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| Karl and Nitro heading for Highland Park. |
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| Exit Pass and Spear Lake. |
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| Black Tooth above Bard Lake. |
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| Karl and Nitro west of Exit Pass. |
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| Geneva Lake. |
![]() |
| View over Elsa Lake. |
![]() |
| Karl and Nitro heading for Highland Park. |
![]() |
| Exit Pass and Spear Lake. |
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| Black Tooth above Bard Lake. |
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| Karl and Nitro west of Exit Pass. |
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| Geneva Lake. |
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| View over Elsa Lake. |
The
summit of Cloud Peak (13,164’) is the most tempting target in the Bighorns. As
a rare Wyoming Thirteener, the namesake of its surrounding Wilderness Area, and
the highest peak in the range, Cloud Peak attracts more than its fair share of
climbers. Throughout my time in the Bighorns the West Tensleep valley approach was
the only route in the wilderness where seeing other parties was likely. Several
of my friends had been exploring the range, and Tod, Kathy, Leroy, and I
decided to make an attempt on Cloud Peak. Our plan was to hike from West Tensleep
Trailhead past Mistymoon Lake to camp along Upper Paint Rock Creek. We’d make
our summit attempt on the middle day, and have a leisurely hike out on day
three.
View from Upper Paintrock Creek
On
Friday we drove from Lead, SD to the West Tensleep Campground. The parking lot
and campground looked full, and we slept in the trucks. Kathy and Leroy had
their dog Sophie, and Tod had a friend’s dog that he was taking care of.
We
were up early Saturday morning and hiked for 4 ½ hours past lakes Helen,
Marion, and Mistymoon to the falls on Paint Rock Creek. All the meadows along
the trail were choked with a bountiful display of flowers. But the bugs were
nearly as thick, though they seemed to bother Tod and Leroy more than Kathy or
I.
I’d
made an aborted attempt to hike in this way over Memorial Day, and it was easy
to see the difference two months made. This time, there was no snow, and the
trail was wide and well maintained. The trail got a lot of horse traffic, and
the maintenance was sorely needed. The views of the lakes and peaks from the
trail were great. Mistymoon Lake always had a foreboding look. This time my
instincts were right, and we got an early light shower as we passed by it.
Campsite upper Paintrock Creek.
Another
group occupied the prime campsite above Paint Rock falls. So, we set up camp on
the ridge just north of the outlet stream of Frisbee Lake, and just above the
smaller lake to the west. Our site was sheltered by the trees, and probably
better than the main site.
After
a luncheon feast we took naps, then walked west to see Lake Solitude. It was
magnificent. The lake entirely fills its narrow valley and has a small beach on
its east end. I was hot and sweaty from the walk and took a brief swim as did
Tod. For such a large lake the water was temperate. The hike to the lake was
also super scenic. Paint Rock Creek flows through a narrow steep valley most of
the way, and there is a series of nice waterfalls along the side creeks. 
Waterfall, upper Paintrock Creek.
The
Bighorns are notorious for dinner time rain showers. Even armed with this
knowledge, I couldn’t get dinner cooked before the rain came. On previous
trips, these showers were minor nuisances, but not this time. This one started
with pea sized hail, then alternated between sheets of rain and more bouts of
hail. The contrast between the sunny swim at Lake Solitude, and eating warm
gruel back at a soggy camp was pretty stark. As the storm was ending another
group came over the hill from Mistymoon, looking in bad shape. They were mostly
wearing sneakers and slide their way down the slope.
Lake Solitude from the east.
After
a good night’s sleep, we got an early start, hoping to avoid the afternoon
storms common in the high peaks. We saw that the late group had camped in the
first meadow past the falls, which looked to be the best site in the area.
Beyond
the falls there is no maintained trail to the top of Cloud Peak. But the Michael
Melius guidebook describes it well, and the route is easy to follow in clear
weather. I had hiked this route with Craig in 1986, but this would be the first
time for the others. Most of the route was marked by cairns through the valley
to a small headwall. We began to spread out above the headwall. I’d forgotten
how sheer the heavily glaciated east face of Cloud Peak is. From the route it
looks like something out of Yosemite. I felt great during the climb, which was
a surprise since I hadn’t done that much climbing recently. We had great views all the way up. I even scoped
out a route in the valley between Bomber and Cloud to Glacier Lake for my “to
do” list.
Sophie climbing Cloud Peak.
At
the top was another couple, and a register with numerous recent entries. The
route got more use than I thought. Tod was getting pumped up for a climb of
Black Tooth or Wolsey, prominent to our north, and looking savagely rugged. But
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take on those technical peaks.
Woolsey and Black Tooth from Cloud Peak
As
usual, the clouds began to gather soon after we hit the top. So, after shooting
all our film we headed down. But before we got off the ridge we were caught in
another mixed hail/rainstorm. This storm was harder than the one last evening,
and carried a lot of lightening. At one point all our hair began to stand on
end, and our ice axes (not needed) began to hum. Temporarily ditching the axes,
we crawled into what shelter we could find in the boulders to avoid the
lightening and the pummeling of the hail. There was another group coming up
behind us. We never saw if they turned around, or made it to the summit. I’d
been caught in mountain top storms before, but this one had stronger and more frequent
lightening than any storm I’d been in.
No Tod, that's not our descent route.
Hiding
in those rocks was bad, but trying to run across the ridge after the lightening
stopped was miserable. We all wanted off that ridge ASAP, but the ridge was
covered in big boulders and the green moss on them got snotty slick when wet. I
was still rattled by the power of the storm and the obvious electric field we’d
been in. We all made it off the ridge. The four of us were a little worse for
wear, and more so for the dogs, especially Sophie who was afraid of thunder.
Group shot on the summit of Cloud Peak.
The
rain stopped by the time we got to the headwall, though the sky never did
clear. The runoff down the mountain was intense. At one point we came to a
cairn perched on a large rock. When we came up it was dry, now it was covered
by a stream for 5’ on each side. The wind had drifted the hail into small piles
around the flowers and small rivulets were flowing through the grasses. Because
of the high flow, Paint Rock Creek looked hard to cross. I continued well below
the falls to make my ford a little easier.
Lucky
for us, our campsite survived the storm intact.
But
we had no more appetite for risking the wrath of Cloud Peak’s weather, and
decided to hike back to West Tensleep. We were all tired, but we knew it would
be an easy, and almost all downhill, hike back. But this time instead of
enjoying the scenery, we just wanted to get the walk over with. My notes don’t even
indicate if we camped at West Tensleep that night, or drove back to Lead.
From
the campsite, Cloud Peak took 3 ½ hours up, and four hours down, including the
time spent hiding out from the storm. The walk back to the trailhead took another
four hours and we arrived there at 7 PM. For reference, the current (Dec 2023)
Fastest Known Time (FKT) for the entire Cloud
Peak roundtrip from the trailhead is currently 4:18.
Cloud
Peak remains the highest summit that I’ve repeated. Before I left the area I
would climb four other named 12,000’ peaks in the wilderness, and four other named
9-10,000 footers in the National Forest to the south of US 16.
Even
before I’d moved to the Black Hills, I’d been introduced to Wyoming’s Bighorn
Mountains with a five day backpacking trip in1986 that included a climb of
Cloud Peak, highest in the range (Bighorns). The surrounding
Cloud Peak Wilderness has a huge alpine area, great trail system, and lot of
awesome walk up peaks. With so many great climbs in the Bighorn, Hesse Mountain
isn’t a likely candidate for one’s first choice for a peak bagging trip. Hesse
and its counterparts and south of US 16 are smaller, less alpine, and much less
coveted than the high rocky summits to the north in the Wilderness. But Hesse
and the Hazletons poke alluringly above the highway to tempt early season hikers.
North Peak from West Ridge.
During my time in the Black Hills, I was competing in triathlons, combining my running and biking with some easy access to the local YMCA’s swimming pool. My favorite of the standard run-bike-swim races was the Buffalo (WY) Triathlon, held at the base of the Bighorn Mountains in early June. It was too far to drive to Buffalo for just one day, so I tried to stay overnight after the race, and leverage this access to the big mountains for recovery play day in the Bighorns.
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| On Hesse Mountain. |
6-3-89
The
previous year, I drove over to Buffalo with my friends Craig and Stacey. The
Sunday after the 1988 race we’d hiked the spectacular route from West Tensleep
into Lost Twin Lakes. 1989 was a much snowier spring, so getting to the heart
of the Bighorns would have to wait. I’d already tried to hike in solo to Lake
Helen the previous weekend, and only had frustrated myself post holing through
the deep snow. But on the drive in I’d noticed the cluster of smaller summits
south of US 16 centered around Hazleton Peak. These looked like good options
for a moderate, early season trip.
This
year Tod joined me for the trip. We started the weekend with what would be the
second of five consecutive Buffalo Triathlons. I finished 9th
overall in 1:31:10, typical time for me in that race. I started with a slow run
leg in a light rain, but was able to push the pace on the bike. Though some of
the better bikes were still pulling away from me on the descents. I passed Tod
at mile 4 of the bike, when he stopped to retrieve a dropped water bottle. The
swim leg went well, and I even able to finish with a bit of a sprint.
Postrace,
we spent the rest of the afternoon driving through the cloudy Bighorns and through
intermittent snow flurries. There was still enough winter snow to close many of
the USFS roads. Sitting Bull CG was closed, but we found a short nature trail
on the west side and managed to walk it for a ¼ mile. We also walked about a
mile south on the road along the North Fork of the Powder River (FS 29) to
scout Hazleton Peak, which would be our objective on Sunday.
We
ate dinner at the restaurant at Meadowlark Lake, and camped at the Island Park
CG on FS 27 going toward West Tensleep. From the CG I walked about a mile north
up the road looking for the trail shown on the TI Map heading toward East
Tensleep, but never did find it. I ended up turning around by some cabins.
There were only two other groups in the CG that night.
6-4-89
At
the time, Tod and I were working together at Homestake Mine in the Black Hills.
The union workers were voting over the weekend on their next contract, and if
they went on strike we’d need to head back ASAP. We called a friend from work
that morning and got the good news that the contract was accepted, and so we
were free to hike for the day, and could be back on Monday as usual. From our
recon the day before, Hazleton Peak had looked relatively snow free, so we
decided to try and climb it first.
We
parked at a gate on FS 29 near Powder River Pass and walked about three miles
south on the FS Road, passing an old, abandoned car along the way. We then
turned east off the road, walked up a meadow, and eventually reached the
clearcut we had seen from the road. We chose the clear cut because there was
only a thin strip of trees (presumably hiding a belt of deeper snow) between it
and the nearly snow free timberline.
Tod on Hesse.
The
weather was still lousy, cloud line was close to 10,000’, and we couldn’t see
any of the peaks around us. We walked through boulders and snow patches up to
the summit at 10,300’ or so. But, even on a smaller peak, the fresh snow and
clouds left us feeling high and exposed.
Approaching the top of Hesse.
From the top we turned north on the connecting ridge toward an unnamed peak between Hazleton and Hesse, its neighbor to the north. A bit of clearing then gave us bad news. There were no peaks to the north, instead there were two more to the south. We were not on Hazleton Peak, but had climbed Hesse instead. The silver lining was that we now got a nice view of Hazleton Peak sitting smugly to our south. Luckily, there was no GPS or Sat Nav back then to deprive us of the surprise of ending up on the wrong peak.
![]() |
| Hazleton Peak from Hesse. |
Stronger climbers would have turned south for Hazleton, determined to make their summit goal, and prepared for a long slog back to the car. But we turned north toward the truck, tails between our legs. We descended the first ridge to our west. We went back through some meadows, and crossed two old logging roads before reaching FS 29. It was a humbling for me, especially after my struggles in the snow the previous weekend. But at least it was a fun climb of a lonely peak. And with two consecutive rough trips behind me, I felt I was due for good luck on my next venture into the Bighorns.
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| Spoiler Alert; Hesse and the Hazletons. |
The Iron Mountain Man Triathlon was one of those events that illustrates the joys, and pitfalls, of being an obsessive record keeper. In the 35 years that have passed, I had completely forgotten about the event, only to come across it in my master trip list, and then reading about it my notebook. A triathlon through the Black Elk Wilderness(?), off trail scrambling up the backside of Harney Peak(!), road biking around Mt Rushmore (Yikes). Who knew such fun times were out there to be had.
But
in the Black Hills era, I was just starting to document my adventures. I had no
thoughts of guidebooks to be published, or trip reports to be posted. Sometimes
trips were listed in my calendar without descriptions, and other times my notebook
entries are enticingly brief. The Iron Mountain Man unfortunately is one of the
latter. My notes are bare boned, and several sections go by with barely at hint
at the route. I have no pictures or other souvenirs from the event, and this was
well before the GPS era.
Because
the course traversed the Black Elk Wilderness, the event was considered to be noncompetitive.
We started at the Rushmore Borglum Story Museum in Keystone, SD with a ten mile
road bike ride to the Palmer Creek Trailhead on the west side of the Black Elk
Wilderness. We first headed into Mount Rushmore National Memorial, then turned west
on SD 244 past Horsethief Lake and the Willow Creek Horse Camp before turning
south on the Palmer Creek Road to an aid station at the Lost Cabin Trailhead. Both
bike sections were relatively straight forward, and I’m confident of the
routes. I didn’t describe the biking at all, but assume that I was riding my
old Schwinn Traveler touring bike.
The
Lost Cabin Trail (#2) was a loop trail until the early-1980s. This was the
first of several changes to the Norbeck Trails in the 1980s, which was followed
by the deletion of Trail 1 between 1983
and 1988 and the elimination of most of Trail 10 in 1991 (according to the BHNF
maps). We took the now closed east side of the Lost Cabin Loop. 
The 1983 Harney Peak area trail map.
On
the old section of Trail 2 I saw two former Dartmouth geologists Ed and Genet
Duke, then at SD Tech, and out hiking with their two kids. The course soon left
the old trail and went cross country to the rocks at the base of the northwest
side of Harney (now Black Elk) Peak. Here the real fun began. There were two
roped pitches, a descent, and another roped pitch on what I called “good
scrambling.” The ropes were useful in a few places and generally followed a
large crack system (Oh, to have a GPS track of that route…)
At
about two miles from the Trailhead, I reached the top of the Black Elk Peak in
third place. The rest of the trail section was all running except for brief
walking breaks on the short, steep, gravel pitches. I ran with Tim, a doctor
from Rapid City, and we managed to keep a good pace. The trail run section followed
trails 7, 3, and 16. The Norbeck trails were configured differently back then, but
I believe we took the current Trail 7 on Grizzly Bear Creek. There is a similar
issue at the east end around Trail 16, but I think we ran up along what now is
the Centennial Trail and the Centennial Trail Bypass to the Iron Mountain
Picnic Area because my notes indicate that the second bike leg was all
downhill. The 2024 Black Elk Wilderness trail map.
The
last section of the course was the downhill bike ride on the Iron Mountain Road
(US 16A) back to Keystone. I assume the race folks had collected out bikes from
Palmer Creek and shuttled them to the Iron Mountain Picnic Area for us.
I
finished 5 out of 29 in 4:20. It was
easily the most run I’d had in a race setting. The weather was great, and the
support crews fantastic. Two of the guys finishing ahead of me were familiar
local racers Terry Smith and Gary Haven, and another was Tim, the doctor I’d run
with. There were plans to expand the event the next year.
However,
1989 was the only time the event was held. The issue, I suspect, was crossing
the Wilderness Area where competitive events are not allowed. I suppose the
difference between a noncompetitive event and a race is mostly in the name. This
had been a triathlon race in all but name only. But it was a wonderful and
unique day in the woods, and it was still a thrill to read about again after being
forgotten for so long.
This hike was the product of an aborted backpacking trip (whose planned destination I’ve long forgotten). That morning I’d driven from Lead to the Badlands in uninterrupted rain. Near the town of Scenic I decided to scrap the backpack, and instead check out the South Unit of the Badlands National Park. My first option, the Sheep Mountain Road was to muddy to drive, so I headed down to the White River Visitor Center to get some other ideas. The Visitor Center was closed, but Cedar Butte, just two miles west looked interesting, and the road was in good shape.
This
hike is another I plotted on my now lost 1981 1:50K Badlands NP paper map. My rough
route description is my only source for this hike. I took no pictures.
Basically, I was able to circle counterclockwise all the way around the butte,
except for the northeast side , which I cut off by hiking up the east side and
back down the north side. The loop was about 5.3 miles around, all of it off
trail.1989 Badlands NP, South Unit, Cedar Butte.
It
was only four hundred feet between the valley floor and butte top, but badlands
features are notoriously steep, and the rain hadn’t helped the traction. On the
east aide I followed up the main drainage, and then stayed left. There is a
grassy ramp, and just past, it a tree-lined gully. I followed the trees up to
the top of the table.
The
top of the butte was so narrow, I could easily zig zag around to alternate the
views on either side. On the north side you could probably descend anywhere down
into its main drainage, but I took a route on the east side. Once down to the
base of the butte I hiked around the west side, then past the south drainage. It
looked possible to climb the butte from the south side as well. But the south
side route was choked with gumbo, and exploring it would have required a drier
day.
With
the rain the gumbo was slick, but not yet at the phase where it clings
desperately to any surface. I fell twice and would not have been able to carry
a pack on the loop. Mostly it was possible to walk on pebbles, siltstones, or
on the grasslands. I saw no wildlife, but saw plenty of tracks and scat from
deer, but none from bison. Perhaps bison are fenced out of the South Unit?
I
did get my first BNP wildflower displays. The tufted evening primrose was a big
surprise, often growing alone in massive silt or gumbo. I could also identify
some reddish milk vetch. The flowers were taking a beating from the rain. I saw
no people, but even discounting the rain I doubted anyone came here. This was a
great Plan B, once I realized the rain had made backpacking impossible it had
gotten me exploring another new place.
The
buttes and tables on the South Unit would make great targets for day hikes,
just pick one and go. But this remains my only hike to date in the South Unit.
My later trips from Lead would focus on off trail hiking around the Badlands
Wall, and later on checking the park trails to produce, and then update, my Black
Hills and Badlands hiking guide. A best first option for most people looking to
explore the South Unit would be the 2.5 mile trip up to the Sheep Mountain Table
from SD 589/Tribal 27, four miles south of Scenic. To repeat this hike,
remember that there are several “Cedar Buttes” in the area, and this is the one
just two miles west of the White River Visitor Center.
This was a route put together by Frank and Buddy, as I don’t have any recollection of how the route was chosen. Escalante would be my first trip in the canyons of the southwest, excluding my geology field camp segment at Lake Powell, while Buddy and Frank had already started exploring the region. Our plan was to do a weeklong hike down the river using a shuttle on the Hole in the Rock Road. We’d originally planned for a longer route but ended up starting from Early Weed Bench, and finishing at Hurricane Wash. Essentially all of the hiking would be off trail, and we hoped to have plenty of time for exploring in the side canyons.
Though
our hike followed the Escalante River, little of the route was in what would become
the Bureau of Land Management’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in
1996. This is the monument famously gutted by the Trump administration in 2017,
and then restored by the Biden Administration in 2021. Except for the strip
along the Hole in the Rock Road, which is now in the monument, the trip was instead
within the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area .For the story of the Hole in the
Rock Road look here: (NPS Hole in the Rock).
For the hike I had the USGS quads for the route. Once onsite, I bought a copy of the Rudi Lambrechtse guidebook “Hiking the Escalante”. Much later, I’d pick up a copy of the 1:70,000 Trails Illustrated map for the Monument.
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| Stevens Arch. |
3-31-89,
Drive to Utah
I
left Lead, SD Friday at 1PM, presumably after working half a shift at the mine.
At 7:45 I reached a place called the Observatory in Evergreen, CO, where I was
to meet the group. The drive went well, it was 6:30 to Denver and only a little
snow on the road near Lusk, WY. The group was Buddy, Frank Weber, John Cauthen,
and Gary Wheeler. I’d hiked with John in ’88 in the Wind Rivers, but this was
my first time meeting Frank and his friend Gary. Frank was a good friend of
Buddy’s from the Koonce’s time living in Denver.
From Evergreen we drove west on I-70 through a blizzard with near zero visibility around Vail Pass. We crossed into Utah around 2AM and slept in a rest area just over the state line. I’d had to make a number of stops to wait on the other truck. I was exhausted.
4-1-89
To Twentyfive Mile Wash, 2 miles
We
were up at 6:30, and ate breakfast in Green River, UT. There were three
restaurants, and the town had gas and groceries, our last chance for supplies.
We next stopped at the Visitor Center for Capital Reef National Park where I
got my guidebook and map. I didn’t want to add any extra miles to this already epic
drive, but we ended up driving 10 miles into Capital Reef to the Golden Gate. The
trails in the park seemed geared for short trips.
Then
we had the long winding drive over Boulder Mountain to the town of Escalante.
There were great views from the road of the mountains above, still holding
skiable snow. There were minimal supplies in Escalante, but it had a restaurant
and BLM office with a helpful ranger.
The last driving stretches were the wash-boarded Hole in the Rock Road, and then the marked side road to Early Weed Bench. There had been intermittent showers all day, and finally a heavy rain. At the turnoff we repacked, and then shuttled my truck 10 miles down to Hurricane Wash, returned to the junction, and took the rough road the final five miles to Early Weed.
![]() |
| Escalante River from Fox Canyon. |
The
start of the hiked sounded challenging from the guidebook description, so we’d
have no chance to ease into things before facing some navigation challenges.
The guide described the top of the unmarked route as hard to find, but the
directions were clear, and we found the drop off into Fox Canyon (an informal
name used by our guidebook). The key spot turned out to descend at a meander in
the canyon that looked from above like a confluence. It took a lot of
discussion to make the right choice, but doing so gave us a boost in
confidence. The bottom of Fox Canyon was rough and brushy.
We camped on a sandbar near the junction with Twentyfive Mile Wash. We’d arrived about 7PM, so set up and dinner went fast. We were all exhausted from the drive and fell quickly asleep. I slept under a small alcove, but the other guys slept out on the sandbar and were covered by heavy dew in the morning.
4-2-89,
To the Escalante River, 6 miles
A good night’s sleep did wonders after two frantic travel days. The morning was cool, but not chilly enough to keep us in the sleeping bags. Camp chores would take about 90 minutes, a time that would remain standard for most of my backpacking career. By the time the sun reached the canyon floor the air was warm and dry.
![]() |
| Buddy in Twentyfive Mile Wash. |
Twentyfive
Mile was mostly a dry wash, and the walking was wonderful. We’d seen few tracks
in Fox, but Twentyfive Mile had enough tracks to almost form a trail. We
speculated that we might have been hiking just after a relative glut of spring
break backpackers. The water was only a few inches deep, so despite numerous
crossings it was easy to keep our feet dry. The Escalante River end of the wash
got tighter and gave us the first glimpse of the side canyons that would prove to
be the exceptionally scenic areas.
After
2 ½ hours of walking we reached the Escalante River. John had a bad headache, and Gary was just recovering from a cold, so
we decided to camp at the confluence. I was hoping to make a little more
progress to put some distance in the bank. But we had already shortened our
planned route, and it was important to get everyone feeling healthy. Instead,
Buddy, Frank, and I walked upstream to the next canyon on the north, an unnamed
drainage between Baker and East Baker benches. The canyon boxed out before the
map showed a fork.
It
was fun to see all the sedimentary features in the Navajo Sandstone. There was
lots of cross bedding, some ironstone, and green silty layers. The hiking was
hot, and I was concerned about sunburn. But in the shade, it was still cool.
Back in camp we took a “swim” in the river. The river water was cold, but
comfortable, and too shallow for more than just a flop in the water. Potentially
a canoe could have made the trip.
The evening came warm and dry, and I felt strong and rested. The rest break had helped both John and Gary. I suspected if the weather held for the rest of the trip, we’d have little trouble getting out on time, but I still hoped to get some decent mileage down river on the next day’s hike.
4-3-89
To south of Moody Creek, 9 miles
We hiked 4-4 ½ hours to Moody Wash. John and I walked in the river essentially all the way. There were too many river crossings to bother staying dry, and too many willow thickets to be able to follow the riverbank. It was quickly obvious that we wouldn’t be able to link up enough sand bars to avoid the river and willows. Buddy, Frank, and Gary started off on a bench above our camp.
![]() |
| John hiking in the Escalante River. |
The
river water was cold and bothered my feet at the start, but then I either got
used to it or my feet went numb. The river was very silty, and therefore hard
to read. Some areas had soft sand, and in others there were large slippery
boulders. I fell off one large rock into the hole on its upstream side. I got
my chest and part of my pack (my old Kelty Tioga frame pack) wet. John helped
pull me out, but I was in the water long enough to drench myself, get cold, and
lose my walking stick.
We
found walking sticks critical for the river walking, both for balance and to
probe the river bottom ahead. Wearing dark glasses and using a cane, I felt a
bit like a blind man gone hiking. John would use the same stick for almost all of
the hike. He grew attached enough to it that he gave it to me at the end of the
trip to take back home (knowing it wouldn’t fit in his luggage). I’d keep it in
my garage until I moved from Lead in 1993. On my relocation trip to Knoxville,
I stopped off in Nashville and gave the stick to Buddy, who returned it to
John.
John and I met up with the other three at Moody Canyon and then again at East Moody, all of us surprised at how slow we were going. But given the conditions we were likely doing OK. John and I were nervous about our lack of progress, while Frank seemed interested primarily in the side trips (which I think may have been Frank’s permanent state). My philosophy was always to get out ahead, then use the extra time for extra exploring. The canyon was very narrow around Moody, and we knew that our camping options for the next night would be limited, as we would be going through a section the guidebook called the narrows.
![]() |
| John near Moody Canyon. |
I
was starting to understand why the feel of the canyons didn’t come through in
the material I’d read beforehand. Walking through the cold river at the bottom
of the baking, steep sided canyon is just hard to imagine. By afternoon it was
hot enough to make cutting meanders out in the sun unpleasant. But we did have
a bit of a trail most of the way between Moody Canyon and the rincon.
Despite
the effort, John and I still waited for the others for about an hour. We ended
up staying just past a prominent “V” canyon. I was beat. It was a lot of work
pushing heavy hiking boots (likely Vasque Sundowners) through the river and
soft mud. My calves were sunburned from my sunscreen being washed off, and were
slightly shredded by the willow thickets. Otherwise, it seems perfect for
walking with ideal weather and a nearly level trail.
My final lesson for the day was that since John and I discovered we couldn’t lead by hiking in the front, I wasn’t going to miss any of the side canyons on the rest of the trip.
4-4-89,
South of Scorpion Gulch, 8 miles
From our camp it was a three hour walk south to Scorpion Gulch. Though it was very cold overnight, things seemed to warm up quickly in the mornings. We seemed to be making better time, partly the result of more experience picking our way downstream, but also the product of trying to stay out of the river. We were gradually cutting down section through the Kayenta Sandstone, so there were lots of talus slopes on the insides of the bends.
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| At Scorpion Gulch. |
We stopped at the mouth of Scorpion for a break and decided to go on a brief (three hour) exploration. We hiked upstream to the “h” in “Gulch” on the topo map. Here we found a route up through the Navajo Sandstone to the Carmel Formation. It was a tough scramble over one cliffy layer of Carmel, but we made it up to a large bench with views of both Scorpion Gulch and the Escalante River. Frank and Gary caught up to us here, and we decided to hike down via a bench of Entrada Sandstone. The scale of the cross bedding in the Entrada is 10’s of feet. It weathers to soft brown knobs and hummocks. The views overlooking the river were fantastic. We could see downstream at least four oxbows, back to the Straight Cliffs, and across the river to another set of ridges. To steal a phrase from Buddy, it seemed you really needed to climb out of the canyon to get a sense of scale and perspective. This was the type of day hike I’d looked for, and I hoped that the trip would present many more.
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| The Escalante Canyon from above Scorpion Gulch. |
From
Scorpion, we walked past one more rincon to a small bench between two small
tributaries. Across the river from us was another minor draw, this one filling
with sand from a point on the downstream side. If we’d had a lot more energy,
the sand would have led us up to the Carmel bench. But I was just tired enough
to plan a sunset picture.
This was a trip where we rotated responsibility for one person cooking dinner for the whole group. This was an efficient way to feed all of us, but wasn’t fair for those whose turn to cook came late in the trip. They’d carry a group dinner for almost a week while the first cook carried their dinner only for a day. This was Frank’s turn to cook. He made a great pasta dinner, and topped it off with a bottle of wine. Even split five ways, there was enough to give each of us a slight buzz. Frank would fill the bottle with the bright red Utah sand, carry it out to the trucks, and bring it home as his reminder of the trip.
4-5-89,
To Fools Canyon, 15 miles
We
got an early start, which probably contributed to our having our best wildlife
viewing of the trip. We saw a mule deer, and Frank and John saw a beaver. We’d
been seeing a lot of their tracks, which look like small dog prints. The beaver
had been cutting a lot of trees and branches, which we were using for walking
sticks. This was day five of the trip, and we were yet to see any other people.
I speculated that this might have been the longest I’d gone without seeing
people outside my group. But there were still a lot of tracks ahead of us,
including a few heading upstream.
This was the longest haul of the trip, probably about 15 miles. It was enough for us to finally clear the Moody Creek 15’ quad, and just about clear the King Mesa 7.5’ quad. We could feel the miles. Despite having plenty of water, we were all a bit dehydrated by the time we made camp in the afternoon. My journal has few notes on where we got water, but most likely we tanked up on the small flows from the side canyons. The silty river would have quickly clogged any attempt to filter. Temperatures weren’t necessarily high, but the direct sun was intense. Much of the time we were forcing crossings just to walk in the cool river water. We were also stopping a lot in the afternoon, just for shade and rest. I needed stops a couple times a day just to rinse the sand and silt out of my boots. The sand would build up on the top of my ankles and start to rub.
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| Buddy and Frank above the Escalante River. |
We tried a few meander cut offs along the way. I missed the first of these climbs, but made about the same time, and the perspective gave me the chance for a group photo. We camped for the night at the mouth of Fools Canyon, and I refreshed myself with a cool swim. We didn’t know the origin of the canyon’s name, and hoped we wouldn’t find out.
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| John hiking through the Kayenta Formation. |
Buddy and I walked 1-1 ½ miles up Fools Canyon in the evening. It was a great walk and fun to do without the heavy backpacks. Back at camp we built a fire and finished off our whiskey. The site had a lot of bats, swooping about to clean up the bugs for us. One of the sicks I’d gathered for the fire had a grass basket attached to the end. Because of the intricate attachment we thought it perhaps an artifact from Navajo or Anasazi, rather than something recent.
4-6-89,
To Coyote Creek, 10 miles
We walked about 2 ¼ hours down to the second drainage below Fools Canyon. The morning walk was easy, and mostly on the right side of the river with no tough crossings. We were a little worried about this section which the guide describes as ‘the narrows”, but it wasn’t really any tougher than the rest of the Escalante Canyon. The main feature was massive Stevens Arch.
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| Frank hiking in the Escalante River. |
The afternoon walk also went quickly. Just before reaching Stevens Canyon, we saw our first other hikers of the trip. The meeting was odd, because I first saw their tracks ahead of us going downstream, but we knew no one was ahead of us, and that no one had passed us. It turned out the group had been hiking upstream, and thought that they were in Coyote Gulch. With Stevens Arch in the Escalante, and the series of arches along Coyote Creek, it was hard to see how that was possible. They met Buddy first, and he told them they were headed the wrong way. They argued some with Buddy, even after he told them this was day six of his trip. Finally, they pulled out their map, and it was literally a hand drawn sketch on a bar napkin. Buddy got them turned around and headed the right way, which is how I first saw their tracks going down stream. When I first spotted them they were huddled together walking about two feet apart, like they were afraid to get separated from the group.
![]() |
| Gary, Frank, Buddy, and John |
Just
before Stevens Canyon we also started to do a lot of walking in the river, and
continued to do so until Coyote Creek. I thought that when Lake Powell was high
the Escalante would drop a lot of its sediment here, and then flush it out
during higher flows.
We took a noon walk up Stevens Creek, and it was fantastic. The canyon is mostly a dry sandstone bottom with colossal overhangs. Sometimes the undercut banks from one side will overlap the stream on the opposite side in other places the banks will overlap each other. At one point, there was an oxbow with an overhang above the outside of the oxbow. As impressive as the main canyon is, the side canyons have much more surprises of their own.
![]() |
| Stevens Arch. |
We found a tremendous campsite about a quarter mile above the confluence of the Coyote Creek and the Escalante. There is a beautiful sandy beach below an overhang in the Wingate Formation. We could see the start of the Crack In The Rock Trail across from our campsite. We’d gotten into camp early, mostly to get out of the sun. I’d fried my calves, and some patches on my arms. The day before we were out of the water a lot, and I didn’t put any lotion on my calves. My water filter was about silted up. The silt from the river would clog up the prefilter every gallon or so and some had gotten into the main filter. For the afternoon I was content to sit and rest in the shade.
![]() |
| Frank in the Crack in Rock. |
After dinner we hiked up to Crack in Rock, a direct route to the canyon rim. The trail appeared well travelled from below, and not as difficult as depicted in the guidebook. We were finding the guidebook unhelpful, except in detailing which canyons were passable, and which would box out. We couldn’t see Lake Powell from the rim, but the view from the rim above included the Henry Mountains, Stevens Arch, the Straight Cliffs and basically a hell of a long way off in any direction.
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| Above Crack in Rock, looking toward Navajo Mountain. |
4-7-89,
Out via Hurricane Wash, 12 miles
In the morning we left the Escalante River and turned up Coyote Creek. It was a shady two hour walk to Coyote Natural Bridge along a shallow sandy creek bottom. I saw the same three hikers from yesterday, and more of their group. Beyond the bridge, the gulch changed rapidly. There were a lot of small amphitheaters similar to those in Fools Canyon.
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| Lower Coyote Gulch. |
There’s a lot the guidebook can’t tell you that’s distinctive about the canyon country; the feel and sound of the dry upper layer of sand as you step and compact it, the drag of the current as you walk upriver, or the snapping of the willows as you fight a way through the thickets.
![]() |
| Lower Coyote Gulch |
I
stopped for lunch at Jacob Hamblin Arch. It differed from the other bridge types
we’d seen as it resembled an overhang with the backside fallen out. But it is
bigger than the others we’ve seen, and perhaps all these arches look unique
once you get to know them.
I’d been walking strong all day. I had cruised right by Cliff Arch without seeing it, and had sped from Coyote Natural Bridge to Hamblin in only 45 minutes. It’s all so peaceful that returning to work will be quite a shock. I supposed the long drove to Lead will help with the transition. I thought about future trips; Buddy’s wife Ellen was pregnant then with Hannah, and I knew that would change his priorities. But I had a long list of trips I wanted to do and far less responsibilities.
![]() |
| Coyote Natural Bridge. |
I spent about two hours waiting on the rest of the group. I hiked up to the inside of the arch. When we finally did leave, Frank was trying to reach the top of the arch from the inside meander, and it looked like he would make it. But his route had too much exposure for me, and I started hiking back up Coyote Gulch.
![]() |
| Coyote Natural Bridge. |
We’d planned to camp at either the junction with Hurricane Wash, or slightly further up Hurricane where the map showed a spring. But Buddy found a nice spot on a bench just up from the confluence and we settled in, even marking the spot on my topo map. But when Frank showed up he suggested we hike out to the truck and drive that night to the Hole in the Rock. Since this seemed like the only way for us to see Lake Powell we all went along. To cool off, and get some rest, we cooked dinner while we were at Buddy’s site.
![]() |
| Approaching Hole in Rock Road. |
It
was a long hike out, probably five miles, and the longest single pull we’d
taken on the trip. Our target spring was not impressive and probably wouldn’t
have given us enough water to camp. Just after the spring, the trail left the
canyon and was a monotonous slog up the rest of the wash. We were walking right
into the evening sun and with the lingering heat I sweat more than on any other
section of the hike, The last of the walk was an old jeep road so we made some
good time. It was a Friday and we saw two groups hiking in, and three cars at
the trailhead.
Frank, Buddy, and I drove my truck ten miles to the Early Weed TH and another five to the Fox Canyon Trailhead to pick up Frank’s truck. We split one extremely warm can of Ranier Beer on the way. Back at Hurricane Wash we loaded up John and Gary for the drive out to Hole in the Rock. Once we were off the BLM land, the road got bad. If Frank had not been driving ahead of me I probably would have stopped. Much of the road was over bare sandstone, and this was especially tough to follow at night. The extra drive took 1 ½ hours to cover around 23 miles, and we were so tired we went to sleep immediately.
4-7-89
Unfortunately,
the extra driving wasn’t worth the effort. With a clear sky the sunrise wasn’t
impressive and the view of Lake Powell much less expansive than the photos I’d
seen. What we could see of the lake still had the same unnatural appearance I
remembered from field camp. There’s just no way there should be a lake in that
place. I thought Edward Abbey might be right, and that we should just blow the
whole place up.
The
drive back to Escalante took 2:25, we had burgers and shakes at the Circle D
before resuming the drive.
Amazingly
(with all the driving still ahead of us), we stopped at Anasazi State Park in
Boulder for a quick tour. For a small site they had an interesting place. There
were a few exhibits and a trails through an excavation of an old village. I’d
thought of the Anasazi as cliff dwellers, but their towns were also in other
inaccessible places, much of which were destroyed by later settlers and
visitors.
We next stopped at Glenwood Springs for a badly needed chance to wash the silt and grime away, and to loosen up some badly overused muscles in my legs. Except for snow on Vail Pass and a quick stop for beers, the drive to Frank’s place in Evergreen was long, but uneventful.
4-9-89
It
snowed about six inches overnight in Evergreen. Combined with only three hours
sleep that did not make an easy drive to Stapleton Airport to drop off Buddy
and Gary. I never liked splitting up at the end of trip, knowing that the next
one would be a long way off. I finally made it back to Lead about 4:30PM.
I’d
come back to the canyon country in 1992 on an eighteen day trip, while I was
between jobs. But the next time I’d visit the canyons with Buddy and Frank
would be our 1994 float trip through Canyonlands NP down Stillwater Canyon on
the Green River. (Green River Float)
For
more reading on exploring this area “The Exploration of the Colorado River
and Its Canyons” is the classic John Wesley Powell account of his
pioneering expeditions down the Green and Colorado Rivers.
Consolidated route map for Escalante River backpack.