Brad's Sawatch

The Mummy Range

Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of bed just before sunrise and drove an hour up to the Chapin Pass Trailhead. Mom and Dad would come up later in the day and shuttle my truck to the Dunraven Trailhead, some 20 miles away at the other end of the Mummy Range.

I got hiking. After a mile or so on a trail I made it above tree line and headed straight up the grass and lichen covered rocks to the summit of Mount Chapin. The valleys to the east and several thousand feet below were obscured by a low cloud bank coming up from The Great Planes. I continued on the undulating ridgeline down and then up over Mount Chiquita, and then down again and up to Mount Ypsilon. I gazed down on a dramatic cirque containing two lakes, out to jagged mountain ranges heading off in several directions, and over vast dark forests filling broad valleys below.

Small clouds began to gather so I kept on going--I still had a long way to go. I descended a boulder field to a high cirque below Mount Fairchild and then scrambled up a steep ramp of boulders to its broad summit. The clouds were getting bigger. I pushed on down to The Saddle, a large, high and grassy meadow between Fairchild and Hagues Peak. As I pushed up the shoulder of Hagues I began to fear the clouds I could not see building on its other side. I told myself I would turn around at the summit if it looked dangerous and return to my truck on a longer but less exposed route via Lawn Lake and Black Canyon Creek. I scrambled up granite slabs to the summit and looked into the brewing clouds. There definitely was potential for trouble, but I still had time.

I peered down on Rowe Lake and the Rowe Glacier and traversed the boulder fields to Rowe Peak. From here I could either descend into the glacial valley at the beginning of the North Fork of the Big Thompson River or follow a high and exposed ridge for two more miles to Icefield Pass. Though the sky remained menacing, it did not seem to be worsening. I headed for the pass. Rocky tundra gave way to well irrigated grass. I came across a lone bighorn ram with impressive horns and paused. He sized me up and then went on his way.

I came to an ice field several hundred yards across. A large halo of barren rock and gravel around the ice field suggested that in recent history it had been more than twice this size. I sloshed down its slushy surface and paused to take a photo of sinuous rivulets of water. As I opened my camera case one of my feet slipped. Before I could get a had on my camera it fell out of the case and directly into three inches of running ice water! Stunned, I quickly grabbed it and shook a lot of water out of it. I dried off everything with the lens cloth and shook out more water. I turned it on took some photos. It still worked! Hoping the westerly wind might work a drying miracle I carried the camera out of the case for the rest of the day.

At Icefield Pass I again evaluated the sky. The clouds still swirled in menacing formations but weren't producing any dangerous weather. I decided to stay high and continued three more miles across the grassy plateau of Sugarloaf Mountain to the Stormy Peaks. When I reached their bleak summit I finally took a break and sat down amongst the ancient weather rounded boulders. Light and shadow played as clouds blew over the high peaks to the southwest and coalesced before me.

I descended to a trail and entered the tortured trees at timberline. A hawk swooped around me and lighted just out of sight. As I stepped into view of his dead treetop perch he looked at me and cocked and turned his head and looked some more. He opened his wings to the wind and circled up and out of sight.

I kept a steady and smooth pace along the trail. It descended to the North Fork of the Big Thompson River where it continued down through rustling aspen groves and blonde dry grass meadows. I snacked on raspberries, rose hips and choke cherries. The sun filtered through the lodge pole and ponderosa pine as I walked out at the Dunraven Trailhead. Curly (my truck) was awaiting my arrival with a bonus from Mom and Dad--a bag of garden veggies!

A ptarmigan in the rocks. I saw 9 in a group (there were probably more). The beginning of their change to white for the winter was evident on the wingtips of those that took flight.