Jasper Creek drains the valley east of the Continental Divide, bounded by Mount Jasper on the north and Skyscraper Peak on the south. In this valley are found Jasper Lake, Devil’s Thumb Lake, Storm Lake, and Upper Storm Lake, as well as half a dozen or so unnamed lakes and ponds. Upper Storm Lake sits at 11,946′ above sea level, about a furlong from the Divide, and is the only named lake here that I haven’t visited yet. No, I won’t make you look that up: it’s an eighth of a mile.
Chad and I hiked to Storm Lake a couple of years ago, when I managed to lose one of my GoPro cameras. Before that trip, I thought it might be possible to reach the upper lake on a day hike, but once I got a good look at the terrain, I decided I’d need to spend a night camping at Jasper Lake in order to have a chance.
Sunday, July 26
As is usual, I struggled with how early we needed to get to the trailhead. There is limited parking at the trailhead. On weekends, this isn’t a big problem as they run a shuttle bus from Nederland High School to the Hessie trailhead. Since we won’t be back at the trailhead until Monday, the shuttle isn’t an option for us.
So it was a bad sign when we rolled up to the high school at seven to see the parking lot nearly full and a sign saying parking at both Hessie and Fourth of July trailheads is full. I told the volunteer we have a backcountry pass, and he got on the radio to a colleague. We were in luck: they had saved one parking spot at Hessie. Does that mean our timing was perfect?
It’s about five miles from the trailhead to Jasper Lake, but we were parked another quarter mile down the road. We arrived at our campsite just after eleven, so I was pretty slow. Carrying the backpack really slows me down. There are seven campsites at the lake. We camped on the west side, so I don’t know if any of the sites on the other side were occupied. One on the west had a tent on it when we got there, but it was gone by evening.
After setting up camp and eating lunch, we set forth for Upper Storm Lake. The climb up Jasper Creek is spectacular. You pass a series of cascades and falls surrounded by an abundance of wildflowers. We’re not above treeline yet, but the views are open. The trail peters out now and then, but navigation is fairly obvious until you get very close to Storm Lake and encounter some willow and krumholz.
Standing near the outlet of Storm Lake, the view of the terrain ahead is a bit discouraging. The north shore looks to be impassable due to a surplus of willow, and the south shore has a large rock outcropping we would have to go above. It looked like we’d have to climb a couple hundred feet to find a clear path.
Once above the south shore, things didn’t look much better. We’re standing in front of a large bowl. The two obvious routes are to head northwest and descend to the bottom of the bowl, and from there climb to Upper Storm Lake’s eastern shore. Alternatively, we could circle the bowl, heading west and curving north, climbing slightly the whole way. Neither looked particularly appealing. The lower route would mean dealing with vast fields of willow, while the upper meant crossing quite a bit of talus. We were hoping to find some grassy ramps to cross, but these were in short supply. We opted for the upper route.
Gordon led the way. He’s a faster hiker than me, and he has a knack for finding the easy path. Initially, he found some game trails to follow, but these disappeared fairly quickly. Our route, in the end, was about a mile long, with most of that being talus. It took us about two hours to reach Upper Storm Lake.
It started raining fifteen or twenty minutes before we reached the upper lake. Gordon put his raincoat on first. I was hoping he had the magic raincoat – the one that, as soon as you put it on, makes the rain stop. His coat was not magic. My coat did the trick last week, but I must have used all the magic, as today the rain continued. Oh well.
Any lake at or above 12,000′ is going to be stark. Upper Storm Lake is no exception. Dark, rain-laden clouds are coming over the Divide from the west, but the rain that falls is blowing in from the east. At the Divide, I’m accustomed to seeing layers of clouds that move in different directions. Now, the clouds all move in one direction, but the raindrops are going the wrong way. How does this work? The clouds aren’t very far above us; it didn’t seem possible for this to be happening. Just another of the wonders of weather along the Continental Divide.
We didn’t linger very long. The clouds grew more threatening every minute. Two things in particular were on my mind. First, the possibility of lightning. Above treeline, there’s nowhere to hide. Second, the rocks tend to get slippery when wet, and we had to cross the better part of a mile of talus. I mentioned the second to Gordon, but neither of us wanted to mention lightning for fear of tempting the godz. I never did see any lightning, but we did hear one peal of thunder.
The route down is typically easier to find than the route up. I often find an easier route. After surveying the options, we chose to return the way we came. Better the devil you know – the big patches of willow didn’t look any better from here. Gordon did a great job of route finding, minimizing the talus and maximizing the few grassy ramps. His balance amazes me; never a false step, never had to use his hands. I, on the other hand, managed to slip on wet rocks twice, landing unceremoniously on my ass. No harm, no foul.
I made it back to camp a bit after five. I didn’t see anybody else at the lake, which surprised me. I was expecting all the campsites to be taken, but it very much looked like we were the only campers here.
The skies never did clear up. We had light rain off and on all night.
Monday, July 27
In the morning, I spent some time investigating the shoreline of Lake Jasper. It’s a reservoir, and with the drought conditions we’re having, the lake is at perhaps its lowest level, maybe twelve feet below its full capacity. It’s hard for me to judge when the water level went down. Some of this liminal space between the current shoreline and the usual one is dried and cracked, while in other areas it’s still muddy. Some plants are just starting to grow here, perhaps not more than a week old. Moose tracks are all over the place.
Years ago, I seldom saw moose. When I did see them, it was only on the western slope. Now, east or west of the Divide, I see moose on almost every hike. While exploring, I heard a distant splash. It took me a few minutes to spot him. He was swimming across the lake about a hundred yards away. When he got to the opposite shore, he shook himself like a dog, then began to frolic: jumping back and forth, splashing in the water. He was too far away to get a decent picture. We ran into him later, on the trail when we were hiking out.
It took me a bit longer to hike out than it did to get in. You’d think I’d have an easier time going downhill, but that’s seldom the case for me. Today I struggled. I think my age is catching up to me. I do just fine on day hikes, but the 35lb backpack kicks my ass. I have a permit for next month, but I’m wondering whether I’ll cancel it or not.
Despite my growing reluctance to carry a heavy backpack, the poor weather, and the difficult hike from Storm Lake to Upper Storm Lake, I had a good time. My irrational desire to always “bag” new lakes compels me to visit places that may not be worth the trip. I can’t recommend that hikers go to Upper Storm Lake, as “the juice isn’t worth the squeeze”, but I gained a warm sense of accomplishment by going there.
