“Rolly, I think we’ve gone too far.” I was struggling to read the small print on my map by flashlight. It was 10:30 at night, and we were trying to locate our companions. “Hmmmm … I think we were supposed to take the Lily Basin Trail.” So, back we went to find the right turnoff, and when we reached the spot, there were about 8 different paths meandering in every direction like the legs of an octopus.

I was a little confused, “Wow, none of these trails look like they go the way we want to.”

Rolly walked over to a post in the darkness, “How about this sign that says Lily Basin Trail. I think that’s a pretty good clue.”

I really couldn’t argue with that logic, so we moved off in that direction. A few minutes later we stopped, and I gave a shout, “DOOOOUUUUG!” We waited. Nothing. Then, out of the blackness, “HEYYYYYY!” We shouted back, “HEYYYYYY!” We kept shouting at eachother until we found Doug and Scott, who had all but given up on us.

It had been years since we’d been able to do a trip together, so it was great to see everybody again. We bashed up Gilbert Peak on Friday morning, and I took an evening hike up Old Snowy. We were all pretty worn out, but as Doug always says, “The crux of any climb is getting out the front door. Everything else is easy!”

Popularity: 6% [?]

There’s a big problem with doing long dayhikes to spectacular destinations: not enough time. Sure, there’s enough hours to grind out the miles, but there’s just not enough time to properly soak up the surroundings. Gotta keep moving to make it home at a decent hour.

For me, it’s especially irksome to return to the car, because I generally lug a heavy pack with plenty of gear to spend the night: sleeping bag, tent, foam pad, stove, food, clothes, so on and so on. I’ve often been strongly tempted to call in sick with my cell phone. “Cough cough. Sneeze sneeze. I don’t feel good today – better not come in.”

So it was at Robin Lake. I dozed in the warm afternoon sun listening to the trout splashing at the surface of the sapphire blue water. I opened my eyes to scan the white granite cliffs for mountain goats. We saw some on the trail, maybe there would be more…

“Do we have to go now?”

“Yeah, we should go,” I replied, knowing full well that we should’ve headed back 20 minutes ago.

“We better go.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”

“…just five more minutes.”

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he cool evening dusk was quickly falling upon us as we cast furtive glances up and down the trail. Rob put a finger up to his mouth, and we stealthily left the main path to seek the seclusion of the trees. I kept glancing backward to make sure that our camp would be hidden from view.

We were in the process of finding our own “unofficial” camping spot. This was more-or-less where we wanted to stay anyway. The problem, of course, was that we were risking a big fine if a park ranger caught us spending the night in a non-designated area. Rangers had already asked to see our permit twice since lunchtime, and we had just passed a patrol cabin less than a mile back. Thus, the need for stealth.

We were well off the trail searching for a suitable flat spot. Rob was off to my left, and Laurie was off to my right, when a guy suddenly materialized out of the brush in front of me. We startled eachother and instantly stopped in our tracks.

“Whoa, you scared me,” he said.

“Yeah! I wasn’t expecting to see anybody up here,” I replied.

“So, you guys gonna spend the night on up the ridge?”

I paused for a moment, wondering whether I should fess up. Since this was just a regular hiker, and our intentions were blatantly obvious anyway, I confessed, albeit a little sheepishly.

“Yeah, we’re not going to make our destination tonight, so we figured we’d just stop here.”

“That’s cool.”
“So, how about you? Where are you camping?”

“I’m down at the patrol cabin.”

“The patrol cabin? Oh. Ummm … you’re not a ranger are ya?”, I laughed nervously.

“Well, actually, yes I am. I’m just not in uniform right now.”

I thought to myself, “Oh brother, I can’t believe it! There’s rangers swarming all over this place!”

Rob piped up behind me, “Are we busted?”

He smiled back, “No, I’ll let it slide, just stay off the heather.”

“Great, thanks!” we all responded gratefully.

We parted ways, and moved on up the ridge very relieved.

Popularity: 6% [?]

We all met at Rob’s place on this dark, rainy morning, and watched the big “green blob” of rain showers on the radar map. The weather was bad in Seattle, but we decided to head down to Rainier anyway, hoping for improved conditions. And, sure enough, the weather turned out great.

Ken and Lisa drove serarately, parked their car at the Box Canyon trailhead, and then we all continued in Rob’s car to the Fryingpan Creek trailhead. Initially, we trekked through the forest along Fryingpan Creek. As we broke out of the trees, the clouds were dispersing, and the views started getting good. We stopped for lunch at Summerland. Several marmots were also enjoying their lunch of lupines.

We slogged through intermittent patches of snow on our way up to Panhandle Gap. Off in the distance, about a quarter-mile away, a big herd of about 30 mountain goats crossed the trail. Rob and I dawdled here and there taking pictures. Ken and Lisa had to wait often, so we could catch up. Lisa was sometimes ahead of the group, by herself. At one point Ken caught up and jokingly asked, “Aren’t you worried about running into a bear or something”? She looked up the trail and casually said, “There’s one right there”. Sure enough, just at that moment, a big bear lumbered across the trail in front of them! Rob and I missed the whole thing.

With about 3 miles left, the Blauvelts started running to get some extra excercise. Rob and I grudgingly followed suit, and we quickly made it down to their waiting car. Another outstanding adventure completed!

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The first real test of my new canoe came on the Madson River near Ennis, Montana. Scott, Jason, and I met Grandma and Grandpa at a camground along the West Fork. The first day of paddling wasn’t really paddling at all. The river carried us along swiftly, and our paddles were only needed for steering. We always seemed to be drifing faster than Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe the extra weight in our boat helped us “grab” the current better.

From there, we moved south and did a couple of slow floats on the Teton River and Henry’s Fork. Once, when we were relaxing in camp by the Snake River, a huge bull moose wandered past us. He moved out into the road and thoroughly startled a kid on a scooter.

We tried our flyfishing luck in several streams here and there. While our success wasn’t exactly phenomenal, we all caught and released several nice trout.

One morning, a tire of mine was flat as a pancake, and I couldn’t use the spare, because my bike rack was locked to it (diligent searching failed to produce the key). Fortunately, Grandpa had a small air compressor, and we pumped it back up. The leak was slow, and we were able to eventually drive to an auto shop and have it repaired. You’ll be happy to know that I have since located the key to my bike rack.

We had a good time visiting with the cousins, Josh and Matt, in Logan. I did the hike up to the Wellsville Cone again, and the trail was as brushy as ever.

On the way back to Seattle, we made a detour to see some wagon ruts on the Oregon Trail at Baker City, Oregon. From a hillside, you could still see that faint trace of the old trail disappearing into the distance, I thought the ruts were very cool, but I think Scott and Jason were considerably less impressed.

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All six original members of the “Teton Group” reunited for another adventure five years after our last one. I had been hiking with Rob all summer, and it was great to see Laurie, Doug, Ruthie, and Bill again. We all met at Laurie’s place, went out for breakfast, and drove up to Steven’s Pass.

Since we had two cars, we decided to do a loop, so we started up the Merritt Lake trailhead. We passed a couple of hikers coming down, and they said the turnoff to Merritt Lake was right about where the snow started. Snow? We hadn’t thought of that. Sure enough, pretty soon we were hiking off-and-on through fresh wet snow.

We paused for lunch at a small waterfall on Royal Creek. A couple of miles later, we came to a beautiful lake in a cold, snow-filled basin. After taking a few pictures, we looked around for the continuation of the trail, but it sure wasn’t obvious. We were convinced that we were at Rock Lake, but there didn’t appear to be a trail going to the right like the map showed. So, we dug out our maps, gps units, and compasses. Even with all this apparatus, we were completely confused, but when Bill found the trail over to the left, it beacame clear that we were really at Crescent Lake. As the truth slowly sank in, we thought that we might be needing our headlamps before the hike was over.

The trail traversed across a steep snow face, and Doug led the way. Good thing it wasn’t icy, because none of us had crampons. We rounded a bend, and suddenly we were out of snow (for a brief moment), and we could see the ridge that we needed to descend in the distance. We circled Rock Lake (the real Rock Lake), and climbed above it. Here, the path was only a vague depression in the snow, and we really had to “think like the trail” to stay more-or-less on top of it.

Finally, we wound our way down the ridge, and out of the snow. Everybody’s boots had soaked through long before, and our feet probably looked like prunes. As we meandered down billions of switchbacks, a couple of trains meandered their way up to Steven’s Pass. We made it back to Ruthie’s car just as it got dark. We didn’t need our headlamps after all – perfect timing!

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The town of Bannack, Montana came into being in 1862 when gold was discovered in sizable quantities on the banks of a local creek. The population swelled to 3000 in just a matter of months, and Bannack soon became the first capitol of the Montana Territory. When the gold ran out, the town was abandoned. The site became a State Park in 1954.

In 1877, Bannack had a major indian scare. Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce Indians had just defeated General Gibbon at the bloody Battle of the Big Hole, and they were on the rampage. The women and children were brought into the hotel, a brick fortress, and some stories tell of hiding the children inside the safes. The Indians killed several nearby settlers, but Bannack remained untouched.

In it’s early days, Bannack was terrorized by a gang of robbers known as the “Innocents”. In an eight month period this notorious gang was responsible for over 100 murders. The robberies and killings finally stopped when the ringleader was captured and hanged. To everyones great shock, the ringleader turned out to be none other than the sheriff himself!

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Jason and I pulled into the Grant Village Campground on “National Parks Day”, so the admission was free. That evening, we took a stroll through the West Thumb Geyser Basin and saw several elk browsing near the steamy hot pools. The following morning we paddled on Yellowstone Lake and watched the boiling water from the geysers cascade down the shoreline. Jason tried a little fishing but without success.

After our morning paddle, we took a hike along the boardwalks of the Upper Geyser Basin. This area holds the largest concentration of geysers in the world, including “Old Faithful” which erupts every 92 minutes or so. Many of the hot pools display vivid colors produced by the heat-loving algae and bacteria that thrive in this environment.

Yellowstone Park was named for the yellow cliffs that form the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. We took a hike along the North Rim trail, and had many spectacular views of the Yellowstone River far below. The canyon and many other features of Yellowstone were made famous by the watercolor paintings of Thomas Moran, a member of the 1871 Hayden Expedition. These paintings played a significant role in making Yellowstone America’s first National Park in 1872.

Later, we drove through the Hayden Valley and saw many herds of Bison. Elk were also in abundance. We watched a coyote hunt for mice, and ospreys hunt for fish, but our binoculars didn’t come across any wolves or bears.

The canyon views, the thermal features, and the wildlife are all good reasons to visit Yellowstone, but, alas, most of the park’s scenery was destroyed in 1988 by raging wildfires. The fires burned over 1.4 million acres – an area that is 10 times larger than the Mount St. Helens blast zone!

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This year’s season finale was the classic Enchantments thru-hike. We left one car at the Colchuck Lake trailhead, then returned to the Snow Lake trailhead to begin our trek. Dave, Wayne, Will and I made our way steadily higher and higher until we stopped for lunch near Prusik Pass. A chipmunk tried his best to steal Wayne’s cookies. From there, we briefly split up. Dave and I made the short jaunt up to Gnome Tarn, while Wayne and Will made the much more strenuous side trip to Little Annapurna. Wayne called us on his two-way radio from the top as we made our way through the Upper Enchantments.

The top of Aasgard Pass was freezing cold. I put on all my warm stuff, and Dave continued down to Colchuck Lake to get warm. I was happy when Wayne and Will caught up so I could get moving again.

Colchuck Lake was very low, and we were able to walk along the shore. As always, it was good to finally see the car again after such a long bash. We had some burgers at Gustav’s in Leavenworth to celebrate another great hiking season.

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Doug and I left Mowich Lake in a steady rain, but we were hoping that our hike would take us high above the weather. A deer watched us, as we moved along the Wonderland Trail through Spray Park. Only the lower portion of the mountain was visible, so we couldn’t make out any landmarks. We ended up meandering all over Spray Park before we zeroed in on the correct course to Ptarmagin Ridge. We decided to name our route the “Drunken Sailor Route”.

At last, the sky brightened and we were soon looking down on a sea of clouds. The normal route threads its way between Observation Rock and Echo Rock. But, since we were following the Drunken Sailor Route, we inadvertantly found ourselves on top of Observation Rock (8300′). This was fine with us, as it offered great views and a good place to take a break.

On up the ridge we went, hitting fresh snow at about 9000′. At last, we topped out at about 10,200′. The ridge continued towards the mountain, losing some altitude, and eventually merging into a series of ice cliffs. We had a grand panoramic view from Curtis Ridge on the left to the Mowich Face on the right. Doug an I looked directly over at Thumb Rock where we spent the night 2 years ago on our way up Liberty Ridge.

We soon left the mountain behind and plunged once again into the fog. Despite our best efforts to stay on course, we soon became disoriented in the total whiteness. We both peered at the compass nodding our heads, “North is that way. Yeah that seems about right. … Wait a minute, doesn’t the red end of the needle point north?”.

Wow, were we confused.

Between the two of us, we had three compasses, and we consulted them all. After a great deal of head scratching, we managed to agree on our theoretical location. We proceeded down through the clouds, keeping a constant eye on our compass heading.

“North is that way. Yeah that seems about right. … Wait a minute, doesn’t the red end of the needle point north?”

Soon the fog opened up enough for us to get a glimpse of Spray Park below us. We were heading in the right direction!

Spray Park was full of blooming flowers: lilies, paintbrush, heather, and more. We were happy to regain the Wonderland Trail, so we didn’t have to stomp through the fragile medows. The last three miles seemed to last forever, and we had to go uphill again before we reached the parking lot.

Hikers were asking us if they could expect to break out into the sun. “If you go high enough,” was our response. You’re bound to see the sun if you go high enough.

Popularity: 6% [?]