Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Wind River Range Traverse

I had a blast traversing the Weminuche Wilderness and proved to myself that I was able to sustain a 25 mile per day pace for several days through rugged mountains, but what about off-trail travel?

I have traveled off-trail in the past. When I worked in Montana, the Climber's Guide to Glacier National Park was my Bible, and I faithfully bagged peaks and followed Edwards' "Routes Among the Peaks," off-trail mountaineering routes that were either useful shortcuts or beautiful destinations themselves. And I suppose all of my backcountry skiing can be considered off-trail, as can my summer 14er and 13er climbs. But these trips were typically day trips, and for some reason all of my high mileage, multi-day summer trips (to date) have been on-trail experiences. I wanted to further my skills, and when I got my hands on a copy of Beyond Trails in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming I feverishly started planning an aggressive itinerary through the mountains I'd wanted to visit for several years. For anyone familiar with the Climber's Guide, Beyond Trails is 400 pages of "Routes Among the Peaks," with more detailed descriptions than "turn left at the large gray rock with the white blotch that resembled a backwards capital 'F' in 1960."

My route had me entering at Big Sandy Opening in the south and exiting at Green River Lakes Trailhead in the north. I was planning to walk about 80 miles, with about half of my time spent off-trail. Originally, I planned to leave Ranger at home but circumstances dictated that he join me on this adventure. I initially planned on parking my truck at Green River Lakes TH and hitch-hiking down to Big Sandy but a dog makes for a harder hitch, so I arranged for a shuttle with The Great Outdoor Shop in Pinedale. Afterwards, I realized how remote the trailheads in the Winds really are, and how infrequently traveled, and was glad to have paid for the shuttle.

On day one, I followed the trail to Jackass Pass, the gateway to the Cirque of the Towers. The Cirque is an incredible place - an alpine climber's Disney Land. Sheer vertical granite walls and blocky towers surround you on all sides and Lonesome Lake sits in the middle of it all. There are hundreds of routes on peaks named Warbonnet, Shark's Nose, Wolf's Head and Pingora. The Cirque has graced the pages of the Patagonia catalog more than once, and for good reason.

Cirque of the Towers

But this was not a climbing trip, so I left the trail and headed north towards "Texas Pass," an off-trail pass that would lead me to the Shadow Lake drainage and the backside of the Cirque of the Towers, where I would camp that evening.

The descent from Texas Pass was STEEP and rocky and irritated Ranger's paws (and my knees). At this point I realized I had a decision to make. I was still 70 miles (per my original itinerary) from where my truck would be parked in a few days. It occurred to me that parts of my original route would be impossible for Ranger to pass - he's a smart dog, but he hasn't learned how to use an ice ax yet. I could either turn around now and be back at my truck the next day (the shuttle wouldn't take place for a few more days) or continue on towards Green River Lakes TH knowing that if Ranger couldn't make it, I'd have a problem on my hands. I didn't want to bail so I decided to adjust my route - I would cut out two unnecessary crossings of the Continental Divide and two cols that likely required climbing and descending steep snow fields.

On day two, Ranger seemed back to normal. I strapped on his booties and hoped he would make it to the truck parked some 50 miles to the north. I avoided the Raid-Bonneville Col and instead traveled the Fremont Trail. I camped that night on the south shore of Dream Lake. There, I found a small sand beach and watched the sun set towards Pinedale.

The view from my tarp at Dream Lake

Sunset at Dream Lake

The following morning I set out for Hat Pass and Beyond. I found myself wearing my rain jacket most of the afternoon but the weather cleared just before I made my ascent and subsequent descent into Bald Mountain Basin. The sunshine lightened my mood (I was feeling the effects of hiking in sustained rain for hours on end) but the downside was quickly obvious - I was swarmed with mosquitoes within seconds of dropping my pack to set up camp. I thought the mosquitoes were bad the first night but this was something else. I put on my rain jacket and rain pants and did my best to ignore the buzzing cloud that enveloped me wherever I went. Eventually I had enough and retired to the safety of my bivy for an early bedtime.

The view from Spider Lake

Day four was the highlight of the trip for me. I woke up early and circumambulated Spider Lake and its many arms before packing up and descending to Cook Lakes. I followed the trail along the eastern shore of the upper lake. Officially the trail ends here, but I followed a well-traveled climber's trail north to Wall Lake, where I had this beautiful lake entirely to myself. I took advantage of the sunshine to dry my feet and socks and took in the view of the lake from high above (the terrain forces you up a sheer granite "wall" along the eastern shore, so from my perch I was probably 50 feet above the water). Eventually I shouldered my pack and continued my off-trail adventure, climbing up and over a saddle towards Island Lake, where I found probably a half dozen parties camped in close proximity. I skirted the western shore of Island Lake although twice my route didn't "go" and I was forced to re-route. Eventually I found an unofficial trail that led to Fremont Crossing and a footbridge that allowed me to safely cross the swollen creek. I spent the night at Lower Jean Lake, above treeline in the howling wind, happy to be in such an awesome place.

Taking it all in at Wall Lake

The next morning I climbed Shannon Pass then lunched at Peak Lake before crossing Cube Rock Pass, which unexpectedly turned out to be the crux of the route. Cube Rock Pass is accurately named - the trail disappears and one must navigate through massive, angular granite rocks. I was frequently forced to take off my pack and raise it or lower it separately, and many times Ranger was unable to get up or down on his own, so I had to lift him or lower him. Progress slowed tremendously and I cursed Cube Rock Pass more than once.

Lunch at Peak Lake

Cube Rack Pass behind me, I made good time over Vista Pass and through Trail Creek Park and Three Forks Park down the Green River drainage, where I camped along the banks of the Green River under the shadow of Squaretop Mountain. I had a small campfire in an unsuccessful attempt to repel the bloodthirsty mosquitoes. The sky was clear, so I decided to cowboy camp (no overhead shelter) under a tree.

I awoke unexpectedly in the middle of the night because of the brightness of the lightning. It seemed that Squaretop was being struck repeatedly. I was still dry, so I rolled over and went back to bed. I awoke again some time later and considered setting up my tarp but I decided to see if the tree and my bivy would keep me dry. After a few nervous minutes of intense lightening and heavy rain, it seemed that the combination would work and I dozed off for the remainder of the night.  

I was up at first light and was pleased to discover both that I was dry and that the storm had passed. I packed up, cruised down the trail along the eastern bank of the Green River (the same Green River that joins the mighty Colorado River in Canyonlands National Park over 700 miles downstream) and found my truck in the trailhead parking lot. With burger and beer on my mind, I rolled down the windows, turned up the Dylan, and drove straight to the Wind River Brewing Company in Pinedale.


As a professional brewer, I'm always interested in sampling other brewers' creations. The dry hopped Wyoming Pale Ale hit the spot, as did the "Brew Master Burger" ("1/2 pound of ground beef, smoked beef brisket, Beer-B-Q sauce, pepper jack cheese, topped with beer battered onion rings")!

As expected, I really enjoyed my first visit to the Winds. I was initially disappointed that I had to cut out the more challenging off-trail segments, but I turned out to appreciate the forced relaxation of 15 mile days versus the hike from sunrise to sunset pace of the 25 mile days of my Weminuche Big Traverse. Before I was even back to my truck I decided that I would return to the Winds for a dog-free, significantly off-trail adventure next summer. And hopefully next year I can time my trip so that the mosquitoes won't be so bad (last winter's huge snowpack resulted in very wet and buggy conditions for several weeks longer than usual this summer).


Weminuche Wilderness Traverse (A Photo Trip Report)

In early August 2011 I walked approximately 100 miles along the Continental Divide from Wolf Creek Pass to the Silverton Brewing Company. Below are some photos from my trip.













Friday, September 16, 2011

Summer Recap

I think most people define the end of Summer as either Labor Day or the Autumnal Equinox. This year, I decided my Summer ended yesterday, September 15, as it was snowing on me at the time. As I lay in my sleeping bag last night, I thought about the outdoor experiences I had over the past few months and how lucky I was to have had them.

One metric to judge "getting after it" is "sleeping bag nights." By my rough count, I spent about 24 nights (or three and a half weeks) in my sleeping bag this summer. That's a record for me (excluding the summer I lived in a double-wide trailer on an Indian reservation in Montana and slept in my bag for ten weeks because I didn't have sheets).

I also skied twice (including on the morning of the Fourth of July), climbed 12 14,000+ foot peaks (another personal best), Big Traversed two large wilderness areas (the Weminuche Wilderness in Colorado and the Wind River Range in Wyoming), paddled the premier multi-day packrafting trip in the lower 48, and explored places I'd never been. By all of these metrics, my Summer was a resounding Success.

I can only hope for more Successful Summers in the future!

Cold Rain and Snow

It rained on me for hours as I hiked through the trees. I missed a trail junction and had to bushwhack over a ridge to the proper drainage. When I got above treeline, the wind blew the rain sideways and through the zipper of my rain jacket, soaking my next-to-skin layer. The cold rain turned into wet snow above 10,000 feet.

This wasn't the most pleasant trip of the summer.

My plan was to cross the Continental Divide at Buchanan Pass (11,837 feet). I looked up and couldn't even see Buchanan Pass. I checked the time. Large wet snowflakes were accumulating fast. There wasn't much daylight left and conditions weren't getting any better. The forecast called for additional precipitation overnight. That wasn't going to make my return trip over Pawnee Pass (12,541 feet) the next day any easier.  Time to bail.

I followed my own footprints through the snow and set up my tarp when I got below snowline. I was too cold and wet and tired to cook a proper dinner, so I crawled into my sleeping bag and ate chocolate instead.

I awoke the next morning to mixed weather. The sun was shining to the east and clouds obscured the Continental Divide to the west. I retraced my steps from the day before. I was warm and dry and I could see the views that I missed 24 hours prior - the distinct profile of Sawtooth Mountain to west and Longs Peak, the monarch of the Front Range, to the north in Rocky Mountain National Park.

The view of Sawtooth I was hoping for

Approximately what I saw

It wasn't the trip I had planned, but I did have fun. Two types of fun, actually. Day one was Type II Fun (not fun to do, fun to talk about later) and day two was Type I Fun (fun to do, fun to talk about later).