The Trail Less Traveled

This past summer I deliberately sought out trails I once considered boring. They lack the all-encompassing views from mountaintops, dazzling alpine lakes or dramatic waterfalls—all the reasons people visit or move to Colorado. But what these unexciting places lack in spectacular scenery they make up for in a wilder and quieter experience.

Last year more than 4 million people visited Rocky Mountain National Park, with most of the visitors arriving in summer. The roads are choked with traffic that comes to a complete halt every time someone spots a moose or elk near the road, and then tries to get as close as possible for a good photo.

The parking lots are packed, and the trails crowded. On the popular trails, I spend a lot of time stopping to talk to fellow hikers about where they’re headed, how far it is, what the trail’s like, and where they’re from. I enjoy these interactions, but it makes for a different experience than being alone in nature.

At the popular alpine lakes, every available boulder with a good view is taken. At times you can’t see the forest for the folks. Last summer, at one of my favorite spots, Mills Lake, I saw a man do a dramatic dive into the lake from a tall cliff and then perform handstands on a boulder that was visible from most of the lake: Was he craving attention or just celebrating nature in his own way? It’s hard to know, but more and more there’s a circus-like quality to the crush of humans on these trails.

 

 

 

 

 

So last summer and into fall, I’ve sought out  the less-popular trails. These are places where it’s quiet enough to feel nature’s own rhythms, where the natural world operates on a different scale than that of humans. Even the most relaxed animals (and I think of the ground squirrels, right, that pose seemingly without a care in the world) are always on the alert, not just for predators but for food or any changes in their surroundings. Their survival depends on being constantly aware.

But we humans blithely enter this realm chattering away or listening to our headphones, intent on finding the best place to take a selfie. We subtly—or not so subtly---alter nature. As the number of humans fill up the wild spaces, we drown out the quieter and more attentive presence of nature.

When I left the beaten path last summer, I found trails where I passed no more than 10 fellow hikers, compared to the maybe 50-70  I usually encounter on the trail to Mills Lake. On these lonely trails, I found a rare orchid along a hidden stream that led to a tundra empty of people but full of wildflowers, and groves of aspens taller than what I usually see on the eastern side of the mountains.

One trail that I hadn’t been on for at least 20 years follows a creek through dense pine forests so quiet and peaceful that the cry of a vireo can pierce the air, and the blue grouse (left), which usually blends into its surroundings, became visible. Best of all, I felt myself slowing down and becoming more alert to everything around me, aligning myself with the pace of the creek, the wind, the birds, the trees.  

 

 

 

Even in the park, I’ve found trails that most visitors don’t bother with. One ascends a hillside that provides views below of a wide meadow where a creek meanders back and forth among tall grasses.

Another park trail near my cabin, one bypassed by most people who instead aim for well-known waterfalls, puts you almost face to face with  Mount Meeker (above); at the top is a hillside covered with aspens, where I can listen to the leaves in the wind or sit by the small murmuring creek without being disturbed by any voices except the chickadee.

Last month on a popular trail west of Nederland, I took the trail that diverged from one that goes to a popular lake. Instead, it leads to a wide open meadow (above) with views to the north of a cirque of  bare, dark peaks and to the east toward hillsides of aspen. As I sat taking in the view and enjoying the silence, a moose emerged from the woods. There was no else to see it, just me, and when the moose wandered back into the forest, it was almost like it never happened.

Comments

[shoney]

What a lovely way to newly experience this landscape you love so much.

[Carol Christenson]

It was great to see you last week. I so much appreciate being able to stay connected to Colorado through the Cabin Journal.

[Brent]

I enjoy the trails less traveled too. Wonderful nature photography and writing. Here is a link to a documentary on Emma Toft: https://www.pbs.org/video/wpt-documentaries1-emma-toft-one-nature

[Kathy Kaiser]

Brent, thanks for the link. Emma Toft seems like a remarkable person, and I so admire her tenacity in preserving her land against developers and others. At the Ridges Sanctuary, I also listened to the recording she made. I wish I had known her!

[Kathy Kaiser]

Carol, thanks and great to see you and Shoney.

[Sparrow]

Thank you so much for sharing your experiences in nature. I can feel the sense of peace and quiet that you have found on the less-crowded trails. It is a peaceful experience just to read about it!

[Kathy Kaiser]

Thanks, Sparrow!