Western Wanderlust Chronicles

Greg and I were in the area camping near the Great Sand Dunes National Park when we decided to make another attempt at South Zapata Lake. I can’t believe I agreed to a second attempt, but this time, it was a success. Our first try was back in 2017, when we set out to visit the lake, eager to explore the stunning Sangre de Cristo Wilderness. The canyon was beautiful, but as we climbed above the treeline, deep snowfields covered the final mile, forcing us to turn back. It remains one of the hardest hikes I’ve ever attempted.

Fast forward to today—standing at the trailhead, I glanced at the posted trail description and photos, briefly reconsidering. But I had promised Greg we’d try again. No turning back now!

The trail starts off deceptively gentle, rising steeply through pine and aspen forests. Shafts of sunlight cut through the leaves, and the crisp mountain air energized us as we climbed higher. The elevation gain of nearly 2,900 feet made itself known early on, each switchback adding to the burn in our legs. Yet, with each step, the views expanded—first of the forested valley below, then of the towering snow-covered peaks above. Looking back, we could see the Great Sand Dunes stretching across the valley, their layered ridges rising like waves against the base of the Sangre de Cristos. Looking ahead, hidden within the mountains, was our lake. No time to waste—we pressed on.

Then came the tricky stream crossing—an unexpected challenge. The rushing water forced us to pick our way carefully, searching for a stable path to the other side. Once across, we had to rediscover the trail, which had nearly vanished into the rocky terrain. The mountains seemed to stretch endlessly before us—we were heading way, way back into them, and from here, the lake still felt impossibly far. With panoramic views of the San Luis Valley and the towering 14,000-foot peaks of the Sangre de Cristo range, the landscape was both humbling and inspiring.

Around the treeline, the trail becomes steeper and rockier as it approaches South Zapata Lake, a pristine alpine lake tucked beneath the rugged cliffs of Ellingwood Point and Blanca Peak. As we emerged above the treeline, the scenery transformed. The path wound through alpine meadows, lush with tones of brown against the stark white of the lingering snowfields.

The dirt trail soon gave way to snow, slowing our pace as we navigated the final climb. The bright blue sky stretched overhead, a stark contrast to the white-capped peaks surrounding us. As we neared the summit, we stumbled across a small pond, which I promptly dubbed Mini Zapata Lake—a charming little teaser before the real reward.

Then, at last—South Zapata Lake. Nestled beneath jagged peaks, its still, frozen-over surface reflected the stark contrast of snow and rock, framed by patches of lingering snow. The moment was surreal. Two years after our first attempt, we had made it.

A Few Notes for Hikers:

• This trail is steep and demanding—be prepared for a serious workout.
• Stream crossings can be tricky, especially in spring and early summer when the water runs high.
• Expect snowfields lingering above treeline, even well into summer. Trekking poles are a good idea.
• Keep an eye out for wildlife—marmots, pika, and deer roam the meadows, and if you’re lucky, you might spot a bighorn sheep!

This hike tested my endurance, but standing beside that remote, glacial lake made every step worth it. If you’re up for a challenge, South Zapata Lake is one of Colorado’s most rewarding backcountry adventures.

Reflections from the Journey:

Standing at the edge of South Zapata Lake, surrounded by the quiet vastness of the Sangre de Cristo Wilderness, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment. The mountains, with their jagged peaks and unyielding snow, had tested my resolve. The journey was more than just a hike; it was a reminder that perseverance and patience often lead to the most rewarding moments.

Nature has a way of humbling us, stripping away the distractions of daily life and bringing clarity to our thoughts. As I gazed across the frozen lake, I reflected on the journey—both the physical one that led me here and the personal one of overcoming challenges. There’s something profound about standing in a place so untouched, where time seems to slow, and the only sound is the whisper of the wind against the peaks.

With tired legs and a full heart, I turned back toward the trail, knowing that this experience, this moment in the wild, would stay with me forever.