Back in March, when snow still blanketed the ground in the mountains, I set out into the Wild Basin of Rocky Mountain National Park in an effort to find the sub-alpine Bluebird Lake. I trudged over five miles through the snowy landscape on a bleak, overcast day.

After surpassing 10,000 feet in elevation, I began floundering in thigh-deep snow, which obscured the path forward. With my tail tucked between my legs, I turned around, deciding to seek the lake out again in the luxury of summer.

Returning to the Wild Basin trailhead, I was miffed to find an overloaded parking lot. I had been mistaken in hoping this less-popular area of the park might be spared the burden of crowds. Fortunately, the Wild Basin Trailhead serves as the starting point for myriad trails and destinations, and I wouldn’t truly encounter the hoards of tourists until my return.

Like a dry cider straight from the tap, the morning air was crisp and refreshing. Unlike the monochrome March expedition, the forest was now brimming with verdurous life. From the sea of green, a Rocky Mountain columbine arrested my attention, a colorful foreshadowing of flora before me.

I had completely forgotten it was prime wildflower season and was unprepared for the  efflorescence to come.

The trail started off by paralleling the roaring North Saint Vrain Creek, but veered south after a mile, heading abruptly uphill toward Calypso Falls. The falls, borne from snowmelt and Finch Lake some five hundred feet above, thundered down a steep 200 feet.

Wooden bridges allowed for easy crossing over the water. Heading west again, I next passed by Ouzel Falls, an even more impressive riverine cataract.

Vibrant orange paintbrush flowers—appearing in varying vivid shades of red and orange—dotted the borders of the trail.

Rounding a corner, I stumbled across a dramatic view of Longs Peak (a summit with its own blog post here) and Mt. Meeker, both rising high above the Wild Basin.

The trail continued uphill, passing through scarred vestiges of the Ouzel Fire, one of the most devastating fires that Rocky Mountain National Park has seen. Forty years after the blaze, life has largely overtaken the formerly barren landscape, but charred trees still remained.

Hundreds of golden banner blossoms crowded the montane grasses along the path, a stunning spectacle of color.

A keen eye could spot the jagged contours of Mt. Alice to the northwest.

Passing through clearings, I detoured half a mile near the base of Copeland Mountain to find the calm Ouzel Lake

It was beautiful in its own right, but I knew I could expect more dramatic views further along. I cut through another clearing to find the main trail again, being careful not to step on delicate vegetation.

I struggled through the taxing uphill, slowly reaching the sub-alpine. In an instant, a sprawling view of gleaming, sapphire water supplanted the confines of the forest.

Bluebird Lake was perfectly nested in a mountainous cathedral: Ouzel Peak dominated the view across the body of water, and colossal precipices of Mahana Peak’s southeastern flanks towered to the north.

The water glistened an impressive dark cobalt against the sunlight overhead. It was finally time for a break. In an effort to avoid potential followers, I crossed the fierce Ouzel Creek and climbed up a craggy embankment that lead to the northern shores of the water.

Here, I soaked in the views and took an actual soak in the gelid water. The cold was intense but invigorating. After a lengthy, pleasant break, I gathered my belongings and prepared to return.

Crossing back over Ouzel Creek, I opted to climb to higher ground and was rewarded by the fresh perspective.

With copious photos already captured, I began the descent, now focusing on photographing wildflowers in lieu of broader scenery.

Beyond Ouzel Falls, the congregations of casual recreationalists increased dramatically; I rushed back to my car.

Rocky Mountain National Park—even the lesser-crowded sections—is full of surreal beauty but comes at the price of swarming tourists. The scenery justifies this cost, and I look forward to my next return to the Wild Basin.

Until next time, my friends: stay adventurous!