Hanging at Hanging Lake

The Hanging Lake trail in Glenwood Canyon is considered one of Colorado’s most used trails. Of course, this summer it wasn’t as the trail was closed from May to August for reconstructive work.  I find it an interesting comment on “progress” that similar work was done to replace the planking around the lake and the rails on the steepest section below the lake in 1972 and again in 1992. In both efforts, horses were used to haul the planking and such up the steep 1.6 mile trail and the Boy Scouts and other volunteers did the installation.  This year’s renovation cost the tax payers $1.1 million as professional crews did the work and the materials were flown in by helicopter. Helicopters also removed the old planking.  It seems to me this is exactly the type of thing that local volunteers would have readily given time for.  Too bad that seemingly doesn’t even occur as a possibility to the Forest Service.  Perhaps such community efforts have fallen prey to our litigious tendencies and the general over-reactions they illicit in public officials.

I have made the trip to the lake many times.  It is extraordinarily beautiful in the summer with the waterfalls in the back feeding the crystal clear waters of the main body.  Dozens of fish wander around unafraid of visitors as if they can read the “No Fishing” signs.  Despite the allure of the lake in summer,  I find trips in January or February to be the most beautiful as the waterfalls are made mostly of sculptured ice and giant icicles cling to the edge of the lakeside cliffs.  Several hundred yards above the lake is “Spouting Rock”.  Here, the creek squirts out of the side of a 120 foot cliff about two-thirds of the way up the face.  In the winter this forms a huge stalagmite of ice often thirty or forty feet high and ten or more feet in diameter near the top.  The base spreads thirty feet or more and is wonderfully decorated with hundreds of small ice-rimmed pools of water.

One of my fondest experiences in the area occurred at the top of the cliff above Spouting Rock.  Where the creek exits the cliff there are a number of cave-like holes begging for exploration.  One fine day, Tim, a friend from college, and I set out to see if we could get into the one of these openings with hopes of  tracking the stream back through the  limestone it had carved away.  The plan was to set a rope at the top of the cliff then rappel down to the holes.  The cliff had a noticeable overhang and we expected to be a few feet from the face by the time we lowered ourselves to the spout.  Right away we had an issue as the edge of the cliff was covered in a thick bramble of thorny bushes.  We couldn’t route the ropes under or through them, so we had to just toss it over the top.  While we were setting the ropes at the top, we noticed a group of elementary school kids with their teacher had arrived at the base and were laying out a blanket for a picnic.  They had seen us and the dangling rope and seemed enthralled with whatever it was they thought we were doing. 

I was the first to go.  Because of the bramble I could get no closer than about three feet to the edge.  The only way to get past this obstacle was to jump backwards about as high and hard as I could.  This was definitely an exciting way to go over the edge of a cliff!  So, jump I did.  Unfortunately, I didn’t leave myself enough slack in the rope and my feet were pulled into the top of the bushes where the thorns got a solid grip on my shoelaces.  I ended up completely upside down with both feet well entangled in the brush.  Because of the overhang, I was also dangling in mid-air.  Once I realized I was soundly attached to the rope, the first wave of fear quickly gave way to the humorous side of my predicament and I laughed so hard I cried.  Having never hung upside down like this I decided to take in the view.  The first thing I noticed was the now panicked teacher rushing the kids down the trail away from the unfolded disaster.  She literally folded all the food up in the picnic blanket so she could get the kids out of there as fast as possible.  I felt bad I ruined their picnic, but at that moment I thought it was pretty darn funny.

We never made it into the caves.  What we thought would be a slight overhang ended up to be at least ten feet and we were never able to swing ourselves into the cliff and grab on. I’ve always remembered the unique view I had that day and wonder if I traumatized any kids.  I haven’t been up to the lake for a few years now.  Hopefully, the future will hold more memorable trips.