There was a permit available for Sunday and Monday night at the end of Cathy’s chemo cycle, so I snapped it up and texted my friends. Dan was able to arrange his schedule and we were set to go.
Getting to the Hessie trailhead on a weekend is usually a logistical challenge. Especially if you are returning during the week when there is no shuttle. Cathy said she was willing to come pick us up on Tuesday, so we took the Ned bus up to the high school parking lot, jumped on the shuttle and were at the trailhead and walking in less than an hour after leaving Boulder. Doesn’t get any easier than that.
We encountered a moose cow and calf at the first beaver pond. Mom was definitely giving us the stinkeye and we moved right along.
A distinctly unfriendly moose cow. Glad we didn’t have a dog along.
It has been a dry hot summer along the Front Range. I thought we could take the cool shady back route up the first climb and thus avoid the hot sweaty south-facing jeep road that is the standard trail.
The back route follows an old road south toward some abandoned cabins. There used to be a bridge over the creek, and this was my usual route in the 1980s, when I would get up before dawn, catch a couple of fish at Lost Lake, and then be back in the lab by 9 AM.
But the bridge began collapsing in the 90s and the Forest Service must have hauled it away in the 00s as there is no sign of it now. There are a couple of crossing points that are easy at low water. But the water was higher than I expected and the two best spots required either a wade or a jump on to wet rock faces. We contemplated this for a moment, then did the sensible thing for grayheads and turned back to take the standard route.
I’ve probably been up the main Middle Boulder Creek trail 50 times in the last 40 years. I never get tired of it. Neither crowds nor over-familiarity have dulled its charms. Rather, I appreciate it more and more, an old friend in a world where true friends are both precious and rare.
Dan stops in the classic photo spot in the first meadow
We got up to the lake in good time, set up camp and commenced fishing. I pulled in a nice Greenback Cutthroat on the first cast.
A nice Greenback in full color
When the lake was first stocked with Greenbacks some 20 years ago, the fishing was ridiculously easy. The Greenbacks, newly resuscitated from their presumed extinction, were innocent and unwary, striking any fly at any time.
The fishing at Woodland is still very fine, but the fish have become more discriminating. We both caught a couple right away and then nothing for the next hour or so. We retired back to camp for some loafing and snacking that was occasionally interrupted by light rain, a rain that continued on and off through the night.
Headwaters basin of Middle Boulder Creek, Woodland on the left and Skyscraper on the right
The morning brought blue skies and we made the half mile climb up to Skyscraper Reservoir. The dry summer had drained it down so that the approach to shore involved negotiating deep lake bottom mud. We caught a couple of small brookies then spent the rest of the morning poking around the lake basin.
Dan just couldn’t stop himself from checking his phone at the high point
Tiptoeing through the mud to catch small brookies
We were high enough that flowers were still in abundance, despite the dry summer.
Indian Peaks essence: flowers and a gurgling brook under the Divide
Back at Woodland the fish continued their moody ways. The evening hatch was of small midges that the fish sipped at their leisure. I did catch one on a #20 Griffith’s gnat, but that was my smallest fly and it was too big. After numerous disdainful refuses, I settled for just enjoying the peace and serenity of an Indian Peaks evening.