Finally bagged a hike that has been vexing me since last year.
I had previously made it to the waterfall and the first lake, but the second lake eluded me.
The first time I tried it, I started in the afternoon. The trail faded in and out, the cairns didn't follow the actual trail, I was alone, and no one else was on the trail past the first lake as it got later in the day. Eventually, at some point after I slipped and fell in the creek, I chose discretion over valor.
The second time I tried it, I went with a friend, and we started with plenty of time. But then it started snowing. It obscured even the really obvious trail to the waterfall. We made it to the waterfall and then to the first lake, but again, we chose discretion. Even then, we lost the trail on the way back, picking our way down a scree field and sliding down some sections on our butts.
SO. This Sunday. Early start - check. Hiking buddy - check. Clear skies - check. How would the curse assert itself?
Well, within a quarter mile of the trailhead, Cooper started limping. He'd torn a small chunk of his right hind paw pad. It was on the side of the pad, not the bottom. I had actually packed my first aid kit, which includes several rubber dog booties - sort of like balloons. I'd never used them, and it seemed like it could end poorly, but dang it - I wanted to get to the lake! So I put the bootie on him and hoped for the best.
Then within a mile of the trailhead, I heard my dogs barking frantically. I figured they had encountered another dog, or maybe a squirrel. But when I got there, I saw that they were standing on a rock far above a waterfall - barking at a mama mountain goat and her baby. Oh shit. I was pretty sure at least one of my dogs was going to die, and that's not an exaggeration. I'd actually been looking for goats - far up in the distance, close to Quandary Peak. Not right at the start of the trail, where there are lots of people.
I called the dogs. I guess I used my "I'm serious" voice - the one I've only used once before, when Cooper ran out onto ice and fell into a pond and seemed to be giving up. Because, amazingly, they actually did back off. They kept backing off a few feet and stopping, and I'd order them again, and they'd move another 10 feet, repeatedly. Bit by bit, I called them off, while also calling to my friend to take a picture of that goat! It would be amazing to have a photo of that first moment - Loki and the goat, nose to nose, maybe a foot apart.
I'm still not sure why she didn't head butt him out of existence, maybe into the falls. She was focused on keeping herself between the baby and any threat, so maybe with two potential predators, she wasn't comfortable charging.
After that, the curse seemed to let up. The bootie lasted for quite a while, though unfortunately it did come off, and I couldn't find it. I would never litter intentionally, and that trail is remarkably clear of human debris, so I do feel guilty about that. I put a second bootie on Cooper, and that lasted until we were scrambling up a particularly tricky rock face. He couldn't get traction with the bootie and didn't want to go up. I took off the bootie and gave him a boost. Remarkably, he didn't limp. I guess the tear had at least scabbed up a bit and wasn't so painful. Dogs are remarkably resilient.
The trail was still hard to find, and the cairns still led off trail. The cairns take you up a bunch of rock formations; the actual trail is dirt with some small creek crossings, but it's obscured by overgrowth so that you can really only see it on the way down. And finally, finally, I reached the second lake. The lake itself wasn't that scenic, but the meadow before it was just in absolute wildflower abandon. Gorgeous. A little hard to breathe at 12.5k feet, but hey.
We did take the trail on the way down, and I have the scratches down my legs to prove it. I think there's a catch 22 problem where people can't find the trail, so they follow the cairns, meaning that the bushes grow more, making it hard to find the trail, etc. The cairn route isn't bad, but it does require using hands. The trail is more mellow, although there's one part where the best route involves actually climbing vertically up maybe 15 feet - but the holds are huge, so even people without any climbing experience shouldn't find it hard. Your average 8 year old wouldn't hesitate. The dogs found some alternate route (there was a trail option, but it looked really annoying and honestly more tricky).
Altitude suppresses appetite - as we approached the car, I began fantasizing about the massive plates of food at Hacienda Real in Frisco. We managed to take the time to get showered before driving to Frisco, where the massive plates of food disappeared with alacrity.
Anyway, I am SO happy to have finally gotten to the lake, and it was beautiful, and it was a challenging and interesting trail, and I had great company. A++ , would do again.
Full album:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/kMkkf5ZZWAc12qvZ6