Maroon Bells, South Canyon Mud, and Hanging Lake in One Day

Tue, 25 Aug 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Upon waking on Tuesday morning we congratulated each other with big high-fives, celebrating the occasion of not getting murdered overnight at the Topaz Murder Lodge. It didn’t matter what the rest of the day had in store for us, because we were starting off with a solid win. We had survived the night.

If it is not already apparent to you, dear reader, Scotty B likes to pack a lot of adventure into each of our days, while still leaving plenty of time for spontaneity and whimsy, which of course is scheduled within the spreadsheet (see the Itinerary Summary for the day). There are, after all, 24 whole hours in each day.

The following recap of our Tuesday will be the most illustratively perfect example of his adventure scheduling style.

We arose at an unspeakable hour so that we could make it to Independence Pass, about an hour away from the Murder Lodge, to catch the sunrise over the Sawatch Mountains. When we arrived at the scenic overlook, the sky was already starting to lighten by the minute. It was cold, so we bundled up, and made our way to some rocks to sit on at the edge of the alpine tundra meadow to watch the sky and light show.

It was fun watching it, as the sky constantly changed as the sun emerged, the clouds shifted, and various peaks became highlighted. Once the sun had fully made its appearance we packed up and headed for the next phase of our fully packed adventure day- we needed to be in Aspen before 8 AM to make the cutoff for parking inside the Maroon Bells park. So, off we went.

We arrived in time thankfully. Evidently, COVID, as well as the Instagram era, have reshaped how many of these parks handle their traffic and reservations; as their popularity has soared, they have instated various protocols to handle the volume of visitors. Had we missed the cutoff, we would have had to have parked at an offsite lot and catch the $16/apiece shuttle into the park.

We stopped at the primitive toilets before beginning our hike, and I was glad to see that they had rather detailed instructions and humorous infographics and pictograms detailing their use. No harm in a refresher course on how to use a toilet, you know?

The Maroon Bells are supposedly the most photographed mountain landscape in North America, and when we reached the Maroon Lake, I could see why and instantly recognized the view, despite this being my first visit. They were stunning, and the lake acted as a mirror, amplifying their beauty.

The hike itself was quite tame, nature walk-like even, and we ambled along the loop easily and in very little time, enjoying the scenery as we went. When we worked our way back to the lake we stopped to sit on a bench and eat the breakfast that we had packed as we gazed out at the famous peaks.

We decided we had Maroon Belle’d satisfactorily, and once back at the car, began the trek towards Glenwood Springs, home of the next phase of our adventure day, hiking the Hanging Lake trail.

We made good time and actually found ourselves in Glenwood Springs with a bit of time to kill before we could enter the parking lot for the Hanging Lake trail, and using Google Maps, Scott had discovered a roadside hot spring just a few miles from the hike. The spring was called South Canyon Hot Springs.

We arrived at the map coordinates and parked in the pulloff. I used the car as a primitive dressing room and changed into my bathing suit. Scott informed me that he would not be using a bathing suit if he could help it. We walked a few hundred meters along what appeared to be a trail and found the springs that were currently inhabited by a few other locals.

I feel like I need to pause here to describe the “hot springs.” There were no attendants, no admission fee, no French terry robes, no slippers, no soothing music playing in the background. Imagine the local hot springs equivalent of tubing down the Green River. It looked like a small cow pond in the middle of any pasture you might pass while driving along a country road, only with no cows and evidently near the county dump, as there were a constant stream of dump trucks rattling past throughout our visit.

Tranquil and pristine it was not. Adventuresome it was.

I dropped my towel into the tall grass surrounding the pond, walked across the makeshift plywood bridge, and waded in, assuming that I did not need to be on the lookout for frogs or toads, reasoning in my head, that amphibians or reptiles would find the 112℉ water inhospitable, and were unlikely to be lurking in the murky water. Scott joined me and I’ll let you use your imagination on what he was wearing.

We soaked in the pond/hot spring for a bit and got a kick out of burying our toes down into the grey mud and towards the bubbling vents where the hot water was coming out, marveling at just how hot it was.

Finally it was time for us to head to Hanging Lake, and we arrived in the window of time we had booked so that we could park in the small lot. As we pulled in, the parking attendant gave a quick briefing on the rules and regulations of the trail and lake. At the end of his spiel, Scott inquired about the legality of hanging hammocks. He had a surprised look on his face and informed us that no one had ever asked that question before and he asked how long of a nap Scott might be planning to take. Scott replied that it wouldn’t be long, it was more just a way to relax and enjoy the scenery. The employee deemed it acceptable so long as we followed all the other rules he had laid out.

We had a quick parking lot picnic before setting out on the hike, and before we were allowed to start, had to be briefed by another trail sentry, this one posted at the start of the trail, who reiterated the rules, the gist of which was, under NO circumstances could you touch the water. Touching the water carried a $10,000 fine and public shaming was encouraged if we saw anyone else do it. My cortisol level was already spiking at the thought of having to keep Scott from touching it. Never tell that man that he can’t do something.

When she had finished her monologue she moved to the side so that we could pass and access the trail.

And then we began what essentially equated to a one hour Stairmaster session. We had to climb 1,000 feet of elevation and cross seven bridges (newly installed after the 2020 Grizzly Creek fire decimated the old ones). As we huffed and puffed up the rocky stairs, we searched eagerly for the next bridge, counting them off as we reached them. We paused occasionally for water breaks and to let those on their descent pass us. It took us about an hour to reach the lake, and OMG, was it worth it.

The lake’s location and appearance were improbable. It looked lush and tropical, and with its pristine see-through turquoise water, looked like it would have been more likely to be found in a Caribbean jungle than in the semi-arid mountain climate it was actually residing in. Just as its name suggested, it seemed to hang onto the slope of the mountain, having been formed through a combination of geologic shift and travertine deposits.

We were both fascinated by it and spent quite some time walking around it investigating and observing the uncanny body of water.

We hiked up above it to see the lake’s source, Spouting Rock, which was just as unusual as the lake itself. The creek that fed the lake seemed to come directly out of a limestone cliff and formed a waterfall with a rather large cave behind it.

Scott deserves some recognition and congratulating here, because, to the best of my knowledge, he showed great restraint throughout the hike and never once touched the water. Or, if he did, he was sneaky about it.

When we began our descent, Scott was on the hunt for a place to hang our hammocks. The trail keeper’s stark warnings about what was acceptable, and the encouragement to publicly shame those that disobeyed the warnings had scared me into not wanting to hammock, despite the initial attendant’s promise that it was ok. I didn’t want to be in my hammock and be chastised by other hikers who would perhaps think that we were breaking rules- I would be mortified and wouldn’t be able to enjoy my hammocking session.

That didn’t even register on Scott’s radar, and he continued to look. I finally told him that if wanted to hammock, he could, but that I would not be joining him, and would meet him back at the car.

Ultimately he decided to pass on the hammock experience, citing the lack of appropriate trees, as well as the close proximity to the trail, as his reason for abandoning the idea. I was relieved.

The walk down was treacherous, just in a different way than the ascent. I made sure to place each foot carefully on the variable height rock steps, wanting to be sure I didn’t step wrong and end up with a sprained ankle or torn ACL (always the fear of a middle aged woman it seems).

Eventually we reached the car, and exhausted but happy from our fully packed day, began the three hour drive back to Sara and Joey’s house outside of Denver.

Hot Spring on There B and B

Maroon Bells, South Canyon Mud, and Hanging Lake in One Day