Backpacking Rawah Wilderness

The loose gravel slipped away beneath me as the weight of my pack burdened each step. The unknown spread far in front of us, though we were unaware of just what this trip had in store. The sheer wildness of Rawah Wilderness had my husband and I walking, eyes wide in anticipation of what might be around every corner. The Rawah’s are a hidden gem in Colorado, far fewer people trek through these mountains than our surrounding areas. As a native, it is what drew me here in the first place, but now without another hiker in sight, we are well aware of exactly how out of place we are in this rugged mountain terrain. Planning this trip involved a little more digging to determine what a two-night trip might entail. Boasting over 25-miles of trails and 75,000 acres in full, we sought out a shorter option that would still allow us to experience this space in all its glory. Runoff was brutal this summer, and many of the trip reports left us concerned about the condition of the trail as we gained elevation. Undeterred, we were both itching for some mountain time after a long winter indoors. Eyeing the map, we agreed that Lost Lake was within our grasp at just over 7-miles away. The early July sun at our backs and adventure on the horizon, we started our journey.   

The trail itself ebbed and flowed up the mountainside, mirroring the river that periodically made its presence known below us, gushing past in an angry torrent of melted snow and rainwater. Sucking in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly with relief. Our morning had been filled with tying up loose ends and finishing projects before two days without cell service. Now, the light mountain air filled our lungs, and a sly smile tugged the corners of my husband’s mouth, lighting his baby blues with excitement. It wasn’t until we were 3-miles in that we had moved away from the mountain stream and now caught sight of a small pond now inhabited by our dog. Downed logs partially submerged broke the surface of the water as they bobbed in the wake brought on by our German Shorthair Pointer, Ruger. The splendid green canopy of pine and fir trees surrounded us in a cooling embrace, shielding us from the heat of the sun. Knowing we were still a short trek out from our destination, we shrugged our packs on and strolled up the trail. Ruger sprinted circles around us while Melody likened more to our steady pace, at 11 she is a veteran on our backpacking trips.

 A short time later and our eyes caught sight of the shrewdly carved arrow pointing towards Lost Lake. We warily glanced up at the steep incline that we hoped would be our final ascent. Half a mile later, the trail opened to views of a grassy meadow, and around the next turn, another pond came into view, still in the late afternoon breeze. The quiet enveloping us until we spoke in but a whisper, not wanting to miss this magical moment. As vast banks of snow surrounded us, the trail became non-existent beneath the pearly umbrella. Gazing at our surroundings, we deemed the small crest in-between the pond and the meadow to be the perfect camping spot. Glancing to the right, our views comprised of a basin of snowmelt with huge mountains shimmering overhead. Whirling to your left, the meadow, marshy from the long spring and fluorescent green in color burst from the forest floor and meandered far into the distance. It was heavenly; in no time at all, our camp was set up and a lazy fire burned bright. The evening rolled on as the sun dropped behind the last peak and bid us adieu. In the hazy light of dusk, my eyes wandered over the meadow and did a double take on a huge bull elk grazing in the far corner of the field. Within seconds, he had turned and disappeared into the awning of trees; nature at its finest. Exhausted from our trek, we were not far behind as we put out the last sparks of our fire and crept into our sleeping bags just as the stars made their dramatic appearance. 

 The next morning, we were unprepared for the stampede of mosquitoes that swarmed us the moment we stepped from the tent, the bug spray scarcely deterring them from their quest. Thankfully, we had grabbed one of the last bottles from the General Store in Rustic. These mountain bugs, however, were a different breed as we swatted at them without success. Sitting down to enjoy a hot cup of coffee before we packed up to spend the day at Lost Lake, a mere mile down the trail. Coffee and backpacking go hand in hand, one without the other just wouldn’t be right as we guarded our cups warily, unwilling to miss a single drop.

 There is always a moment or two when you are in the mountains where your surroundings feel surreal. The first sighting of Lost Lake was no different, after a previous night of futile fishing, the jumping fish had us jogging to the shoreline, rods in hand. Backpacks thrown aside in a whoosh and flies quickly assembled; it comes as no surprise a mosquito imitation was the fly of the day.

 As dusk greeted us on our second evening and a chill encircled us, we fell exhausted into our tent for another night of much-needed rest. Eager for some reading time before nodding off in the deep dark of the unknown, we snuggled close and sleepily settled in. Moments later, an unanticipated crash in the water below us had our hearts thumping loudly, each staring at the other, eyes wide. The simple reminder that here, we were the visitors. We slowly unzipped the tent, heading to our packs to ensure nothing had attempted to get into them, rigged high above in the trees. Below us, in the light of the moon, we caught sight of a burly, darkened figure, our imagination making him larger than life. Having come down for a quick dip, he too disappeared into the protective canopy of the woods. The moose seemed undeterred by our presence as he continued on his way. We grinned at each other, honored to be enjoying our Colorado mountains in all its fullness.

Our final morning rose to greet us, the hazy lure of light waking me earlier than usual. A slight glance at the watch telling me it was just past 5 AM, the perfect time for a cup of coffee. Pulling on my hoodie and leggings, I left my three companions sleeping soundly as I headed for our packs. Slowly releasing them from the trees far above, I saw a dart of golden color to my left as I whirled around just in time. A white-tailed fox, ears pricked in curiosity stood staring at me, each of us just as surprised to see the other. He was beautiful at such close proximity. I could see the fine details of his whiskers dotting his muzzle and his black dainty black feet as he lost interest in me and continued on his way. Later, when my husband finally peeked around the corner of the tent and muttered a morning greeting, I was practically bobbing up and down with excitement. Mornings are my favorite, and this one was extra special; the multiple cups of coffee could have also played a part in my elation. The sunrise blows me away every time I am in the mountains, the light catching the trees on fire and spreading to the surface of the water, igniting the world. Later, we packed up camp and gave a non-verbal farewell to our temporary home; until next time dear friend. 

 This trip held a little piece of everything, the animals, the ever so brilliant stars but also the reminder that life is short; take the trip, jump off the cliff, howl at the moon, and laugh till your insides have you burning for breath.

 We only have but one life to live.

-Kathryn