Mileage: Approximately 6.5 miles
Elevation gain: Approximately 900 feet along the road
Altitude: Approximately 10,100 feet
To get there: Take US Hwy 40 to the turnoff for CR 83, which is between mile markers 224 and 225 between Fraser and Tabernash. Turn onto CR 83 and follow it for about .4 miles to a fork. Take the left fork for CR 84, which then turns into FSR 129. Follow FSR 129 until the end of winter maintenance and park there.
National Forest land has quickly become one of our favorite places to spend time in the winter. Sure we live 10 minutes from a ski resort, which is great. But, on the other hand, one of the reasons we love living in the mountains is because we are out of the way of the “city” crowds in our day to day life. It sure doesn’t feel that way on a Saturday at Winter Park Ski Resort. We still love snowboarding, but where we really get our fill of mountain quietude is on cross-country skis in the National Forest that surrounds us. Grand County has an extensive trail system in the National Forest, and it’s made bigger in the winter when maintenance stops on many dirt roads.
Meadow Creek Reservoir is a place we’ve visited a few times in the summer months and the views from its shores are stunning; The craggy mountains of Indian Peaks Wilderness back the reservoir, and it’s surrounded by thick pine forest, which isn’t always the case in Grand County with the Pine Beetle outbreak. In the summer, you can drive right up to the reservoir, picnic on the shore, fish, and camp nearby. It’s beautiful. It’s accessible. So….it’s crowded in the summer. But not so much in the winter.
It was on my winter ski list this list, and it didn’t disappoint for a Valentine’s Day outing. We drove up FSR 129 and parked about a quarter mile below the road sign indicating where the end of winter maintenance was. From there, we followed what is a in the summer all the way to the reservoir, chuckling a little at all the nearly-buried road signs along the way.
“Heavy truck traffic,” one said. Ha. Not in February. National Forest love
As with many of our cross-country skis in the area, we came across only one other person, who passed us early on on a snowmobile and took a different route than us. Snowmobiling is allowed on most of the backroads in winter, but it’s not very often that we come across them. It was quiet here, silent but for the occasional gust of wind and the swish of our skis through sand-like snow. Usually, bird chirps are one of my favorite things about a forest ski, but they didn’t seem to be out today. In the dead of winter, it’s refreshing to be reminded that some things are still alive and singing.
The road up to the reservoir climbs gradually, with no large bumps or hills to surmount. This is great for me, because I can go a good distance on skis but haven’t quite mastered the skills of going up or down steep stuff smoothly. I’ll admit it, I look like a drunk duck on skis when I try to go up a steep hill. Some of the areas of the road are exposed and windswept. We encountered some strong gusts, but it was never long before we were back in the shelter of the thick pine forest. When we got to the reservoir we skied toward the summer picnic area, finding ourselves slightly disoriented and off-balance in the low light and incredibly vast whiteness of a winter lake shore. We wiped the snow off the top of a fence and sat for a short picnic in the trees, out of the way of the wind. When we were almost too cold to keep sitting, we got up and skied down to the lake shore. From here, white stretched out before me, clean and bright and utterly undisturbed. Pine forest cover the hills that horseshoe the reservoir, and the gray clouds that hid Indian Peaks today made the sky itself feel like a looming presence.
Immediately, I had one of those ‘I live here?!’ moments. It’s ridiculously void of human noise. It’s simply beautiful. And it’s big. Way bigger than me. The same thing happens every time I realize the vastness of the mountains: I realize my tiny-ness. My problems, the mountains make me think, are so small in the scheme of things. Temporary. Minute. And, when I think about it that way, pretty much nonexistent. Mountains are way bigger. Mountains have been around way longer. Mountains are way more permanent. Life is good. Life is simple. And the reverie rolls on.
Hiking information from Hiking Grand County, Colorado, Third Edition by Deborah Carr and Lou Ladrigan.