If there is such a thing as a perfect, fall day - the day we went to Colchuck had to come close. We arrived in Leavenworth around 9 am but, unlike our last trip there in July, it was not hot. The wan autumn sunshine filtered through the trees at the trailhead creating light, but not much else. Despite our gloves and jackets, we were still shivering in the crisp air as we set off. The trail wound through the forest, not too steep - but enough of a workout that we were soon pulling off the gloves and unzipping the jackets. The dim green of evergreens was broken intermittenly by yellow and brown maples. These glimpses of color were temporarily exciting as each could be the gold leaves of the larches we were searching for. We crossed a few wooden bridges and eventually arrived at Colchuck Lake, just as the sun began to shine in earnest.
Fog wafted off the wet stumps by an old dam at the closest end of the lake. Impressive Dragontail and jagged Colchuck rose majestically at the far end, casting an imposing shadow on Asgard Pass. The still silence of the mountains was broken only by our footsteps and the occasional pip of a pika. After carefully maneuevering across the half-submerged logs at the dam, we worked our way around the edge of the lake, enjoying the solitude and the placid water. Larches rose up from the shore like golden flames against the almost unnatural teal water. The sun rotated around until it was peeking over the edge of the pass, which looked less menacing the closer we got. A herd of larches marched their way into the basin from the Upper Enchantments, seemingly headed toward the lake to join their vibrant friends.
Illuminated by the sun, the brilliant needles were almost transparent against the pure, blue sky. A small beach, still covered in frost and ice looked back toward Leavenworth. Artistic black swirls appeared in the granite sand, the gentle curves contrasting with the sharp peaks of the mountains around us. I felt as if I could stay there forever and be happy. But the sun was already making its way back down behind the mountains, as if it didn't quite have the energy to pop up over Dragontail.
Since we had come to see the larches, we aimed for a large cluster about half-way up the now shadowy pass. Pika tracks dotted the snow-dusted rocks. From the grouping of the prints it seemed like the fuzzy mountain hamsters had hopped from rock to rock. We heard them chirping around us as the stashed leaves for the winter, but my shy cousins kept their distance. A few couples struggled up Asgard, headed for a campsite in the Enchantments. Without the heavy packs and with the tantalizing view, the snowy pass didn't seem so daunting. We turned back as we began to run out of space on our memory cards, arriving at the parking lot well after dark because of a little confusion about the path. Even the bustle of Oktoberfest and the iffy food we ordered couldn't break the peaceful feeling that came from experiencing what has to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
Fog wafted off the wet stumps by an old dam at the closest end of the lake. Impressive Dragontail and jagged Colchuck rose majestically at the far end, casting an imposing shadow on Asgard Pass. The still silence of the mountains was broken only by our footsteps and the occasional pip of a pika. After carefully maneuevering across the half-submerged logs at the dam, we worked our way around the edge of the lake, enjoying the solitude and the placid water. Larches rose up from the shore like golden flames against the almost unnatural teal water. The sun rotated around until it was peeking over the edge of the pass, which looked less menacing the closer we got. A herd of larches marched their way into the basin from the Upper Enchantments, seemingly headed toward the lake to join their vibrant friends.
Illuminated by the sun, the brilliant needles were almost transparent against the pure, blue sky. A small beach, still covered in frost and ice looked back toward Leavenworth. Artistic black swirls appeared in the granite sand, the gentle curves contrasting with the sharp peaks of the mountains around us. I felt as if I could stay there forever and be happy. But the sun was already making its way back down behind the mountains, as if it didn't quite have the energy to pop up over Dragontail.
Since we had come to see the larches, we aimed for a large cluster about half-way up the now shadowy pass. Pika tracks dotted the snow-dusted rocks. From the grouping of the prints it seemed like the fuzzy mountain hamsters had hopped from rock to rock. We heard them chirping around us as the stashed leaves for the winter, but my shy cousins kept their distance. A few couples struggled up Asgard, headed for a campsite in the Enchantments. Without the heavy packs and with the tantalizing view, the snowy pass didn't seem so daunting. We turned back as we began to run out of space on our memory cards, arriving at the parking lot well after dark because of a little confusion about the path. Even the bustle of Oktoberfest and the iffy food we ordered couldn't break the peaceful feeling that came from experiencing what has to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
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