Lily Lake
September 6, 2012 It’s a clear, crisp September morning as we load Ada into the backpack and I help slip Felicity into the infant carrier on Andra’s chest. A few years ago Andra and I would have been enjoying a day like today by hiking up to Flattop Mt, or Black Lake or summiting Twin Sisters, but times change, kids arrive, and hike lengths shorten. Lily Lake is a great spot for toddler-toting parents to go because it has both a short, easy trail, and dynamite scenery. That’s why we’re here. We start on the loop trail around Lily Lake heading counter-clockwise. In no time we reach a fork in the trail with the left fork staying level with the lake shore and the right fork heading uphill into the rocks and trees, a route obviously more “hike” than the simple stroll around the lakeshore. We opt for the right fork, and soon we’re up a hundred feet above the lake amongst the granite boulders and ponderosa pines, strolling along in the sunshine and enjoying the thin, dry air of autumn. Sensing that too much has gone according to plan, Felicity shakes things up with a bout of screaming that forces Andra to stop and provide a snack. While she does that, I take Ada off amongst the boulders for a great view of Longs Peak and Mt Meeker to the south. Ada seems less than impressed. We take some pictures of ourselves and I pick out a couple of choice drumming sticks from the ground for her to shake out a funky beat on the nearest log. This is entertaining for several minutes until, suddenly, it is not. We mill around on rocks, Ada climbing boldly with me following behind, ready to catch her when she falls. She does, I catch her, and everyone is happy. Then Andra and Felicity are ready to continue. We stroll on through the sun, then the trees. Ada seems content to walk on her own short legs, which my shoulders appreciate. Often the space in the forest opens up and we can see Lily Lake below, Longs Peak beyond. Very striking. Ada jabbers on in unintelligible gibberish, seemingly happy. The trail leads downhill, and soon we are in the woods on flattish terrain, heading back towards the car on the southwest side of the lake. Having no shade, Andra covers Felicity’s head with her hands as we walk, and she doesn’t tarry. I cruise along at Ada-pace, and we fall farther behind on the wide, graveled-path that hugs the lakeshore. Ada watches the ducks in the lake, cruising near bank and then suddenly upending to eat off the bottom, their little pert tails sticking out above the surface. The fall colors of the grass and forbs along the route contrast with the dark green conifers and electric blue sky, all nicely illuminated by the thin slanted sunlight of fall. Ada and I plod along, slower now that she is getting sleepy. I wonder if, years from now, Ada will tumble upon this memory of a beautiful place she can’t quite remember, and find that it convinces her to take the morning off from work and head for the woods to find that unique combination of sunlight, yellow aspen leaves and the smell of ponderosa pine bark warming in the sun. |
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