2021 Bob Marshall Wilderness Open

Congratulations Elliot.

Nice work y’all! Andrew, that ridge from Observation pass looked beautiful. I was eyeing that route but ultimately opted against it.

I couldn’t in good conscience dump that much text on this thread, so I started a new thread and posted a full length TR here:

https://backpackinglight.com/member-trip-reports/bmwo-2021-trip-reports/

I’ll share a video once I go through all my footage. So may be a while.

I rolled into the Home Gulch campground where a surprise awaited.  Straight creek was rumored to be under ten feet of leech infested waters with piranhas and alpine sharks viciously finning its course. The route I had painstakingly examined and the cached maps on my phone were no longer relevant, and I was flying blind apart from Mike’s map and recollections of distant glimpses from past trips.

The roaring wind and pleasant reunions of Friday evening faded into the long awaited morning, which dangled perfect weather and endless possibilities. After hurried preparations and a Bob benediction from Dave, we immediately broke ranks and traveled straight up the canyon to avoid the foot punishing road.

All good things must end, however, and soon we emerged from beneath Lime Ridge and onto the dusty hot gravel. After some terrifically unhelpful survival advice from a jeep wielding gentleman convinced that our road walking signified unbounded stupidity in such realms, we reentered the cool woods about mid afternoon. We walked and walked. I passed the wilderness sign just as the sun set on day one. After some headlamping we navigated a final irritating set of crossings and arrived at welcome creek cabin.

A pitched tarp emanating some muffled wisecracks led me to believe we had caught Tom, but our campfire and scintillating conversation failed to lure him from his repose.

We awoke to another calm morning with the temperature in the mid twenties. At this point Tom indeed emerged and we all opted to take the longer scenic route up Jake creek (if memory serves) rather than the direct route from the cabin. One of many hits from our unscouted route as it added to our mileage. The Dearborn river and deadfall overtook the trail for some miles, and Dan, felled by a lack of sleep and consideration for the group pace, turned back towards the start despite my efforts to tie him to the mast.

The payoff for our extra mileage was a gratuitously showy view of scapegoat mountain, followed by a dicey but manageable scramble down to the North Fork of the Blackfoot.

We chatted with a fellow Bobopener who simultaneously descend at the hobnail trail junction near Carmichael cabin. I inquired as to whether he had swum up Straight creek despite the biblical flooding that had occurred and to my great surprise, since he appeared unscathed apart from the ordinary rigors of the Open, he answered yes.

I don’t expect to be nominated for sainthood. I did, however, selflessly wrestle with my desire to give an unnamed member of our group a hard time about our last minute route scramble. Though I failed in that regard, my efforts to do so were considerable. And then we walked and walked and walked.

I did not expect to take in a badminton match during the Open, despite always expecting the unexpected. Yet as we reached the junction at the North Fork cabin as the sun lowered, a trail crew was in the midst of a heated set. I rudely interrupted the play for a moment and inadvertently set in motion another setback to our endeavor when I asked them about the prospect of crossing the dry fork up to canyon creek.

I had hoped to do the crossing that evening, but vaguely remembered it being closer and the dry fork trail crossing and recrossing the river.
As I rushed up canyon into the rapidly darkening evening the crew fell further and further back. Reaching the split with the pack trail and the hiker trail I was heartened to discover that my dusty memories from 2015 were wrong and we only had the one crossing to contend with. I also began to worry that the pull from the North Fork parking lot might alter my companion’s plans, and I waited at the junction to offer encouragement and praise for their noble determination to push on.

Mike eventually arrived and, thinking Tizer would be on his heels we waited as the last sunlight faded, but then fatefully decided it best to rush up and find a camp and gather wood short of the crossing.

We found a not quite level bench above the river where a fire would be obvious from the trail and set camp and ate. Mike and I discussed our options in the event that Tizer didn’t appear, and being fully exhausted we built up the fire and went to our respective tarps where I immediately fell asleep.

Another early morning on day three found Mike and I resuming our discussions about the ominous absence, over what passed for breakfast. I hiked back past the first trail split searching for Tizer’s yellow tent along our side of the river. Coming up empty I turned back up canyon where Mike and I decided, given Tizer’s woods sense, the likelihood that he was heading for the North Fork trailhead, and the nearness of the occupied cabin we would push on.

Below the deep but swimmable dry fork crossing a log jam offered a dry solution and we ascended the blowdown hell that is the current condition of the canyon creek trail.

As our progress stalled I stubbornly continued to nurse plans of continuing on through the night to the finish, but by the time we reached Monture around 7:30 the math no longer aligned with some nonnegotiable work obligations and there must now shamefully and forevermore be placed a DNF next to my name, my perfect streak reduced to pitiful memories.

A friend awaited with news that Tizer, who had only just heard of the Open days before, heard me babbling about crossings and forded the dry fork in a feat of daring that left him swimming and soaked on the other side, where he had escaped my notice during my return hike that morning.

A Trixies burger greatly assuaged the bitter defeat, and by midnight I stumbled into my house in Helena. I had planned to make this my last year of the Open, but now unfinished business remains.

loving all the reports and dreaming of joining one year! hopefully next starting with hiking and maybe one year rafting that looks like a blast!!

In for today.

Enjoying the trip reports everyone!  I suppose I’m overdue for a longer report.

Day 1:

Took off roadside walking toward Gibson at the head of a big crew.  By the time we hit trail, I was out of sight and just continued at 4ish mph all the way around the reservoir, enjoying the solitude and the morning.  After the confluence/ ranch I took a quick break and was caught by a merry crew all still together.  We rolled heavy up SF sun until I eventually wandered off the front again through the incredible pretty prairie.  At the WF confluence, I spotted a log I thought might go and wasted 10 min schwaking down to it only to find it vibrating sketchily and a no go.  Onward to the pretty prairie bridge where I rejoined the crew.  I said my goodbyes and took a nice shoes off lunch break as the group split with John and Elliot? going over camp creek and the rest up green fork and over scapegoat.  Truth be told, I needed the separation to maintain my resolve to continue over Stadler instead of joining in over the scapegoat.

Eventually got going up hoadley creek until the cutoff SF sun crossing, which looked deep and fast at the trail.  I was glad I was going over Stadler and not observation…  hit snow on Stadler at a little under 6000 ft and transitioned to snowshoes.  I followed two sets of shifts and a dog who had clearly been there a few hours before having taken the more efficient if less inspiring route from the start.  This was a low point as I was starting to bonk and convinced I was way off the pace.  I slammed gummies until I felt better and then reminded myself that I was here to go fast on my route, not theirs, and anyway, they clearly weren’t packrafting the Blackfoot with a dog.  The snow was firmer than expected and I made ok time over the pass.  It was a mental boost to follow tracks and not worry about the route finding too much.

Over the pass, things got ugly, but I was in a better mental space.  First there was patchy snow, then deadfall in snowshoes, then lots of deadfall, then deadfall by headlamp.  And probably some more deadfall in there.  I was happy for every bit of strength and stability work this spring.  At 11pm, I arrived at basin creek cabin, crashing through the woods, singing loudly, hoping to bivy on the porch.  Unfortunately, a trail crew was staying there and I was relegated to crashing out begind the outhouse and feeling bad for probably waking everyone.

Day 2:

I chatted with the trail crew as they got up at the same time as I.  Thankfully, they were very gracious and also interested in why the hell I was stumbling through the Bob at 11 the night before.  They informed me the trail out to dry fork divide had been cleared the day before, which was a huge mental boost.  I slogged off quickly trying to get warm, going through the screaming barfies once or twice as I broke through ice at every stream crossing

By 8 or so, I arrived at Danaher Meadows, which was just pure, pure magic.  Meadows glistening with hoarfrost, big snowy mountains in the background, and a bull elk bugling somewhere.  I saw lots of griz sign and eventually two moose cows across the creek.  That was the crowning moment of the trip and all the reason I needed for taking a longer route.

Out over dry fork divide, I was beginning to feel the miles and was looking forward to floating the Dry Fork.  The bench just above cabin creek was a highlight, and I took a long break to enjoy.  I put on the dry fork shortly after.  This was a lovely if slightly scrappy float and I was soon at the NF proper.  2.5 miles later I was packing up at the Put-in for the whitewater section when along came a group of very stoked hardshellers.  I figured they would beat me to the bridge as I walked the final miles of the trip.  Very ready to get off the feet, the last bit of road walking was rough, but eventually the bridge was in sight.  Just as I was about to put in, the hardshellers showed gushing about the run.  It sure looked fun.  Maybe someday when I’ve been boating more recently and am not solo…

I put on at roughly 4:15 pm, a little worried my stopping to smell the roses earlier would jeapordize a finish before dark.  After enjoying the splashy initial section, I settled in for the ride to the 200 crossing.  Doing the math there, I realized that the Blackfoot needed to be a more urgent paddle to make the finish before dark.  I paddled hard and the stretch before Monture creek confluence was the low point of the entire trip.  It was hot, I was dehydrated, and feeling pretty depleted.  At the creek, I scooped a bottle of clear Monture water, smashed two gels, and texted Nat to pick me up in an optimistic 1:30.

The gels and hydration kicked in, the gradient picked up, and I was back on a high by the time I hit the last few rapids as the light faded.  With waning light I hit the big wave trains with the realization that in 15 min I wouldn’t want to be there.  When I rounded the corner and saw the sunset bridge, my brain just wouldn’t accept that was the finish.  I was convinced there was another bridge I had somehow missed on the map and that I had to keep going.  Then I saw Nat standing on the bridge and let out a huge whoop.  The trip was over, except for Nat laughing and filming me trying to get out of my boat after 5 hrs.  I was on a huge high, but also more physically done than I’ve ever been.  I managed to eat there Trixie’s burger and fries she brought me, but getting up the stairs at the air-bnb was a challenge.  I shivered uncontrollably in the shower, then slept like the dead.  I went for a 50 mile ride on Tuesday, but that pretty much wrecked me.  After wearing compression socks for 2 days, I can almost walk normally today.

After a DNF in 2016, I wanted to come back and really nail the Open this year.  Despite not having regular access to the mountains, I made it my primary objective for the spring and trained specifically for it with a very structured plan.  This meant lots of laps of state parks, road walking, and goofy packrafting trips close to home to get my workouts in.  I trained the mental game with lots of rope-solo rock climbing.  I made sure my route and nutrition were dialed.  All that to say, it is totally possible and extremely satisfying to train for this piecemeal from afar and totally nail it.

105ish miles, 37h20min, with no major mistakes.  I could have shaved a couple of hours by pushing harder and 3.5 or so with a more efficient route, but I got to see the SF sun valley and Danaher, and most importantly preserved the enjoyment of all of it.  Never felt rushed (until the end) and took plenty of time to enjoy the trip.

Finally, it was a huge personal accomplishment to show up on Open “winning” form, even if I wasn’t first to finish.  Since I first learned of the event years ago, such efforts were the purvue of other, crazier, fitter, better people.  Thanks Dave for the inspiration to train, build skills, and become that.  I don’t know what is next, but I’m sure there will be another Open in the near future.  Someday, maybe an Alaska summer classic.

My trip report:

The night before Dave C. threw out a flashier route than my original so I decided to re-route. We left in a group and before I knew it the pack was behind me and I caught Dave somewhere above Agropyron flats. It was enjoyable to see new country which for me is getting harder and harder to find. Our pace was moderate and not rushed but I was running on borrowed time due to an injury I sustained a few weeks back. Somewhere on the Jakie creek trail near welcome pass as we were stopped to put in some calories and remove some tics I told Dave that by no means wait for me and stay on the gas to get over the flank of scapegoat. Near the top of Welcome Pass I hit the breaks and watched Dave peel out down the trail heading for the headwaters of the deerborn.  I made camp at the guard station, got a fire going and sat naked from the waist down in the river to try to keep the inflammation in my knee down. I was in bed by 9:30. The group minus one showed up around 11pm. I decided to go to Lost Cabin Creek and avoid crossing the deerborn a bunch of times early in the morning. Plus I wanted to go on a new trail. Due to some navigational errors I found myself cruising up the trail by myself with the group on the wrong side of the river. The ridge walk leading above the amphitheater was awesome and before I knew it I was over the divide and heading into the tobacco valley and very familiar territory. The rest of the trip was just a nice walk and when I arrived at the North Fork Blackfoot T.H. at 6:59 I decided to pull the plug knowing that the road slog might extend recovery time and with a trip of a lifetime coming up in mid July it was an easy decision.

Highlights:

• Cruising through Home and lime gulch (if your timing is right the wildflower display would be out of this world).
• The ridge above amphitheater.
• Dave and I sneaking up on a bull elk (during archery he would have been tagged and bagged).
• Taking the time to stop and cook up an early dinner at North Fork Falls (it was cranking).
• Seeing the same trail crew leader four years in a row at the north fork guard station.
• All the scouting trips Mike M and I did prior to the open.
• Meeting new people, reconnecting with others.
• Talking with Dan M. and his son “Montana Dan” about their route.
•  Most of all the friendships that have formed because of this event.

Wow.  1 week later and I’m still processing my trip across the Bob.  Every year, I’m in awe of the variety of travel styles, challenges, and adventures everyone has during the Open.

We just got home late last night, but maybe I’ll have time this week to sort and post some pictures.  Till then, here is a Google photos link to the pictures Nat and I took last week.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/bfXA1SVSD1vq2cde6

Ideal conditions for Camas Creek!