​​In The Shadow of Longs Peak

Homestead Meadows via Lions Gulch

23 April 2013

I hiked up to Homestead Meadows today and wanted to be sure to write about this excursion but with a focus different than that of my other outdoor adventure writing

I wanted to write about sight and sound but in words.  And today, I specifically did not want to take pictures and did not bring my camera because I wanted to explain the hike in words.  There is that saying that one picture can replace 1000 words.  But really, words are how we communicate.

It is the sound of the water that entices me to move up this trail, which will bring me to the head waters of what becomes the Little Thompson River.  There are patches of snow along the trail on the north facing slope and my feet make a dry crunching sounds as I cross.  The creek is running, mostly open though there are some patches of ice and I take in the sound of water running across rocks and across sand.  Now and again, the sound deepens, muffled, as if it has entered a deep well.  Here to, my own footsteps become muffled, silenced by snow. 

I continue up, never getting more than a stone’s throw from the creek.  It wobbles from wide and open to narrow, lines with downed trees and sheer boulders which look to have been in place for a millennium. 

Up I go, crossing from side to side to side, under a canopy of trees, sheltered from the sun and wind, and my own footsteps changing, from now loud to now soft. 

It’s warm with the sun high overhead.

The trail cross over the creek, now on the south side and out of direct sun and steepens.  Luckily, it is warm and the snow is soft….on a colder day, this would be a sheet of ice. 

I continue up and can see a break in the ridge line, perhaps another  500 feet of elevation gain. 

I cross the creek again and now the stream slows and its bed widens.  The trails is now on dry ground and passes by those old cars in the creek bed.  Memories of past hikes flood me. 

There is no green as nothing has yet budded out.  There is grass but yellowed, from last year; the sky is graying and the wind picks up. 

I continue on.  The mileage at the trail junction is 2.8 but I continue on to Sarah Walker’s homestead where I re-read the placards, have a snack, then turn back and return.