The adventure started as so few do… with a Google Maps mishap! I’ve been to the Homestake Road corridor several times at this point (like for this post or this adventure with Tyler) and it’s one of my favorite places in Colorado. The directions to get there from Denver are simple: take I-70 west, exit onto U.S. 24 south, then turn right onto Homestake Road. For my most recent outing, amidst the first of those three steps, Google Maps notified me that there was a faster route. I thought to myself: a passage quicker than the highways? Wow! I’ve got to check it out!

Readers: if you ever find yourself on Vail Pass and Google Maps suggests exiting to Shrine Pass as a faster alternate route to reach Highway 24 then disregard this nonsense! This erroneous divergence was my introduction to the Shine Pass area and even with the pattering of the morning’s rain and thick cloud cover overhead it was gorgeous. That said, it’s not a faster way to Redcliff (barring a total highway shutdown, perhaps).

Given the day’s forecast and the rain that the meteorologists promised, my scenic detour had cost me more time than I was comfortable with losing, which forced me to shuffle my plans: camp the night in one of the dispersed spots along Homestake Road and complete my hike up to Whitney Lake the following morning. This was a minor inconvenience at worst but I felt a little foolish for waking up as early as I had. After Shrine Pass, now along Homestake Road, I found a spot to set up camp and spent the day exploring.

Car camping always affords the luxury of having more camera equipment on hand, and I had a particularly fun time using the macro lens during this trip.

The day turned to evening, the evening to night. I made a fire, ate dinner, and cozied up in my sleeping bag for an early bedtime.

The following morning, less than a minute before my alarm was set to ring (seriously!), the light of dawn clawed through my tent and ushered me into waking life. Consciousness was most welcome: the greeting sunrise was a glorious spectacle of pigments and radiance. I made quick work of breaking down camp and making my way to the trailhead.

The day’s hike commenced with a healthy dose of sharp uphill through groves of aspen.

A Forest Service sign near the quarter-mile mark indicated official passage into the Holy Cross Wilderness.

The uphill continued for another quarter of a mile, where the trail leveled out into an expansive, lush meadow. Vibrant wildflowers adorned the grassy meadow. 

After another quarter of a mile meandering through the gentle clearing, the sharp uphill resumed, and the trail returned to abruptly ascending through groves of aspen.

I stopped for a hydration and nutrition break around a mile in. I could hear the faint and distant roar of moving water as I rested. I suspected this to be Whitney Creek, which I knew I’d have to contend with during this outing.

Back on the trail and three-quarters of a steep mile later, my suspicions were confirmed, and I forded Whitney Creek. Whatever old architecture to aid in crossing the treacherous, swift-moving waters had been washed away.

However, just downstream of the trail, I found a downed tree spanning over the creek that was suitable for careful traversing.

After this point, the aspen overhead was traded for stands of pine and the trail continued upward. The incline fortunately let up some and I took great solace in the gentler grade. The trail snaked through the pine forest for another mile.

Occasional views of Whitney Peak—its summit rising another 2,300 feet above—were had. Finally, just shy of three miles from the trailhead, I reached the lake.

I have grown to simply relish hiking to lakes in Colorado since we started this blog in college. We have ~30 entries detailing lake hikes to date. The photographer in me can’t get enough of having epic mountainous topography reflected on wild, remote, and still waters. Capturing a photo like this was one of the goals of this outing. But my plans were thwarted by an unlikely culprit… POLLEN!

I’ve never seen anything like it before in our years of adventuring. Mustard-yellow pollen—presumably from the surrounding pine trees—coated much of Whitney Lake’s waters, rendering the surface reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night and shrouded the reflections of the landscape above the lake.

While slightly discouraged by this development, I still took as many pictures as I could, and ultimately was grateful to have seen something completely new to me.

I sat down, ate an orange, and rested briefly after my photo musings, gearing up after in preparation for my descent back down to the trailhead.

The air was still and I had not seen anyone else on the hike, a welcome solitude thanks to this trail not having the same popularity as other nearby Holy Cross Wilderness destinations.

I started heading down with a marked pep in my step. This had been a shorter hike compared to most we detail on this blog but the ascent had been slow due to the substantial elevation gain. The way back would be decidedly faster.

The solitude didn’t keep up for the entire duration of the outing: I encountered two other parties by the time I returned to Whitney Creek. I’d run into a third group trudging through their initial uphill slog about a quarter of a mile away from the trailhead.

At the car, my mind felt at ease, and I enjoyed the morning birdsong I hadn’t appreciated during my rush to start the hike. I know it’s corny and I say it all the time… but I can’t wait for whatever adventure is next!

Until next time, my friends, stay adventurous!