Upper Cataract Lake

The out-and-back hiking trip started at the Surprise Trailhead near the Lower Cataract Lake just west of Green Reservoir south of Kremmling.

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Upper Cataract Lake 2024

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The name 'Lower' Cataract Lake indicated that an 'Upper' Cataract Lake must be nearby. Exploring a map by looking further upstream, the location of the upper lake near 11,000ft was found. My inspiration took over and with a bunged up wrist preventing me from paddling, a free week on the calendar, and indications of favorable weather, I decided to backpack to Upper Cataract lake.

Everything needed for a four day excursion existed to hand at the house with only a little time needed to chuck it into my pack. I was a bit dismayed that, for just a few days of self-support, the pack filled to the extended top. It would be lovely to figure out how to travel with all the essentials in just a daypack. Once the sleeping bag, tiny inflatable ground pad, 2.5lb tent, first aid kit, few extra clothes in case of inclement weather, propane cook stove, and food gets piled together, it just takes up space! I haven't weighed my packs since I don't remember when, but I'm guessing this one weighs in at under 40lbs. I don't own a scale so none of us will ever exactly know.

Friends and family often express concerns over safety when their loved ones venture into the wilds of nature and wish to be notified immediately upon return. A casual internet search confirms my suspicion that the most dangerous part of venturing into the wilderness is the driving too and from the trailhead. This was born out in that I had several events during the drive where evasive action was needed to avoid an accident due to aggressive or distracted drivers. The scariest moment backpacking was probably the risk of a self-inflicted mosquito slap or the scramble up a rock ledge.

The weather, a splendid partially cloudy day at the Surprise trailhead north of Silverthorne and almost to the Lower Cataract Lake loop trail, shone well for the trip. Weather reports these days include temps, precipitation, cloudiness, winds, and air quality as basic stuff. They don't include a mosquito index to my knowledge. Such a scale might run something like, 'what are those', 'hmmm, a little buzzing', 'periodic swats', 'routine slapping', 'bug spray time', 'deep woods DEET spray', 'spray plus jacket hat gloves', to 'black swarms head lamp required up the nose dive bombers you've reached your blood donation limit for the month'. The mosquitos had my attention and were taking additional physical and psychological energy so I sprayed and dressed accordingly. Sure, I was a little warm and sweaty, but at least I had my sanity. I noticed that the few stealthy bites I did receive only itched for about 15 minutes. Maybe my tolerance is growing (not likely) or their anticoagulant saliva injection formula isn't as bad as their northern Yukon relatives. I have concluded that they seem to come in waves. A loose group would be targeting me from all directions then nothing for a spell and then another group attacking me every which way. I can speculate such an evolutionary development because one can fend off the random one or two, but when there are a dozen or more all at the same time one of them will get through. I did have a couple fly into my open panting mouth leading to a little coughing, sputtering and spitting. Overall, these mosquitos lacked the fighting spirit of their northern Canada brethren.

One last comment on mosquitos. Why hasn't natured evolved a mosquito that doesn't buzz and whose saliva doesn't cause irritation? Then they could just drink blood till you were a desiccated corpse without a care.

After crossing the bridge over Cataract Creek the trail winds its way up 2400 feet over 6.7 miles to arrive at Upper Cataract Lake. The first few miles found me pondering the trail course. The sun would be over my left shoulder then my right shoulder then behind me then in front of me. I wasn't looking at the GPS, but I knew that the general course should have the sun in my face. I thought this is one switchbacky trail. Near the trail intersection with the Gore Range trail I came upon a 40ish woman with a teenage daughter and son and two very poorly behaved dogs. They were in running gear only. The mother commented that somehow they'd gotten on the wrong trail that added a mile distance to Surprise Lake each way; more than she planned for. Surprise Lake turns out to be almost four miles on the way to Upper Cataract Lake. As they continued down and I upward, I thought, ah well, even if it's longer I'll get their eventually and I'm not lost. Shortly, I passed a birding gentleman coming down with a smile but no desire to chat.

My feet were starting to bother me. Part of it were the shoes. I walked through Europe with these shoes last year and they served me well. But lately either my feet or the shoes have changed. I'm going to guess it's my feet. I've thought about replacing them - the shoes that is. In fact, I almost replaced them before this trip but actually turned back a mile from the house rather than make a special trip to REI in Boulder to save gas and CO2 emissions. My little toes hurt and a couple of other toes on my left foot hurt. It's apparent the shoes are too narrow and maybe too short as I ended up with blood blisters under a couple of toe nails. The other reason one of my feet hurt was due to gout. It's usually a night time thing, but for this hike it flared up. Have you every tried walking when those needle like urate crystals precipitate in your joints? Yes, it's a painful experience. I vowed to drink copious amounts of water for the remainder of the trip which seemed to help alleviate the gout.

The combination of sore feet and nagging mosquitos does suck more energy over just the act of carrying a pack up a rocky trail.

The trail is beautiful. It passes through Columbine laden aspen groves and dense pine forests. The trail crosses many crystal clear creeks affording a source to replenish water. At the higher elevations perhaps just in the last week, snow has melted leaving a damp forest floor and a carpet of green shoots with the chance to spread new leaves. The trail is moderately rocky and mostly shaded. There are a massive number of downed trees that fortunately the Forest Service is actively working to clear. The Eagles Nest Wilderness being a wilderness means they have to cut all the trees by hand. I'm most appreciative of their efforts! There was one group of trees recently blown down that was of such a configuration I had to remove my backpack to get through it.

I stopped for lunch at Surprise Lake. The trail from there to Upper Cataract Lake is a straighter steady climb through old growth pine trees. It makes a couple of descending switchbacks through a boulder field just before arriving at the lake.

Footprints on the trail suggested someone had walked up and turned back at some point. The possibility existed that someone might be at the lake, but when I arrived I found no one else there. The mosquitos were still present so I kept my gear on while preparing a dehydrated meal on the lake's edge. The mountain's reflection in the still lake waters was postcard worthy. I stayed up late enough to see the sun's light slip under low clouds and light the surrounding mountains in deepening oranges and reds before setting.

I crawled into the trusty tent I'd traveled across Europe in. It felt like home: a cozy dry familiar place.

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Seems that despite any planning something goes slightly adrift. I'd completely forgotten to bring my cup for coffee. And I'd also forgotten to grab the phone charging cable used in the car despite remembering and carrying the now useless extra battery. I turned the phone off most of the time to extend the battery life for the four days. The book I'd brought was on the phone so virtually no reading took place.

Using the insulated thermos typically reserved for hydrating and heating meals I was able to make a cup of coffee. This was my last cup for a couple of days. Despite the thermos being stainless steel, food flavors remained and imparted overtones to that cup of coffee that destroyed any desire to make another cup.

So, ponder this, three more days in the wild without coffee or phone. Think just how many people's rituals every day involve a cup of coffee and their phone! How would they have survived with me here at Upper Cataract Lake?

I set off for the day to explore around and maybe above the lake. (Had I not turned the phone off, I might have noticed a trail extending to Mirror Lake and headed there for the day.) Traveling counterclockwise the west side of the lake had many very nice campsite. The recently melted snow had uncovered them. I imagine the later summer months could see many people camped about the lake. There were a few fire rings even though signs requested stoves only. I came across a region with evidence of an avalanche this past season: many broken branches and downed trees. I continued up and across a low angle snowfield. Funny, with my sore feet or aging leg muscles, I didn't have the confidence to kick steps into the snow I use to. I managed, but opted to transition to boulder hopping as I climbed higher and the snow angle steepened.

I'd decided to try for the small unnamed lake sitting a few hundred feet above Upper Cataract Lake. The map topographical lines don't reveal the cliff faces that had to be negotiated. A traversing ledge with small trees and shrubs marked a possible path. The mountain goats use this route as evidenced by the tufts of their downy hair clinging to branches. It was a scramble but mercifully with limited exposure and only a couple of short climbing moves. The route ended above the higher lake affording a wonderful view of the lake, Upper Cataract Lake, and Kremmling off in the distance. I snacked on lunch enjoying the calm sunny weather until dark clouds suddenly and maliciously crested the mountain ridge to my southwest glowering down upon me. I'd planned to linger here, but mother nature was asking me to leave. The ledge and the slippery rocks of the boulder fields were not a place to negotiate in rain if it can be avoided.

I descended most of the way back to Upper Cataract Lake stopping to rest and snack more since the weather had eased its threat. To my right about 25 meters away a movement caught my eye, it was a pika nibbling and alternately sunning itself. For the next 15 minutes or so, I felt like I was sharing a moment with this pika. We sunned. We munched. Apart and yet together - at least in my imagination. And then I felt a rain drop. The pika must have as well, because it slipped into its burrow.

By the time I finished descending to the lake and finding shelter under some trees, the rain came in abundance. I spent the next 45 minutes secure under trees and poncho watching the rain drops dancing on the lake. In that time during breaks in the rain, I also continued counterclockwise around the steeper side of the lake. This section is more arduous with alternating rock patches, snowfields, and forests. Along the way I startled a marmot. He/she stared at me as I stared back. It didn't bolt off out of sight until I moved.

I spent the next couple of hours laying quietly in the tent, pondering life, dozing, and listening to the rain on the rainfly - a peaceful, expectation absent state. No place to be. No electronic device clamoring for my attention. Just the soft sound of rain falling on things, wind through the trees, and an occasional lightening and thunder. The rain rested suggesting and providing an opportunity to heat up water for dinner.

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The nights after the sun has set fully are a pitch black. Barely can one see anything. But once the waning moon rose in the wee hours of the morning light returned. In that gentle moonlight the sky seemed like it would remain clear, but before dawn's first light thunder rolled across the lake and the rains began to fall again. They came and went until misty light of the sun replaced the dim moon light both trying to penetrate the weeping clouds. At last a break came in the pace of the rain. I chose to pack up my gear within the tent before climbing out. Barely had I emerged when the rain started again - in earnest! The falling rain on the small pond next to the tent captivated me with the swirling wind movement, splashing sounds, and cool moist feel. I sheltered next to a tree facing toward the tent.

When I looked for a place to pitch the tent a couple of days ago, I was curious about these rock mud and small trench constructions. I didn't see how they could have been used to hold back water and their placement didn't appear to fit the topography. This morning I saw their design in action. Rain was running off the large domed rock to the north, saturating the ground, then slowly filling the basin that my tent was pitched next to and partially in. The constructions didn't stop the water but did help to suspend and redirect it slightly. A tent pitched in the shallow basin - a nice subtle flat spot - would find itself underwater. In fact, the water had filled the basin sufficiently to be lapping at my tent's entrance. Fortunately storms do pass and soon sunlight fell on the tent. The lake remained, but I was able to grab my pack from inside the tent and collect the wet tent into a parcel strapping it to the outside of the pack.

I headed toward Surprise Lake back down the trail I'd arrived at on two days ago. It's much nicer to hike when it's not raining. I passed a son, father, and grandfather heading to Upper Cataract Lake shortly before arriving at Surprise Lake. Blue colored the sky and the air warmed. I pitched the tent before spending the day watching the Brook trout swimming in the clear lake, the carpenter ants excavating the many downed tree logs, the grey jays and blue birds collecting nesting material, and the colorful flying insects that happened by.

The objective was to have dinner at 6PM, but at 5:10PM grey clouds quickly appeared and whispered, "rain is coming fast". I barely got food prepared and consumed before the rains arrived. It turned into an early in-the-tent and bedtime.

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Today is Friday and the day to return to the society of man. I could have waited and dried the tent out, but I wanted to try for lunch with a friend in Silverthorne. So I rolled up the tent wet again for the second day in a row and started down the trail. I found the intersection of the short Surprise trail and the new and 'improved' Surprise trail. The forest service has done a massively good job in making the old shorter trail very unappealing. It's loaded with downed trees equivalent to an extra 0.8 miles of clear new trail. The new trail is ghastly and lovely simultaneously. It teaches that hiking, as in life, needs to be all about the journey and not the destination. Opportunities to shorten the new trail and still address the erosional problems of the old trail abound. I feel like the designers were going for length and tortuosity over efficiency. It does weave through some lovely pine and aspen forests with places to view the vistas. I guess those are all good reasons to call it 'Surprise' trail!

Near the trailhead I met two Forest Service employees heading up to do trail maintenance. I profusely expressed my appreciation for all the trees cut to keep the trail clear. I refrained from saying anything about the bonkers design of the new trail. One of them appreciated my hiking and shared the he often wondered if the theirs would be the only boots on portions of the trails they work hard to maintain.

Always the little ironies of life, I saw a young buck at the trailhead, and a coyote and marmot on the drive down the dirt road. I hadn't needed to hike 15 miles through the wilderness if my goal was just to see some wildlife - which it wasn't.

I enjoyed a delightful conversation and lunch with Maryann at Sauce on the Blue. The drive back to Longmont was interrupted by another vehicle fire on Floyd Hill causing a closure of I-70. Probably confirming that I was safer in the backcountry. So instead I drove over Guanella Pass and through Bailey to make my way home.