Early last week, my buddy Scott Smith invited me to join he and his dog Lacy for a Sept. 7 hike to either Mosca Pass, and its overlook of the Great Sand Dunes, or North Taylor Creek, and Megan Lake in the Sangre de Cristo wilderness. We settled on North Taylor Creek; it turned out to be a pretty good call.
The North Taylor Creek hike is one drainage over from Lakes Of The Clouds and is similar in terrain and difficulty. I’m sure both Scott and Lacy felt this trek was more akin to a Sunday stroll in the park instead of it being a 10-mile out-and-back hike that tops out at 11,500 feet. For my part, I found it an easier outing than the Lakes hike, even though Trails.com rates both hikes as “moderate.” I did have to stop a couple of times along the trail on the way up to rest, but it didn’t seem as taxing as on our other walks in the Sangres. Interestingly enough, I didn’t feel that first wave of thin air that’s typical (for me, at least) of an outing at altitude. Perhaps I’m finally getting in shape. And yes, I managed to keep my lunch down this time out, too.
As we hit the trail, it was easy for us to tell it had rained over night. You could smell it. You could feel it. A gushing North Taylor Creek provided the soundtrack for most of our hike. The ground wasn’t muddy but it was tacky, although parts of the trail were so saturated that my walking stick would sink nearly six inches into rich, black-brown mud. Scott said it was unusual to see such a high flow of water so late in September. And it was surprising to see as many wildflowers as we did, given the lateness of the season.
But you could tell summer’s days are numbered. The air was cool and moist. The aspen were beginning to shift from green to gold. It’s the time of year in mountains when bears are a bit more active, too. I asked Scott about the prospect of spotting one as we drove through Florence on our way to the mountains. He said it fell within the realm of possibility. He reminded me Lacy once chased a bear on one of their earlier Taylor Creek hikes on a stretch of the trail he’s dubbed “bear alley.” And he offered one bit of advice if we did happen upon a bear: don’t run.
Megan Lake was our lunchtime destination. It’s a small, shallow lake that can’t be more than three feet deep and maybe 150 yards at its widest point. I’d liken it to a pond more so than a lake, truth be told. The 13,000-foot peaks surrounding the lake skewed its size even more.
Scott took a look at the sky—the clouds were moving at a healthy clip—and suggested we move along. Neither of us wanted to get caught in another hail storm like we did at Lakes of the Clouds. So we made our way down the trail, avoiding any weather–or bears–in the process, and back to Scott’s car.
It was a good day to be in the mountains. Days like that are good for the soul but can be a little hard on the body. It took a good three days for my calves to stop aching.
