Lake Fork Peak, 12,882' (3,926m)

Yesterday I went up Lake Fork Peak for the first time. I’ve been noticing it on my many hikes to Kachina Peak because, once you’re up there, it’s pretty hard to miss.

I wasn’t entirely sure about the best approach, but from a distance I had noticed something that vaguely resembled a trail. In any case, trail or no trail, I was going to give it a try.

The first few hundred yards beyond Kachina, including a drop of about 200 feet, were just open country. But as I got closer to the notch between the two peaks, I found what I call the “red trail.” It’s not exactly a trail in the usual sense, but more of an itinerary marked by red dots spray-painted on rocks every hundred yards or so.

The red dots start a little below the Kachina lift base station, continue to the top of Kachina Peak, and then seem to disappear until you pass the low point between Kachina and Lake Fork Peak. I was pretty excited to find them again there, so I followed them for the better part of an hour.

Eventually, though, I realized they were not taking me to the summit, so I left the route and went straight up for about 15 minutes. That brought me almost exactly to the high point. So, that worked out nicely.

I took my summit picture and then headed down the south ridge of Lake Fork Peak, assuming I would eventually reconnect with the red trail. That worked out too. Within a few minutes I found the dots again and followed them in reverse.

It seems those red dots mark a route around the Wheeler Wilderness cirque and eventually back toward Wheeler Peak. The route follows the ridge in some places, bypasses a few summits, and occasionally drops well below the ridgeline before climbing back up again.

So that’s my next project: hike the cirque from Kachina to Wheeler, then descend via the Williams Lake Trail back to the Bavarian. Sounds like a fine way to spend a day. In the meantime, here are yesterday's pictures:

View of Lake Fork Peak from Kachina Peak. The cliff band to the left is what I refer to as the "gendarme" or guard of the peak. It gets its own picture below.

View of Kachina Peak from Lake Fork Peak. Click to enlarge and you'll see close to the middle of the picture, the top Kachina lift station.

View down the valley with Williams Lake hidden by the knob in the middle of this shot. The highest point above it is Wheeler Peak.

Walk down (north) a 100 yards from the summit and the lake appears behind the knob.

The high point in this shot is Old Mike Peak at 13,088'. The peak just to its left is Simpson
Peak, 12,970' and, as opposed to Old Mike Peak is right on the cirque ridge.

Here is the impressive gendarme shown on its own (mentioned in the caption of
the first picture.

Here is Loki on the way back down finding one of the rare snow patches left.

Close Encounter on Kachina Peak

 This isn't a full trip report, just a few photos from a remarkable encounter yesterday on Kachina Peak.

This young Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep quietly snuck up on us. I didn't even notice him until he was less than 100 feet away. Luckily, my dog Loki (the Magnificent) didn't spot him right away. When he finally did, he charged toward the sheep, and I had to call him back.

I've trained Loki to do two things whenever he sees wildlife: 1) stay quiet, and 2) stay with me. Otherwise, I'd probably never get to enjoy any wildlife encounters on my hikes.

What made yesterday so unusual was how willing this bighorn was to approach us (that's probably why rule number two didn't quite work as intended). Other than reindeer, which are famously curious, I've never had a wild animal come this close.

Even more remarkable, once Loki returned to my side, it took only a couple of minutes for the sheep to wander back and "visit" us again. Whenever he got a little too close, Loki would politely (he never barked at him) shoo him away, but a few minutes later he'd come right back. This little routine repeated itself four times!

Eventually, he settled down near the highest Gazex exploder below the upper Kachina lift station and calmly watched us continue to the summit.

It was one of those rare moments of mountain magic that only the mountain can offer. I've shared photos of mountain wildlife before, but this encounter was truly special. Here are the pictures from yesterday.

First encounter: by the time I got the camera out, he bolted but this gives you an idea of how
close he was willing to get...

...he did not run off too far though...

...then curiosity got the best of him...

...you can see the curiosity in his attitude and face.

He is quite the splendid animal.

...till we meet again!

Mount Massive, 14,427 (4397 m)

Yesterday I summited Mount Massive (14,421 ft), Colorado's second-highest peak, with Tom and Fred - both fellow Taoseños. We hit the trail at 7:30 a.m. via the East Slopes route.

This is officially considered the "easiest" route, but that's only true if by easy you mean you never encounter really steep terrain. In fact, the trail is so gentle for the first hour that it almost feels like you're walking downhill. Of course, what you save in steepness, you pay back in mileage. This route is nearly 14 miles round trip compared to about 8 miles on the steeper Southwest Slopes. So, pick your poison. Personally, I'm still not sure which route I'd call easier!

Whatever the route, yesterday was one of those magical mountain days when every star aligned. Cool morning temperatures, deep blue skies, and absolutely no wind. What more could you ask for? Maybe slightly cooler temperatures on the hike down - but that might be getting greedy.

And none of those conditions should be taken for granted. Tonight's NOAA forecast for 14,199 feet calls for snow showers, patchy smoke, and even a chance of thunderstorms. We missed all of that thanks to Tom's excellent planning and his knack for picking the perfect weather window.

From the Mount Massive trailhead, about 20 minutes outside Leadville, the hike begins in dense forest and keeps you there for an hour and a half or so before finally opening up above treeline. You follow the Colorado Trail northeast for roughly a mile before it turns northwest for another couple of miles. Along the way you cross South Willow Creek and then Willow Creek, where you leave the Colorado Trail and continue on the Mount Massive Trail.

Even then, you're not quite out of the woods. There's still nearly another mile before you finally break above tree line. But once you do, the scenery starts rewarding you long before you reach the summit.

The alpine tundra was simply spectacular. Wildflowers were in full bloom, painting the landscape with nearly every color imaginable, including some stunning electric-blue blossoms that seemed to glow against the green. The mosses carpeting both the soil and the rocks added subtle shades of green, gold, and brown that completed the picture. Altogether, it reminded me remarkably of the tundra landscapes of Lapland in Arctic Scandinavia.

As if that weren't enough, the panoramic views across the Sawatch Range just kept getting better with every step. You spend a wonderfully long time hiking through this alpine paradise before finally reaching the rocky summit ridge. From there it's about 20 to 30 minutes of enjoyable Class 2 scrambling over solid rock to the top.

Our ascent took 4 hours and 19 minutes. After soaking in the views, and taking the obligatory summit photos, we headed back down, reaching the car 3 hours and 37 minutes later.

Another Colorado fourteener in the books, and one that reminded me why some of the "easier" peaks can still make you earn every single step.

On the summit: Tom, Fred, and Loki.

North Halfmoon lakes as seen from the summit.

These expansive views of the Sawatch range include Twin Lakes.

Another view of the Halfmoon lakes from a bit further down on the summit ridge.

Fred and Tom embarking on the long slog down.

"Infinite" views including Turquoise lake.

Loki the Magnificient taking it all in...

Mount Walter, 13,141 ft

 It was a great outing that began earlyish, with a 6:30 a.m. start from the Williams Lake trailhead, where the temp was 24F. I followed the trail most of the way until I was roughly 800–1,000 feet below the ridge north of Mt. Walter’s North Peak. From there, I turned upward into a steep couloir—one I can’t wait to ski once the snow finally fills in.

The climb through the couloir was slow and demanding. Soft snow, up to two feet deep in places, made for plenty of post-holing. Loose scree slid constantly underfoot, and patches of ice required full attention (and crampons) to avoid an unwanted—and potentially memorable—ride downhill. To say the conditions were variable, and not in a good way, would be an understatement.

Once I reached the ridge, the wind—already building—became ferocious. Gusts were strong enough to knock a person off balance. In any case, I reached the summit of Mt. Walter North Peak, initially mistaking it for Mt. Walter itself. After realizing the error, I walked the short distance to the true summit and topped out just before 10 a.m. The descent back to the TH was completed in just about 2 hours.

Here are the pictures:

One of my favorite viewpoints on the way up.

Mount Wheeler as seen on the way up.

Horseshoe Lake. Picture taken from Mt Walter N Peak...

...and a zoom in.

Looking north from Mt Walter is Colorado.

The Mt Walter greeting sign.

From Mt Walter, looking south is Wheler Peak and to its right
the Wheler Wilderness cirque. 

Starts to feel a lot like winter

Today I squeezed in a quick hike up to Kachina Peak, racing the rain in the forecast — and I won hands down! Mostly because the rain came quite a bit later than forecasted, but I'll take it! The weather ended up perfect: sunshine, calm air, and not a drop of rain. Even better, there was some snow! Just a light dusting near the Bavarian, but up on Kachina, there were a few inches in the shadier spots. It felt amazing to get a little taste of winter — and we’re still more than a month out from Thanksgiving! A sign of things to come, surly, right? Anyway, here are some pics!

The sun rises on Gold Hill, 12,700'. Hence the name?

Three siblings keeping each other warm - There's
nothing like family

Lake Fork Peak, 12,891', as seen from Kachina Peak.

Gold Hill a couple of hours later.

Fairchild Peak, 12,833', as seen from Kachina Peak.

Gold Hill

 Yesterday was one of those end-of-Fall early-winter-type days that lend themselves exceptionally well to longish hikes. Loki the Magnificent (my four-legged friend) and I went to a different type of objective, Gold Hill at 12,717’ (per USGS) in the Columbine Hondo wilderness in northern New Mexico, not too far from Taos Ski Valley.

It’s the end of fall because the beautiful, colored leaves are now starting to fall en masse, while temperatures are dropping noticeably. It was 22 degrees at the trail head at about 9,400’ and just a little over 12 degrees, and some very strong western winds on top, the kind of wind that will knock you over.

This feels like a “different type of objective” because it’s less jagged and more of a hill, while still a respectable effort. According to AllTrails, it’s 10 miles and a bit over 3,300 elevation gain, while my Garmin says I did 15.4 miles, the mysteries of technology…

In any case, Gold Hill to me is a brilliant example of the great Western beauty so characteristic of the intermountain west at its best. Here are some pictures, all taken above the tree line.

On top Gold Hill and below is Goose Lake.

Looking north towards Colorado.

Coyote in the distance...

...and zooming in.

From a wind shelter on top of Gold Hill, looking South at 
Wheeler Peak (the highest point in New Mexico at 13.166')

A no-name knob at about 12,100' on the way back.

Fall puts on its show in Taos

 “’Tis too the season to be merry! 🍁✨ The trees are in their grand finale gowns, twirling in gold and crimson as if the forest itself were preparing for a grand ball. Sure, winter is winter—the one and only, the shimmering King of seasons—but even he must smile at fall’s colorful curtain call.

These photos were gathered on a little outing through the resort and along the trail to Lake Williams. Each bend in the road whispered a different shade of wonder. And that lake photo—ah, that one was taken just before dawn, from the old glacial moraine west of the water, when the first light tiptoed over the horizon and the world seemed to hold its breath. 🌅

But here’s the real magic—take a close look at that last picture. Captured just yesterday, it wears the first snow of the season! ❄️ A silvery promise that the great winter tale is about to begin again—quiet, bright, and utterly irreplaceable.”