Middle Teton 8/28-8/29/2009

Now that winter's come around, I've been daydreaming about hiking, so I decided to do something that I should've done a long time ago: type of a report of our Middle Teton trip.


It started with an early, early August morning. We departed from Canyon sometime around 5:30AM headed for Grand Teton National Park. After a quick breakfast in 'town' (which was really more of a trailhead town than anything - we ate our breakfast under a circus tent) we went to the ranger station and got our permits. The rangers were incredibly helpful, and even pulled up google Earth and took us through our route up the mountain.

At the trailhead, I realized I forgot my hiking shoes at home (Doh!) so I rushed back into Moose Junction and bought some new shoes. This should by any account be a disaster - climbing up to 12,804 ft. with brand new hikers, but I feel a word of gratitude should go out to Vasque here - my new shoes performed flawlessly and I had nary a blister coming down the mountain.

Anyways, enough advertising and back to the climb. When we registered, none of the campsites in Lupine Meadows were available, so we were forced to the 'high camp' up on the scree around 10,000 feet. This was a blessing in disguise, since we got a larger portion of our elevation done on the first day. The hike up to the meadows was absolutely incredible, if a little warm. It was about 80 degrees outside, and the sun beating down on us for the 6 longest switchbacks of my life. There are 6 switchbacks leading up to the meadows, so for those of you attempting this hike for the first time, remember this detail as you're going up the trail.

The trail up went very quickly - we passed a number of groups attempting the Grand mostly, as this trail is shared with the Exum Route up the mountain (which encompasses the most oft-traveled trails leading up Grand). Lupine Meadows is certainly not for solitude-seekers - expect to share the trail with a hundred (or more) other people coming up and down Middle, South, and Grand Teton as well as the less-crowded Cloudveil Peak. All of this traffic may seem a bit grueling in the first part of the hike before the meadows. You'll probably feel overwhelmed passing teenagers who've just got done climbing Grand. One fellow we passed had just finished the Grand Traverse aside from Cloudveil in khakis and a plaid shirt sans climbing gear aside from an axe and crampons.



However, as the air thins, so do the crowds. After we took lunch in the meadows with the pikas and marmots, we started the ankle-testing boulder gardens of Upper Garnet Canyon. This is the first spot in which the trail virtually 'disappears' as it is overcome by large boulders. Lots of fun bouldering moves to be made throughout the canyon - good practice for what's to come. We had fun and were really taking our time and taking in the scenery at the beginning of the day. We were ahead of schedule, and really weren't feeling the climb at all - too much eye candy and anticipation for summit day.



I will say two things here to two very different groups: Middle Teton can be dayhiked. However, the vast majority of hikers will want to make an overnighter of it at the very least. Even better is to spend 2 nights - the first in the upper camp, and second in the meadows. This allots for plenty of time for playing around on the boulders in the meadow, a comfortable summit day, and if you're feeling good and the weather holds - a potential double summit attempt with South Teton. However, we didn't have time for this (the weekends are too short!!) since we had to work in the morning after summit day.

When we arrived at our camp for the night, a few people were just departing from camp after a double-summit day of both Middle and South. We managed perfect timing, and marveled at the teenager, who was in high school and had aspirations of skiing Grand. We wished them our best, and sent them on their way with a bit of our toilet paper (apparently one of the boys in their group was a novice backpacker and used up half a roll in one 'session' - whoops!!)




Camp went up quickly, and after a bite of dinner I decided I couldn't resist playing around a bit on the mountain, so I made headway for the saddle - scouting the route to make the ascent quicker in the morning. After about an hour of climbing up, I realized the sun was dipping a bit too low for comfort, and I turned back for camp about 200 feet below the saddle. On my descent back down I attempted to hurriedly slide down one of the many snow fields. This resulted in an extended and very swift slide down, accompanied by an injured ankle when I stopped. Do yourself a favor: if you think you might need an axe, rent one on the cheap. Not only are they useful, but they're fun and help give confidence going down snow.

There are a few camps available up high in the canyon, and it may not be obvious that there will be another when you arrive at the first of the 'high camps' above the first glacier. We camped at the lower of the two camps. When you arrive, there will be a little stream on the right side of camp looking up the coulior at the lower camp. If you continue up for another 30 to 45 minutes, you will reach another camp with a little pond below it (also known as a large snow bank early in the season I'm sure). When we were there, there was basically a huge ice chunk sitting in the middle of the water, with the stream running around it. I'm not sure where the actual route went up the coulior, but I opted mostly for fun bouldering rather than straightforward hiking...partly by choice, but mostly because once you're off the trail, it becomes incredibly hard to find again. At one point, we were 200' above the official trail as we watched some people cruising up to South.

Sleep that night was almost nonexistent for all of us. Wind whipped around the tent, and 10,000 ft makes the nights chilly, especially with a 40 degree bag. Won't make that mistake again! The morning came awfully early, and after a cup of coffee we left for the summit by 6am.

Sunrise was incredible, to get to see the early morning light up the canyon was just breathtaking. The climb was very straightforward - while you may often lose the path, there's only one way to go: up! Keep going until you see Icefloe Lake on the other side of the saddle - a perfect spot to take a break and eat some breakfast. Middle looks incredibly intimidating from this viewpoint, just ride the ridge on up the first part. If you stick to the left of the snowfield, you'll do just fine. Here's where the first real bout of exposure kicks in, as the trail bobs on the opposite side of the saddle for a few feet, and continues up along a ridge. After a bit of class 3 climbing, a plateau opens up for a few hundred yards, and the summit is spread out in a dominating view.



We stared in awe as we continued up the path, which was finally very obvious. However, we wondered if we were on the right path when we came to a chimney. As we were downclimbing, we found a much easier route which saved quite a bit of time. It was much easier to see while downclimbing due to a couple of groups being below us by that point.

A few class 4 moves are required, but the more difficult moves are in non-exposed areas. By far the biggest concern was getting hit with loose scree, as some parts of the trail had obviously seen a large amount of human erosion. Many stones were kicked onto the trail, making it a bit tricky to be certain a foothold was solid. We took our time ascending, and were on top before noon.

The view from on top of Middle Teton - 12,804ft.

The summit is very exhiliarating, as the actual summit is smaller than a dinner table - standing on it with a 3,000 ft. cliff below you is something of a vertigo test. Grand Teton dominates the view as it rests another thousand feet higher. 12,804 ft, and every one of them was incredible. We celebrated with a summit beer each and took in the view for as long as we could - the wind was especially biting in shorts and clouds were rolling in from the Idaho side of the Tetons.

One of the class 4 sections on the way up.

Our descent was quick - much quicker than the ascent. We had considered attempting South, but with the storm coming in and my ankle being tender, we decided it was against better judgment. Besides, it gives me a reason to get back up there to bag both in a day. We packed up camp, and grabbed a quick break and lunch before heading down to our cars. Yumm raw ramen :(. We were literally running down the trail, donning our headlamps for the last two miles. The hike down the switchbacks seemed twice as long as going up to be sure.

I had to park the car about a half-mile from the trailhead, as there was no parking at the first or second places to park, so I retrieved the car as Jesse and Angela recharged. The drive back to Canyon was long, especially since we were all so tired. What a weekend adventure!

I apologize for the lack of updates recently. I swear it's only partly because I've been lazy about it. The internet here at Canyon has been intermittently intermittent. That is, most of the time the internet just doesn't work at all - some problem with the router. But even when we "have internet," it cuts out so frequently that browsing the internet is frustrating at best.

That being said - I'm happy to be back 'home' for the summer. Here's what it looks like:
That picture was taken out at Cascade Lake - a tiny lake (currently frozen over) that's about two miles from our location. Cedar, Ana, and I snowshoed out to the lake in hopes of spotting some wildlife. The bears around here are just waking up, but unfortunately, we saw nothing aside from lots of scattered footprints in the snow from all sorts of creatures - wolf, bear, and coyote most notably.

A couple weeks ago, I attempted to snowhoe up to Pine Creek Lake, which is 45 minutes or so north of the park. Jamie and I hiked probably three out of the five miles up the ridge, which consists of icy switchbacks with occasional water crossings, before deciding to turn back for the trailhead. We did manage to see Pine Creek Falls, which were beautiful, and got some amazing views of mountains and the valley, 3,000 feet below.

Back at Mammoth (where Nadia is at the moment) I hiked around a bit with a few other friends of mine - Nick and Lisa. I finally managed to find my way to Beaver Ponds on the fifth attempt at getting there. I was apparently doing the loop in the wrong direction when I tried before, so the trail was much easier to follow this time around. We postholed a bit on the way, but nothing unmanageable (unlike our attempt at the Black Canyon). However, the real downfall of hiking early-season are the crowds.

All of the tourists in the park that want to get out and hike are shuttled into one of two trails at the moment: Lava Creek, or Beaver Ponds. The more popular of the two is definitely Beaver Ponds, and on the 6-mile trail we must have seen 20 people. Nothing ruins my hiking experience like some bozo clapping his hands and yelling "HEY BEAR!" repeatedly. In the silence of the wilderness, it is not uncommon to hear these people for 10 minutes before you even run into them, as their yells echo off hills for miles. Of course, whenever you hear this trademark, you can be sure the first thing they'll say to you (shouted from across a field perhaps, since when this happens I normally go out of my way to bushwack out of talking distance and go around them) is "Seen any bears back there???"

Perhaps I'm bitter because I scarcely run into any sort of wildlife while I'm on the trail. But every time I get asked this question I want to say "nope - and I sure as hell am a lot LESS likely to see them now that you've been tromping through the woods." But this is the price I pay (as do all employees) for working at Yellowstone - truly a park "for the enjoyment of the people."

Nick and Lisa at Beaver Ponds, which coincidentally have no beavers:


Sorry if this read like a summary - it was either summarize all of the trips or leave some of them out (which I did leave out a couple hikes, actually: Lava Creek with Nadia and Christine, and the Yellowstone River Picnic Area Loop which I hiked with Nick.) I'm going to try to be better about updating this thing now that our internet is a bit more consistent. However, I'm just about snowshoed-out, which means that I either need to travel 30+ miles to go hike, or suck it up and live with cold feet.

On the agenda: Mt. Washburn in snowshoes, and Seven Mile Hole Trail (but hell if I'm going down into the canyon - I'm just going to go walk along the rim).

Undine Falls and Lava Creek trail

Last Monday (the 20th) I went by myself down to Lava Creek. It's a short hike that runs parallel to the road leading to Mammoth. It's about 5 miles and all downhill (until you have to climb back up to Mammoth from the Yellowstone River). I went by myself since Nadia had to work that day (3-day weekends are a blessing in disguise!) and it was absolutely beautiful out. I was going to try to make it a quick trail and do it in under an hour, but those thoughts were thrown away as soon as I reached Undine Falls.

Undine Falls is a 60-foot waterfall directly off the road between Mammoth and Tower. It's not the largest or most impressive waterfall in Yellowstone, so it gets relatively little attention. In fact, every time I pass by there, I see cars whizzing right by, oblivious to the beautiful waterfall merely feet off of the road. There's even a labeled pullout that I rarely see cars stopped at. Consider this: Yellowstone is so incredibly beautiful that to most visitors, a 60-foot waterfall isn't worth pulling the car off the road to see.

However, this is one of my favorite parts of the area directly surrounding Mammoth. Its roar rumbles the ground as you stand atop the viewing platform watching all sorts of wildlife - mule deer, bison, and a plethora of songbirds across the river in the meadow. It really reminds me of the Appalacian waterfalls in the East, that seem to come from nowhere and create their own route down the mountain. Above the waterfall, Lava creek is crossable by a mere hop, and it is rarely over shin-deep. Below, the river widends to 20-30 feet across, often exceeding hip-deep. It's even created it's own miniature unnamed canyon that winds next to the trail for quite some time.

The trail was hardened by the time I set foot on it. The animal tracks, previously stuck into the mud, had formed into an uncomfortable concrete that felt sort of like walking on a pile of jagged rocks. But really, what am I complaining about? At least I didn't have to wade through hip-deep snow anymore, right?! Besides, the weather was a glorious 70 degrees with blue skies (that's all gone by now, replaced with snowy mornings and muddy afternoons).

Towards the end of the trail I spotted a bald eagle I had been told about by a number of people who had previously hiked the trail. He coasted overhead, apparently fishing in the river. I watched him circle overhead for about an hour before he coasted off towards Bunsen Peak.

I know I promised to include more about Mammoth Hot Springs bushwacking and bears, but that'll have to wait for another entry. It seems I've spent too much time prattling on about Undine Falls, and I'm not going for a novel here - just a blog entry. So, as a teaser, here's a picture. I was way too close to this bear - but it was far too preoccupied with munching on grass to pay much notice to me.

Hiking

Since the weather's been so nice recently, I've been doing more hiking than writing - and that's the way I prefer it. We started off with the Joe Brown trailhead North of the park. It was about 55 or 60 degrees on the trailhead but by the time we topped the first hill (about 400 feet of elevation gain in a 1/2 mile) we both were stripped of our fleece and long-sleeved shirts and in our t-shirts in sunny, 75 degree weather. The trail meanders up one of the drainages and offers access to the 1-million acre Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness. The views of Paradise Valley and Yankee Jim Canyon were absolutely breathtaking, with Electric Peak dominating the view across the valley. Though we saw plenty of footprints and droppings from bears, elk, and wolves (okay...maybe they were coyotes or dogs out with their owners, but one can imagine) the only wildlife we spotted was a group of roughly 30 mule deer. When we got up to the creek (3 miles up the hill) we took a bit of a break before rocketing back down to the car, both of us complaining of our grumbly stomachs.

The Joe Brown trailhead left one reminder which I found about three days later: a tick. I pulled it out of my hair while in the employee dining room at lunch. I was wearing my fleece that day for the first time since we went hiking, so there's not much question as to where it came from. Thankfully I got it before it bit me, so I promptly took it outside and set fire to it. This was my first tick ever - I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, right?

The next trail Nadia and I decided to tackle was the Black Canyon, formed by the Yellowstone River. The trail runs West-East just north of the Grand Loop Road in the park between Mammoth and Tower. We entered the trail through Blacktail Deer Creek, which is between 5 and 10 miles East of Mammoth. Our plan was to camp overnight on the trail, which we figured would be clear of snow since the temperatures had been in the 60s all week.

Now, that was the hypothetical plan. Here's what really happened:

We took off on Blacktail Deer Creek at about 10:30 AM, dodging piles of snow and keeping relatively dry feet for the first mile of the trail. Once we got to the top of the first hill (after about a half-mile wide meadow) we saw what we were in for: it was going to be a snowy day. The trail was soon entirely buried in snow, but undeterred by the drifts, we continued on. After all, it was a beautiful day, and two hawks seemed to be keeping tabs on us as they swooped above our heads riding the wind. We assumed we would just cross the creek at some point, and besides, the ranger said we wouldn't have to ford the Yellowstone because a suspension bridge awaited us at the junction. Furthermore, we both figured the snow would be melted on the northern side of the canyon, since it gets direct sunlight for nearly the entire day.

We kept hauling through the snow - one slow step after another. First it was ankle deep, with it occasionally reaching up to my calf. Then it was calf deep, rising in parts to my thigh. Before long we were up to our hips in snow, laboriously trying different routes around the snow drifts. For those of you that haven't experienced it - snow above your waist is completely impassable without snowshoes or skis or crawling on all fours in the snow. And with my overnight pack on my back, I certainly wasn't crawling. To make it worse, the beautiful weather during the week had caused the top half-inch of snow to turn into a crusty-ice layer that probably would have supported both of us had we been without our overnight packs. After about four hours of postholing, we decided to take a break and ring out our socks, gather our composure, and have a bit of a snack. The wind was whipping around at a constant 25 mph, and eating away at our faces, and the sun had punished us already for not bringing sunscreen.

It was decision time: continue on, or turn back and face another 2-3 hours of postholing (assuming that not having to break trail would speed up our return). When I posed this question to Nadia, her response was simply "Fuck that. We came this far, I'm not about to turn back now."

So on it was, around the bend which we assumed to be the Yellowstone River Trail. Unbeknownst to us, the trail actually cut back further than we went, not that we had an option. Before us was a meadow turned lake, with maybe a quarter mile left of bushwacking/postholing down to the river. I turned back to Nadia and told her "I'm going for it. If I can cross the river, we can get to the other side where there isn't snow (because that side of the valley had been exposed to the sun, while the side we were on was in the shadows all day). If you can't hear me when I get down there, one waving arm means we can cross, two means no." Onward I went, trudging down the hill, tripping over branches and fallen logs buried beneath the snow, and eventually through ankle-deep snow melt. But the good news was that the river was crossable with a bit of a hop and a skip, and dry land was ahead. I waved Nadia down from the hill, and onward we pressed, hoping to find a place to camp somewhere along the trail.

By this point we had lost hope of finding our reserved campsite, and were willing to settle for anything rock-free, snow-free, and with a place to hang our food. This was bear country, and grizzlies and black bears alike were coming out of hibernation with empty stomachs and an apetite that could kill. The only site we could find that suited our needs would have meant hanging our food directly above our tent pad, which was itself situated on a game trail. Probably not the best of ideas, since we had seen plenty of bear droppings on the trail. So onward we pushed, and before long, Gardiner was within sight, about three miles away - all of it downhill. I made a package of dehydrated chili, and we decided to keep moving to Gardiner. There was booze and a warm bed waiting for us at home - may as well take advantage of it, right?

So onward we pressed, down fields of snow and mud (because where there wasn't snow, there was certainly mud). Before long we met up with the Rescue Creek Trail, which has a bridge across the Yellowstone River, and leads right up to the road out of the park. We walked our way into Gardiner, and arrived at the Blue Goose (one of two bars in town, and the definite employee hangout) right at 9:30 PM - 11 hours after we set out. We covered approximately 15 miles that day including all of our sidetracks up and down hills, around cliffs, and across rivers. This was truly a tiring day, both physically and mentally - thankfully one of our coworkers came and picked us up from the Goose and drove us back to Mammoth. Nadia and I were both wind-chapped, and I had cuts on my shins from breaking through the ice. Would I do it again? Absolutely not! Do I regret it? Absolutely not!!! We saw two Sandhill Cranes, and heard a wolf howling, not to mention the birds of prey and countless elk.






That's enough for one post, but things to expect in the next post:

-Lava Creek
-5 bears
-Mammoth Hot Springs bushwacking
-A Bald Eagle

To Yellowstone!

After 5 days of traveling, Nadia and I arrived in Yellowstone on April 7th. The mountains surrounding us at Mammoth Hot Springs are capped with snow, though there is very little snow on the ground here at 6,239 feet (relatively low in comparison to the rest of the park). Of course, the main though coursing through my head when we arrived was hiking (duh, that's what the blog's about...) so out we went!

Our first hike was literally right out our back door, on the trail to Beaver Ponds. Neither of us have spent much time up here at Mammoth in the past, so neither of us had hiked this trail before. It's a relatively easy, 5-mile loop that extends behind the Mammoth Terraces. Within the first mile, we saw a harem of elk grazing in the meadows, with more than 60 elk. This isn't an uncommon sight at Mammoth, where the elk often graze in the lawns between buildings.

Mammoth was originally built as a military training ground. The buildings stand staunchly on the ground, reminiscent of squatting bunkers, and spread out similarly to a town. The grass here is one of the few larger impacts people have had on the ecosystem here at Yellowstone. When the military resided in Mammoth, they needed comfortable grass to practice their formations. So the government planted Kentucky Bluegrass all over Mammoth, which grows tenaciously over the entire location. It turns out that elk are far less attracted to the sprigs of weeds and elkthistle than they are to the lush Bluegrass that flourishes here in the mild weather at Mammoth. This has caused a pseudo-habituation of the elk, since they are willing to put up with the tourists to eat their version of a 5-star meal.

You see, Nadi and I have a running joke that during the season Mammoth is the Disneyland of Yellowstone. This is where the vast majority of tourists (referred to hereafter as 'tourons' - I hope you can figure that one out on your own) enter the park, gawking at the herds of bison, and taking pictures of their children standing next to elk. Curiously enough, these are the same overprotective parents that won't let their children climb a tree or take a trip through the backcountry, yet they're willing to snap some photos of the kids three feet away from a 2,000 pound bison. To be fair, it's not their fault. They came here to see Old Faithful, which erupts in such a perfect schedule that the tour companies can shuttle in the tourons by the masses with just enough time to let them cycle around the gift shop before shipping them back out before the next eruption.

However, us Yellowstoners (dare I say it aloud!), share a passion for the park in a way that no tourist will ever understand. We'd just as soon let them have Old Faithful - just as long as they leave the rest of the park to us - the backcountry fanatics. We love fording rivers, telling stories of backcountry encounters with bears, clinging to the side of a mountain, and starting campfires in the pouring rain. We rarely show up to Old Filthy, because to us, the boardwalks just won't cut it. This isn't just a vacation to us, it's a lifestyle. This is Henry David Thorough's America - unscathed by the American industrial machine. You won't see a single smokestack here in Yellowstone, nor a single oil pump ("Drill, baby, drill" will never be uttered here - thankfully that loon is back in Alaska, busy dealing with Putin and the rearing-head commies!) and we're planning on keeping it that way.