We'd been out on a few dayhikes, but no backpacking yet this summer since both Britt and I had knee problems earlier this year, and were somewhat nervous about the prospect. But as Britt's imminent birthday (August 1) (don't ask him how old he is now :-) happened to coincide with a deluge of 52,000 Christian Fundamentalist men to Boulder, we decided to get out of town for an extended weekend of backpacking. We picked the Holy Cross Wilderness on the basis of a quick glance at a map; lots of high country lakes and pointy peaks to look at were our criteria. We sketched out a 25-mile route which made a counterclockwise loop around the Mount of the Holy Cross.
The Halfmoon/Fall Creek trailhead (about 10,400 ft) was packed with cars -- we had to park down the road a ways -- but it was a safe assumption (verified by a glance at the trailhead log) that nearly everyone was peakbagging Holy Cross. So we hefted our backpacks (oog) and headed SW, up Halfmoon Trail; we crested Halfmoon Pass (11,600 ft) and continued down to East Cross Creek at about 10,700 feet (this is the entrance to the Lake Patricia/Bowl of Tears area, and the Cross Couloir route) where we stopped for lunch and were passed by many dayhikers in both directions, some giving our full packs strange glances.
At about the 3.5 mile point, as the trail climbed out of the East Cross Creek drainage to 11,000 feet and turned south, we struck out off trail to the west and down. Our goal was the Cross Creek trail, 1100 feet below us. We'd studied the map and concluded that it would be possible; it was also clear that it was going to be damned difficult, and it was. Not a Bushwhack from Hell, but definitely a Bushwhack from Heck (imagine a Gary Larson cartoon...) as we picked our way down and across gullies that were alternately rock-strewn and willow-choked, avoiding the occasional cliff. Two hours (and one mile) later, we reached the swamp around Cross Creek, about 9880 feet (our lowest elevation on the whole trip!).
Unfortunately, the trail was on the other side, and Cross Creek at this point was wide and cold (although shallow). The worst part was that immediately after I stepped into the creek, I sank into mud up to almost my knees. We had changed to sandals, but as soon as I tried to move they came off (mud is stronger than velcro) and I ended up retrieving them (while leaning on Britt and pushing him further into the mud) and walking across barefoot, which was most unpleasant. We continued in sandals to the trail and on until we came to a creek, which we dubbed Footwash Creek, where we put our boots back on.
The trail made small ups and downs but gained net altitude very slowly. The first people we saw since Halfmoon Trail were a NFS trail crew building a bridge over Cross Creek; since the bridge was not completed we had to cross on rocks with a guide rope to hold onto, which was actually a hindrance rather than a help since the "route" crossed the rope's path several times and the rope tended to catch on our packs. The trail stayed parallel to Cross Creek, which entered another swamp/beaver meadow area, and at about 4 pm Britt couldn't resist any longer and dug out his fishing gear. I decided to contribute to our dinner by collecting mushrooms -- I'd noticed a few here and there -- and 15 minutes later, Britt's pack was heavier by 3 cutthroat trout and mine by 3 Hydnum Imbricatum mushrooms.
We had selected Harvey Lake, by Middle Mountain, as our destination, but it got later and later and we got tired, and we kept expecting the spur trail to appear and it never did. We finally saw a group camping by the trail -- 5 guys from Detroit, who were doing the exact same loop as us (bushwhack and all) in 7 days(!) and were taking a rest day since they were so worn out by the first two days (this was day 3 for them) -- and they told us that Harvey Lake was about a mile ahead and 200 feet up. As it turned out, our map was inaccurate (or the trail had been re-routed) so it was nice to have the info. We made camp at beautiful Harvey Lake (11,025 ft), 9.5 miles from our starting point, at 7 pm. There was one other tent, which we deliberately set up far from (out of sight) in a lovely campsite. Britt caught one more fish, and we had our gourmet meal of wild trout and wild mushrooms, then slept for, oh, 11 hours or so.
We got a late start the next morning (let's be honest here; we hit the trail at 10:55) after a breakfast of several more trout (from the lake) and oatmeal (separately, not together!) and a dip in the lake which was surprisingly warm (relatively speaking; upper 50's or so) for a high country lake.
We descended about 80 feet and then continued upward to the head of the valley, past some old mining cabins and structures. The trail then took a sharp turn upward and to the east as we climbed toward Fancy Pass. The trail was extremely good, obviously an old road that had been put in for the mine below. At Treasure Vault Lake, 11,675 ft, we caught up with the Detroit 5 who looked rather exhausted and told us they were considering camping there. We trudged on up to the pass, at a bit more than 12,400 ft, and enjoyed the views of the Collegiates to the east before we headed down.
The trail on the east side of Fancy Pass is much worse than the west side trail until near Fancy Lake; it's basically steep scree-hopping (with one traverse across a steep snowfield, yikes), which was made quite slippery by the occasional rain which had been showering us since Treasure Vault Lake. It was also marred by some graffiti on a rock face above the trail. The trail eventually turned to an ancient wagon road which swung north and contoured more or less around 11,500 feet (lots of up and down dips though!) towards the ghost town of Holy Cross City, just out of the Wilderness area, 6 miles from Harvey Lake.
As soon as we passed the gate, of course, there was a Jeep and two trucks and four dirt bikes. We had an extended snack break just far enough away from them, and when they left, we continued down to the old structures and poked around them a little as we hiked through, bushwhacking a bit to avoid the Jeep road. We intersected the Fall Creek Trail just inside the Wilderness boundary.
This trail follows French Creek between Whitney Peak (not that Whitney :-) and the rugged Holy Cross Ridge. We passed many people camping at Hunky Dory Lake, where the angle of the sun was such that we could see lots of trout swimming around like little brown torpedos. It looked like a fish hatchery, there were so many of them. We continued up the creek (no paddle :-) to the first of the Seven Sisters Lakes, which was our planned destination but already had a tent there, so we kept going until we got to the next pair of lakes, at 12160 feet and 8.5 miles after our day's starting point. I mumbled that I was not going to continue over Fall Creek Pass tonight dammit, and we were going to camp here whether there was fishing or not, but fortunately Britt spied some fish swimming around in the larger lake and in its feeder creek, so we found a moderately flat spot (there were no beaten out campsites, kinda nice) and set up the tent.
And not a moment too soon. We'd noticed the sky darkening, and had been in and out of our rain gear all day, but as soon as we got the tent set up, a storm swept over the ridge and across the lake, right at us. We dove into the tent and waited out the hail and lightning. Then Britt caught us some dinner (mmm, trout again! with a side dish of pasta carbonara, finally got to lighten my pack a little) and we went to bed. I didn't sleep too well, though, because of the altitude. Another storm came through in the middle of the night, and we woke up to a cloudy day.
The next day we got up a little earlier, and I gave Britt the birthday present I'd hauled all the way in my pack (it was a gift certificate, so it wasn't too heavy :-). Oatmeal for breakfast, a quick dip in the water during a brief bit of sunlight, and we headed out over Fall Creek Pass (12,600 ft). The view of the Gore Range from the pass was great. The other side had many steep granite walls, some quite spectacular. We wound our way down to the very pretty Lake Constantine, at 11,371 feet, and had a long lunch break; I filtered water and Britt indulged in some catch-and-release fishing. He said the fishing this trip was excellent. (I thought they tasted pretty good, myself. :-)
From here, the weather worsened until we were hiking in a steady light rain with periods of heavier rain. We also began seeing people, including a group of guys of whom one had an enormous pack and a .38 at his side, and a few rather unprepared-looking dayhikers. The trail dipped up and down exasperatingly, averaging around 11,200 for a very long time, until we passed the trail junction to Notch Mountain and our trail finally headed down to the trailhead. We got back to the car at 3:15 pm, after a relatively easy 7 mile day, and headed back to Boulder.
