the gorge and the distant Longs Peak.
This had been a RMNP bucket list hike for me since I learned about it, so it was really fun and rewarding to check it off. It is also nice to have some familiarity with the trail for future snowshoe trips in winter when the trail is not evident. (Some trails in the park have small orange flags attached to trees to help navigation in winter, but Flattop Trail does not.)
What a great way to spend my well-earned Labor Day! Even with the holiday crowds it was a great time. It is always amazing to me that you can escape 90% of the people in our national parks by going a half mile away from pavement. On one hand, I have so much fun and get so much out of a trip that takes me miles away from human structures and noise, I want to run up to every man, woman and child who simply stops at the overlooks as they drive through the park and scream at them that a whole world of experiences is right there through the trees, waiting for them to discover it. That it will rejuvenate their minds and spirits. It will help them find out more about what they can do, what they’re afraid of, and what fears they can conquer. I want to quote Muir and Emerson, telling them that the best cathedrals one could ever hope to see were not built by machines and tools but by glaciers and wind, and that God is more easily found in nature than in any works by man. But then again, I’m not sure I really want to share the trails and peaks that bring me solitude and so much simple pleasure with hoards of people. And I suppose those who don’t venture too far away from their cars are still there, still looking around in awe, taking photos and memories of purple mountains majesty (a phrase inspired by the Colorado’s Pikes Peak) home with them, still experiencing nature in their own way. So what if they don’t experience nature the same way I do?
Sitting back home, fed and showered, my thighs are sore, my ears are sun/wind burnt, and I am happy.
What a great way to spend my well-earned Labor Day! Even with the holiday crowds it was a great time. It is always amazing to me that you can escape 90% of the people in our national parks by going a half mile away from pavement. On one hand, I have so much fun and get so much out of a trip that takes me miles away from human structures and noise, I want to run up to every man, woman and child who simply stops at the overlooks as they drive through the park and scream at them that a whole world of experiences is right there through the trees, waiting for them to discover it. That it will rejuvenate their minds and spirits. It will help them find out more about what they can do, what they’re afraid of, and what fears they can conquer. I want to quote Muir and Emerson, telling them that the best cathedrals one could ever hope to see were not built by machines and tools but by glaciers and wind, and that God is more easily found in nature than in any works by man. But then again, I’m not sure I really want to share the trails and peaks that bring me solitude and so much simple pleasure with hoards of people. And I suppose those who don’t venture too far away from their cars are still there, still looking around in awe, taking photos and memories of purple mountains majesty (a phrase inspired by the Colorado’s Pikes Peak) home with them, still experiencing nature in their own way. So what if they don’t experience nature the same way I do?
Sitting back home, fed and showered, my thighs are sore, my ears are sun/wind burnt, and I am happy.
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