Mountain Hiking

Audubon Ridge—Solitude is not the same as lonely 

The authorities and the guidebooks all tell you not to do it, but I often hike alone. Actually, I don't think in terms of "alone." I am certainly not lonely. I think more in terms of a comfortable solitude—comfort in my own company and a release from responsibilities that can clutter and complicate a life. The stress of complexity and clutter is a big issue today.  Newspaper columns, articles, and whole books flood the media—Simplify Your Life, Rein In Clutter. A solitary hike does this well. 

I pulled into the Mitchell Creek Trailhead, Brainard Lake Recreation Area, early in the morning to find the lot about half full.  I thought back to my last visit in the dead of winter, with the lot absolutely empty, swept with snow and wind, bitterly cold, desolate, abandoned.  The scene was certainly softened now, the air cool, moist, and rich with the smell of fir, the greens washed clean and bright, and the people shyly returning as after some great disaster.  Songbirds sang. The sky was a bright blue with puffy, bright-white clouds. 

The trail up Audubon begins at about 10,500 ft.  After a mile, I stepped across the tree line and into scattered krummholz, tundra, talus, and spring wildflowers. Below, lakes and ponds were open and blue.  Bright snow patches shone in north-facing hollows, across the valley on the face of Niwot Ridge.

Trail to saddle between Audubon on the left and "Little Audubon" on the right.

It was a busy trail here.  Single hikers and couples passed me as I knelt to take pictures of Moss Campion, Elephanthead, Bistort, and King’s Crown.  A woman came up, pulled by her huge dog. She seemed to be walking a pet bear.  There was a scout troop and a senior hiking group.  I found Silky Phacelia and lots of Columbine. And I thought again of the value of solitary hiking.  It allows you to hike your own hike, set your own pace, aim for your own goals.  With a partner or in a group, the pace is a compromise at best, the goal has probably been decided beforehand and won’t likely change during the day. By myself, I can stop at every wildflower, toadstool, and birdsong, and I can stay in that spot for much longer than another hiker would tolerate.  I can admire and photograph, breathe it in, soak it up, as slowly as I like. When I come to a trail intersection, I can turn down the unplanned way.  Maybe that way looks more intimate, the terrain more interesting, or maybe this new trail goes up to a rise, and I just need to see what is on the other side. 

Elephanthead (click any thumbnail for larger image)	Elephanthead blossom	Bistort	King's Crown
Silky Phacelia	Columbine	Indian Paintbrush

I followed my current trail up to the wide saddle on the Audubon ridgeline at about 12,600 ft.  To the west, the rocky talus descends steeply into the valley of the Coney Lakes and Coney Creek, and to the southwest, the trail continues up Mt. Audubon (13,223 ft.)  Rather than climb Audubon, this time I turned to the northeast and walked up a rise that we could call Little Audubon (12,706 ft.), although it is not prominent enough to actually deserve a name.

Upper Coney Lake looking west from saddle

"Little Audubon" looking north from saddle

Lunch break

Over this shoulder, the long northeast ridge of Audubon stretches down to Coney Flats.  There was a little rain and even a hail shower.  I carry a rain jacket, but this time,  I let it rain on me, and it soon stopped.  Wispy mists drifted in front of the dark rocks of the ridgeline to the west. 

I hopped from rock to rock, down the talus.  Low fog hugged the ground.  Thunder cracked off to the southeast.  I was on a broad, expansive slope and felt exposed.  There was nowhere to hide.  But the weather seemed to be moving to the southeast, and I was going northeast. 

There were a couple more high points, maybe “Audubon Knob” and “Audubon Knoblet.”  I climbed each and looked off toward Stapp Lakes and Beaver Reservoir to the east.  Coney Flats was a clearing in the woods, way down below.

Looking northeast down the long Audubon ridgeline

The northeast end of the ridgeline

Coney Flats, far below

I descended to the tree line again and had some trouble squirming through brushy and twisted trees that filled the low spots.  I reentered the forest and climbed down off the shoulder of the ridge where rocky talus came down to the marshy banks of Coney Creek.  I picked my way among the rocks and finally came to the Coney Flats Trailhead and the Beaver Creek Trail that would take me back south.  It was 5:00 p.m.  It had taken me 8 1/2 hours to wander six miles—and to see what needed to be seen. 

I finally picked up my pace and walked through darkening woods.  A grouse exploded from the side of the trail in a whir of wings.  I returned to the car a little after 8:00 p.m. and thought, well, if I can finish without having to pull out my flashlight, I have certainly had some kind of success. 

Originally published in the
50 Plus Marketplace News, 14:7, 6/2008.