Rocky Mountain National Park Read online

  Text © 2012 Mike Graf

  Illustrations © 2012 Marjorie Leggitt

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

  FalconGuides is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

  Falcon, FalconGuides, and Outfit Your Mind are registered trademarks of Morris Book Publishing, LLC.

  Photo credits:

  Licensed by Shutterstock.com: Title page; 1: © Alfie Photography; 4: © John McLaird); 5; 7; 8; 11 (all); 12; 13: © Steshkin Yevgeniy; 14–15; 16–17; 18 (top); 18 (bottom): © Nelson Sirlin; 21; 22; 24; 25: © martellostudio; 28; 30; 33; 36; 40: © Christopher Jackson); 51; 71; 76: © Olg Lipatova; 81: © Christopher Jackson; 87; 89; 94; inside back cover © Mike Graf: 10 (all); 23; 32; 43; 45; 54; 61; 63; 64; 66; 67; 69; 72; 74; 86

  Map courtesy of National Park Service

  Cover image: Marjorie Leggitt

  Models for twins: Amanda and Ben Frazier

  Project editor: David Legere

  Rocky Mountain High Words and Music by John Denver and Mike Taylor

  Copyright © 1972; Renewed 2000 BMG Ruby Songs (ASCAP) and Chrysalis One Music (ASCAP)

  Copyright Renewed and Assigned to Anna Kate Deutschendorf, Zachary Deutschendorf and Jesse Belle, Denver

  All Rights for Anna Kate Deutschendorf and Zachary Deutschendorf Administered by BMG Chrysalis

  All Rights for Jesse Belle Denver Administered by WB Music Corp.

  International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved

  Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard Corporation

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  ISBN 978-0-7627-7970-3

  Printed in the United States of America

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  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

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  20

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  22

  23

  1

  It was the night before the Parkers left for their trip, and Dad was waiting in the on-deck circle at his softball game. In the last inning of the series against the Storm, Dad’s team, the Pilots, were behind 10–9.

  The bases were loaded, and Dad’s teammate Sean was at bat. Sean swung and lifted the ball to deep left field. It looked like the winning hit, and Sean raced toward first base with his arms triumphantly raised into the air…

  The speedy left fielder ran back quickly and caught the ball. All the runners scampered back to their original bases while Sean dejectedly jogged back to the dugout. Now there were two outs, and it was up to Dad to try and bring home a victory.

  Dad stepped up to home plate and dug in.

  “Come on, Robert!” one of Dad’s teammates called out.

  The first pitch arched in and plopped onto the mat.

  “Striiiike!” the umpire yelled.

  The next two pitches were balls. Then Dad fouled one off.

  “Two and two!” the umpire called, announcing the count.

  Dad stepped out of the box and turned to the dugout. He noticed his whole team was standing and watching.

  He took a deep breath and glanced around. His teammates were lined up against the fence in anticipation. Dad also noticed Morgan, James, and Mom sitting in the bleachers.

  “You can do it!” Morgan called out.

  “Let’s go, Dad!” James added.

  Dad stepped back up and focused straight ahead.

  The pitcher lobbed the ball toward home.

  Dad watched the softball approach then swung hard as it crossed the plate. He lined the ball to the left of the shortstop and took off, running toward first.

  At the same moment, the shortstop dove and knocked the ball down.

  The runners ran full speed toward home, hoping to score the winning runs.

  The shortstop pounced on the loose ball and for a brief second grinned confidently, then wound up for his throw to first.

  Dad sprinted faster.

  “Ahh!” Dad suddenly screamed. He immediately stopped and hopped around before limping the rest of the way to the base. The ball got to first well before Dad.

  “Out!” the umpire yelled.

  The game was over.

  Dad bent over and let out a large sigh. Then his teammates filed somberly onto the field.

  Players on both sides met and shook hands. Dad joined them while trying not to grimace as he walked along.

  Sean put his arm on Dad’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. Something popped in my ankle.”

  Several of Dad’s teammates came over and consoled him. “It’s okay,” one said. “We play them again next week. We’ll beat ’em then.”

  “I won’t be here,” Dad responded. He pointed toward his family in the stands. “Were taking off to Rocky Mountain National Park in the morning.”

  “I certainly would choose that over softball!” Sean remarked.

  Dad said good-bye to his team and hobbled over to his family.

  “We’ll have to put some ice on it at home,” he said. “But I think it’s just a sprain. I bet by the time we’re hiking in the park I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know,” Mom said worriedly. “It looked like you were really hurting out there.”

  Then Dad changed the subject. “Are we all packed up?”

  “All ready to go,” Mom replied.

  2

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad drove west along Highway 70. They had flown into Denver the day before, stayed in a hotel, and rented a car. Now, with a large line of prominent snowcapped peaks of the Rockies looming ahead, the Parkers got into the spirit of the scenery.

  Dad cranked up the CD of John Denver and the family sang along:

  And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high

  I’ve seen it rainin’ fire in the sky

  I know he’d be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly

  Rocky Mountain high

  Colorado

  After the song, Morgan sifted through the stations on local radio.

  “Another sunny morning,” a radio deejay began before Morgan changed the station.

  “Wait,” Dad called out. “Go back. I want to hear the weather report.”

  Morgan quickly turned the radio back.

  “Typical summer weather for us folks in Colorado,” the reporter continued. “After this beautiful morning, those afternoon thunderstorms should pop up again, especially in the mountains. And look for more of the same tomorrow and the day after…”

  Morgan turned off the radio. “Well, now we know what to expect.”

  The Parkers continued driving west. At Highway 40, Dad turned north toward the town of Granby and the southwest entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. They passed a large lake and resort area with snowcapped peaks looming ahead. Soon, the family entered the park at the Kawuneeche Visitor Center, just beyond Grand Lake.

  They drove along a valley framed by high mountains. Although the road was wet from a rain shower the night before, the morning was sunny and bright. Only a few small, puffy clouds clung to the high peaks surrounding the valley.

 
; Soon they approached a parking lot. Dad pulled the car over at the Coyote Valley trailhead. “Let’s take a little walk and stretch our legs,” he suggested.

  “This will also give us a chance to test the altitude and see how our heart rates and breathing respond,” Mom added. “We live at sea level, and we’re way above that here.”

  The family walked onto a flat gravel path. They came to a clearing and gazed at the long, wide valley. Across the way a series of barren peaks pierced the western sky.

  Dad turned toward James, who had the park map. “What mountains are those?”

  James quickly scanned the map and read to his family. “The first one is Mt. Baker. After that there’s Mt. Stratus, Mt. Nimbus, Mt. Cumulus, Howard Mountain, and Mt. Cirrus.”

  CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF...

  The Never Summer Mountains are named after these cloud types:

  Cirrus: Thin, wispy clouds high up in the atmosphere. They are made of ice crystals.

  Cumulus: Puffy clouds that look like floating cotton. They are typical in the mountains on a summer day, indicating fair weather, but they can develop into thunderstorms or vertically growing cumulonimbus clouds, which can bring severe weather, including heavy rain or hail.

  Nimbus: Dark gray clouds that bring light rain or snow.

  Stratus: Low-lying clouds that touch the ground. They often bring drizzle and are sometimes called fog.

  “Really?” Dad responded. “Most of them, then, are named after clouds. I wonder why that is, James.”

  James looked again. “The map says they’re part of the Never Summer Mountain Range. Maybe they’re usually covered in clouds.”

  “Perhaps that’s why the tops are barren,” Mom chimed in. “It’s always so cold up there that few plants can grow.”

  “What’s their elevation?” Dad asked.

  “They’re all over 12,000 feet.”

  “That’s right,” Dad remembered. “Rocky Mountain has more than sixty peaks over 12,000 feet in elevation.”

  Dad gazed at the picturesque mountains. They were mostly cloud-free and basking in sunshine. “They’re not exactly living up to their names at the moment,” Dad said.

  The Parkers continued to stroll along next to a gently meandering stream. Eventually they came to the end of the short path. Mom turned to Dad. “How’s your foot?”

  Dad thought for a second. “Fine, I guess, along this flat trail.” He partially lied, since his ankle had been aching since they left the car. “We’ll have to see how it does later.”

  They turned around and read a few interpretative signs along the trail on the way back. “So this is the start of the Colorado River,” Morgan realized while reading one of them.

  “Yes,” Mom added, “and it goes from here all the way to Baja, California.”

  “How about we try our first serious Rocky Mountain hike next?” Dad asked.

  “Okay by me,” James responded.

  “Me too,” Morgan added.

  The family walked back to the car and drove a short distance to another trailhead, just up the road.

  FROM THE MOUNTAINS TO THE SEA

  3

  After parking the car at the trailhead, the family got out and packed for their hike to the Little Yellowstone area. Dad also took his Ace bandage. “Just in case,” he announced.

  The trail was mostly flat, with just a few short climbs. To the west, the Never Summer Mountains poked above the puffy cumulus clouds, still small in the morning sky.

  The Parkers traipsed along, passing through verdant grassy areas splashed with wildflowers. The plants and needles on the pines glistened with raindrops from the night before.

  Morgan took a picture of a purple-petaled flower with a white center.

  Mom came over and looked at the colorful bloom. “I think that’s the Colorado columbine,” Mom said. “It’s Colorado’s state flower.”

  Dad gazed at the meadows. “It seems like everything is in bloom.”

  “It must be because of the short growing season here,” Mom realized. “Nine months of the year it’s under snow.”

  “Because of the elevation!” James exclaimed.

  “I guess this is as good a time as any to check on that,” said Dad, pulling out a small GPS device from his pack. He pressed some buttons, then waited a minute.

  James came over. “What is it?”

  Dad pressed some more buttons, then looked at the screen. “About 9,000 feet,” he announced. He looked at the mountains across the way. “And we’re low compared to the peaks up there.”

  “I’m sure feeling the altitude down here,” Mom said. “I’m a little light-headed.”

  The Parkers spotted a dark shape far out in the valley. They stared as it began to move, then made out the outline of a large body, its head bent down as it nibbled on meadow grass.

  The gangly brown animal stood up and peered at the Parkers.

  “It’s a female moose!” Mom realized. “You know, they are the largest member of the deer family. We don’t have them in California, but they obviously live in the Rockies!”

  The family watched the moose and then trekked on.

  Soon they approached an open, rocky slope. Several more clusters of columbine were splashed in between the rocks. “I can see why they’re Colorado’s state flower!” Morgan called out while taking a picture.

  “Yeah, the whole area looks like a garden nursery,” Mom added.

  Dad stopped and stretched his leg out on a rock. He bent forward and cringed while rubbing his foot.

  “How’s it feeling?” James asked.

  Dad put his leg back down and draped his arm around James. “I’ll be fine,” he replied. “It just gets a little tight when we stop.”

  The family crossed a footbridge over Crater Creek. From there the area became more forested, with Engelmann spruce and lodgepole pine. Birds chirped in the trees. A short time later they approached an old, dilapidated cabin just off the trail. A sign was nearby. Lulu City Site: 1879–1884, population 200, it read.

  The Parkers walked around the area. They noticed several spots nearby where the forest had been cleared. “I wonder if another cabin used to be over here?” James mused.

  Morgan gazed at the whole area, trying to imagine what it looked like during its heyday. “I remember you told us that there was gold and silver mining and lots of fighting in this town,” she said to her parents.

  “Ah, the Wild, Wild West,” Dad commented. “But they didn’t find much to mine, and it cost too much to get what they did. So the whole town was abandoned by 1884.”

  “And it’s still empty now,” James said.

  After spending a few more minutes there, the family trekked on.

  At one point, Mom stopped next to a grove of tall, thin, white-barked trees. “Aspen!” she exclaimed. “A Colorado icon.”

  Mom stopped to take a closer look at the aspen grove. Then she said, “You know, these trees are actually all connected by their root system. And some groves last for thousands of years by spreading their roots out to make new trees.”

  “And their leaves turn a spectacular gold in the fall,” Dad added.

  As the day pressed on, James noticed the Never Summer Mountains were more obscured. “What kind of clouds do we have up there now?” he asked Dad.

  Dad checked the sky. “Building cumulus clouds. They indicate a potential storm.”

  The puffy clouds from earlier had merged together. Several leaden gray ones now clustered in the sky. Dad checked his watch. “11:30,” he announced. “It looks like the weather report was right: afternoon showers could be arriving shortly.”

  The family hiked on anyway, staying in the semiprotection of the trees. Soon they crossed a footbridge over a large, boulder-strewn streambed. Then the trail climbed a ridge. The family came to a rocky promontory overlooking a sparsely treed, steeply sloped canyon with colorful rock outcroppings.

  “The Little Yellowstone area, I imagine,” Dad said.

  The Parkers snacked there
, just as large drops of rain began plunking down.

  4

  After hiking quickly out of the Little Yellowstone area, the family retraced their steps, skirting the side trail to Lulu City. They hiked through scattered showers with rumbles of thunder sounding in the distance.

  When the Parkers finally returned to the trailhead, it was late afternoon. The roads were wet, but the rain had stopped, though it appeared to be only an interlude before the next shower.

  The family checked the map, noticing a campground nearby. “I think it’s best that we stay here at Timber Creek tonight,” Mom said.

  “Yep, driving over Trail Ridge Road in a possible heavy rainstorm probably isn’t a good idea,” Dad agreed.

  The Parkers drove the short distance to the campground. They quickly found a site, set up their tent, and began to cook dinner.

  While the family was gathered around the picnic table, large raindrops began splashing down.

  James scanned the gray skies. “Are those cumulonimbus clouds?”

  “Yes,” Dad started to answer. But the sky did the rest for him, echoing a distant drumroll of thunder. Dad then finished his thought: “They typically bring thunderstorms.”

  It started raining harder. Mom turned off the stove and dished out the pasta. “I guess we’d better eat quickly!”

  With the hoods from their jackets pulled over their heads, Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad began spooning in the steamy, savory food. But the storm intensified, and the family raced to eat before it got too cold or wet.

  As the shower continued, the family took their bowls and stood outside in the rain.

  Light flashed across the campground. James counted, “One…two… three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…,” then thunder rumbled, this time louder. “The lightning’s about two miles away,” James estimated.

  FLASH TO BANG

  Lightning is always followed by thunder. To estimate how far away lightning is, people can use the Flash to Bang Method. When there is lightning, count how many seconds until you hear thunder. If it takes five seconds for the thunder to arrive, the lightning is a mile away. If it takes ten seconds, it’s two miles distant. If lightning and thunder are nearly simultaneous, be extremely wary; this means lightning can strike nearby at any time! If you are outside in these conditions, stay away from metal, get low to the ground without lying flat on it, get away from tall objects, and spread out from a group, making yourself as small as possible.