Chased by Lightning Down Windom Peak (#29)

Looking toward the upper basin before dawn. 

I awoke at 6:30 am to the sound of voices on their way up the trail. I didn't get out of my tent until 15 minutes later.

Darkness began to dissipate. Nearby peaks were now illuminated enough for recognition. I detected no glow on the summits, so I knew the sun had yet to rise.

I walked down by the other tents and could hear stirring, but no one was up. The same tame doe loitered outside.

Once they got up and cooked some breakfast, a fox with his bushy tail came to visit, but then quickly left.

By the time everyone was ready it was 8:15 and I noticed clouds already forming around the peaks. Theoretically, we could climb four peaks in one day: Windom, Sunlight, Eolus, and North Eolus⸻all above 14,000 feet. Windom was our first goal. Sunlight was too technical, so I didn't even consider it. The Eolus peaks would require an additional 1,500 feet of climbing, and I wasn't sure I was up for that, nor did I think we had the time. Eolus also had a “catwalk” and a steep pitch to the summit that made me hesitant.

The trail to Twin Lakes was steep and we quickly gained 1,000 feet. The trail stayed close to Needle Creek, which had several waterfalls.

Climbing toward the upper basin. 

High elevation cascade. 

We arrived at Twin Lakes. It was very beautiful, but I was disappointed there were no mountain goats. Apparently they're really tame up here. From here we could see Eolus and North Eolus, but Windom was hidden behind a craggy ridge.

A common trail for both Windom and Sunlight leads to the east. As we climbed we gained greater views of Sunlight and the Sunlight Spire, a gnarly-looking pinnacle that only crazy people climb. The spire rises to just under 14,000 feet.

Rest stop to enjoy the view of Twin Lakes. 

Twin Lakes from a higher vantage. Now in view are Eolus (left) and North Eolus (right).

Sunlight Peak on left, Sunlight Spire on right.

Finally we began our ascent toward Windom, sometimes on a trail and at other times climbing over boulders. More and more climbers seemed to appear out of nowhere, some going up and others coming down. Some had already climbed Sunlight, and without exception, everyone said it was very sketchy!

The higher we scaled, the more precarious it became. On the north side were still patches of ice.

Ascent to Windom Peak. 

When we arrived near the peak, we still had to climb atop giant blocks to reach the true summit, which only had room for one person. After getting my obligatory pictures I joined the rest of the group off to the side.

The view atop Windom was wild. Just like most places in the Colorado Rockies, there were craggy peaks everywhere, a few over 14,000 feet, but most in the 13,000 range. Among the few I could recognize were the two Eolus peaks and Vestal Peak.

View from Windom Peak, looking back toward Twin Lakes and Eolus Peaks.

Sunlight Spire in foreground. Arrow, Vestal, and Trinity Peaks in background. 

As best as I can tell this is Monitor Peak on the left, Peak Thirteen on the right, and Animas Mountain peeking from behind. 

Below us were several high mountain lakes, each in their own cirque or basin. One of those, directly below us, was Grizzly Gulch. As the story goes, back in the late 1800's during the mining days of the San Juan Mountains, one prospector had rheumatism so bad that he had to be helped onto his horse. One day, after dismounting his horse, he found a cure for his rheumatism when he spotted a grizzly bear and took off running. He ran until another man was able to scare the bear off. Thus, they named this location Grizzly Gulch.

Apparently the peak was named in 1902 after William Windom, a senator from Minnesota. I think it is quite silly to name a peak after someone who likely never saw it.

Chilling on the peak.

Windom and Sundom Lakes. In the distance is the Rio Grande Pyramid, and if you look closely, "The Window."

Looking into Grizzly Gulch. 

We took our time near the peak until we were the last ones there. I knew it was time to get down. Darker clouds were now gathering.

It seemed as if the way down was more difficult than the way up. I felt as if we were always losing the route.

As we descended, the air felt different. It was subtle, but it now felt cold and dank. I knew something was moving in.

Dave, Britt and Devin were well ahead of Derek and I, but they kindly waited for us. They waited next to a cairn that was six-feet tall!

Not long after we met up it started to hail. It wasn't much and didn't even blanket the ground, but it was enough to keep us on our toes.

On the way down storm clouds are gathering.  Viewing Twin Lakes and Chicago Basin. 

Devin was pretty set on hiking up to Eolus, but I didn't feel good about it. I was confident there was more storm to come. To accomplish this we would have to hike all the way back down to Twin Lakes (which we had to do anyway) and then ascend 1,500 feet on the other side.

Finally we arrived at Twin Lakes and it was there we finally took a well-deserved break. I laid down on the rock, popped my back, put a ball cap over my face, and closed my eyes. It felt as if I were laying on a heavenly cloud!

Final rest at Twin Lakes before the storm. 

Our view into the basin was limited, but I could sense the storm was coming from that direction. I felt uneasy and suggested it was time to leave. Then we heard the first rumbling of thunder.

I first noticed raindrops piercing the surface of the lake, then I felt them on my skin. We quickly gathered everything and hurried down the trail.

Another clap of thunder and we moved even quicker. I stopped to put on my poncho, fumbling with the clasp on my pack. As we scurried down the trail I noticed the reflection of a flash from the corner of my glasses, then suddenly a boom of thunder from behind that pushed us along.

Everything was wet now―the trail, the trees, the bushes. Devin and Dave fell behind with Derek, who struggled to find traction with his tennis shoes. Britt pushed far ahead.

Luckily for us there was no more lightning. Derek fell pretty hard and hit his funny bone. There was no time to enjoy the scenery because it was a mad dash to get down.

Near the bottom I talked to a couple who were fleeing just like us. They had been on the catwalk of Eolus when it started to hail, so they turned around. They thought they might try North Eolus, but that's when the first lightning struck. They didn't bag a single peak.

When we got back to camp, Dave and his boys found their tents flooded with water. Luckily for me, mine was dry.

For the next two hours I listened to the rain patter on the roof of my tent. During that time I wrote, ate and slept. My pants near my lower legs were all that was wet.

When the rain finally stopped I got out of my tent and found the Dunnell men busy hanging items up to dry and gathering wood. Although it is prohibited in this area, they built a fire and I can't say I blame them.

Everything they brought was wet, and if it weren't for the fire, nothing would have dried.

Hanging out to dry.

Devin cutting fire wood. 

The warmth of a fire!

For the next several hours they fed the fire and held socks and sleeping bags near the flames. Even I, who was mostly dry, appreciated the warmth.

After the sun set we remained by the fire. We told stories of skinwalkers, possessed people, and anything else that came to mind. The clouds finally moved out and a canopy of stars unfolded over the basin.

We listened to the crackle of the fire and constant rush of the stream. It felt good to be disconnected from the rest of the world. ♠

Milky Way in Chicago basin.

Windom Peak

Distance from camp: 2.4 miles

Distance from train: 9.1 miles

Elevation gain from camp: 2,842 feet

Elevation gain from train: 5,821 feet

Final elevation: 14,061 feet

Total round-trip mileage from train (including small detour at end): 20.8 miles

Chicago Basin

I feel like I could fall asleep right now, but it's only 8:30 pm. The skies are dark and the air is frigid. My fingers are so numb that I can barely move this pen, but at last I am in a warm tent and in a warm sleeping bag.

We are camped over 11,000 feet in elevation, under the brisk September sky. Our journey started far from here, several hours ago.

This was the fifth time I took the Narrow Gauge Railroad from Durango. The first was when I was a young boy. My brother and I went with my grandpa Lacy during winter when the train turned around at Cascade Station. I remember heavy snow on the ground and a large herd of elk that Grandpa spotted through the window.

I also came twice to search for a silver mine, and once with my wife. That was the only time I took it all the way to Silverton.

Taking the train to the trailhead.

This time I came with a friend and his three adult sons. We got off at the Needleton Stop and waited for the man to unload all the packs. I have been wanting to do this hike for more than twenty years now.

As soon as I strapped on my pack, I remembered how heavy these packs were! I had enough food to keep me alive for three days, two nights, and then some.

Crossing the Animas River. 

The grade up Needleton Creek wasn't steep, but still took a toll on my legs. The waist strap alleviated the weight of the pack from my shoulders, but instead transferred it to my hips.

The trail we followed ran parallel to the creek, usually staying quite a bit higher. I read that in times past, during the mining days, the path was closer to the stream, but after a flash flood they moved it up higher to where it is now.

Most of the trail was redundant, but beautiful. Here and there waterfalls cascaded down the canyon.

One of many waterfalls on Needle Creek.

After 5½ miles the mountain began to open up, and after 6 we were no doubt in Chicago Basin. We saw on a slope one pile of gold-colored tailings, reminding us that at one time this basin was mined.

We hoped to get as far as possible up the trail to alleviate our burden for tomorrow, so we didn't find a camp until around mile 7.

Entering Chicago Basin.

Looking north in Chicago Basin toward Windom and Jupiter Peaks. 

We found a nice location overlooking the basin, and beneath peaks that towered to over 14,000 feet. As we set up camp we noticed the temperature becoming dramatically colder. Before long I donned a long-sleeved shirt, coat and beenie.

We were able to explore some of the surrounding area and found another pile of tailings. Next to it an opening, just large enough to crawl through, led to a tunnel inside the mountain.

Tailings pile in Chicago Basin. 

Old Mine. 

Nearby and in the trees were a couple wooden cabins. Neither were very large and one was small enough we surmised it could be a tack shed. The larger one was big enough possibly for a couple beds. My guess is that these cabins were not connected with the mines, but built at a later date for recreation.

The first known white men in the basin came before 1877. They originally accessed it from Vallecito Creek, which is on the east side of Chicago Basin. When the railroad was completed in 1877, the easiest access came from the west side via the predecessor to the Needle Creek Trail. I don't know if that trail was wide enough for vehicles to come up, or only a pack mule. We have not see any abandoned machinery while up here, so that offer a clue.

Modern cabin hidden in the trees. 

Old wooden shed. 

It is such a peaceful setting up here. We have no connection to the internet and even though there are a few other campers, they are scattered throughout the basin and it feels as if they're not here.

Dave and his boys pulled out their portable camp stove and began cooking a bag of stuffing they brought from their pantry. For me, dinner was not hot. I chose not to bring a stove. We'll see later if that was a wise move or not. I scooped pulled pork from a vacuum-sealed bag onto the top of a cold pita bread.

They say there are mountain goats around here that are likely to scavenge around campsites. We haven't seen any yet. There is a friendly doe that likes to hang around.

Looking back across Chicago Basin. 

Tame doe coming into camp. 

I hope I am able to sleep. My body is exhausted. I thought about going outside and looking at the stars, but I'm comfortable inside my little tent.

After writing this I will lull myself to sleep with an Edgar Allen Poe story. I haven't decided which one yet, but they all go well with the dark night, far away from anywhere.

Chicago Basin

Distance from train: 6.7 miles

Elevation gain: 2,979 feet

Final (campsite) elevation: 11,147 feet

Morskie Oko

I've been looking forward to this excursion for years now, and today was finally the day it would happen. Would it go as planned, or would weather or something else put a damper on our day?

We took a shuttle from Zakopane to Palenica Białczańska, the starting point for our jaunt into the High Tatra Mountains of Poland. Our destination, Morskie Oko, was five miles away, and there were only two ways to get there: on foot, or by horse-drawn wagon. We chose the latter.

Of course, we had to pay a steep fee for that option⸺200 złoty⸺but Jenelle's back still hurt from her surgery and we didn't want her worn out by having to walk up the mountain.

The path to the lake is paved and the vast majority of people walk it. And there are thousands of them! Young, old, partially crippled, mothers with strollers. It's like a long line of ants on a 5.6 mile path.

We, on the other hand, waited for over an hour for our turn to ride the horses. We weren't going to ride the horses directly, but were to sit in a covered wagon pulled by two horses. The problem was that only so many people could ride in a wagon at once.

When a team of horses completed the circuit, we would have to wait for them to take a break, drink, eat, and get pampered by their owners. This was quite a tiresome job for them, and they couldn't continue the loop without a rest. Although there were many teams on duty for work, it was a slow process to rotate through them.

Riding in a horse-drawn wagon to Morskie Oko.

Our driver of the wagon dressed in traditional Polish attire, with a brown leather hat and gray sweater. As we moved up the road, the horses' hooves clacked on the pavement. Their tails swooped back and forth, and the fresh scent of manure mixed with cold mountain air.

We passed two brown does feeding off the road, then small rivulets of water coming down the green slopes. As we got higher we passed a much larger waterfall.

Waterfall along the way.

I felt sorry for the horses. Their job was to pull a wagon full of people up a tediously inclining road, and sometimes at a trot. When we passed other teams coming down, I saw sweat on their flanks.

As we got higher on our route, views of the craggy peaks of the Tatras became more splendid. Streaks of snow in the gulleys of the upper slopes still lingered from winter.

At last, after a 3.8 mile ride, our adventure on the horses came to an end and it was now up to us to walk the remaining mile or so up to the lake. In true European fashion, an ice cream shack and restaurant stood beside the road to serve us. Not now. Maybe on the way back.

Morskie Oko.

When we arrived at the lake, the view was just as spectacular as I had anticipated: a beautiful deep-blue pool of water surrounded by majestic mountains. Hundreds of people loitered about the edges of the lake admiring the view and taking selfies. Near the shore was a large wooden “hut” where hungry hikers could buy a sandwich and beer.

After a few quick pictures we moved around to the eastern edge of the lake. A trail made with relatively flat mountain rocks made a circuit completely around the lake. We enjoyed the view as we hiked. A handful of waterfalls tumbled into the lake from random points, most likely from melting snow and springs.

Swiss pines grow along east side of Morskie Oko.

Morskie Oko, the name of this beautiful lake, comes from Polish meaning “eye of the sea.” It has been recognized as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world.

It's about half a mile to the back side of the lake, and it is from here that another trail climbs nearly 600 feet to another lake. This one is named Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" when translated into English. By this time, Jenelle was doing better than expected, so we decided to make it a go to the upper lake.

Sign on south side of Morskie Oko.

Looking down at Morskie Oko from the trail going up to Czarny Staw.

Cascading stream coming down from Czarny Staw.

The trail was steep and tedious, but was made bearable by elevated views of Morskie Oko, as well as a cascading stream that tumbled down alongside the trail. I was proud of Jenelle. She was doing much better than either of us expected.

Half an hour later we arrived at the second lake, and what a wonderful view it was! Not only did we have the grand view of Morskie Oko, but now the full view of Czarny Staw. Unlike the lower lake, this one was more transparent and had a turquoise ring around it when the sun was out. The center, however, was a dark blue, probably the reason for the lake's name.  At 249 feet, it is the fourth deepest lake in Poland. Mount Rysy, the highest peak in Poland, reigns supreme above it.

Czarny Staw pod Rysami, or "Black Lake Below Mount Rysy" in English.

Mount Rysy, above Czarny Staw, is the highest peak in Poland.

Hikers enjoy the shore of Czarny Staw.

The craggy ridgeline on either side of Rysy serves as the boundary between Poland and Slovakia. If circumstances were different, meaning I were here alone and it was later in the summer, I would have hiked Rysy. Apparently hundreds do it every day during the latter part of the summer. It is a steep ascent, but there are cables to assist the climber.

We spent nearly forty five minutes at Czarny Staw. It was enjoyable to watch the groups of hikers as they lounged around and rested. I was very pleasantly surprised that it hadn't rained. Juicy storm clouds threatened, but with no success. I was worried that by this time we would have been deploying umbrellas and fighting slippery rocks.

Natural platform between Morskie Oko and Czarny Staw.

The way down was much easier than the trip up. We decided to complete the circuit and take the west side of Morskie Oko. We didn't take nearly as many pictures, so it went a lot faster.

Hiking on the west side gave us new views of the lake and mountains. We enjoyed walking across the base of one of the waterfalls. There I refilled my water bottle.

Looking across the lake at "the hut."

Waterfall tumbling into Morskie Oko.

Looking back across Morskie Oko toward Czarny Staw (not seen) and Mount Rysy.

Looking northeast across Morskie Oko.

When we completed our hike around the lake and again returned to the hut, we had accumulated 3.7 miles. Jenelle was still doing great. Adrenaline must have been kicking in.

Our plan was to hike down instead of taking the horse and wagon. I was excited for this. It was an opportunity to see the mountainside at a slower pace.

We stopped at the lower hut and ordered an ice cream and pannini. It really hit the spot! We sat at a table and watched the hikers on the road.

Eating a snack at a hut about a mile down from the lake. 

Then we continued. We took note of the thick, fairy-like forest with moss growing on the logs. Jenelle noticed the thousands upon thousands of scrape marks in the pavement where horses' hooves clanked across the top.

From time to time we would hear the clapping on the pavement behind us, then would turn around and watch a team and wagon come along full of people. One wagon was singing a song as they passed.

Beautiful forest in the High Tatra Mountains. 

I was most impressed with the sheer amount of people walking the trail, especially families with young kids. One set of parents hauled up little scooters, then once at the top, let their two little girls⸺no older than four years old⸺ride them down. Several parents pushed strollers. It was a level of commitment that I have rarely seen in the States.

Five point four miles later we had made it to the bottom! Our total for the day was 9.1 miles. Luckily for us there was a line of shuttles waiting at the bottom to take us back to Zakopane. ♠