A Hike to Timber Creek In Rocky Mountain National Park

Arduous was the word that got my attention. Such an interesting word choice the National Park Service chose to describe a temporary diversion trail around a naturally occuring, slow moving landslide that crossed the trail to Timber Lake. And yet, after having climbed the flag marked trail that takes the hiker up one side of the landslide, and then down the other side back to the trail, that was without a doubt the perfect word to use; it was difficult and tiring.

However, with the exception of the aurdous but brief diversion, the approximately 5 mile trail to Timber Lake is a really enjoyable trail that takes you through montane and subalpine ecosystems before reaching Timber Lake at treeline. The trailhead parking lot is on the west side of the Park, right at the bottom of Trail Ridge Road, across from the Colrado River trailhead. The trail slowly climbs south through lodgepole pines and paralels the upper Kawueneeche Valley road before eventually turning southeastwardly, crossing the southwest slope of Jackstraw Mtn. For a while you travel quitely through lodgepole pine, steadily gaining elevation. It’s along this stretch you will encounter the ardous detour.

Once past the detour, the trail begins to paralell Timber Creek. After stopping along the way to photograph a patch of Heartleaf Arnica, I travel easily along this part of the trail as it stays fairly level while Timber Creek rises to eventually meet the trail. The trail then gains some quick elevation away from Timber Creek, before leveling off again, skirting around several small woodland meadows filled with elephanthead wildflowers.  The flowers are at peak bloom and I dive into a patch with my camera, gingerly moving around the flowers and leaving as little trace of my pesence as possible. 

Little Red Elephantheads (Pedicularis groenlandica) are members of the figwort family. Figwort plants at one time were used to treat hemorrids, which at the time were called figs. Wort is an Old English term meaning plant. The genus name for Little Red Elephantheads, Pedicularis, is latin for louse and it was believed these type of plants were good for treating lice. So if you have hemorrhiods and lice, this might be your plant.

Apart from its’ remarkable medicinal value, this is one unique looking flower. The tall spikes will have dozens of pink to red flowers. The galea, or the top of the flower is hooded to look like the forehead of an elephant and the beak of the galea extends out and curves upward to give the appeareance of an elephant's trunk. To complete the look, the left and right petals look like large, floppy elephant ears. 

Elephantheads like their feet wet so the ground where these plants grow is usually marshy and if you try to march through a patch of elephantheads, you will more than likely end up with wet boots, best to go around. You are also likely to find mosquitoes in the area, so probably not the best place for lunch, either.

I am completely immersed in this pool of elephantheads now, very engaged and oblivious to anything else. Entranced by these spectular wildflowers, I am working hard to capture their beauty. Carefully stepping, I bend and crouch trying different angles, then attempt to hold some awkward pose as still as possible, making myself be calm while I capture the shot. 

Once done, I release the pose with a deep outward breath, then work another angle, another pose. After a while, I break my concentration and stand straight, looking around. Finding another spot, I ballet over to it and start again. Finally satisfied that I’ve worked the patch, I navigate my way back to the trail. A feeling of contentment comes over me as I walk on. 

I take on another rise in the trail before exiting the woods into an open clearing. With views of the western tundra slope of Mt Ida greeting me, I know I’ve entered the world of the subalpine. I cross the clearing and reenter the woods for one last climb into the upper hanging valley that holds Timber Lake and several smaller ponds.

There are several large rock spots that serve nicely for lunch spots in the sun. I decide to pick my way across the marshy outlet stream and find a spot where I can sit and consider a route that might take me up to Mt Ida, if I were going there. Many wildflowers are found around the lake including Globeflower and Mountain Laurel. A little exploration eventually leads to the upper ponds and I pause for a moment to take in the suroundings, looking across Timber Lake now at Jackstraw Mtn. 

On the return, I follow the series of waterfalls that connect the upper hanging valley with the open meadow below. The area around the upper falls is thick with chest high Bitter Cress, blooming white flowers, mixed with occasional blue chiming bells. Once again, I’m working the camera but I find the photography challenging. I begin to be concerned about how these photos would turn out. Was the light too harsh, was the focus correct. In these moments of doubt, my mind wanders and I begin to wonder why I bother with taking so much time to photograph.

At one point, I just stop, pull the camera down and look around me. So much beauty, not only to the eyes, but to all the senses. The sound of the falls, the smells of the lush vegetation, this place. The incredible richness that returns here every year, for centuries. And it isn’t here for my admiration. This is pure nature, doing what it does best, creating life with so much grace and beauty, all on its’ own. I take note.

Finding these places, finding myself straddling a mountain stream to capture the beauty, finding myself taking in all of the wonderment, I realize this is why I photograph. When I hike, I am always looking for the photograph, but I’m really just paying close attention to my surroundings, noticing the ecology of nature. What birds am I seeing, where do I find certain plants blooming, how is the stream cutting across the meadow. I am looking for patterns and purpose. I am constantly impressed with how well nature takes care of itself. 

I follow the string of waterfalls down the hillside, carefully picking my way. Once back on the trail, I pause for a moment looking back at where I've come from. Then I turn and head down the trail, looking for the next photograph.