Colorado 2011 Day 3: Flattop Mountain, Hallet Peak, Ridge Road

Day 3: Flattop Mountain (12,324) and Hallet Peak (12,713), Rocky Mountain National Park

Miles hiked: 9.8

So my first two days of acclimating to Colorado had included a hike to 8,100 feet followed by a hike to 10,600 feet. I had felt the elevation on both hikes, particularly when setting out, and had taken them fairly slowly.

Still, I hadn’t experienced any altitude sickness. No headaches, nausea or anything like that.

I was ready to continue building up to the week’s ultimate goal — hiking at least one of Colorado’s 14ers, as they’re known.

Day 3’s challenge was a hike up Flattop Mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park. The hike was 4.4 miles to the very flat — go figure — summit of the mountain at 12,324 feet and included close to 3,000 feet in elevation gain.

As it turned out, the tramp was almost a walk in the park. Winding around countless switchbacks, I emerged from the forest of pine trees after maybe 2 miles and then proceeded to hike one switchback after another, now in the open, until winding around the north ridge of the mountain.

The trek on the well-maintained, dirt and rock path seemed to take an eternity, mostly because what I originally thought might be the summit just turned out to be a random hill of rocks that obscured the nondescript peak that was way farther to the west (I should know about false peaks by now!).

Still, I could look back over my shoulder to a tremendous view of the park’s crown jewel and only 14er, Longs Peak (14,259 feet), whenever I so chose, and the very moderate climb proved to be pretty easy for me as I passed countless people.

The wind howled at probably 30 to 40 mph as I got higher, but since I was moving, I didn’t feel the need to put on more layers than my Polypro and shorts until I reached the summit, which was nothing more than a junction of the North Inlet and Tonahutu trails.

While the top of Flattop was about as interesting as a regular-season NBA game, I had noticed during the final ascent a steep mound of rocks — aka, a mountain — just to the south of my destination that people were ascending. It piqued my interest.

So after throwing on my nylon pants, a long-sleeved-fleece combo, and my winter hat, I took the clearly marked path south to get a better look at Hallet Peak, which rose above snowy, precipitous Tyndall Glacier.

A man passed me at Hallet’s base and mentioned that it “was a haul,” but worth doing. That was all I needed to hear.

Turns out, the hike wasn’t very tough or long. Most difficult was locating the next cairn to rock hop to, but before I could believe it, I emerged on top of Hallet, elevation 12,713 feet, and really felt like, for the first time, I was on a summit.

I found a flat rock overlooking the glacier and a small, unnamed lake and settled in for a snack of a cut-up apple (I had ingested a peanut butter sandwich after reaching Flattop’s “summit”).

My spot was also an escape from the winds I had experienced 400 feet below, giving me a real sense of calm. I could have stayed there for hours.

However, morning had turned into afternoon, and I knew what that could mean in the Rockies despite the mostly clear skies and innocuous-looking clouds. So I scrambled down Hallet, shot a few more pictures on the other side of the Continental Divide, which the Tonahutu Trail passes over, and then, seeing a suddenly-appearing dark cloud arise out of nowhere to the west, started hustling down the Flattop trail.

Around 2:40, I heard the first, distant thunder claps. I was still in the open, but moving swiftly. I started to feel a few drops around 3, as I finally reached the tree line. Minutes later, it was pouring and thundering as I navigated the easy switchbacks under the pine tree’s cover.

Wow, what a quick change in weather.

As I got close to the base of the trail, I passed a woman walking a huge donkey, who was carrying trail maintenance supplies. I must say, it was my first donkey encounter on a trail.

Of course, as I reached the parking lot around 4, the skies cleared and were mostly blue with a few innocent clouds scattered here and there. A typical afternoon in the Rockies, I learned.

I was not ready to head back to Boulder.

Driving on Bear Lake Road toward the park’s entrance to Trail Ridge Road, I noticed several cars pulled over. This could mean two things: 1. A lot of bathroom breaks coincidentally at the same time; 2. Spotted wildlife.

Thankfully, it was No. 2, as I noticed a huge elk maybe 30 yards off the road in the high grass minding its business. It was my first spotting of the national park’s most popular large, beautiful creature.

If only I had seen one just off the trail, it would have felt a little more special.

My late-afternoon plan involved driving the park’s version of Yosemite’s Tioga Road — Trail Ridge Road, which cuts across the northern section of the park from east to west.

It was incredible. As I navigated sharp turns, I quickly gained 9,000, 10,000, 11,000 and then 12,000 feet, reaching a high point of 12,183 feet. Almost the entire drive, the road offered uninhibited views of the national park’s peaks to the south and the large, widespread peaks of the Mummy Range to the north.

I stopped at several viewing areas to take in, absorb, memorize my surroundings and, of course, assist my memory with dozens of pictures. Longs Peak and its flat, boxy top stood out to the southeast (little would one know, from those views of it, that Longs is one of the most difficult 14ers to ascend).

It soon occurred to me that I had a special opportunity to witness a sunset overlooking the Rockies. With time to burn, I decided to drive the length of the road to the west and then return to a spot called Forest Canyon, where I could hike a trail about an eighth of a mile to a perfect spot to view the sun as it dropped below the peak-dominated horizon.

Of course, I would be chilly. On my drive up, the temperature had dropped, according to the Lexus, from 70 to 52 degrees. I had all my layers on.

As I began to descend the western section of the road, I noticed, once again, several cars pulled over. Sure enough, in the grassy meadow below the road was a large herd of elk.

I parked and then observed, along with several others, as the elk eventually made their way across the road to a higher grassy area. There were several calves that followed their parents, creating a small brigade of elk walking not more than 50 feet from me.

Pretty cool.

Minutes later, having driven the entire Trail Ridge Road, I noticed a group at an outlook peering through binoculars at a very distant hillside to the west. A lady handed me her binoculars, and I quickly spotted hundreds of moving dots — elk — on the green side of the mountain.

They’re all over the place. You just have to find them.

I enjoyed seeing the elk, but nothing from that drive matched the sunset. I made it back to my designated spot just as the blood-orange sun crested on top of a set of pointy peaks to the west, and I was in a state of awe for 20 minutes as I watched the sky transformed to a bright, glowing orange that can’t be done justice by words or pictures (I can only try).

I sat on a rock outcropping observing the scene until I was in the dark, and then shaking my head at the brilliance I had bore witness to, I slowly returned to the car for the long, winding drive back to Boulder.