One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: August 4, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1988_0805-07_HolyCross.htm)
I'd hoped to spend two nights camping in Rocky Mountain NP's Wild Basin, and climb some peaks, accompanied by HPites Bill Vodall and Chuck Reese. Unfortunately bad weather cut the trip short, but we did make it to Sandbeach Lake.
Saturday, August 20: We departed the well-marked parking lot and trailhead at Copeland Lake, 8312', at 1030. We took a new, more gradual trail which was just being completed. [2024: Ancient history now!] It made the climb to the moraine southeast of Mount Meeker less of a strain.
From the top of this glacial ridge the trail meandered west through heavy forest, generally but not always uphill. During the hike I realized to my surprise that it was only my second foray into Wild Basin after eleven years in Colorado!
I'd heard that the trail and the lake were not particularly beautiful, and such was the case. (At least relative to other vistas!) We reached Sandbeach Lake at 1335 (3:05 to gain about 2000').
There was a lot more bare shore than water now since the lake was drained down that summer and an old, unsound dam was removed. Four campsites were distributed along the northeast shore. From the one we picked we had a nice view north across the lake to Pagoda Mountain and to Longs Peak hiding behind the enormous south flank of Mount Meeker.
That evening we did a bit of cross-country hiking looking for Lyric Falls, about 1/2 mile northeast of the lake in deep timber. I don't think we found the falls themselves, but we did enjoy some very pretty natural scenery.
Sandbeach Lake really was just about almost sort of warm enough to take a swim, as some neighbors demonstrated. It was getting late in the day so I settled for wading around a little.
After an uneventful evening, at around midnight as we were sacked out in our tents, the wind began howling ominously... I thought about the tall, straight dead tree leaning over my tent... I thought about how long it had stood there... But somehow I wasn't reassured. Between that paranoid thought, and the frightful wind, I slept terribly.
Sunday morning, August 21:
The day dawned grey, cold, and very windy. By 0830 clouds had obscured
the tops of the nearby peaks, whipping past them at hurricane speeds. A
classic cold front had arrived! Climbing was out of the question, and
hanging around another day to take Monday off work, hoping for better
weather, wasn't appealing either.