Day 10
June 21, 2003
We had a very good night's rest. The wind calmed, and no rain fell. We slept in a little bit until sunlight streamed over the ridge. We set off at 6:43 am. Unfortunately, the sky to the west was dark with cloud, and the wind started blowing from that direction. We started hiking with no trail, searching hither and yon. In about a quarter mile we found the trail high up the slope.
For the next hour we spent a lot of time climbing over or getting around the blow downs. The morning was quite chilly. The further we went, the trail started improving until eventually we were walking on a very nice trail that would not be out of place anywhere. This led down to a line of high tension power lines, then shortly to a gravel road. This road we followed for several miles. It paralleled the divide, but dropped down to Taylor Saddle. A quarter mile before reaching the saddle we found a nice creek, but we didn't need to fill our bottles. We were carrying plenty.
Then the road climbed a long ways for several miles back up to the divide. The road continued beyond what was shown on our forest service map. Where the map showed a trail (NST) it was actually a road for a couple of miles. At road's end we set off on Trail #7 and this is where the day's difficulties began in earnest. Not because of the trail, for it was nicely maintained and easy to follow, but because of the cold wind, rain, sleet and snowfall. Hour after hour we hiked in cold and wet conditions. For about 4 hours we were above cloud base and couldn't see much. It was one of those days in the mountains.
At one point we met a group of outdoor instructors and their young students. There were 3 instructors and about 10 high school age students. They were soaked to the bone and so were we. They said they'd been in the mountains for a week already and would be going out in a couple of days.
Just before Black Peak we found another small snowmelt runoff, so we stopped to fill a couple of quarts. Jenny was having trouble with some large blisters on her toes. The ground was so wet and the air so cold, we couldn't stop for a rest the whole day. Through the day we had seen 4 or 5 grouse and lots of elk tracks and one set of bobcat tracks maybe.
The outdoor group had come over Black Peak, so we didn't have their tracks beyond there. There was a lot of snowpack in the higher elevations. Fortunately for us it was patchy and we were able to follow the trail. On the snowpack was about half an inch of fresh snow from today.
Eventually the trail descended to the Jack White mine area and we followed a gravel road leading back up several miles. Where the road made a sharp bend to the left, we made camp right on the road, but off to one side. There had been no cars up here this year and we hoped it would stay that way one more night. Again, we pitched the tarp very low lying to block the wind. It sure felt good to crawl into a warm and dry shelter and quilt. The ground was cold, but our body heat eventually warmed it.
Today we had worn our home-made 2-ply rain jackets a lot, to block the wind and as protection from the wet bushes.
Day 11
June 22, 2003
About 11 pm it became apparent that the tarp was much too low. We were accumulating condensation something fierce, and we were losing heat because the quilt was getting damp. Jenny got up and knocked down my rock wind-block at the foot end. With just that small amount of ventilation, the condensation build-up stopped and the air circulation started very slowly drying things.
Also, we discovered we had made a mistake camping on the road. With no insulation under us, the ground was very cold and stayed that way all night. The air was cold and we were in the clouds and by morning snow was falling lightly. But, also by morning the quilt was almost dry. That would not have been the case inside a tent. Nothing dries inside a tent in cold, damp weather. With the quilt's drying also came warmth, and by morning we were comfortably warm and still tired, so we slept in for several hours, prompted also by the spatters of rain and snow flurries. We have to be very careful out here with our lightweight gear - or any gear. Had the quilt still been wet, we may have had to stay put and wait for better weather. Because crawling into a wet bed after a wet and cold day could be risky. But thanks to the tarp we were free to go.
We crawled out at 9:40 am, and in 10 minutes had packed up and were ready to hike. It was interesting, we seem to be one mind on this trip. We never have to argue about what to do, whether to stay or go, sleep in or get up, because we have enough experience with these matters to know what is best.
We followed the road down and southeastward to its end. And then we picked up the trail leading along the ridge, delineating Idaho and Montana as usual. The trail starting climbing and soon we had to stop and remove insulating shirts and pants to keep from sweat-soaking them. The weather was again socked in, rainy and snowy. We didn't see any views all day. In the high regions the fresh snow was about an inch deep on the existing snowpack, and sometimes the firs and hemlocks were wintry white. Once again the tracks of animals led us across the snow, always hitting the trail again. Because of the thick understory, the trails are much used by the animals. Mostly elk, some deer, and several times what we thought was bobcat.
The trail led south and dropped quite far down a traversing slope and then started behaving very oddly. Several times we wondered if we had gone the wrong way, but in this area there were Idaho Centennial Trail placards on the trees. These eventually led us to Thompson Pass and we were surprised to see the road was paved. The temptation was to stick out the golden thumb and head for somewhere warm and dry. But the spirit of the journey was stronger.
A trail led into the hills from the other side of the road, but no trail was shown on our quad maps, or the latest forest service map. So we headed east half a mile along the road, to a trail that was shown on both the maps, leading up to Blossom and Pear Lakes. This trail was routed very steeply up the mountain and we had to practically crawl up the thing. And then at some arbitrary point it traversed a ways, and then started heading back down. It descended a couple hundred feet.
Eventually it reached the outlet of Lower Blossom Lake, a very pretty lake but the air was also very cold with katabatic air. We continued climbing up to Pear Lake. The afternoon was starting to get late and we were reluctant to get caught high on the divide, but we kept going and after traipsing through a lot of snow, made it to Pear Lake. This was even more beautiful with a stark backdrop of rock and scree. It was also very cold. The trail switchbacked up to the divide, and this was no easy undertaking because of the steep snowbanks covering the trail. We did a lot of kicking and stomping of steps. It was very precarious going.
Reaching the ridge, we joined an excellent trail. It was 2.5 feet wide and nicely groomed. It was almost like an Interstate freeway for backpackers, although it did have one short, steep section. Eventually it zigzagged far down the slope and brought us to Glidden Pass. This is not much of a pass that we could see. Rather than follow the trail all the way up to the next peak, we descended southwest on a 4WD road and then trod up the main dirt road to Cooper Pass. Just before making the zigzag descent, the clouds lifted a bit and we got our first views of the day. Views of mountains all around us, and deep forested valleys extending way out to forever.
Throughout the day we had a lot of sporadic rain, snow and wind, and we were continually putting on our rain jackets, taking them off, deploying umbrellas, putting them away, ad infinatum. Reaching Cooper Pass we found a place to camp off the trail a ways in the hemlock and fir forest on a thick layer of duff. We stopped at 5:11 pm. Using 4 small balls of cotton from our foot care bag, (the cotton balls were something we were carrying as an experiment for our foot care) I managed to ignite a cookfire. We soon had a reviving pot of hot corn pasta, our first hot meal on this stretch. It tasted heavenly.
We had pitched the tarp fairly high this time for needed ventilation, and had set our umbrellas at one end to block the cold breeze. Also the netting pulled over our heads helped block the breeze to a surprising degree. We were soon retired, snug, warm, and dry under the quilt at the conclusion of a long, challenging day of stormy weather. But it was a good day with lots of beautiful terrain. For the second day in a row, we were not able to take one sit-down rest stop during the day because of the cold weather. But it didn't seem to matter.
Day 12
June 23, 2003
The night was very cold but we slept snug and warm. We awoke to a mostly clear sky and set off at 6:23 am and followed the road down to the east a quarter mile to the hair-pin turn to the left where we found a very faint trail leading into the forest, to the south. This trail was what Jenny referred to as "a don't want-er." The forest service had abandoned it, but it was still on their maps. We were trying to hike it because it was the only one shown on our maps. Doubtless the State Line Trail led along the divide, but it was not shown on the latest forest service maps or the quad. Nevertheless this trail was very pretty. It led past a beautiful waterfall plummeting down the rocky escarpment, and through an area where an avalanche had knocked down a section of large timber. We were fortunate enough to find the trail on the other side, emerging from the avalanched snow.
Farther along we found a collapsed pile of some old miner's wood stove. The trail was quite nice and easy to follow despite the number of blow downs, until it reached a point directly below the divide where it climbed directly up the steep slope. These old trails in this area had their quirks. At the divide, sure enough, we found the state line trail. Here our maps showed that our trail descended the opposite slope from this area. We searched the entire region but could find no such trail. We needed to descend directly down this slope to a 4WD road leading in to Mullan.
We knew the slope would be very brushy and difficult to travel cross country. This was not a favorable situation. We picked up a very faint trail going diagonally down and to the northwest. This continued quite a long ways, although it was extremely faint. But the lower it went, the more it traversed north, away from our intended direction.
We followed it anyway because it was our only option. It crossed a couple of creeks rushing down steep, rocky gullies. After each crossing we found the faint path climbing out of each gully. Finally we gave up in disgust and headed straight down, picked up another very old and faint trail, followed it down a ways, gave it up, and eventually reached the bottom of the canyon and its creek. We crossed the creek, climbed the opposite bank in to the thick forest, hoping to find a trail, but found nothing. This also was not good news.
So we bushwhacked down the canyon. Eventually we crossed the main creek again, back to the east bank, bushwhacked farther, and finally picked up a very faint trail leading down canyon. This trail, we knew, would take us out. Along the way we heard a scuffling in a tree and saw a black bear cub scampering up a tree and making little whimpering sounds as it went.
This narrow path had not been maintained. There were a lot of blow downs and the bushes grew over the path. Eventually it rounded a slope where our map showed that our original, intended trail reached this point, and what did we find but a very nice trail coming down the slope, as shown. Apparently, up on the divide, the trail crew had either moved the trail junction or it was shown incorrectly on the map. Obviously we had not gone far enough along the divide to find it.
Nevertheless, here we were, so we proceeded now along a 4WD road, crossing a number of creeks and passing through a beautiful forest of cedar. After a few more miles of road walking we reached the Shoshone Picnic area which was a beautiful and expansive, well-manicured park. From there it was another 4 or 5 miles into the town of Mullan, where we arrived at 12:30 pm.
We collected our resupply box at the post office and rented a small room at the only motel. The town did not have a store or proper restaurant, only a couple of convenience stores, one of which sold hamburgers.
Day 13
June 24, 2003
Our day began at 5:30 am with hot showers, packing chores, and re-boxing supplies: one box to send home and one box to send ahead. By 8 am we were at the post office - opening time. The postmistress was very helpful with our packages.
We set off at 9:00 am and followed the same road we had walked the previous day. At the east end of town we stopped at the gas station convenience store and shopped for snack items to see us through the next 5 or 6 days.
Proceeding east again along our original entry road, in a few more miles we came to the road junction: the left fork leading to Shoshone Park, where we had come from, and the right fork leading up and over Interstate 90. Here we made a mistake, the first of many as it turned out. We should have followed this road across the Interstate, up into the valley a ways, to intersect the old railroad grade. The map showed the grade as an old road. We didn't know whether it might be completely overgrown and unhikable. We knew there must be some way to reach Lookout Pass, other than by the freeway, but we couldn't figure out what it would be.
So we thought, what the heck. As a matter of expediency, we just walked along I-90. This actually wasn't too bad, however it could have been dangerous had someone thrown something out the window. The potential for danger is always there when in the presence of people behind steering wheels or their passengers.
Thus we proceeded for about 5 miles, the last 2 miles of which were something to write home about. It began as a gentle rain and proceeded through various stages of development until the sky was hammering us with a deluge of rain mixed with hail, with thunder rumbling down from the mountains, and the fierce wind doing its best to demolish our umbrellas.
Soon the shoulder gully where we walked was gushing with a torrent and pushing us closer to the traffic. This went on for half an hour. The traffic continued to roar past, now with spray flying from the wheels. Not a single driver stopped to offer us assistance, though without a doubt every single one noticed us. Not that we expected or even wanted help, but I think that to many people, the world outside their automobile windows is perceived as the imaginary and entertaining world inside their television sets. When watching tv you don't try to offer the actors help if their situation requires it. They are just part of the show. And so were we. But as I said, it was our mistake for walking along the freeway.
The rain was just slackening as we reached the Lookout Pass Ski Lodge. The sign said "open" so we walked inside the lower room and found tables, chairs, and a ceiling mounted heater in one corner. In winter this was probably the warming and drying room for skiers. And this was what we needed most. We were absolutely soaking wet and chilled to the bone. Soon we had everything out of our packs and hanging on racks near the heater, merrily drying away. An hour later we had everything back into our packs now dry once again. Then we went upstairs for hamburgers at the grill. The two gals working there were very nice to us. The rarely see hikers, but they are inundated this time of year with mountain bikers. There are some extremely popular routes hereabouts.
We had arrived at noon, and now, 2 hours later, we stepped outside under a not-raining sky and proceeded with the day's second mistake. The lad in the bike rental shop said the dirt road went to the top, by which we assumed that meant the divide. So without bothering to check our maps, we proceeded blithely up this road. About half an hour of huffing and puffing later, I decided to check the map. And the next 15 minutes while tromping back down the road, I was muttering all sorts of explicatives about my stupidity. I didn't realize it, but this mountain was just a bump on the ridge leading far up to the divide, and I did know that this ridge was probably impassable near its top because it turns into a jagged saw blade.
Back at the ski resort, not going inside this time, we traipsed over to the abandoned railroad grade, and on it proceeded down and east. Very soon equanimity returned to me - Jenny had never lost it. We hiked light heartedly along the gently descending railroad grade for many miles. This would have made a beautiful mountain bike ride, but I think with bikes one doesn't see quite as much because it is much more important to watch where you are going - or else. But perhaps not on such an open, gentle grade.
Eventually we walked through a tunnel. It was a couple hundred yards long, pitch black inside, we could not see where we were placing our feet. Very cold and drippy.
Immediately on exiting the tunnel, we turned 90 degrees right and followed an interesting trail negotiating innumerable blow downs, and trees grown up in the middle of the trail. This is an interesting aspect of the journey. Within reason, we could go where we pleased, and often we don't know if it was going to work. But we always enjoyed these adventures and often they do work out great. And this one certainly did, for it eventually put us on our intended gravel road heading up to Bullion Pass. This road proved to be a real blubber burner, a rather steep and unrelenting grade.
Along the way we passed many beautiful creeks rushing with clear, sparkling water. About two-thirds the way up the road, the next rainstorm overtook us, but fortunately we were on its fringe. We scrambled down into the shelter of a large hemlock and actually enjoyed a nice rest stop, munching on a few snacks. The rain passed on and we resumed the long ascent to the divide.
After crossing under a set of crackling high-tension power lines, we reached Bullion Pass at 6:10 pm. After a good search around, we made camp under a large spruce tree. The sun came out for a final few minutes of the day, and we pitched the tarp and settled under it, glad to be back on the divide and cozy beneath our shelter. We had not made a great deal of progress today, as the crow flies, but it had been a good day, full of unexpected variety. The heater and burgers at the ski lodge were a real bonus. We saw no one on the railroad grade or the Bullion Pass road. Only a solitary deer, a few chipmunks, a gyrfalcon that flew close overhead, and a flicker.
It is a beautiful evening but it doesn't feel like true wilderness with the nearby power lines buzzing constantly. But just imagine all those tvs powered by these lines. We much prefer adventure to entertainment. Perhaps the adventure is the entertainment.
Day 14
June 25, 2003
We had lots of condensation under the tarp again. I had pitched it a little too low. We set off at 6:15 am. Overhead the sky was a beautiful blue. The trail, an ATV track, led steeply up the hill to the south, then down the hill to the east. On the grassy slopes we saw a few elk. We stopped at Roland Summit and dried the tarp and ground sheet in the sun. From here our trail was Road 391, which is not to suggest it was level. It climbed and descended quite a lot while generally following the divide, and was sometimes 4WD steep.
Mid-morning clouds started developing, but they never completely over-developed, and no rain fell on us today. But the day was a little chilly because of our altitude, which probably averaged 5,000 to 5,500 feet. There was a fair amount of snow on the road, especially on the northern slopes. We took quite a few rest stops today and it was very nice to see the scenery, rolling mountains extending away as far as the eye could see in every direction.
In the vicinity of Wishard Peak we found a small spring issuing from the hillside, just at road level, and flowing into an old culvert. Here we filled our bottles: 3 quarts each. A ways further we came to a burned area. It was all above the road and we guessed someone had tossed out a smoldering cigarette. The trees burned were limber pine. One of them was still full of small branches hanging over the road, so we stopped to make a cookfire, reaching up to pluck dead twigs to feed the fire. We cooked a pot of corn elbows and baked scones.
We saw dozens of elk today, 20 or 30 altogether, in bunches of 3 and four. We also saw a black bear that ran terrified away from us, making strange noises. The farther we went the higher the road climbed. For the last hour we were looking everywhere for a campsite. The problem was the ground was covered almost everywhere in snowpack. Finally at 7:45 pm we found a site at an old hunter's camp. This was at about 6,300 feet elevation, about 1.5 miles short of Ward Peak
It had been a very enjoyable day and we had made reasonable progress. We had seen lots of beautiful scenery and we were glad not to see anyone up here. Because of the snow, vehicles couldn't get in yet.
Day 15
June 26, 2003
The wind died during the night. At one point I awoke swimming in sweat. With the tarp pitched correctly, the quilt stays dry and becomes very efficient at insulating. I had to remove a few layers of clothing.
We awoke to find the sky full of clouds and set off at 7:09 am. We resumed following Road 391 Stateline Road, which followed the divide. Below Ward Peak we found several springs, and in fact the entire day's stretch of hiking was very well watered. As the morning wore on the clouds began to dissipate, making for a very pleasant day.
Jenny's feet were quite sore with many blisters. She hobbled along as best she could. My feet were also sore but nothing like hers. Saw elk throughout the day and a pine marten that scurried up a nearby tree for a good long look at us. When I started to approach, he ran down the tree and scampered lithely away. He was very pretty with silky brown fur and large, pointed ears. We also enjoyed watching some small, yellow birds flitting nearby a spring.
Near Gold Summit we saw a truck parked on the road, the only one we saw on the entire Road 391 (much of the road is still under snow). The fellow was harvesting bear grass for flower arrangements he said. Gold Summit was paved on the Idaho side, probably for the benefit of the logging trucks. The road walking was expedient but very hard on our feet, ankles and legs. We stopped several times at springs to drink, rest, wash our feet and take sponge baths.
A ways past Black Peak we stopped and made a cookfire for a corn spaghetti dinner at 2:00 pm. Up to that point we had been laboring, but after the corn spaghetti meal, we both had a lot more energy. At Dry Creek Saddle, the road terminated and we resumed hiking trail once again. This section of trail was quite steep for a long ways. (Trail #738 National Recreation Trail) We were worried it would take us up into the snow, but we encountered only a few patches.
Up and up it climbed, nearly to the summit of Eagle Cliff Peak at 7,500 feet. Upper Cliff Lake, below us, still had ice on some of it. This was a strenuous but very scenic section. The views were spectacular and we were thankful for a mostly clear sky. The clouds were threatening but not over-developing. There was one snowbank that we had to cross that would have been a show-stopper in the morning when frozen, because of the exposure below. But late in the day, we easily kicked steps up and across.
Hurrying on as best as our legs would carry us, we descended to a col between peaks, and after a fair amount of searching we found a campsite that we figured we could make do. The time was 7:02 pm. The ecology here is bear grass, limber pine and fir. The wind was cold and somewhat strong. Our little site took shelter behind a large limber pine. We pitched the tarp broadside to the wind and it worked very nicely.
Day 16
June 27, 2003
We awoke to blue sky after a good night's sleep; surprising, considering the setting. Set off at 7:12 am. The trail led up into a beautiful alpine setting, with views of rolling mountains everywhere and shimmering lakes in the deep-cut cirques below. The trail went around Binocular Peak and down into a valley where we found several gushing streams. The trail was avoiding a steep and rocky section on the peak's south side. Then the trail climbed back up to the ridge.
Around noon we crossed Road 320, the Missoula Lake Road. Here at this crossroads we encountered a bank of about 30 4-wheelers. They had stopped at the pass for a break. We stopped to chat. They were very interested in our trip, and we were very interested in theirs. They were on a 4-day trip and were traveling with a large sag truck loaded with gear. It looked like a lot of fun.
The trail leading south from the passes tend to lead straight up the next mountain and this one was no exception. We did very well and enjoyed the route, even though there was a great deal of snow, and we often had to search for the trail. However, the snow on Illinois Peak nearly turned us back. It started with a long traverse on a knife-edge ridge. The trail was buried nearly the entire way. We had to bushwhack along the west side of the ridge, which was free of snow. The trail then led up a very imposing section of rugged mountain. And near the top, the trail was covered in very steep snow.
One look at that snow patch and we nearly turned around right there, owing to our lack of ice axes. But we decided to try a line up a spur of bare ground to the right. This worked well, and from the top of the spur, we kicked up steep snow to where its angle eased off, and then traversed off to the right. Once off of the north face, the terrain had more snow free patches, so we were able to find and follow the trail. But soon the ground was completely covered again. There was only one possible route: south along the ridge, so that's the way we went. Then the map showed the trail traversed high on the north face of Graves Peak. This traverse nearly sent us packing also. We did find a safe line across the snow covered north face, and rounded the west ridge onto bare ground again, then spent 20 minutes looking for the trail. We had come out much too high.
The trail now led diagonally down, across bare ground. We were glad to have those two peaks behind us, but clearly we are here too early in the season. We considered leaving the divide and walking roads west from Hoodoo Pass. The closer we got to Hoodoo, the better the mountains to the south looked. We did not want to miss them, so we decided to stay on the trail and give them a try. We stopped to cook corn pasta. In lieu of a tripod, I just held the pot over the fire. The corn elbows cook a lot faster than the corn spaghetti; three minutes after the boil the corn elbows are cooked. 6 to 8 minutes for the corn spaghetti. But the elbows take more room in the pack and they don't taste quite as good and they don't seem to provide the same amount of energy.
The old trail followed the state line closely, and at one viewpoint we could see Hoodoo Pass due east of us, and the trail ahead climbing the next mountain to the south. We should have left the trail here and made our way down the slope. At this viewpoint we also watched two elk grazing the green hillside. For along while they didn't notice us, even though we were standing in plain sight. When they did notice us, they looked at us a long while and then went back to grazing. By their lack of fear toward us, we could tell we were starting to connect. This was a very auspicious sign.
We followed the trail south up the next mountain, then eventually down to a road where we found a nice creek. The sky had been cloudy all afternoon, the air cold and windy. But we stopped at the creek for a much-needed sponge bath.
We followed the trail as it switch-backed a quarter mile down, then hit the road again. The trail led in to a hunter's camp and that is where we lost it. So we followed the road down three-quarters of a mile to the Hoodoo Road, then followed that a third of a mile up to the pass. We were surprised to see four cars parked at the trailhead parking lot; obviously overnight hikers, this being a Friday evening.
A vehicle pulled up to Hoodoo Pass and parked near where we resting. It was an older truck, and had steam pouring from its engine. So I walked over to offer assistance. The fellow was not very friendly, but I showed him where the thermostat was, and told him that if he removed the thermostat (remove two bolts was all that was required) then the engine would probably run fine. He thought the block might be cracked. I suggested to wait 20 minutes, then pour water into the radiator, and the truck would probably be ok.
The trail leading east from Hoodoo Pass was improved with switchbacks. Very soon we were on a ridge with fine views. We could see why this was a popular area. No doubt the hikers in front of us were headed for the Heart Lakes. At 7:15 pm we hauled off the trail and made camp. We estimate we hiked on snow about 5 miles altogether today.
Day 17
June 28, 2003
We awoke to sunlight on the tarp and the sound of footsteps and conversation as a couple hikers passed by on the trail not too far away. They probably didn't notice us because they kept talking. After some delays (we somehow lost track of one of our tarp stakes) we set off at 6:30 am into a beautiful morning. This section of trail was outstanding. The slopes were not timbered but covered instead by short, lush vegetation with lots of wildflowers. The slopes dropped away steeply and we walked high above many lakes, some of which still had ice on them.
After a grand tour of the highlands, the trail dropped far down to Goose Lake. At the outlet we took sponge baths, scrubbed our feet, and washed our clothes. At this point a number of hiker's boot prints were in evidence on the trail up from Goose lake trailhead.
From Goose Lake the trail changed personality drastically, like day to night. It was now something I would not wish on anyone. It was typically steep, but also super brushy. We had to virtually claw our way up the mountain. From the mountaintop the trail led south about 4 miles, a very rugged steep uphill, steep downhill, snow everywhere, and the trail was often indistinct. This section felt more like cross-country mountain climbing than hiking. Or possibly commando training. However, it was also one of the most beautiful regions we have ever hiked. Every half-mile we were treated to another bird's eye view of another cirque, with steep, verdant slopes and almost always a lake. These were some very rugged and beautiful cliffs.
Fortunately for us, the day was warm and the snow was very soft. Had the snow been hard we would not have gotten through without ice axes. The forest service map doesn't show any mountains here, but we encountered one spectacular mountain after another.
In the region of Straight Lake, my left ankle began giving me problems. Before long, my pace slowed to a crawl. Jenny had experienced the same difficulty several days ago, although not as severe. I took a few long rests, Jenny massaged my leg, I did stretching, but the only thing that helped was an extremely slow pace. And so we went for a couple of miles. At one point I tried walking barefoot, and it was here that I looked down at my ankle and saw that it was severely pronated, much more than I had ever seen it. I suddenly realized that this was the problem. All that pounding down the mountains had tired my foot and leg muscles, and had allowed the ankle to pronate very badly. While barefoot, I tried straightening the foot and slowly walking, and this instantly helped. I put my shoe back on, and within 5 minutes was walking almost at a normal clip again, but with the continuous effort of holding the ankle vertical.
For the next 5 miles there was a lot of snow as usual. Our water bottles were dry. The snow was melting rapidly but we found nowhere to collect water. Often there was water coursing down the trail, but we couldn't use it because of the horse manure.
About 1.5 miles north of Fish Lake the trail traversed a steep slope on the northern exposure. Here we found several hearty snowmelt creeklets. We each filled 3 quarts. In another half mile we stopped to cook dinner: corn elbows in tomato soup, with a half a chocolate brownie each for dessert. We are taking longer on this section than planned, having underestimated this stretch, and we are starting to run a little low on food.
We made our way down to Fish Lake and selected a spot at one of the many campsites. Surprisingly we didn't see or hear any other campers. This is a beautiful lake, and the fish were jumping. Interestingly, ORVs and 4-wheelers are permitted here. Access is probably to the west. We stopped at 8 pm, washed out the cookpot and took quick sponge baths.
Day 18
June 29, 2003
Set off at 7:22 am after a peaceful night. Under blue skies we followed the trail leading up to the pass to the southeast. It was a very nice trail. We continued following the trail south about three-quarters of a mile, but it didn't feel right. So we stopped to study the maps, but nothing made sense on the maps. We got out the GPS, and it put us in the middle of nowhere, where no trail was shown. Then it occurred to me that this was a fairly new trail not shown on the maps. It wasn't until mid morning that it dawned on me that this trail might be the Idaho Centennial Trail, as shown on the DeLorme map. By not continuing down this trail, we expended about two-thirds of the day, because it would have taken us to the same place. We backtracked up to the pass above Fish Lake and found a lesser trail leading north that we had not noticed. This was also a fairly new trail, a re-routing of the State Line Trail. Without the GPS we would not have been able to figure that one out.
Reaching the original State Line Trail we continued on. The ground was covered in numerous and deep snow patches, which made the route finding difficult. The trail descended in long switchbacks down to a small, unnamed lake, where we stopped to wash socks, dundo-style, at the outlet. From there the trail was fairly indistinct, eventually traversing a long, steep, open slope. In places the trail was the same slope as the hillside. Steeply inclined, side to side.
Reaching a col, the trail then headed steeply straight up Admiralty Peak. Near the top, it angled away from the fall line. We broke out on to the ridge. Again, the snow all through this area was profuse, and route finding was a challenge. The trail led down nearly to Mud Lake, then dipped north, down the slope, only to climb back up a short ways further on. We chose to cross-country along the ridge instead, and soon found the trail again. The trail followed the ridge as it climbed gently, with more and more snowpack covering the ground.
The day was very hot, because the sun glared off the snow and broiled us, from above and below. We sweated profusely. We gained the ridge and sat down for yet another map study. This was decision time. From here we had a clear view of the mountains ahead: Shale Mtn., Rhodes Peak, and so on. We could see no way around Shale, at least on the west side. The map did not show a trail going around it anywhere. All the peaks had a lot of snow on them. And so we opted for Plan B, which was to drop down to Kid Lake Creek and along the Middle Fork of Kelly Creek. At Kid Lake we stopped for a quick dip.
We set off down the trail and immediately saw that it had recently been demolished by a number of horses. And so the day's mood went from bright to dark, as we stumbled and slithered through the muddy horse muck for mile after mile. This trail led far, far down the valley. The vegetation was so thick it was almost claustrophobic. We waded several creeks barefoot. But where the trail crossed Middle Fork, the bridge was no longer there, so we forded in our shoes. The water was very high and rushing because of the high rate of snowmelt.
At South Fork we passed by a large horse camp with half a dozen wall tents. We continued on a couple more miles and eventually found a place to make camp a hundred feet off the trail on fairly level ground, right next to a fairly large pile of bear scat. Stopped hiking at 7:50 pm.
Day 19
June 30, 2003
We had not noticed any significant clouds in the sky, but soon after retiring, the sky began rumbling with distant thunder and before long raindrops began to patter the tarp. I had not pitched the tarp for inclement weather, so I attached stakes to the side guys from inside the tarp by reaching out and placing the stakes. We were already using Jenny's umbrella at the head end to hold the mosquito netting off our faces. This was one of our few camps so far with a few mosquitoes. It was a storm in a teacup. It lasted only half an hour.
One other anomaly was a deer in the immediate vicinity making those odd-snorting noises that deer sometimes make, along with hoof pounding, while making a wide semi circle around our camp. Almost like chewing us out for being there. Earlier we had walked right by two young bucks. They stood there watching us, no more that seventy-five feet away. Truly, the more we connect, the more the wild animals loose their fear of us.
Set off at 6:11am, sky perfectly clean, bushes perfectly wet and soon so were our pants, shoes, and socks.
In about half an hour we passed by a typical hunting camp, and we happened to notice a trail sign several hundred feet off the trail, behind the camp. We didn't dare pass by any bits of information, so we went to investigate. The trail said "Black Lead Mountain Trail." This was the trail we wished to follow. Nearby was a faint trail leading through the meadow. It could have passed for a game trail, but it was a little more substantial and continuous. This we followed for a quarter of a mile to the river. There were no bridges but the trail emerged on the far side. The good news was we had found a trail. The bad news was we had to ford the river.
We deemed the river wade able, if only just, so with each a stout balancing pole in hand, we started across. The river, Kelly Creek, was positively gushing with the heavy snowmelt. The water was flowing fast, the rocks covered in slippery algae, and midstream the water was upper thigh deep for me and nearly crotch deep for Jenny. Fortunately it was not extremely swift. It was fast flowing, but not so fast that it was instantly dangerous. We went across together. We made it across and, as a bonus; our shoes got washed, which was good because they smelled positively terrible from all the sweating.
A good trail led up into the forest, following Deer Creek. The sign had read six miles to Black Lead Mountain (top of mountain). This was a very slow six miles because we had a lot of elevation to gain, almost 3,500 feet. It took us four hours to reach the top at 7,300 ft. It was a long, steady climb with not much change in scenery in the vegetation-thick forest, and a bit of snow just before the top. The trail ended on a ridge connecting peaks. We sat there in the shade of a scrawny limber pine, resting, snacking, and studying the map deciding which way to go next.
Our choices were of two: follow a trail down into the next valley, or we could climb 2/3 a mile up to the summit of Black Lead and then follow a road down into the same valley. We were ready for stint of road walking, so that was what we chose. There was a fair amount of snow for the first couple of miles down the road, and surprisingly, a couple of four-wheelers had managed to get over it, judging by the tracks. We were on the edge of our Forest Service map. The Delorme map showed the road went down, and which junctions to take to get there, so down we went.
We met the next pair of four-wheelers coming up the road. These fellows were quite a sight, and not just because they were the first people we had seen in several days, although that helped. Their machines were loaded with gear. One of them was towing a small trailer. They each wore a side arm. The one fellow was retired from the Forest Service and still worked on trail crews. He knew a tremendous amount about the region. He said there are a lot of wolves up here, hence the guns. And of course cougar, bear, and moose, all of which can be dangerous he said. He said there are lots of coyotes here and mountain goats in some areas. In all we stood and talked for about thirty minutes. They said they were on safari, out for several days at least, it looked like.
We proceeded down the road which seemed too gradually graded for our liking, meaning more miles to get down the mountain. We reached the river and bridge at the bottom in three hours. We climbed up the road another mile, and then turned left at the junction. The sign said twelve miles to Papoose Saddle. The road led up the next Massif, climbing it at a more concentrated grade. The uphill was easier on our feet, after all the downhill they were starting to complain again.
While coming down the road I made an extremely significant discovery. I was kneeling on the ground, washing my socks in a creek, and when we resumed walking, my left ankle no longer hurt. It was like magic. I observed that I was probably stretching the muscles while I had been kneeling, with my toes bent forward toward my knees. After twenty minutes the ankle started hurting again, so I stopped and repeated the same stretching exercise, and again the pain vanished. So for the remainder of the descent I stopped every twenty minutes, and this kept me going.
At five pm we found a small creek so we stopped to cook our remaining serving of corn elbows. This time we added powdered milk and our remaining Parmesan, tomato, and cheese sauce. We hoped we would reach our resupply the following afternoon, as our food was just about gone.
We hiked another hour and reached a place called Snow Bank Camp. As indicated by a large sign here, this was near a place where Lewis and/or Clark had camped September 15, 1805. We stopped at 7:15 pm and found a place where the snow was not too near. A solo motorcyclist came, by then later returned, otherwise there was no traffic on this road, as indicated by the snow and a number of blow downs.
- IUA Hiking & Biking Adventure
- Day 1, 2, 3, 4
- Day 5, 6, 7, 8
- Day 9, 10, 11, 12
- Day 13, 14, 15, 16
- Day 17, 18, 19, 20
- Day 21, 22, 23, 24
- Day 25, 26, 27, 28
- Day 29, 30, 31, 32
- Day 33, 34, 35, 36
- Day 37, 38, 39, 40
- Day 41, 42, 43, 44
- Day 45, 46, 47, 48
- Day 49, 50, 51, 52
- Day 53, 54, 55, 56
- Day 57, 58, 59