Wednesday we went kayaking on a lovely
little lake--it was really a pond--called Lily Lake. There were lots
of cute mama and baby ducks, a couple of geese, a cadre of neon blue
dragon flies and a lot of vacationing humans walking around the
little lake, taking pictures of us in our yellow kayak.
Somehow though, Wednesday night, I lost
it. Everything just seemed so hard and not worth it. The cooking,
which mostly Jim is doing; the setting up and breaking down, THE LACK
OF INTERNET...I don't know. I just started thinking that maybe I was
ready to head for the home...where I know it is exceedingly HOT.
We talked a bit about the possibilities
and went to sleep. I must say I sleep very well in this little
plastic bean and that is a very good thing.
We discovered that Jim's good friend
Bruce and his girlfriend happened to be vacationing in the area and
we made a plan to meet them for lunch Thursday. We woke up very early
and ate breakfast. We decided to stay one more night in the Rocky
Mountain National Park and not try to find a parking place for the
casita in the very busy town of Estes Park. We had some time before
meeting them so decided to go on a little hike. At the first place we
went, we were told the trail wasn't very good and we should try
something different. We rode the shuttle bus to another drop off and
decided to walk back to the campground (Glacier Basin)...a hike of
just about a mile. A park ranger told us where to pick up the trail
and off we went. We had been walking a little while when we saw a
sign that said something like “No horses allowed beyond this point.
Go around Sprague Lake for Glacier Basin.” We had just come from
Sprague Lake and decided that sign must apply to people riding
horses. The trail was full of evidence of very healthy horses...
We walked on....and on....The trail got
steeper and rockier and I was grateful that I had worn socks and my
hiking sandals, but sorry that I didn't have my real hiking shoes on.
We came to more signs that seemed to indicate that we were on the
right path and we walked on. Finally we came to a sort of roundabout
where there were four or five signs. One said, “Glacier Basin
Campground” with an arrow that said, “1.7 miles.” Oh my. I
figured we weren't going to make the noon meeting, but guessed we
would still manage to meet Bruce and his girlfriend at some point.
Right then 1.7 miles seemed like a very long way indeed. Jim found me
a lightweight walking stick and I was glad to have it.
The trail was through the deep woods
and was marked every now and then by little bright orange flags. I
was glad to see them. There was no one else around...at all...and
this in a park practically packed with people everywhere. There was
plenty of fresh evidence of horses on the trail though. The little
flags started turning color...yellow first, then white, though Jim
showed me they were still orange on the opposite side. I couldn't
tell at all what direction we were walking and the trail seemed to
have little resemblance to the little map we had. At one point, we
met three people on horses...who appeared to be a mother, daughter
and guide. The mother was having a hard time making her horse go and
the daughter kept telling her to kick him harder and “use the
whip!” I was glad to just have my own feet to command...even though
they were quite recalcitrant.
Finally, we met a trio who said the
campground was half a mile ahead. I was very happy. We ended up
getting back to the campsite about 12:30 and went into town to meet
Bruce, not even late, though we had missed the meeting.
So, the second adventure of this trip
ended fine, just like the first. I wasn't really scared this time. I
wasn't even really tired. I seem to have adjusted to the high
altitude now...I'm not huffing and puffing like I was last week. I
guess I was just worried that we were on the wrong path and were
somehow going in circles and would never find our way back to the
campground. I admire backpackers who are out there on their own.
Their sense of direction must be far superior to mine.
Friday we will leave for Wyoming. I
don't think we'll make it to Montana this trip and we may be home
sooner than I thought we might. Fifteen days out now, a few days in
Wyoming, and it will take at least three days to get back home...I
may have reached my limit....I must be a true homebody at heart.
Thanks to all of you who show me the
path each day.
Cheers.
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