A Shining Example of Paranormal Hiking Activity

Estes Cone

Rocky Mountain National Park

6.1-miles round trip, moderate

Places are like people: some shine and some don’t. The sun is shining, and the Longs Peak trailhead is bustling with activity this mid-August morning.  The parking area is approaching overflow: we have a ranger on scene, and a gaggle of hikers are milling about with varying intent and purpose.  On this day, our stated intent and purpose is Estes Cone, a distinctively-eroded mountain on the east side of the park.  To that end, we lace up our boots, gather our gear, and get under way.  We climb immediately and steadily for approximately a half mile before coming to a cleft in the trail.  Straight would take us to Longs Peak and Chasm Lake; we turn sharply north toward Estes Cone.  The wide, sun-dappled path begins an amiable, give-a-little, take-a-little ascent through a potpourri of lodgepole and other pine that limit the view but invigorate the air.

The Stanley Hotel.

We woke this morning at the Stanley Hotel in nearby Estes Park.  Commissioned in the early twentieth-century by Freelan Oscar Stanley of steam-engine motor carriage fame, the rambling neo-Georgian landmark has welcomed all manner of outdoor celebrants and celebrities over the years: John Philip Sousa, Theodore Roosevelt, the Emperor and Empress of Japan, and the Unsinkable Molly Brown, to name a few.  
Many swear that the hotel is haunted, that there is paranormal partying in the grand ballroom and that the ghost of Flora Stanley tickles the ivories when no live piano music is available.  A few supernatural nights in Room 217 inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, a 1977 psychological horror classic, which in turn inspired the 1990 big-screen classic starring Jack Nicholson as psychological horror Jack Torrance.  But we digress.

At the Eugenia Mine Site.

Back on the trail, the moderate climb levels out near a stream at the 1.4-mile mark, delivering us to the Eugenia Mine, a forsaken excavation that, according to National Park Service signage, produced more dreams than gold.  Roaming the site, we find remnants of a log cabin, a rusted boiler, and yellow tailings along the creek, haunting residue of a turn-of-the-century gold boom gone bust.

Remnants of the Eugenia Mine.

Room 402 Closet.

The Stanley Hotel, by the way, is chock-full of turn-of-the-century haunting historical residue.  We are checked into Room 402, a charming enough assignment: a sitting room and a bedroom with vintage lighting and dormer windows, a bathroom with tub shower and diminutive pedestal sink.  Various sources tell us that the oddly-shaped bedroom closet is locked and dead-bolted with good reason.  Apparently and apparitionally, a bald ghost answering to the name Lord Dunraven rattles the door knob in the dark of night, impolitely hovers over the bed, filches jewelry, and periodically gets fresh with female guests.  

Sweet Dreams.

We’ve experienced none of that; however, someone—or something—has rifled through travel papers on the bedroom desk, scattering receipts, brochures, and trail maps across the jacquard-carpeted floor.  And someone—or something—has placed two empty wine glasses in the corner of our sitting room when no living, breathing resident of Room 402 has been drinking wine.  And someone—or something— has been making late-night groaning and whooshing sounds on the closet side of the room.  It’s the wind, we tell ourselves, or inattentive room service, or ancient mechanical exertions from the nearby gilded-elevator shaft.  But still....

Rock Scree on Estes Cone.

Steeper and steeper: more rocks, more climbing, more rocks.  Most of the trail’s elevation gain comes in the final mile.  Cairns mark the way, but they become difficult to spot—and inconsequential to our progress—as we pick our way across a series of increasingly rocky switchbacks on the southwest slope of the cone. At some point we call upon hands to help feet move us up this mountain.  We remind ourselves that variability makes the hike—that all flat or all climb would make for a tedious 6.1-mile round trip walk in the wild.  All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.  All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy:

 

After a slapstick scramble across the penultimate jumble of scree, we rest on an outcrop just beneath the bare rock summit.  
The eleven-thousand-feet-and-change elevation affords (literally) breathtaking panoramic views of Longs Peak, the Continental Divide, and the Estes Park area. 

After the Climb, Enjoying a View of Longs Peak.

A View from Estes Cone.

Now Playing on Channel 42.

That evening, safely returned to Room 402, we snack and watch The Shining as it loops continuously on hotel Channel  42.  We reflect upon the day’s climb and Estes Cone, declaring it a shining hike and a shining destination indeed.  And then it’s lights out: we dive into bed, curl up under the crisp white covers, waiting for sleep—and perhaps Lord Dunraven—to come.