Stories from the Road -- Mills Lake, CO

Rocky Mountain National Park is my favorite place in America. That may change as I explore new corners of the country (Alaska, Hawaii, Mount Rainier, Death Valley, Joshua Tree, Zion, Bryce), and retread some ground that at least competes with it (Glacier, North Cascades, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Yosemite, Kings Canyon) -- but right now, this place is my Fortress of Solitude. I have a permanent smile on my face when I go here, and the closest thing to true happiness for me has been visiting this place.

The reason RMNP does it for me is that it forces me to be outdoors. Sure, the drive on Trail Ridge Road is superb, and the views are thoroughly outstanding -- but the best views require hiking. This is a hiking park, and if you don't hike here, you don't get the true story behind the magic of this place.

When I was hiking here in June 2009, I ran across a woman who had literally hiked her shoes off. Her shoes had become so worn by walking through the forests and mountains that one of her shoes basically fell apart. The sole had disconnected from the rest of the shoe, rendering her barefoot. Given the rocky terrain and endless ground obstacles, this would seem to be an enormous inconvenience. As I walked up to her, quickly noticing her predicament, she looked up and smiled: "Can you spare a shoe?"

"Uh..."

"Just kidding. Not the first time this has happened."

"How did it happen?"

"I've been out here for days. These shoes are five years old. Had to go sometime."

"Do you have a way to get back?"

"Yeah. I just follow this trail back to the trailhead."

"Uh, I mean, do you know somebody with an extra pair of shoes?"

"Nah. I don't think those are required to finish the trip, though."

"Oh. Okay..."

"Don't worry. I'm not new at this."

And she began to walk off. She turned around and said, "Have you ever seen a place like this?" She asked the question rhetorically, as she turned around and never looked back.

This is the story of RMNP. Substantial inconveniences are challenges, not obstacles. People smell the mountain air, squint when they see the snow-capped peaks, and bend their ear toward the rushing mountain stream. To experience RMNP means to surrender yourself to it -- become the park. Hiking here means briefly living here. The beauty of this place is in more than the visual -- it's becoming a part of the environment.

The day before, I hiked to Mills and Black Lakes. This day was a stormy one, with a strong thunderstorm drenching me between Mills and Black Lakes (a future entry will describe this adventure). The clouds were beginning to build by the time I reached beautiful Mills Lake. As far as alpine lakes are concerned, RMNP can do no wrong. My personal preference is for smaller lakes, typically in cirques. Mills Lake is relatively big and is not in a cirque. But this lake has a lot going for it, including a stupendous backdrop of Longs Peak and adjoining mountains. It also is relatively narrow, enabling views from multiple spots along the shore that are wildly different. Finally, it is within a gorge, making the area seem surrounded by natural giants. Mills Lake is an ideal setting -- typical for this park.

The magic of this place, for me, was the color contrast. The darkening clouds beginning to cover up a deep blue sky, blanketing a brown-to-metallic mountain ridge, atop a reflective lake, forest, and remnant snow from the previous winter. Every color is bold, clashing in spectacularly natural ways. And it is so silent here. The wind doesn't even make noise. The scene is a real-life painting.

In such a setting, the senses begin to overwhelm. The flap of a bird's wings can echo in your head for minutes. The small waves of the lake seem to crash into the shore. A contrail looks completely out of place. The smell of the trees is powerful. Dripping water from a snowmelt waterfall reflects loudly across the water. Everything is exaggerated here.

This is what I mean by experiencing RMNP. Staying in your car or walking to a lookout is not what this place is about. The sights are glorious everywhere. But the magic of RMNP is the environment. Walking in this place allows you to become primal, absurdly aware of your senses -- one with nature. It allows you to observe things you would otherwise skip over.

With traveling, the best times usually involve simple, good things. The rush of a stream, the trickle of water dropping off a cliff, the reflection of the sky in the water, the pattern of snow on a mountainside, the waves of wind in the grass, the leaves gleaming in the sun, the cheerful warble of a hidden bird. Simple, good things make up this place -- and there's no other place like it in America.

Pictures from the Road -- Happy Trails

Enjoy National Trails Day. Take a hike!

Jenny Lake -- Grand Teton National Park

Just above Multnomah Falls -- Columbia River Gorge

Top of Multnomah Falls

Bridal Veil Falls -- Columbia River Gorge

Great Sand Dunes National Park

Downstream of Zapata Falls, CO

Crater Lake, CO

Dream Lake -- Rocky Mountain National Park

Emerald Lake -- Rocky Mountain National Park

View from atop Mount Bierstadt, CO

Lost Valley, AR

Whitaker Point, AR

Mills Lake -- Rocky Mountain National Park

Black Lake -- Rocky Mountain National Park

Hallett's Peak -- Rocky Mountain National Park

Lake Haiyaha -- Rocky Mountain National Park

Black Mesa, OK

Highline Trail -- Glacier National Park

Roaring River Falls -- Kings Canyon National Park

Moro Rock -- Sequoia National Park

Stories from the Road -- Lake Taneycomo, MO

When you look at people from high above, they look no different than any other animal.

There is a viewpoint at Table Rock Lake Dam in southwest Missouri above Lake Taneycomo, which basically is the water downstream of the dam to the headwaters of Bull Shoal's Lake in Missouri and Arkansas. Lake Taneycomo may even be a misnomer to those who see it -- it looks much more like a river than a lake or reservoir. In fact, it is. Taneycomo is actually a part of the White River.

At this viewpoint, it is quite common to see a school of fishermen with fly rods casting and retrieving in such learned motions that you would swear they were involuntary. The overalls are a dead giveaway. In winter, wet suits make an appearance. Sometimes the clothes are flashy, even neon -- at others, perfect camouflage. Many times, there appears to be no rhyme or reason behind the recreation. Everyone seems to have a different approach, though chatting with them individually, they always seem to have great success.

These are trout fishermen -- a strange sight in latitudes this far south and in summers this warm. A companion location is Roaring River State Park (a future Stories from the Road entry), where the headwaters are from a deep, cold spring. Lake Taneycomo thrives from the cold, deep waters of Table Rock. Even though summertime temps commonly soar into the 80s and 90s, the waters of Taneycomo stay chilly enough for the trout population to thrive.

A hatchery is located at the dam and is worth a visit. I think hatcheries are amazing places -- thousands upon thousands of fish, requiring food frequently, necessitate a substantial amount of work and care to support the trout population in Taneycomo. The employees here know an uncanny amount of information about individual fish living in the hatchery, and their eyes alone indicate they love their jobs immensely.

From far above, the fishermen lose their distinctions. A neon hat may stick out, and an impatient fisherman may make a splash from time to time -- but they look like grizzlies waiting for a salmon to jump. Indeed, fishermen are hunters -- and they function no differently than an eagle prowling the water for its next kill.

I have many fond memories of Taneycomo. The canyon downstream of the dam is gorgeous. The first time I visited, I felt very, very small here. Taneycomo heads toward the south and east side of Branson, a frequent stop for Missouri visits. Here, Taneycomo boasts one of my favorite bridges of the area. The Lake Taneycomo Bridge is a beautiful open-spandrel bridge that connects Branson with eastern portions of Taney County. In one of my recent visits to Branson, I noticed the bridge had some structural issues. The website linked above confirms this, and renovation is planned next year. Hopefully, this bridge stays around for a long time.

Walks along Taneycomo now feature an open mall area on the east side of Branson. Though the area is obviously touristy, the walk is pleasant and the water simply a reminder of why this area is a relative hot spot of tourism. In fact, people almost involuntarily stare out at the water here. It is a part of their life -- a happy part of it.

A couple of mallards are a common sight on the water. They approach you in curiosity, then go about their business. They always seemed like happy birds. Given their surroundings, it's not that difficult to understand why.

The magic of this area is that it encourages people to become more primitive, more primal. The water makes things simpler, more basic. Days are spent fishing here, or taking a boat ride, or taking a cruise through the woods. The people who live here enjoy the simple things, and live among them. From far above, you can see that.

Lake Taneycomo Bridge

Shore walk on Branson side of Lake Taneycomo

Mallards!

View of Lake Taneycomo from the Table Rock Dam

The hatchery

Trout -- including an albino.

Lake Taneycomo -- Spring 2009

Table Rock Lake Dam

Stories from the Road -- Moro Rock, CA

I recently wrote of my escapade to Kings Canyon National Park. Mom and I went there after a long two days in Yosemite. Lots of driving, including after dark, and tons of people showing up on Memorial Day weekend. (A ranger told us while we there that we were visiting on the busiest day of the year. Guess we should have figured.) Exhausted tensions were running high on the drive to Kings Canyon, coming to a boil at the wonderful Grizzly Falls. Mom had to whine about my driving again?

Well, nature has a way of healing all wounds. The beautiful waterfall eased tensions...temporarily. Our other stops in Kings Canyon were just as wonderful, particularly the lovely Roaring River Falls. We took a short hike, and that seemed to get rid of the "vehicle cramps" that certainly were contributing to the strain of the day.

After Kings Canyon, we drove southeast to Sequoia -- the sister national park. Sequoia is aptly named -- tons of the gargantuan trees are located here -- and a walk through the forest is simply mesmerizing. A few stops among the trees seemed to really be the ticket. We saw the General Sherman Tree, stunning volume-wise. The sun shone through the trees in natural slits, providing an eerie glow to the forest floor. The sun was beginning to set, and I had one last stop on the agenda.

That stop was Moro Rock. Unfortunately, the drive to Moro Rock is a little secluded. It tends to give the impression that you are losing yourself in the forest. Given that the sun was lowering in the sky, signs for Moro Rock were scarce, and Mom saw an intriguing museum in the interim, Mom was not having it.

"Chad! Turn around! Just stop. Stop!"

This continues unabated for a couple of minutes. Her voice kept getting louder and louder, and replies that the sign on the road said this was the way were not comforting. Calling Mom "hysterical" at this point would not be going far enough...

I interject the story here to point out that my track record of finding secluded locations is pretty impressive. Map reading isn't rocket science, and keeping track of where you are is common sense. Nonetheless, after 27 years building up this travel resume, I found Mom's lack of faith disturbing.

Finally, after another minute or so, Mom's incessant yelling was too much to take. I slammed on the brakes, saying nothing. Mom immediately stopped, allowing me to say:

"Mom, trust me. We're OK. Just...please stop."

I accelerated, and the complaining started right up again. Humorously, this was the last hill before our destination, in a sign brilliantly large and obvious: "MORO ROCK".

Without saying anything, I parked the car. Mom was, by this point, not talking. The temptation to say, "See? See?" was high, but fortunately, the angel on my shoulder was telling me to keep quiet. I opened the car door, got out, and began walking toward Moro Rock. No words, nothing. After a few seconds, Mom did too.

The number one rule of traveling is that nature heals all wounds. And the views of the Western Divide and the hazy forests below a setting sun were the much-needed antidote. Mom would not go all the way to the end -- too unnerved by the heights -- but she was smiling again. Mountain views will do that.

At the top of Moro Rock, I met someone from Fresno. I asked him how he liked living there. His reply was, "I need to de-haze a lot." Looking over the forest, it's not that difficult to understand why.

I also met a family from Ohio. They asked me if I was alone. I said no, my mother was with me. They asked me why she wasn't with me at the top of the rock.

"De-hazing."

Weekend Update

Well, I ended up not having time to write a note this weekend, so I guess I'll write a late Sunday night edition.

I ended up going to Lincoln for the weekend, as my brother, sister, and brother-in-law were expected to be there. I showed up unannounced, which is always fun. Problem is, when you park in a sorority girl's parking spot, all subtlety quickly disappears. Nevertheless, everyone's faces at the sight of me were worth the price of the trip alone. And it only improved from there...

My brother and one of his friends showed up about a half hour later, and we were off. With life as a grad student, it is easy to forget what a social life is fairly quickly. In a matter of minutes, all of the memories of undergrad days reappeared. I miss those days.

The bars in Lincoln were packed, as the football crowd and the college crowd intertwined in a regular "Where's Waldo?" on 'O' Street. The weather was sensational all weekend, with much above average temperatures and clear skies allowing everyone to pour into the streets well into the night.

The next day was much the same, with lots of bars, stories, tailgating, and camaraderie. Lincoln trips are always better when Barry's is involved, and this weekend featured a lot of Barry's. (I still want to know who Lou Mary is, though.)

Yes, Oklahoma lost the game, but as most of you by now realize, football is sort of low on my sports totem pole. And everyone else was happy, so that's somethin'. (The Preds won, and the Red Wings lost, on Saturday, so that's a win in my book.)

The last time I saw my brother and sister together was in May of 2005. My college graduation. I really, really hope that such a large gap will not happen again. Thanks for a great weekend, sibs.

---

My work schedule this week is very high, so notes may be infrequent for the next few days. I hope to have a "Growing Up" post, "Chad's Takes", and "Stories from the Road" at some point before this weekend.

Growing Up will begin the first of many notes about a hero named Maxine. In Chad's Takes, I'll discuss Joe Lieberman. And in Stories from the Road, I'll talk about Moro Rock.