Weekend of leaves: Twin Lakes and Leadville

In leaf season, only early works. Knock out two hours of driving while the hordes still sleep. They will descend in time to turn the mountain hamlets into rush-hour nightmares. I hadn’t been to Leadville in years, and this seemed like the time. 

At 5 a.m. I headed up Ute Pass, the first of several passes on the route to the Upper Arkansas Valley. I didn’t contemplate some of the more popular viewing spots such as Guanella Pass, which has gotten so congested that hundreds of motorists were ticketed or towed this year. 

I had not headed toward Leadville in several years, so I was overdue. I had faith it would work. The special feel of the Upper Arkansas arrived quickly – well, it comes the moment that Mount Princeton fills the horizon. The biggest peaks lie out here - the Collegiates, named for Ivy League schools, then Colorado’s tallest and its closest rival, Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive, respectively. 

I headed straight for Twin Lakes, the best viewing spot for Elbert and Massive. People were light at 7 a.m. On this cloudy morning, the peaks of Elbert and Massive were hidden in a snowstorm that dropped rain along Twin Lakes and into Leadville. Their large aspen groves with visible, with the many blotches and slashes of yellow giving the 14’ers a rusted look.

The highest incorporated city in the country would wait; I turned off south of town and headed across the flood plain where the Lake Fork and Arkansas meet, then stopped at the forested foothills of Mount Massive. 

There lies Leadville National Fish Hatchery, the nation’s second-oldest fish hatchery and home to multiple high-altitude trails that few people bother to hike. Numerous species of trout ages in the long concrete raceways at the hatchery’s entrance. 

The hatchery stocks waterways with Hayden Creek cutthroat trout, rainbow trout, and greenback cutthroat trout. The greenback cutthroat is Colorados’ state fish. Considered extinct by the 1930s, it remains a threatened species, with current stock based off a few small populations from in tributaries of the Arkansas and the Big Thompson River, although some introduced populations are breeding naturally along the Clear Creek corridor. 

The fish were a sideshow for this trip. I was here for the trails. In the hills above the hatchery grounds lie a series of lakes and some unexpected history. While not as high as Leadville, the hatchery sits around 10,000 feet above sea level and will catch up to the unprepared hiker quickly. 

At this elevation, many aspens already bore yellowing leaves.  

Aside from the occasional chirping chipmunk, this forest was quiet. Not even a ripple disturbed the lakes’ perfect reflections of their surrounding pines and aspens. The trails pass the wreckage of the Evergreen Lakes Hotel, an early carriage inn that burned down in 1894. In summer, those who made fortunes on Leadville silver journeyed out to row boats on the Evergreen Lakes. The foundation and a historic sign remain, as do the lakes. 

The access road back to the hatchery was thick with turning aspens. I passed a bearded man when headed down the trails back to the hatchery. He laughed when I said, “It’s all yours.” I wasn’t lying. In the light rain no one seemed likely to venture here. 

I walked around the hatchery, with its stately visitor center and fish nursery that served as home to the superintendent in its early years. Fish and Wildlife Service rangers lived in the assortment on cabins on the grounds. While it shared some architecture with the Booth Hatchery in Spearfish, the Booth was much larger with expansive grounds, display ponds, and historical buildings. The Leadville hatchery had a modest display pond with grown trout, and it was difficult to spot them with the overcast sky. 

Leadville is closer to Denver than Colorado Springs, so weekend see a major influx of visitors, including a line waiting for entry to Melanzana, the small-production clothing store that does everything in-house. Still, it was all of five minutes from the hatchery, so I walked around its historic buildings until the storm atop Massive brought heavier rain. 

With Elbert and Massive coming into view, I decided to give the Twin Lakes area a second pass West of Twin Lakes the road rises above 12,000 feet by Independence Pass, almost always the last mountain pass to open in spring and the first to close. It connects the Arkansas Valley with Aspen; the views and leaf viewing between are renown. 

I stopped at the actual town of Twin Lakes to visit the mercantile, which proudly advertises 80 years of not offering public restrooms. The tiny town was a crowded mess and I stayed as briefly as I could. The one circular parking lot was crammed with cars and people ignoring cars. 

 When the sun emerged, I knew the crowds would grow larger. Buena Vista seemed like it ran at summer capacity. Many cars turned for Cottonwood Pass, which runs even higher than Independence Pass and is just as seasonal. A farmers market ran in the public park and people walked everywhere. 

I didn’t want to stop, but hunger necessitated a burger from K’s Dairy Delite, which has served travelers for more than 50 years. The burgers and shakes live up to their name. K’s stays memorable because they don’t ask for a name for your order, they give you the name of a celebrity, so don’t lose your receipt. I sat on a busy street and finished my burger, my day in the high country ending just as many more only began. I couldn’t’ contend with the swarm of people. 

East of Buena Vista, I watched Mount Princeton slowly disappear from my rearview mirror. A 14’er can hide easier than expected once one winds through the rugged hills separating the Arkansas Valley from South Park. Autumn would soon marcher down in elevation, but a quiet morning below the highest Colorado peaks fulfilled my leaf-watching needs. The hatchery trails would be there when I need their solitude.