Technically, it wasn't early Spring when I took these photos, but high up in the mountains springtime lags behind the lower valley. Because of that, up high it looks like Spring is just getting started. Even higher it looks like winter still.
About a month ago I went for another hike up the same canyon I've been visiting off and on for a few months now. Less than a mile into the hike, I looked back and saw four Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep resting high on a ridge maybe three hundred or four hundred yards from me. The camera I carry on these hikes is a cheap little Casio, and it's rather limited in what it can do. I snapped a picture anyway. If you can't see the four bighorns on the skyline in the photo shown above, I'll include the next picture pointing them out.
The vegetation had greened up considerably since the last time I was in the canyon, though the trees had not leafed out completely.
Here's a section of thick stuff just off the trail about halfway to where the trail forks.
As I hike, I try to remember to look around - not just focus on whats ahead. That's how I got to see the bighorn sheep I mentioned earlier. There's other reasons to keep aware of the landscape behind and all around you. This is a view looking back down canyon to the cliffs and slopes I passed below earlier in the hike.
There's not much left of the avalanche tongue I had to hike over earlier this year. Small trees that were once mostly buried under several feet of snow are now beginning to sprout leaves.
The next picture is a view looking up canyon from the avalanche chute. If you look at the brush in the foreground you might notice that all those little trees are leaning dramatically down slope. These small trees are growing in the avalanche chute. The down-hill angle of the brush is caused by the force of avalanches that sweep down over them every winter, pressing them down. Some of the trees even seem to grow downhill, with only the very tips of the branches curving upwards. These trees might never reach beyond sapling size. From my observation, every tree in the avalanche chute that reaches a trunk diameter of two inches looses sufficient flexibility and is then snapped off by an avalanche.
Upon reaching the trail fork I head up the right hand trail to a meadow. I brought with me a little sheet metal fireplace. Disassembled, it stores completely flat, and is quick and easy to set up. I also brought a brand new 16 oz. stainless steel cup to cook in.
The little sheet steel fireplace worked surprisingly well. Fed a steady supply of dry maple sticks it cooked my food quickly. Soon I had a hearty helping of oatmeal. The little plastic bottle next to the oatmeal contains honey, which was added to the oatmeal before dining.
Storm clouds began to move in during my break in the meadow. Soon the weather was threatening rain. After eating, I hiked a little farther up canyon, leaving the trail to explore around a little. My hike back down the canyon was in the rain.
The following week I was back up the canyon. The vegetation was much greener than the week before.
Because of the way the wash meanders back and forth across the narrow canyon as it descends, the trail crosses the wash several times. The wash is usually dry, but on this day snowmelt from a heavy winter snowpack was pouring down the wash, making crossings challenging. Usually I was able to find a place where the stream was wider, shallower and had convenient stepping stones to cross on. A couple times I crossed the wash on fallen logs. A couple times I had to boulder hop above roaring chutes of water to get across. Once I thought I could make a place to cross by tossing a couple rocks for stepping stones into the stream. The rocks were each about a foot and a half in diameter. Shortly after tossing the rocks in, and checking their dubious stability with my hiking staff, I watched as the rapid current caught the hoped-for stepping stones and rolled them into deeper water. Time to find another place to cross.
A familiar view along the trail:
It was a little late in the day when I started the hike, so by the time I reached the meadow I sometimes cook meals at, the meadow was completely in shadow. That shadow was too dark for the camera when I photographed the mountain south of it. You'll just have to imagine a meadow at the bottom of this photo:
Returning to the trail fork I went up the left hand trail to a place I call "Moose Meadow." Instead of cooking a meal this time, I had just brought along some prepackaged snacks. Here they are, sitting on a large blue-grey limestone boulder full of brachiopod and crinoid fossils.
Since it was getting late, and the water crossings had been so tricky, I considered hiking out of the mountains a different way, one that would avoid the high Spring runoff. That would add a few miles to the return hike, some of which would be well after nightfall. After thinking it over, I returned the way I had come, once again successfully staying dry while crossing the stream eight times on my way back down the canyon.
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