Gather 'round the ancient lakebed

An unexpected sunny evening

After eight visits in a decade, I had never explored the Florissant Fossil Beds late in the day. Like most national monuments, the fossil beds observe business hours and close by early evening,

All day I wondered if it was worth the trip. While the rain pounded, I contemplated staying in the Springs.

Still, I didn’t want to waste my ticket to Suds, Stumps and Stars – no matter the weather, Florissant could promise at least two of them. the monument teased the event and I bought a ticket as soon as they went onsale. I could have a beer and leave if the rain persisted.

Up the pass cars were scarce. I reached Divide in 30 minutes, an all-time best thanks to not hitting a single traffic light in Woodland Park. Blocked from the Springs due to clouds, Pikes Peak was visible from higher ground, capped with a fresh crown of snow. I am not yet accustomed to the rain on the Springs dumping fresh powder on the mountain peaks.

The view from Paradox

Around Divide, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Too early for the fossil beds festivities, I posted up on the patio at Paradox Brewing Company for a barrel-aged saison and a veggie pizza. Everyone was still crowded in the taproom due to the weather, and I had to patio and exemplary views of Pikes Peak to myself . Soon enough people flocked out for horsehoes, cornhole or just to wander their immense yard around the brewery.

In an hour, the evening had turned around. At the dusty T-intersection called Florissant, I headed south to the fossil beds, open late this Saturday. I noted the Thunderbird Inn, a bar at the crossroads that would wait for a future post-hike stop.

There would be no heavy hiking today, not when Suds, Stumps and Stars buzzing in the monument’s overflow parking lot. The festival marked the monument’s 50th year. It was modest and had a small-town feel – a small stage for a local cover band, a food truck, a beer tent, displays on the monument and open areas for Frisbee and cornhole.

After collecting my mug with the monument logo – a fossilized wasp – I headed for a Slate Pale Ale, which Springs-based Fossil Brewing Company crafted just for the evening. The balanced cloudy ale had strong herbal and citrus notes from its Mosaic and Citra hops.

People milled around the tables as if most knew each other Aside from some small talk with the park rangers (a captive audience) and the astronomers eager to talk about their gear and the dark nights at Florissant, I sipped, wrote and listened. I didn’t know a soul up here, and I didn’t care.

In a month’s time and across five visits to Teller County, I’ve discovered that high country around Divide and Florissant is a place where I need no accompaniment. I have no problem sharing that terrain; in fact, I like showing it to new people. But if I am by myself, I do just fine. The air feels different, even when I struggle for a breath or two. Being alone means less struggling, since there’s less talking. The light feels different – the clouds move faster, and the sunlight and moonlight gives birth to strange shadows. I don’t need words when the setting does all the speaking.

Florissant lies at 8,500 feet above sea level, a little less than its surroundings. The monument sits on an ancient lakebed. More than 30 million years ago, lava flows from nearby volcanoes covered the lakebed in mud, protecting the giant redwoods. The redwoods were smaller in height than today’s coastal redwoods, but still towered over everything else at 260- 300 feet. The nearby mountain ridges are remnants of the volcano field that ended Florissant’s tropical days.

Rare triple clone fossil and rare selfie

Along with preserving the large, the volcanic mud covered the small – Florissant is renown for its insect fossils – wasps, spiders and tsetse flies – some the only know specimens ever found. That juxtaposition always strikes me, that a place could preserve fossils of species so different in size.

I visited my favorite fossil in the park, the triple redwood fossil – three genetically identical clones of a mother tree, and the only fossilized triple fossil ever found. Like modern coastal redwoods, the fossil stumps look too big to feel real. They have a magnetism and feel otherworldly even when turned to stone.

As the daylight clicked away – this close to the solstice, there were still a few shreds of light in the east when I headed back to the Springs around 10 p.m.- It was time to chat up the astronomers.

A half-dozen telescopes line a trail entrance, most pointed at the moon as twilight grabbed hold. Along with some spectacular views of the moon’s mountains and craters along its terminator, Jupiter glowed brightly in the twilight, the first object to break through the haze. From several scopes, all four Galilean moons lined up on Jupiter’s equator (Callisto, Ganymede, Europa and Io).

Other stars began to emerge, and the thin haze was enough to keep away the fainter features of the Milky Way. It was all still more than I could observe in the city. Just 35 miles from the Springs, there was almost no light pollution, owing to the higher peaks on the Front Range blocking the light and Florissants’ depressed lakebed location.

The telescopes continued their searches, but I had underestimated how quickly Florissant chilled down after dark. Lack of a coat was glaring. Beyond the monument, the nearly full moon provided some spooky illumination and odd shadows the whole way down to Manitou.

Up in Florissant, the stumps of ancient redwoods were sitting near the same shores where they stood when alive, their pale, crumbling forms aglow in moonlight.