A Snowshoe Hike to Fern Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park

I swung my car onto the Moraine Park Campground road and looked beyond the vast Moraine Park up into the mountain valleys where my destination lie and I knew at that point I wasn’t going to be having any lunch at my destination. My destination was Fern Lake and from the looks of things, there were ferocious winds and snow channeling its 

way down the Odessa  Gorge, gaining speed as it descended from Odessa Lake. I proceeded on to the parking area anyway, I wasn’t going for the purpose of having lunch at the destination, I was going just to go. There was no other reason to head into that ferocious wind.

I parked in an empty parking lot at 8:50 am. This was going to be one of those rare days in the Park when no one was going to be on the trail. I was on my own on this day. From the trailhead, the Lake is listed as 3.8 miles, but nobody gets a parking spot at the trailhead anymore. Either the small lot is full in the summer, or the road going to it is closed for the winter, like today. The walk from the extended parking lot, where the shuttle bus will drop you off, is an additional .7 miles. So, the real distance to Fern Lake is four and a half miles, or 9 miles round trip. I grabbed my snowshoes out of the car and hoisted them under my left arm. There was only a thin layer of packed snow on the road from the parking lot, and there wasn’t likely going to be any significant snow all the way to the Pool, 2.4 miles away. I wasn’t sure just how much snow I would encounter after the Pool, but I was very sure I would need the snowshoes somewhere after that. So carrying them seemed the best option to me, better than wearing them over rock and frozen dirt.

I was curious about the conditions up higher because we hadn’t gotten very much snow in Estes for quite a while. And, I guess, I wondered just how adverse and horrendous I would find the conditions at the lake. I also wondered how I would do getting up there, I had not done a winter outing like this in a while. I felt like I was dressed for winter travel, and I didn’t really question my ability to get up there, though I wondered how worn I would feel by the end. But I think I wanted to see what it would 

like be like to be back on the trail again and if I would find solace in nature during winter. I set off to find out.

 The wind had gusted strong in my face out on the open Moraine Park, 

but here in the trees, the wind was mostly overhead, and travel on the trail along the Big Thompson River was familiar and easy going.  I stopped several times, putting down the snowshoes, to photograph the frozen river ripples on the river and consider the undulating and sensuous form and beauty of the ice. Even in its frozen state, the river was to be admired. Though water still flowed below the ice, the river was silent. But the noise from the constant raging wind overhead filled the void left by the river and made me want to keep moving.

Soon I was at the Pool. I thought this might be a good time to put the snowshoes on, but then thought the trail for the next half mile might still be mostly cleared, so I carried my snowshoes about another 30 yards and then encountered a sizable drift over the trail. I went ahead and put them on and I didn’t regret having done that, I found there would be plenty of snow from here on. This next brief section of trail above the Pool stills travels along the valley floor and three streams converge along this stretch. After I carefully negotiated a narrow footbridge with my snowshoes, the trail begins to rise up toward the glaciated hanging valleys of the Odessa Gorge by crossing the south hillside of Spruce Canyon. From the trail in the trees I could hear the constant wind tearing out of Spruce Canyon like a high pitched freight train. The trail switchbacks through tall spruce trees to Fern Falls, then cuts west and switchbacks again before finally turning towards Fern Lake.

By now, most of the elevation to Fern Lake has been gained and there’s considerably deeper snow. Even though there are no new tracks and the wind has covered over most of the old tracks at this point, the snow path is easy to follow as it holds a steady course through the spruce trees. Some trees are holding up other trees that have died and fallen into their arms and all along the trail you can hear these trees that are holding the dead moan and squeak and sing, caused by the friction between the two trees as they sway in the wind.

Not too much longer, the woods opened a little and up ahead I could see trail signs poking out of the snow announcing the lake and the roof line of the Fern Lake Patrol Cabin. I knew just over the rise up ahead to the left of the patrol cabin was Fern Lake. And 

I knew if I approached the lake in the normal way over that rise, I would likely get blasted with a face full of freezing wind gusts, which didn’t appeal to me.

I opted to work around the back side of the patrol cabin through the trees. The snow was piled up super deep here and my snowshoes were having trouble keeping me afloat. But I paddled my way through the snow and down to the lake’s edge. There were patches of exposed ice out on the lake where the main wind channel flowed. In order to get the obligatory lake photo, I kept the wind to my back and skirted the edge of the lake, finally wading across that wind channel to the lakes outlet. 

Along the lakes edge, the wind sculptures interesting patterns and I would have loved to spend some time photographing these pieces of nature art . But the lighting was 

not cooperative and I really thought it was best to get my lake photo and get out of the wind.  This was like a nasty sand storm with very fine particles of snow crystals working their way into the small creases of my camera and I didn’t want it to leave the protective and comforting 

camera bag for very long. So I huddled behind some small pines and peaked around them across the lake and up the Gorge. On a clear day, Notchtop, the Little Matterhorn and Gabletop provide supreme backdrops to the lake. But on this day, the other side of the lake was hardly visible and only Galbetop struggle to barely appear from the low, snow filled clouds, and my camera’s exposure didn’t even acknowledge its effort. 

Not finding much reason to dilly dally any longer, I left the lake to be more thoroughly enjoyed on another day. My destination was reached, and it was lunch time. I retraced my steps back and quickly descended to Fern Falls before dropping my day pack for a bite. Then I moved back down the trail at a good pace. I was surprised that at certain sections of the trail, the wind had already blown over my own tracks from just less than two hours ago and at one point, back down on the valley floor before the foot bridge, I briefly lost the trail. But then I was back at the Pool removing the snowshoes and continued without stopping until I reached the trailhead. By 2:50, I was back at the car, a 6 hour day. My pace averaged 1.5 miles an hour, including stops.

 Being always glad that the car starts up at this point, I drove back out to Moraine Park where the sun was still shining. Was it a successful day? I felt it was. I made my destination despite the ferociousness of the wind at times. I enjoyed being on the trail and in the snow. It’s a very different experience to be in the cold, perhaps more difficult to connect with nature. This is a different kind of nature than summer. Not so much the nature of rebirth and life as nature in summer can often feel. This connection with nature is perhaps a little more harsh, takes more 

of an effort. Winter though has it’s own beauty, of course. And if you accept it for what it is, a part of a larger seasonal picture, it is possible to find the connection. But just to be sure, I think I’ll take a few trips. ​​