Chasm Lake RMNP Colorado

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I kept a blog in my 20’s after first moving to Colorado. It was about the adventures and people that I discovered in my new home state. It was candid and raw, and I usually wrote it on the spot in small mountain pubs after a day’s exploration. I also wrote about the the new scenes that I found to photograph, and techniques that I experimented with. A few years ago I deleted the blog, never to be read by me or anybody again. I thought it was too revealing and sophomoric. I decided that I’d graduated to becoming an “advanced” photographer and seasoned citizen of Colorado. I couldn’t let anybody see that I was once a beginner who stumbled into town starry-eyed. Problem is, those old blogs were fun to write, and maybe for some people, more interesting to read than the sterile trip reports that I’ve “evolved” into writing.

This particular blog entry is less about Chasm Lake and more about taking my blog back in its old direction. For better or worse, I’ve written it to let you into the mind of a lunatic photographer. For extra fun I’ve included biker gangs, aliens, and psychedelic hallucinations…enjoy.

This panoramic before sunrise was my trophy shot from Chasm Lake

29 August 2015

Trail Name: East Longs Peak Trail Distance: 8.4 miles round trip Difficulty: Moderate/strenuous Elevation Gain: 2,450 ft  Starting Elevation: 9,350 ft Final Elevation: 11,800 ft Trail Directions: There are 2 splits along the trail; Estes Cone Trail and the split to Chasm Lake, keep left for both.

Trail Description: Continuous uphill. First 2 miles ascend through pine forest. Forest ends abruptly at timberline, and you continue rest of way through open tundra. Last 1 mile becomes an easy hike that levels out, besides a short steep section right before Chasm Lake. Around the lake is talus. Trail easy to follow/well marked.

East Longs Peak Trail to Chasm Lake

I was eating a glistening, salted heap of heirloom tomatoes from my garden while binge-watching Sons of Anarchy on a lazy August afternoon.  My plan for the weekend was to hit Chasm Lake. But would I peel myself up and drive into Rocky Mountain NP this evening for a 3:00 am hike tomorrow, or take the easier option and watch another episode? It’s not like this was a paid assignment, so the incentive for these weekly early morning hikes can be vague. I shut off the tube and threw my sleeping bag and pillows in the back of my truck. I grabbed my photo pack, which is always packed, and headed into the mountains. My incentive was knowing that you evolve as a photographer by spending lots of time in the field.

I arrived at the Long’s Peak/Chasm Lake trailhead at dark. I’m used to sleeping at empty trailheads after all the hikers have left, and being the only one on the trail the next morning at dark. But the scene was much different here. The trailhead parking lot was packed to capacity with climbers also sleeping in their trucks. Tomorrow morning they would begin the approach to summit Long’s Peak. It’s like this all Summer long, but many climbers were cramming it in now before the early frosts make it dangerous to summit.

I must’ve dosed off by about 9:00 pm (with pharmaceutical aid). My vibrating wrist watch woke me at 2:55 am. I clumsily popped in my contacts and laced up my boots. The parking lot was alive with headlamp beams and climbing gear being clipped to backpacks. I begin my hikes this early to photograph sunrise. Mountaineers do it because they must be down off the mountain before afternoon thunderstorms roll in and cast fatal lightning bolts. Colorado ranks 2nd in the US per capita for lightning deaths. If you get struck by lightning you have a 50/50 chance of either dying or becoming psychic.

The 4.2 mile hike (each way) began in the forest and would end above tree line after 2,450 ft of elevation gain. I heard something scurrying on the forest floor. It was a mouse (or vole or shrew I suppose), and when I looked up there was a little Pygmy Owl perched on a branch stalking it. He reminded me of Bubo from Clash of the Titans. We starred at each other for a good 5 seconds before he flew off. Shortly thereafter the forest came to an abrupt end and the arctic tundra zone began.  The temp suddenly dropped and the wind hit me like a bat. On went my down.

I’d wager that evidence exists describing how strange, new or beautiful surroundings can cause the release of endorphins, and that in some people this can have a quasi psychedelic effect. I’m definitely one of those people. In different or exciting places I frequently feel almost as if I’m floating or in a dream. It happens when I’m in a new town or looking at big mountains. And no, it has nothing to do with Colorado’s famous crop- these are the brain’s own opiods. As I walked into the tundra, I entered a most surreal scene and let it take me. Silhouettes of huge peaks stood in the dark. To the east, the sky had a red hue where the sun would come to rise, yet stars still shined in the sky. Overhead, a giant Supermoon cast a white glow on the landscape. I stared up at the huge moon and could discern its surface features more easily than usual. Behind me was a long chain of bouncing headlamps that emerged from the forest and ambled up the mountain through the tundra. I climbed up on a huge boulder and took a moment to absorb it all. If the moon wasn’t above me, I could have been on its surface with a bunch of extra-terrestrials. A photo would’ve been nice, but I was racing sunrise. I let my high carry me the rest of the way up the mountain.

The hike to Chasm Lake is steep and high, but it’s only 4.2 mi each way, so if you’re a highlander it shouldn’t be that difficult. Half way up, the thinner air became apparent because I needed to breathe a little heavier. 12 years ago when I moved to Colorado and before I hiked regularly, this would have been a difficult hike that made my lungs burn.

I reached Chasm Lake with enough time to find a good spot and set up my rig. I rock-hopped between several spots along the lake to make sure I’d chosen the best one. At this elevation, the terrain is crumbled mountain and there’s no trail to follow. The procession of hikers split off in the other direction to climb Long’s Peak so I had Chasm Lake all to myself besides one other photographer.

If my hike up here was a rocket ride to the moon, the landscape of Chasm Lake showed me that I’d just landed.

The tail end of golden sunrise light

Chasm Lake lies in a cirque formed by the base of Long’s Peak, Mt. Meeker and Mount Lady Washington. In the photo, the wall in the middle is Long’s Peak and its summit is 2,400 ft. above. My 14 mm ultra wide angle lens fits a lot into the frame at the expense of greatly underexaggerating size. The “Ship’s Prow” is the pointy slab to the left. It’s perhaps the best example of crust uplift that I’ve ever seen.

This huge landscape was difficult to fit into even my 14mm. Furthermore, a standard 2:3 frame ratio wasn’t the right shape to fit in the wide, thin scene. Yep, panoramic time! I had to pull a few tricks to overcome the distortion in my 14mm lens to align each frame for the panoramic stitch in post processing.

Pink cirrus clouds materialized for a moment before sunrise and I scrambled to catch them. There never ended up being a proper alpenglow at sunrise because clouds to the east blocked the sun. I still caught the tail end of the golden light on the mountains a few minutes before it turned yellow.

I landed back on planet Earth for the hike down. The bright sun washed away the otherworldly surrealism of the moonlit nightscape. An argument brewed within me between my lungs and feet over whether going up or down is harder.