Trouble on the Tonahutu Trail

Wildflowers dot the tundra on July 13, 2022, as seen from the Tonahutu Trail.

Story and photos by Chris Reveley for HIKE ROCKY magazine

Editor’s note: The Tonahutu Trail was reopened on July 9, but closed again on July 21. This hike was taken on July 13, 2022.

October 14, 2020: The East Troublesome Creek Fire was first reported, burning in the hills, northeast of Kremmling, Colorado. Pushed eastward by high winds, the blaze would leave two people dead and consume hundreds of structures in its path. Entering the National Park, the fire quickly burned halfway up the North Inlet valley and through the entire Tonahutu Creek drainage.  Reaching tree line and lacking fuel, the fire's aerial acrobatics allowed it to vault over more than a mile of  dry, grassy tundra to re-establish itself east of the Continental Divide. High winds continued and Estes Park was evacuated. The flames marched to within two miles of the town's west boundary.

First light on the Tonahutu Trail, with Longs Peak towering in the background.

The Tonahutu trail starts near the summit of Flattop Mt. and travels northwest across the tundra before descending toward Grand Lake, passing through some the worst of the Park's fire damage. It had been closed to hikers and backcountry campers since the fire; blocked by many fallen trees and threatened by the still-standing, blackened skeletons of others, the trail was unsafe and impassable. Bridges, signs and hitching rails were destroyed. In July, after almost two years of restoration and rebuilding by determined RMNP trail crews, the Tonahutu trail was reopened to the public. I wanted to see it for myself.
 
The shortest hiking route from the Park's east side to the west is about 15.5 miles and starts at Bear Lake with 4.4 miles up steep, rocky terrain on the Flattop Trail. With a reliable headlamp (and a backup!) I always do the first few miles in the dark, timing my arrival at tree line with the sunrise. Over the last 50 years I've taken scores of photos from this area; sun peeking up over the plains, the monolith of Longs Peak brooding to the south, first light touching the Mummy Range. These views never look exactly the same twice so here I am, taking all the same pictures again! Funny.

​Just past the Flattop summit there's a choice to make; left on the North Inlet trail or right on the Tonahutu. Both trails wander across tundra for a distance, marked by large rock cairns built up by passers-by over many years. Before long, the Tonahutu begins to descend into the valley it will follow to Grand Lake.

As I drop down off the treeless tundra, stunning views down the charred valley are revealed. Suddenly, I arrive at the exact place where the fire became air-born and crossed the tundra to reach the Park's east side. This is what I came to see.

The East Troublesome Fire jumped over 1.5 miles of tundra burn into the east side of the Continental Divide, unprecedented in RMNP history.

All the trees are burned, right up to the point where the trail drops into the former forest. But then, something strange: There are a few small groves of big trees above this spot that somehow survived, sandwiched between the complete destruction that came roaring up the valley and the tundra. What would I have seen, standing to the side as the fire passed? Did the steepening slope and the rising winds cause the firestorm to ascend vertically, going totally atmospheric ​and missing a few lucky survivors?

​The next six miles of trail pass through one long graveyard of blackened coniferous hulks, sculpted by flame. Many have been burned almost completely through, leaving me wondering what is keeping them upright? With the first strong wind the trail will likely be covered by burn debris again.

Scores of the fallen trees that had blocked the path have been cleanly sawed through and removed by trail crew teams. By the time I reach the Green Mt. trail junction and finish the last couple miles to the parking lot, I've counted at least five newly-constructed bridges, lots of new trail signs and several rebuilt trail segments.
 
I've met Paul, a Park Service employee who is far up the valley, alone, hiking with a large pack. He is surveying backcountry assets, particularly important in the aftermath of the fire.

​I've stopped to thank the ladies and gentlemen of a trail crew. They look tired. There is nothing particularly glamorous about this work but what they've accomplished is impressive. “We have a lot more to do”, they admit.

​By the time I arrive at the Green Mt. trailhead, I've taken 70 photos. The blackened forest climbs thousands of feet up the sides of the valley while lush, green undergrowth has returned and covers the low, wet areas. The contrast is startling but hard to capture with my phone's camera. And the damage goes deeper: A Park Service naturalist tells me the fire's extreme high temperatures have sterilized the soil in many places, making any kind of new growth impossible for a long time. Normally, along this traverse of the Park, I would see bighorn sheep, moose, elk and deer. Today, no wildlife at all.

​Investigations have concluded that the East Troublesome Creek Fire was started by people, not lightning. Was it intentional or accidental? Could those responsible have imagined what the results might be when they started the fire? Here in the bone-dry West, it is probably time to abandon the tradition of a roaring campfire during the dry seasons.

Wise management of our natural resources includes education and planning as well as acknowledging our ability to do great harm, accidently or otherwise. How should we respond to those whose neglect or intentional actions damage these fragile terrestrial and atmospheric shells we inhabit? As the species with the greatest intelligence and the greatest negative impact we bear the greatest responsibility. But, again and again, we are failing the Good Stewardship Test.

Our relationship with the earth is both loving and abusive, trending more toward the latter as our benign inattention allows environmental disasters to proliferate. It may be that humankind lacks the intelligence, foresight and desire to maintain the planet, happily trading short-term profits for long term survival. If we can't stop poisoning our home, our relatively brief 70-million-year residence on planet Earth will come to a whimpering end, only to be appreciated by other, surviving life forms as a cosmic, not-to-be-repeated experiment in neglect and exploitation.

​The evidence is in: forest, water and atmosphere are not unlimited resources that will rejuvenate and regenerate faster than we are destroying them. Sadly, environmentalism has become a political issue with a portion of our population denying there's a problem. We elect “leaders” to make wise decisions and, more and more, they are willfully and proudly ignorant, incapable of understanding the issues, much less responding wisely.

Again, today, after thousands of adventures of all kinds in RMNP, my passion for the place survives, undiminished. The future of the Park and, indeed, the ​planet can be bright.  It's entirely up to us. 

Chris Reveley has spent 50 years climbing and doing endurance sports; and, thirty years learning and practicing medicine.  “Now I’m a Happy House Husband with hobbies,” he said.
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The publication of this piece of independent and local journalism was made possible by Erik Stensland's Images of RMNP and The Country Market, both of Estes Park.