My now-standard hiking partners and I set out on our annual Big Hike recently. We intended to try Alan and Don's Wind River High Route, planning eight days. We did not fulfill our intentions. But it was great. We laughed, we cried. Etc.
First, we have had an unusually wet summer here in the Front Range corridor. As our planned kickoff date approached the weather forecast was looking grim- rain, snow, low temperatures. It looked more like September weather than August. I threw an extra fleece mid layer in my bag, and packed waterproof glove shells. Given his history of calamity on trips with me I joked with Sam that we should rent llamas to haul his corpse out of the backcountry for proper burial. His response was "We can rent llamas?!?"
We didn't rent llamas, but I have been instructed to plan such a trip for next year…
After picking them up at DIA and making the drive we set out to Green Lakes trailhead the morning of August 24th. (I had somehow managed to totally miss the existence of the warm springs along the drive to the trailhead in my research.) We kicked off around 08:30. Interestingly, a very friendly dog tried to hop in my truck and was begging food (we did not feed him), and he followed us as we started our hike. We were afraid that he belonged to one of the people in campers at the trailhead and tried to drive him off, but he persisted in following us.
Here you can (barely) see him following Mark, with Squaretop Mountain in the background:
Since he was so skinny and collarless I grew worried that he had been abandoned. We met one couple who were coming out, but they didn't recognize him. Further up the valley we ran into another couple who had two large dogs with them, but they also didn't know him. They did, however, give us some of their spare dog food because we had decided that if he managed to follow us through this hike that we would do right by him. He gobbled the little bit we gave him immediately and we started planning how to divvy up our food with him. He was a suspiciously well-mannered trail dog.
Then, when crossing the Beaver Park bridge to the south bank further up the valley we found a couple of thru-hikers who were having a yard sale to dry gear, and they recognized the dog. Apparently his name is Monkey and he belongs to another thru-hiker named Sphinx. The dog certainly seemed to recognize them, so we believed them. Apparently these two had been looking out for Sphinx- or more accurately looking out for the prints from his size fourteen Keens- since he had gotten a bit ahead of them. They insisted that Sphinx would never be willingly separated from Monkey and grew understandably concerned about him. They took possession of him and our dog food and changed course to Green River trailhead to investigate.
We continued on, starting the switchbacks up to Trail Creek Park. Here's Sam part-way up:
The switchbacks are very well graded- not very steep at all.
We went up the park a bit, then had to cross the creek. Mark was impatient and tried to trust in his Gore-Tex boots, but hit water deeper than he thought and his boots got immersed. Sam and I in our trail hikers ranged a bit upstream and crossed on a precarious blowdown. At this point Mark was quite interested in pitching camp and having a fire to dry out. We commando camped a bit off the trail and made a tiny fire (which we soaked and scattered later). As I mentioned the weather was soggy, so the fire was certainly safe. Sam and Mark used my SuperMid:
Mark had a scheme to connect his trek poles together using the threaded mount they both had for holding a camera like a monopod, to use them as the center-pole. This worked for a few days, then the double-ended bolt he was using to connect them failed and they resorted to lashing poles together. This worked fine. (I usually use my Luxury Lite Big Survival Stik as the center pole for the SuperMid.)
The second day we pressed on through Vista Pass toward Peak Lake. Cube Rock Pass was harsh, full of refrigerator talus. We lost the trail and had to pick our way, but near the top we saw it again- we should have stayed left:
Once over the pass we faced a decision. Knapsack Pass was looking like bad weather was in the cards:
We also did some soul-searching and decided that as somewhat portly 40-ish year-olds (two of us flatlanders) who were already struggling that we may have bitten off more than we could chew with this weather. For one thing we lacked spikes. Our plan for this year's hike before we discovered the WRHR had been to do the CDT through the Winds, so we elected to fall back on that plan and save the High Route for another day.
So we bailed over Shannon Pass. Here's looking back at Peak Lake, which is admittedly a very attractive lake:
Actually, I have to say that the Winds are one of the more attractive ranges I've strolled through, what with all of the nice light-grey rock. Sort of reminds me of the Sierras in a way. Here's what the Highline Trail looks like past Shannon Pass:
Here's the really annoying thing- by the time we finished climbing Shannon Pass, around noon, the weather cleared. Maybe we could have done Knapsack Col after all…
The second night we camped south of Island Lake. We avoided Island Lake itself because it can be crowded.
The next day the hike to Lester pass was quite beautiful:
I should point out that all of the recent wetness changed the expected ambiance of the range considerably. The trails could be very muddy, the stock had chewed them up, etc. It felt very Pacific Northwestish in a way, rather than the classic high, dry, sunny western hike.
Just below the pass we stopped to camel up, and I got one of my favorite shots from the hike:
Actually, Lester Pass was good to me for several shots. Looking back:
At about this point Sam pointed out "Some llamas sure would be nice about now. Just sayin'."
Here's another nice shot, a study of Sam:
Here's from the pass, looking forward (southeast) into the Pole Creek drainage:
Rather than follow the Fremont Trail over the pass north of Mount Baldy we stayed on the Highline Trail, which detoured south around it. Here's an action shot crossing Pole Creek:
While we were putting our footgear back on on the far side we met a dance teacher from Montana who was just heading in solo for her final five days of the season before school started and her studio opened. I got some more nice shots:
Heading to one stream crossing we saw a moose and calf. I never got a good shot of the calf, but here you can barely see his back poking out from behind the tree behind momma:
Other than this all the wild critters we saw were best weighed in ounces, not pounds.
Our third night camp was on a bench above the north end of Chain Lakes:
I love my brown DuoMid as a solo shelter. I guess I have to plug MLD, here.
The next day was soggy- it rained most of the afternoon. Here's a shot from the morning, before the drizzle:
We made the woodline north of North Fork Lake in wet misery for the fourth night's camp. (I should point out that we slept in every morning and pitched camp early every night. We generally kicked off between 08:00-09:00, usually making 10 to 15 miles then stopping.) Someone had left a pair of old worn-out sneakers near our last stream crossing for that day, presumably for others to use to cross. Shortly after we camped the drizzle slacked considerably. Our morale demanded another fire to dry shoes and socks. This was nearly the end of my Vasques… I left them a bit too close for a bit too long and some of the silcone-rubber started melting. They've got miles left in them yet, though.
The next day we were on the Fremont Trail. Here are a few shots of Mark, ahead of me:
Just past the appropriately-named Sheep Creek we met a large flock:
The flock was HUGE. They ran from us bleating, attracting the attention of their dogs who came to investigate:
Our last (fifth) camp was on a lovely wooded bench in the pass to the Silver Creek basin. That was a good night- it seemed clear that we would finish the hike out the next day so we got to eat all of our extra food.
The last (sixth) day was the Fremont Trail to the Big Sandy trailhead:
We had contracted with The Great Outdoor Shop in Pinedale to shuttle my truck from Green Lakes to Big Sandy, and indeed it was waiting there for us. At some point Mark got his boot soaked again and decided to push on ahead of Sam and I to get there as fast as possible. He's clearly the fittest of us. And, if I'm being honest I was the weak link on this trip. (The last two trips it was Sam who suffered one calamity or another.) I had just been promoted at work three months prior and had lacked time to work out, so I was pushing 200 pounds. I definitely felt like the "slow one."
However, the universe has a sense of humor. When Sam and I got to my truck Mark was nowhere to be found. We got in and drove around looking for him, and found him on the road to Big Sandy Lodge (a private business) in his flip-flops. He had taken a wrong turn and ended up at the lodge, and begged to buy a meal, but they only sell to guests. He was turned away.
So we did 75 miles in six days, rather than 80 (harder) miles in eight days. We're happy- we went back to Pinedale and drank beer. There's going to be a total solar eclipse passing over the Winds in 2017 and we plan to be back for it. It's also going to pass over the Sawtooths: http://www.eclipse2017.org/2017/path_through_the_US.htm
When I got home I checked up on Monkey.
You didn't forget about Monkey, did you?
I found a CDT internet forum and got the rest of that story. Sphinx and Monkey had simply gotten separated somehow, and Sphinx was distraught. He made his way to town and checked in with the local shelter. Eventually his buddies found him and man and owner were reunited.
