Dunraven TH to Pingree Park (and back!).

Ah, August in Colorado.  A time of afternoon thunderstorms, warm weather, and lots of sunshine.

I was gearing up for the Plain 100, and this would be my second and last of two longer days between it and Ouray.  I mapped this one, and got ~32 miles and ~7k gain, pretty perfect.  It wouldn't be a ton of new trail to me, but would include some confusing intersections, and also a little bit of road to make the connection between the Stormy Peaks trail and the Signal Mountain trail, both in the area of Pingree Park.

And Pingree Park!  It's not a short drive from my home in Longmont to get there.  The idea that I'd run there (and back) was somewhat mind boggling.  This day was a more direct way than the road, but one of those that just seemed long.

I started around 5:15 am from the Dunraven Trail.  I've historically taken 36 up to Estes, and then went down Devil's Gulch Road/CR43 from there to get to the trailhead, but google suggested going up from Loveland was shorter for me.  The only thing was that I'd never gone up that way before, so my mental landmarks were not in order, but I got there ok.  

My plan was to go up the Signal Mountain trail, hit the top, take the not too obvious connector down to Stormy Peaks trail, that up and over to Pingree Park, then the other side of the Signal Mountain trail back up, then the Lookout Mountain/Donner Pass/Miller Fork/Indian trails back from whence I came.  

Lots of places to get lost or go the wrong way.  Perfect! 

Early morning.
I was feeling pretty good thus far, the juices were flowing, and the forest was captivating to all the senses.  The previously written about run took place only two days before, but I wasn't feeling it really.
I briefly went the wrong way when I reached treeline, but corrected and headed to North Signal Mountain.  I thought it would be fun to include the easy to get to summits along the way.  If for nothing other than the views provided, it was an excellent choice.

South.

Southeastish.

East.

More south, trying to make Longs the center of attention.

West.
Yep, soon enough I'd be 'over there', a place that looked pretty far away from where I was.  This was a whole day of  'over there', and the sense of a long distance to be traveled.
I started towards South Signal Mountain, then followed the trail around to.  Well, "trail".  There's not much here to indicate there is a trail save for a few cairns.  Even when you get into trees again, it's not always super well defined, overgrown, and deadfally in places.  This was a relatively mellow grade downhill, but I ended up fast hiking most of it, worried that I'd get off the trail if I were running.
I had another worry- water!  I'd already finished whatever I started with, but had the plan to fill up along here.  There's been a small stream running on past visits, and I hoped it would be today.  Otherwise, it'd be around where I hit the Stormy Peaks trail before I could fill up.  Not too far I guess, but enough.
Fortunately, I found water where I thought, and took enough to get me through.
The trail becomes even more deadfally as you approach and enter RMNP.  Travel slowed, and I briefly lost the trail crossing a meadow, where I've lost the trail before.
I finally joined the Stormy Peaks trail, but it took a little convincing to continue on.  Mainly, I think, because if I kept on, there was no good way to get back to where I'd started.  Certainly no bail route but to go back the way I came, and the longer I continued on, the longer that way back got.  It was definitely a mental mountain to climb!

Looking back down Stormy Peaks trail.
I was going up and generally feeling good.  At some point, I looked at my phone to find I was averaging 22+ minute miles.  That brought another mental mountain.  How could I be so slow?  I really got down on myself for it then, but also chalked it up to the slow descent from Signal Mountain.  But still, I was not a happy camper.  That pace was too slow- I'd eventually get consumed by a cutoff at Plain, and not finish the race.  I'd worked so hard this year.
I resolved to not look at my phone anymore as far as pace.  Later, it also occurred to me that this day was front loaded with gain.  Stormy Peaks Pass was at around mile 10 of the planned 32, and by the time I reached one third of the distance in, I'd have covered around 4K of the 7k total elevation gain, more than half.
But of course, I wasn't in the place for math, so I kept moving best I could.

Approaching the pass.
With unknown water access on the other side, I filled up all I could carry here and also mixed more Perpetuem.  I did Ouray nearly 100% liquid, and intended to do the same for Plain.  I'd even come up with a method of quickly mixing a new bottle, tested it 'out there', bought stuff to do it.  I felt like I had my nutrition and hydration plan down pretty well.
It was neat to reach the pass.  I'd been up here before of course, but only ever headed back or went west.  Never along the trail.

Into the unknown?

But it was pretty.
And the weather was holding.

The trail was generally good.
There were a few places where it was slightly overgrown or a little washed out, but it was easy to follow. 

I'd never entered from this side before, so this sign was new to me.
I continued down, just trying to move as best as I could.  I'm not really a fast runner.  But slow and steady all day I can do.

Pingree Park down there.
The trail was also pretty intensely rocky in places.  Since my ankle was still ailing from an early season injury, I took it easy and safe, and walked alot of that terrain. 

But it flattens and becomes less rocky, and I was able to move there.
Though I tripped, fell, and tore off the scab from a previous trip and fall which was nearly healed.  Argh!
I saw the first and only person of the day in here.  He must've come up from Pingree Park.  I continued down to the Pennock Creek Reservoir, which was kind of a bleak turd.  Maybe it was just the time of day that I got there.

Some tempestuous weather up there turned everything grey.
But still, there was nothing noteworthy about this body of water, though I enjoyed watching the two Ravens playing around the edge of it.
The trail turns into an old road, then into a actual road, where I saw a F150 driving.  I tripped again there, on some of the easiest terrain of the day (apparently a reoccurring theme this year), and AGAIN landed on the same knee and improved the previous wound enough to bleed down into my compression sleeves.  Well, at least I looked hardcore.

The road and powerlines.
I reached road 63E and turned right.  I would continue on this until I got to the Signal Mountain trail on my right.  This was uneventful, easy gradual downhill, and I just kept running these free miles the best I could.
I've been on the Signal Mountain trail from this side once before, which was good because while signed, it's not super obvious.  There's a small parking area, but no real trailhead, and definitely no bathroom.  I headed down, and pretty shortly found a human turd and tp behind a tree, which looked like the only very minimal effort the pooper made to leave no trace.  Use a stick, scratch out a hole, and bury that shit!
I stopped to fill up water from Pennock Creek.  My GPX showed the trail crossing the creek several times, with the last at around 9700 feet, where I'd fill up again.  From there, the next definite water was at Miller Fork, approximately ten miles in the future.  It seemed possible that I'd find something before, but you never know.
The trail up was pretty good, with moderate gain at first, though it eventually became a bit steeper higher up.  The mind wanders on these big days, and I saw signs at one of the creek crossings with a different direction pointed out if you were on horse or on foot, a pretty common thing in these parts.  EXCEPT for on this day, when I happened to find the juxtaposition entertaining, and wrote a song on the spot about it.  A little number I like to call... "Horsey foot".  Which was pretty much the entire plot of AND lyrics to said song.  I sang it loud and proud all the way up, save for a brief time during which I somehow forgot the, ahem, extensive and complicated lyrics.
"Oh yeah, Horse Foot!"
No one was around to hear it.  I think.

This monolith heard it, turned into rock instantly.
The above is the closed loop you see on the topo at around 10200 feet.  It was awesome.  I looked around to see if I could find a easy way to the top, it was just begging to be climbed.  Or maybe begging me to stop singing.  All aspects looked technical.  Must be a fun one!
I topped out on the saddle north of Signal Mountain.  Now I was finally closer to the car than farther away from it.  Heck, I could quit the route I planned, go back up Signal, and then down the way I'd come and be done with it.
But!  Adventure!

I've been there before, so I knew which way to go, but this is a confusing intersection.
There isn't a sign, just an unhelpful post with nothing on it.  Turn left.  It doesn't look like a trail, but stick with it a bit.  Lots of deadfall to start, and some loose, rocky terrain, but it soon turns into something trail like.
Motorcycles must frequent the area, as there are lots of signs of them.  I always wonder if you are on a motorized vehicle and can more easily bring a saw along, why don't you to cut some of the deadfall on the trails you use?  I'll eventually hike mine up there to do it, but it would be oh so much easier if all I had to do to get there was twist my wrist.
Somewhere in here it started raining, and kept raining for the rest of the day.  I heard some thunder that sounded close at first, but soon proved to be moving away from me.  I equipped my rain jacket and kept on, but felt like I slowed again as footing got slippery and I was moving with care.
I made sure to take a brief excursion to peak 10582, the summit of which is literally feet from the trail.  The register which had been placed by my friend John Gatt a few years prior was missing.  The North Signal register was also curiously MIA.
Ah well.
The descent down to the Donner Pass trail felt pretty steep and chunkily loose, so I took it easy yet again.  But Donner Pass is pretty good, at a good grade for swift downhill movement, not that I had much swiftness in me at this point.  I found a small stream down a bit, which was good as I was out of water.  The irony was not lost as the rain continued.

Water water everywhere...
I briefly went the wrong way when I joined Miller Fork.  Yep, should be going down, not up here.
There was one last obstacle to getting home, and it's a beast.  A day like this wouldn't be complete without some final challenge, right?  Right?
The Indian Trail goes from around 7800 at the bottom to 8700 and change at the top.  In just under a mile.  It's steep.  One of those where every step that isn't up makes you wish it was, because for every pace that gains zero, a later step will have to gain more.
But I just kept at it, and eventually saw some sky and felt the grade finally lessening.  I topped out and it was just a short jaunt back to the car.
Yep, all downhill from here.  That phrase usually means something bad in real life.  But in hiking or trail running, all downhill from here can be the best thing ever.
The descent, much like the climb, is steep and rocky.  I felt like I didn't try much here, but it's difficult terrain to really move on.  And of course, with the continued rain, everything was slippery.  Then back on the road, a steep but easy jog back to the car to close the loop, where I discovered I tracked 35.8 miles and 9600 gain.  Just a little bit more, and good reason to be slower than hoped.  
This day was just what I was looking for in the end, a nice long self supported loop with a little bit of new to me trails and a few less than obvious intersections.  I saw a total of one person on foot the entire time I was out there.  Overall I suppose pretty good practice for the Plain 100.
However, less than two weeks after this day I would break my arm.  I emailed the race director and told him what happened, but to not count me out just yet; however it quickly became apparent that I had extremely limited use of my left hand, and while I might have been fine from a pain stand point, I simply couldn't do things I'd need to do to finish this race.  Even getting clothing on and off became a struggle, and nothing I had with long sleeves fit over the splint I was in after they set it.  Routine things like opening my hydration bladder to get more water became impossible to do.
Though I know I was very fortunate to walk away from an accident out there, I was pretty bummed.  But life goes on.
Link to hike map/GPX on caltopo.
The good, the bad, and the argyle:
35.8 miles, 9677 foot gain*.  Strenuous.
*=I am perfectly willing to concede that some of this distance and elevation came as the result of interference.  If you check the map, you can see a few places in the latter part of the day when I was in a valley plus had cloud cover and didn't get an accurate track.  So, consider this the MOST you'll have to do to run this loop.
 

Stormy Peaks and the North Fork Basin.

The true story of this day started with a heinous act.  A vehicle caught up to me at the one way red light shortly after Glen Haven proper, and when it turned left behind me on to Dunraven Glade Road, I thought I might be meeting up with another hiker at the trail head.  

I gained a little bit of distance up the road, and within one hundred feet of the parking, I spied a very large bull Elk about 25 feet off the road on the left.  He of course froze in my headlights, like these animals are prone to do.  It was a pretty magnificent example of the species- huge in stature, with large antlers, and certainly in the prime of his life.  What a neat encounter to start the day.

I got to the empty parking lot, pulled into the spot I favor, and turned the car off.  I then heard the unmistakable and loud sound of a single rifle shot fired in close proximity to me.  I looked back and saw the truck turn it's headlights back on and then pull into the parking and do a uturn, turn off their lights, and sit with the engine running. 

I couldn't get cell phone service, and to be frank, I was scared.  Here I was unarmed with someone who obviously was, who brazenly committed a crime knowing I was right there as a witness.  I sat and watched them for a bit, as I imagine they did me.  I decided the best thing to do was to just get on with it, and contact the proper authorities when I could. 

I guess the good news is that after speaking with an officer at the law enforcement branch of Colorado Parks and Wildlife, my somewhat vague description of the vehicle immediately yielded a suspect.  I am not sure what will happen with this case, but a good lesson learned: if you ever see someone violate wilderness rules and feel comfortable, approach them and say something.  If not (as I didn't), report it as soon as you can with as much detail as possible.  Even the smallest details can yield results. 

My heart was already beating hard and I'd yet to leave the car!  

The flood pretty much wiped the North Fork Trail from existence.  Alot of work this summer has put in a new trail that is 20-50 feet higher uphill than the previous iteration which ran directly next to the river for the most part.  Pass through the white gate at the trail head and start up a steep road to Camp Cheley.  Pass though the camp entrance, taking care to follow the signs and be respectful of the owners of this private property.  You'll loose some elevation before meeting the trail on the other side of the camp. 

Sunrise.
The trail is built to fly on.  With very little in the way of steep sections and not much total elevation gain, the first 5-6 miles go by fairly quickly. 

Sunlight hits Mount Dickinson.
I was interested to see how long it would take me to hit the Stormy Peaks Trail.  I'd hiked here earlier in the year via the North Boundary Trail starting at Cow Creek, and thought that could be a possibility to access the peaks above.  But it took me five hours just to get to this intersection, which meant I'd be looking at a loooooong day.

But it only took me three hours from the Dunraven TH.  So that wasn't too bad.  The trail gradually steepens after the intersection with the North Boundary Trail.  The topo doesn't really show it, but there are a ton of switchbacks as you head up rather steeply from here.  Consider that over the 6.5 miles or so it takes to get to this point, you gain about 2000 feet.  Now consider that over the next 2 miles, you gain 2000 more.  

But the work brings some increasingly good views into the basin.

Mummy Mountain, Mount Dunraven, Hagues Peak, Gibraltar Mountain.
And by the way, if you happen to be looking for a kick ass campsite in RMNP with great views, look no farther than Stormy Peaks South.  Pretty awesome!

I spied Stormy Peaks East from the trail, and decided to head toward it once I got past treeline.
As I gained altitude on the trail, snow started to become a factor.  It isn't quite snowshoe time, but it will be soon. 

Back east to peaks and valleys and life on the plains.
Up and up I went, and very soon I was standing on top of Stormy Peaks East. 

Looking toward Pennock Peak, Signal Mountain, and South Signal Mountain.

And west to Stormy Peaks' true high point on the right, and Sugarloaf Mountain center.
It was getting cold, though the wind didn't seem as high as predicted thankfully. 

A great view from Stormy Peaks.  Hagues Peak, Gibraltar Mountain, Rowe Peak, Middle No Name, Rowe Mountain, and Little No Name all visible l-r.  Four of those are 13ers, and I climbed them all the in the same day with Dan.

It is hard to pick out, but the long declining slope in the middle ground is the way down from Sugarloaf Mountain to Ramsey Peak.

Looking back at Stormy Peaks East.
As I dropped down to Stormy Peaks Pass, I spied a lone Bighorn, who was quite content to keep some distance between us.  Fine by me.  After not seeing any of these for years, I finally made up for that in a big way this year. 

Back to Stormy Peaks from west of the pass.
The journey up to Sugarloaf Mountain is pretty easy, covering about 1.75 miles and 400 feet of elevation gain on tundra. 

Middle, Gibraltar, Rowe, and Rowe.  Of interest, I noted what looked like a possible small avalanche on the snowfield below Rowe Mountain. 

There is a small cairn on Sugarloaf to mark the high point.  It is so broad it might be hard to find otherwise.  I looked west to Skull Point, though it was not the closest point to me.  There was definitely more snow now, and a bunch had been deposited on the north face of Sugarloaf Mountain.  This made going slow, and I thought about just skipping Ramsey Peak.  The only thing that convinced me to go for it was knowing that I'd have to come all the way back here just to summit it.

I got to the saddle between Ramsey Peak and Sugarloaf.  I decided the east side looked like the highest point, but from there it looked like the west side was higher.  From there it looked like the east side was higher.  To spare you the indecision, the east side is the true high point. 

And it provided good views of the drainage to the west of Stormy Peaks, pictured here.
Now it was all up to the legs and lungs and heart, as 500 feet or so of elevation gain would be needed to get me back up to Skull Point.  I ended up doing a contouring ascent, heading west as I gained, as I did not need to go back to Sugarloaf Mountain. 

And then I was close.  Travel slowed to a crawl as I had to use my poles to probe the snow with every step.  Was it solid ground beneath or an ankle or leg snapping hole in the talus?
After summitting Skull Point, I headed down to Icefield Pass.  This was my planned descent route, though I guess I should've known better.  In addition to the steep ice fields (yes, it's not just a name!), wind blown snow had created some treacherous looking conditions.  The slope looked wind loaded and primed to go, and since I also didn't bring an ice axe, glissading was not an option to begin with.  I decided I could either go back the way I'd come, or head around the north side of the bowl and hope the sun exposure had kept several promising looking gullies I'd already spied free of snow.
Around I went.  The first one was filled with snow, as was the second.  But I kept going, and in about a quarter of a mile spied something that looked promising.  And then great, as I could stand at the top of it and see it was clear all the way to the bottom!

Looking back up this gully.

And down into the basin to Lake Louise, Lake Husted, and the long journey back to the car.

Icefield Pass loomed as I got into the basin.  The immensity of this thing was incredible.
Now I faced exactly the same problem as I did above.  I didn't know if the snow was solid, and movement took some time as I had to continually probe every step.  It might have just been quicker to stay up above in the end!

Back up to Icefield Pass and the gully.

It continued to look pretty spectacular from farther down.
Once I passed the talus near Lake Louise, I was back on solid ground and able to turn on the rockets and start the almost 11 mile journey back to the car.  It took me about 3 hours and 40 minutes to cover this distance, roughly the same amount of time it took me to cover the 4.3 miles between Stormy Peaks East and Skull Point.

Dropping down to Lost Lake.  Quite a difference!  I'd swam in this lake last time I was here, but that was definitely out today.  Some deeper snow on the south side made travel more difficult, and I remembered the trail being not obvious to find even in summer.  I couldn't find it, but crossed the outlet creek, and worked my way down until I hit the trail for the campsite and was able to get moving.
The sun set at some point, and I got my headlamp out.  I am normally okay with hiking in the dark, but with a close to full moon, I kept seeing glimpses of light that had filtered through the trees and thinking they were animals or horror movie people or something.
I stopped at the North Boundary intersection for another snack, and went down for a short time before I realized the fleece I had strapped to the outside of my pack was no longer there!  ARG!  I really liked that thing.  I was pretty sure I had it at the Stormy Peaks intersection, but by now felt I was in no condition to go back up, either physically or mentally. 
Anyway, if anyone happens to find a blue Helly Hansen fleece somewhere up here, I would sure like it back!  I'd be happy to reward with beer.
Finally I started seeing some structures that marked Camp Cheley.  Soon enough I was grinding up the last little hill needed to reach the camp entrance before loosing that elevation to get to the parking lot.  After such a long day, these 200 or so feet of up really sucked.
But there it was.  The beautiful car right where I left it.  I take much pride that my 2003 Ford Focus hatchback has more mud on it than most 4wds I see!
I got my things back in the car and decided to take a look and see if there was a fence or some signage indicating property ownership where I saw the Elk.  It was easy to find, as a vehicle had backed into the thigh high grass there, smashing down two distinct trails that ended in a flattened area.
This was a long and lonely day.  But of course it was worth it!  The maximum technical difficulty is second class (maybe a some easy third if you have to come down that gully), and the length could be cut into two or more sections by camping at Stormy Peaks South, Lost Lake, or one of the many campsites along the North Fork trail.  Spectacular sights, solitude, and beauty await you.  The lakes around the base of Little and Middle No Name are some of the most spectacular in the park, and worth a visit.  Despite the high amount of elevation gain, the length of the trail stretches it out, so things aren't ever too steep.
Stormy Peaks and the North Fork Basin (distances as part of the hike):
Stormy Peaks East, 12020 feet: 8.1 miles, 4120 foot gain.  Second class.  Strenuous.
Stormy Peaks West, 12148 feet: 8.5 miles, 4248 foot gain.  Second class.  Strenuous.
Stormy Peaks Pass, 11660 feet: 8.75 miles, 3760 foot gain.  Strenuous.
Sugarloaf Mountain, 12140 feet: 10.4 miles, 4240 foot gain.  Strenuous.
Ramsey Peak, 11582 feet: 11 miles, 3682 foot gain.  Strenuous.
Skull Point, 12060 feet: 12.3 miles, 4160 foot gain.  Strenuous.
Icefield Pass, 11840 feet: 12.5 miles, 3940 foot gain.  Strenuous.
Along the way you will also pass (distances from th):
Lake Louise, 11020 feet: 10.9 miles one way, 3120 foot gain.  Strenuous-.
Lake Husted, 11088 feet: 10.4 miles one way, 3188 foot gain.  Strenuous-.
Lost Lake, 10714 feet: 9.7 miles one way, 2814 foot gain. Moderate+.
Lost Falls, 9840 feet: 7.5 miles one way, 1940 foot gain.  Moderate+.
Kettle Tarn, 9220 feet: 5.3 miles one way, 1320 foot gain.  Moderate.
As a whole, this hike covered approximately 23 miles with 6300 feet of elevation gain.  Second class.  Strenuous+.