Fading Out

I go to great lengths to avoid the crowds in Rocky Mountain National Park. Monday, it was in the low 50s and raining hard when I arrived at the Fern Creek trailhead.

There were four other cars there, only a few other crazy people out on a day like this: a couple of fishers, a few people stalking elk in Moraine Park, a family of four from Minnesota (I guess they’re used to rainy days) and a group of teenagers heading for Fern Lake and a cold, wet overnight camping experience that they’ll never forget.

Hiking on a rainy day presents an opportunity to see the landscape in a different light—or lack of it. The forests of tall pines and spruces along the Big Thompson River are more somber than usual, although everything shines with an uncommon brilliance.  

The granite boulders glisten in hues of metal gray, alabaster and rust, covered with splotches of mint green lichen. Raindrops cling to the aspen leaves and drop quietly from the pines. A dead tree strump (below) becomes a bronzed sculpture. And lines of rain on the aspen trunks are as delicate as a Japanese etching.

On top of the cliffs (top), wisps of clouds and fog partially obscure the outlines of ponderosas, the white fog morphing into the pale gray rock face. The distant mountains are mostly obscured in clouds, although occasionally the clouds part to reveal a tall triangular peak still holding patches of snow.

It’s uncommonly quiet—just the sound of water dripping and a few bird calls piercing the dark forest. With all this moisture, small streams have sprouted on the the hillsides.

The next day when the sun returns so will the crowds: people jockeying for a parking spot, picnicking along the river, heading up to the falls and taking plenty of photos. But for just one day, I experienced a different place. 

Comments

[Jennifer Woodhull]

Thanks for reminding me of the beauty in a rainy day. It's been raining virtually nonstop for a couple of weeks here in Manitou Springs, and I was getting ready for an attack of SAD until I read your journal entry. Now perhaps I'll try looking at the sky as magically muted, rather than as a cosmic sinus headache.

[Sally]

This reminds me of the days of working for the forest service in Washington when it rained everyday! Would have nice to pick the day of my choosing but it was most days. As a novelty it could be nice. Glad you beat the crowds and your right, there is a different color and quality to everything and a quietness.

[shoney]

What a lovely post. The photos make me feel like I was lucky enough to experience it for a few moments.

[Brent]

What a wonderful perspective. I really like the walrus tree sculpture.