Summit Ridge and Elk Mountain WY, Bike and Hike, 10-27-90

This ride follows a route from the Horning and Marriot book “Mountain Bikers Guide to the Black Hills.” Summit Ridge sits on the southwest flank of the Black Hills, just off the SD-WY state line, and slightly north of the Pennington/Custer county line. The southwest part of the hills is its emptiest quarter. All my visits to this area were done solo, and I never saw another person on my travels there.

I drove in the long way from Lead via BHNF 117 and 265, both of which were in good gravel roads. The ride took an hour and a half, and ended up starting just a few miles east of Newcastle, WY. It was a pretty drive, and I only saw two cars after leaving the highway. I parked on road 265 just a few miles north of the lookout to ride a counterclockwise loop, mostly in Wyoming. The ride started through a logging area on a rough road. After about ¾ of a mile I got a flat, but luckily I had a spare tube to fix it. Beyond the state line, I couldn’t follow the road, but still ended up in a grassy area near the old buildings described on the guide.

Summit Ridge, WY Mountain Bike Loop.

Despite this inauspicious start, I was able to follow “an obscure grassy two track” that led to a better road heading south. The next section was fun, easy riding. I was surprised at how rugged the area was. I was on the inside edge of the Racetrack Valley, with the harder central core of the hills to the east, and the valley of the soft Spearfish Formation to the west.

I encountered one gate marked “No Trespassing”, but was too far around the loop to turn back. I next reached the Hoodoos and began the climb back into the main body of the Black Hills. I ended up pushing my bike up much of this steep grade. Kudos to the guidebook authors for their stamina! Approaching the state line was an older logging area, but these logging roads were easier to follow. I just stayed on the main road, and rode up the main draw to reach the tower. I got off the guidebook route, but the ride instructions indicated that this area was complex even for the authors.

The Summit Ridge Tower is a narrow steel structure barely rising out of the trees. I was stripped down to shorts and T-shirt by then and the wind was uncomfortably cool. I could see the tower at Elk Mountain to the south, and had views east and west across the flanks of the hills. Some of the ruggedest areas seemed to be around Boles Canyon, part of the route I’d driven to the start.

I was surprised to find this part of the hills so pretty. Outside of the logging areas, the woods were open, and there was a lot of relief. There were several old structures that I passed without exploring to liven up the ride for the more curious. It was drier than the northern hills, and would be a good option for fall and spring when other areas were likely to be wet.

The rest of the ride was an easy 1.6 miles on the BHNF road down to the start. I saw no people or bike tracks the entire time. The ride measured at 11.1 miles and took me about three hours, including the time taken to change my flat. Three hours of riding for three hours of driving isn’t a great tradeoff, so this was a ride I liked, but never chose to repeat. Maybe a long, narrow BHNF 117-265-264 loop would have been a better option.

Currently (2023) the former Summit Ridge Lookout Cabin is the only cabin available for rent by the Black Hills National Forest, though availability is limited. The primitive  cabin is eligible for listing on the National Register of Historic Places. See: (Link) 

Summit Ridge Fire Tower from BHNF website.

Elk Mountain Hike, Solo, 10-27-90

After the bike ride was over I was still feeling ambitious, and knew I wouldn’t be this close to Elk Mountain and its tower anytime soon. So, I headed south to US 16, found the sliver of BHNF land cutting the road, and parked. My plan was climbing straight cross country up to the tower, rather than following its long approach road from the south.

Once off the road and into the trees I was in for a rude surprise. Almost the entire slope had been selectively logged, and I was forced to wade through hip deep slash or walk up old skidder trails. The ascent was steep, covered about 1,000 feet in a mile, and took 48 minutes. The tower is identical to the steel structure on Summit Ridge, and even has a similar cabin below it. I liked the view from Elk Mountain better. It extended north to Summit Ridge, south along Elk Mountain and northeast into the rugged canyons. The light was flat and accentuated the topography perfectly, but I did not have my camera. From the tower I walked west to the very slightly higher true summit, which was being used as a workstation by the loggers. I headed down slightly north of my ascent route, but left no notes regarding any improvements on that line. Back at the car, I estimated two hours and 3.5 miles for the trip.

Elk Mountain Fire Tower Hike.

According to the BHNF, the tower and cabin were built sometime between 1939-1941. It is one of only five active towers in the forest as of 2023. This area is fire prone with the Elk Mountain Fire burning 13,000 acres in  2001, and the 2011 WhoopUp Fire burning another 7500. Besides the usual deer and antelope, there are elk and bighorn sheep in the area. 

Elk Mountain Tower from BHNF website.

For more on fire towers in the Black Hills visit: SDPB Fire Towers

Colorado Peak Bagging, Mts. Evans and Bierstadt, 9-30-90

This was the third of three weekend trips I took in 1990 to the Colorado Rockies. At the time I thought it possible for me to climb all the Colorado Fourteeners, given enough time in the area. To accomplish this, I would later take week-long vacations to Colorado in 1991 and 1992, and would eventually climb about half of the 53 fourteeners before moving back east in 1993.

I made the Evans/Bierstadt trip with my friend Karl when we both worked for Homestake Mining in the Black Hills. We drove down on Friday night to Bergan Park, CO, where Karl’s parents had just moved into a new home. Normally Mt Evans can be a very easy ascent, but the road (billed as the highest paved road in North America) to the top was closed for the winter. Instead, we were planning to tackle the infamous Guanella Pass route on the west side of Mt. Bierstadt, and then follow the Sawtooth Ridge over to Mt Evans.

We were up at 5:15 and took two hours to drive to Guanella Pass. There was no formal trail from the Pass, instead hikers tried to follow any existing herd paths down into, and up out of, a marshy stream valley covered with a dense grove of brushy willows. The first mile through the willows was once one of the most feared obstacles facing would-be fourteener climbers. Now, according to the 14ers.com website, a trail with bridges has been constructed through the marsh.

From the trailhead we started down an old road that was soon lost in swamp of low willows. I had expected a grove of trees, not shrubs and a bog. We battled the brush for an hour trying to follow short lines through the willows, and fighting unsuccessfully to keep our feet dry. Our hourlong battle only got us to snow line (~12,000’) and about a mile in. We struggled through about 6” of snow for another hour and two miles, before we got to the top of Bierstadt. Most of the climb was on rounded slopes, but the top was steeper and would have been tough skiing.

The next challenge of the day was the Sawtooth Peak on the ridgeline between Bierstadt and Evans. Our Boreneman guidebook described it ”Despite its fearsome look, it is a relatively moderate scramble, if free of ice and snow”, and noted that the ridge was a good warmup for the tougher 14er ridges. The descent off Bierstadt was tough with loose rock and slippery snow. Luckily the snow was softening from its early morning 25F powder to a slush that was walkable. It took 45 minutes to reach the col. We sat there and argued about the route a bit, and eventually traversed the right (east) side below the Sawtooth. I checked out some cairns on the left (west) side, but didn’t find an easy route. So I just followed Karl, not catching him until we reached the summit of Evans.

The ridge traverse wasn’t bad, just slippery, and not as technical as the descent to the col. The traverse led us to an easy chute which we used to get us back on the ridge, where there were tracks from another hiker. The easy walking proved short lived and soon we were back rock hopping and snow sliding up the northwest ridge of Evans. By this time the altitude was starting to bother me, and I was a little sick. The disappointment of reaching a 14,250’+ false peak was tempered by the realization that this would be a really long day.

I joined Karl for lunch at the summit but could only down a single fig newton. But like our descent of Darton Peak in the Bighorns earlier in the month, we were lucky to find a much easier descent route. Often it just is easier to spy a route from above. On the return we scrambled around the false peak and then had an easy walk down across the northeast shoulder of Evans. We were lucky that there was an easy way into the gully due east of Guanella. We followed this gully into a pretty little cirque with a level dry bottom and great views of the Sawtooth. We rested there after about 75 minutes of descending. I was feeling better with the altitude, but was tiring fast after buzzing along all day. Karl again got out ahead of me and I ended up on a higher route, eventually finding some paths that led to a good trail through the willows. Karl stayed on route and found the main trail sooner than I. Apparently the willow trails split apart to confuse outbound hikers, but merge together to help returning hikers. Outbound the key would have been to start by a USFS sign near the start of the parking lot, and then skirt the south shore of the lake east of the pass. We would have avoided a half hour of thrashing had we found the trail in the morning.

Our weather that day was cool, clear, and crisp, but we saw no one else all day. Our only problems were with the snowy footing which extended our expected 5 hour trip to 8 hours. I should have worn gaiters, and ended up with sunburn and sore thighs. Once again I’d underestimated a big peak and paid the price. But I was proud to have finished the hike, especially as I felt better at the end than I had on top of Evans in the middle of the trip.

Bighorn and Darton Peaks from Lost Twin Lakes, Bighorn NF, WY, 9-15-90

Bighorn and Darton peaks dominate the southern core of Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains. They are the southernmost twelve thousand footers in the range, and mark the southern limit of the Bighorn’s alpine terrain. I had climbed Darton from the east near Willow Lake in 1987 (Darton Peak link), following a natural ramp between the Oliver Creek and Chill Lakes basins. Karl and I planned an alternate route for this trip. We would launch from the West Tensleep Trailhead and camp at Lost Twin Lakes. From there we would try to circle the head of the rim of the Lost Twins cirque, while climbing both Bighorn and Darton. We had no prior information on this route, but it looked feasible from the USGS topo maps. Since we expected this trip to be hiking rather than climbing, Karl brought Nitro along.

We must have driven over the night before and slept in the West Tensleep Campground as we were under way at 7:50. We started out on the Lost Twins Trail (#65) reaching Mirror Lake about 9AM, and Lower Lost Twin Lake at 10:30 after about 6.5 miles of backpacking. It was good, easy trail all the way, but we saw no other people. There were trail signs at the wilderness boundary, Mirror Lake, and the now abandoned Yost Trail.

We had lunch at the lake and set up camp near the outlet. Our climb started by going around the west side of the lower lake and taking the first gully up. The gully was easy going, but we left it too early and ended up on top of the “El Capitan-like” nose between the two lakes, and were forced to work our way along a ledge just below peak 12,015’. All day long we would make minor detours around the sheer heads of the glacial cirques surrounding the peaks as we couldn’t see the cirques until we were right at their rims. I dropped and broke my camera near the nose, so there are no pictures from this trip.

From the top of the gully all our travel in the alpine zone was boulder hoping until our final descent. We had great views southwest to Meadowlark Lake, and over the Lake Creek drainage to the south. Neither Bighorn nor Darton is nearly as impressive from the west as they are from the east. I ended up climbing the sub peak to the south of Bighorn by mistake. We had just taken a break at the ramp located along the USGS quad boundary, and I headed up the highest looking peak without checking my map. Karl and Nitro had gone the correct way and got a chuckle out of my extra effort. Bighorn’s summit had a large cairn but no register. Karl speculated that both the east face couloir and east ridge of the mountain looked climbable, but we never got a chance to test either route.

From the top of Bighorn, it was a little easier to get our bearings as we headed north toward Darton. Again, we got a bit too far east and tangled with the couloirs that we needed to bypass as we headed toward the high saddle between the two peaks. At the saddle it was already 3:45 and our ambition was flagging. But it proved to be only another 30 minutes  to the top of Darton. Darton had a new register that was placed in 1988, so I signed that one as well. There were less than ten ascents in 1990, the last one on 8-13-90. In this era, it seemed that Cloud Peak was the only popular summit in the Bighorns. I don’t recall ever seeing another party or sign of travel on any other peak in the range.

By the top of Darton we were very tired and out of water, so it was a relief to spot our easy looking descent route. But the descent was still a tiring boulder hop down to a small knob at 11,600’. Beyond that point we were mostly on grassy slopes with a few rock bands down to the lower Lost Twin Lake. We pulled into camp at 5:45 after a full 9 hours of hiking. We were all tired, but only Nitro did not complain. I later guesstimated that we’d hiked an additional six miles after setting up camp.

Not surprisingly we slept well overnight, despite being woken up twice by small rain showers. We took an easy morning and long breakfast to recover. Karl fished a bit with moderate success. Just as we started the hike out another light rain began and lasted until Mirror Lake. We saw our only other hikers of the trip on the way out, reaching the trailhead in 2 ¼ hours.

The route to Bighorn and Darton Peaks.

PCT, Big Pine Creek to Mt Whitney, 8-11-90

I guess the only surprising thing about this hike is that we waited so long to do it. Buddy and I had been partnering for hiking trips almost every year since we finished the Appalachian Trail in 1976. Our first few trips were in the east, Vermont’s Long Trail, New York’s Northville Lake Placid Trail, and repeat sections of the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park and Cherokee National Forest. When we moved out west, me for graduate school and him for work, we started to pick off the great ranges of the west, going to the Wind River Range, Banff and Glacier national parks, along with the Alpine Lakes (WA), Marble Mountains (CA), and Lake Tahoe sections of the Pacific Crest Trail. But we had not yet visited the heart of California’s iconic Sierra Nevada Range.

A loop through the heart of the Sierras wasn’t practical for our week of vacation, so we planned a long shuttle hike on the southern end of the John Muir Trail, where it overlapped with the Pacific Crest Trail in Kings Canyon National Park. I was also interested at the time in completing the 50 states high points, and the trip would finish at Mt. Whitney, the California state high point.

With a rough estimate of our daily mileage, we thought we could start at Big Pine Creek and have the time to finish at Whitney. We were able to arrange a shuttle that would pick us up at Whitney Portal and drop us off at Big Pine Creek, so all we would need to do was hike back to our car. Finishing at Whitney would also eliminate the need for a day hike permit for climbing Whitney from the Portal. But we would have a tough first day, climbing over the Sierra Divide at Southfork Pass to connect to the PCT.

For this trip I had the paper 1:63,360 John Muir Wilderness and National Parks Backcountry two sheet topo map, and was using the Wilderness Press California PCT guidebook.

8-10-90, Travel to Whitney Portal

No hiking this day, but a lot of travel. I left Rapid City at 3:30PM and arrived in Sacramento at 7PM. Buddy had already arrived, and he and his friend Steve Palmer met me at the airport. We drove to Steve’s house in town for a final repacking, and were on the road at 8:30.

There were a lot of fires around Yosemite, so we stayed further north, taking US 50 to South Lake Tahoe and then drove down the Kingsbury Grade to Gardnerville. Steve’s VW bug had trouble on the hills with a full load of three hikers and three backpacks, but performed well otherwise. We passed a lot of quick stop places on US 395, and noted Bishop had a 24 hour restaurant. Steve drove most of the way, and Buddy took the last shift. We got into Whitney Portal at 4:30AM.

The portal was a zoo. Even after the USFS implemented day hiker quotas, there were cars parked at least a half mile down the road. People were roadside camping everywhere. I can’t imagine what the crowds were like before then. We found a place to pull over and laid out our sleeping bags. There were people leaving on their Whitney hikes even as we settled in.

8-11-90, To Lake 11,767, 9 miles

We woke at 7:30 amid the commotion of hikers leaving for Mt. Whitney. The trailhead was well set up to handle the deluge, the store was open at 7 on weekends and had a small restaurant. Our shuttle driver (Big Jerry, from Mammoth Cab Company) picked us up at 8:15.

Jerry let us stop for breakfast in Lone Pine, and then drove us to the Big Pine Creek Trailhead. The previous night we saw the skyline of the mountains, and now their reality struck home. Both the Sierras to the west and the White Mountains to the east looked huge from Owens Valley. I could only hope that the trailheads were high above the valley floor. Both trailhead roads were paved, so despite some standing around at Upper Sage Flat to pick up our permit, we got off to an 11 AM start.

We left from the Big Pine Creek Campground and Trailhead, and started up the trail on the south fork of the creek. The first two miles to Willow Lake were easy, but the next two were a long climb on endless switchbacks. Buddy and I made Willow Lake in two hours, with Steve 30 minutes behind.

In those days we hiked what I might call “thru hiker style.” Buddy and I were used to hiking like we did on the Appalachian Trail, with everyone travelling independently. We didn’t necessarily hike together, we just stayed on the same route and expected to see the rest of the group at different spots, and then camp together at the end of the day. We all had our own gear, and except for a few cases where we shared tents or a stove, we were still independent during the hike. This strategy worked on well-marked trails such as the AT, Long Trail, or the three sections of the Pacific Crest Trail that we had done previously. But as we would find out on this trip, (and on the following year in the Beartooth Range (Beartooth Blog)), this approach didn’t work well off marked trails.

I lost the trail on the way to Brainerd Lake, not far past where the official USFS trail ended. Around 4PM I contoured over to a spot above two small lakes and stopped to look back for Buddy and Steve. I hadn’t seen them in the last two hours, and wasn’t sure if they were ahead or behind me. Finally, I saw Buddy, he’d seen my detour and thought I would be far ahead of him.

Unfortunately, I’d put my pack cover on during a brief light rain, then stashed my pack to look for Buddy and Steve. Now I couldn’t find my pack. I spent 30 frantic minutes scouring a boulder strewn bench before finally coming across it. I don’t know if I was more relieved to find it, or more embarrassed to have lost it in the first place.

After all this we still had to climb over Southfork Pass. Assuming Steve was just behind us, Buddy and I slogged our way over to the base of the glacier at the pass in a light rain, slowly getting worn out from our lack of sleep, the continued climbing, and the high elevation. The glacier was slippery ice with no fresh snow, and had some hidden crevasses. At least by then the rain had stopped. The pass was much more difficult than its Class 2-3 rating in our Sierras climbing guide. Expecting to be able to simply walk over it, we had brought no climbing gear. The lower part was sheer ice covered with sand. All the rock in the chute was rotten, and the pass was mostly too steep to stand up in. We worked our way very carefully up the left side keeping a death grip on any solid rock. We were both extremely nervous, and needed to take a rest about halfway up. I wouldn’t do the climb again in those conditions without crampons, an ice ax, and a rope. 

Southfork Pass.

From the top we spent a long time looking for Steve on the route behind us, but never saw him. Obviously we should not have committed to climbing the pass without knowing where he was, but now we didn’t feel like we could safely down climb the pass to look for him. This was not an easy decision to make because the options for Steve were all bad; he could be lost, hurt, or at best too tired to continue. We decided to continue down to Lake 11,767’ and wait there until tomorrow noon. We left a note for him at the pass at about 6:30. 

Camping near Lake 11.767.

The west side of the pass and descent to the lake were easier. We got there about 7:30. We made one dinner to split (I think Buddy and Steve planned to cook dinners together while I was solo), filtered water, and fell asleep about 8:30. Steve had the tent body, so we ended up sleeping out since we had nothing to support the fly. This was far too difficult a first day for our hike, with our lack of sleep, the altitude, and the difficulty of the pass.

North Half, 1990 PCT Map.

8-12-90, To Upper Basin, 5 miles

Despite sleeping out, the dew on the sleeping bags, and our worry about Steve we slept well. In the morning we cooked, filtered water, and I caught up in my journal, all the while looking out for Steve. I also took a swim in the sandy, shallow upstream end of the lake.

We had a long debate about what to do next. Even if we could descend the pass, the next question would be where to start looking. We never should have gone so long without making contact. Would it be best to climb to the pass with our packs, or leave them at the lake? If Steve was hurt and had headed back out we might not find him until we reached the trailhead. We knew he wasn’t in great shape now, but he had plenty of prior experience in the mountains.

About 11 we decided to hike up to the pass with our packs to see if we could find him. If we couldn’t see him by the pass we’d have to hike down until we met him. I was just about 100’ below the pass when I heard Steve yell out to Buddy. It had been a long time since I’d been that glad to see someone.

Steve had gotten worn out not long after we’d last met up, and had spent the night at the first small lake above Brainerd. Besides being worn out again by the Southfork Pass climb and its treacherous ice, all was well. He’d had the tent body and managed to sleep in it. We agreed to go slow, and hike together for the next couple of days. 

View over Palisade Lake.

We had a nice walk to our bench and campsite above the Palisade Valley. All morning it was cloudy, but not quite raincoat weather. We angled down the valley on some easy open cross country and joyfully connected with the Muir/PCT Trail just below the switchbacks to Mather Pass. Though this day would be much shorter, it was typical of the pattern for hiking the trail at our pace; a long morning climb with a race to crest the high pass before storms arrived, and a downhill stroll to a lakeside campsite in the afternoon.

Buddy at Mather Pass.

Steve was hiking about 50% slower than Buddy and I, but he’d had a much rougher day. Simply the stress of being separated would have been hard on top of the physical exertion. We took an hour to climb Mather Pass, and another 40 minutes to descend to a great campsite by a small lake in the Upper Basin. We had a great view of Split Mountain, one of the Sierra’s few fourteeners. I doubted we’d have been able to climb it even if all had gone well the previous day. We hoped to get over Pinchot Pass the next day to put ourselves back near schedule.

I was feeling good, my appetite was good, and the altitude was not affecting me. I only had a quick flash of nausea at Southfork Pass, which may have been exposure induced. So far the range seemed every bit a match for the Wind Rivers in the majesty of tis mountains. I was itching to climb some of the peaks, but maybe the long day coming up would cure my summit fever.

After dinner we got a quick rain shower, it had been cloudy and thundering all afternoon. We got our tent up quickly and our geared packed into it. At dusk the sky cleared, and I set my bag up outside until another brief shower drove me back in.

8-13-90, 12 miles to Lower Twin Lake

We awoke to a beautiful clear morning. We were up at 6:20 and on the trail by 7:50. We descended the Upper Basin and had a gorgeous walk along the south fork of the Kings River. After two days alone, we passed four parties in the morning. We missed one trail junction, but stayed on course. Steve had worked himself into shape and keeping up well. 

Buddy and Steve along the south fork of the Kings River.

Once the trail left the south fork we began our daily long climb. After passing the marked junction with the Taboose Pass Trail, the trail enters the Lake Marjorie Basin. The day had stayed clear, and we talked some about trying to climb nearby Mt. Wynne, a thirteener only about a thousand foot climb from the pass. But we needed to keep the group together. Wynne looked climbable, but probably was third class. There was a steep section about halfway up the ridge that looked like the hardest part. After Steve caught up we hiked a half hour up to Pinchot Pass, then 1 ½ hours down to Lower Twin Lake. Buddy and I stopped for a swim in the small pond above Lake Marjorie.

We camped about 4PM. Though the sky had clouded over, we got no rain. We planned to sleep out, but the tent was set up, just in case. There was one brief shower before bedtime, but we were able to sleep out. We fried up potatoes, onion, and green pepper that Steve had brought along, and it made a great change from the typical rice or noodle dishes that I’m used to on the trail.

I finally gotten into a good walking rhythm. Hiking is really a momentum sport; I think that’s partly why boulder hopping seems so slow. This part of the PCT was long climbs and descents, all 4-5 miles long. The trail was in great shape, and never seemed to add any extra climbing or distance. It was easy to understand why it is so popular. I was still anxious to climb a peak before we got to Whitney, but tomorrow looked like another trail day. I was adjusting well to the weight of the backpack (my old Kelty Tioga external frame), but spent a lot of time moving the weight between my hips and shoulders, both of which were getting sore. Still, this was just a minor issue with so much great trail and so many beautiful campsites ahead.

8-14-90, To Glen Lake, 13 miles

We started the day with a gentle downhill hike along Woods Creek. The forested walk was nicely shaded, but we dropped a lot of elevation and were down to 8500’, low enough for us to see sagebrush. The deer we’d seen in our camp last night were probably living around the creek. 

Buddy on the bridge over Wood Creek.

Two hours of gentle climbing took us to Dollar Lake. We were approaching the Rae Lakes Basin, one of the most popular spots along the Muir/PCT. We’d seen seven other groups along the way, and there was a lot more horseshit on the trail. The sky was clouding up, so we decided to take a sure shot at a dry lunch spot and added a swim at the lake. Oddly, the lake was much warmer than the others we’d been in so far this trip. Sure enough, it began to rain just after leaving the lake.

View over Dollar Lake.

It was another hour to the isthmus containing the Rae Lakes Ranger Station. This area was crowded as expected with its views of Fin Dome and the Painted Lady, and relatively easy access from the east via Onion Valley. There were great beaches near the outlet of Lower Rae Lake. 

Painted Lady over Rae Lake.

We met up above Rae Lakes, and again at the base of the climb to Glen Pass. Both times I got chilled waiting for Buddy and Steve. In a light rain it was possible to stay warm while walking, but waiting around it was easy to get chilled. I was cold enough to need to wear two polypropylene shirts for the climb up Glen Pass. I needed to work on moderating my speed, so that I would spend more time hiking, less waiting, and keep my core temperature more consistent. 

Sierra Basin from Glen Pass.

Glen Pass itself wasn’t too tough, I think the stretch to Dollar Lake was harder. Both sides of the pass are sheer, and the trail is literally carved into the headwall of a cirque on each side. The views were great, but I was barely warm enough to take pictures. There is a beautiful, austere lake on the south side, and we camped there on small sand patches in the rocks by the outlet. Looking south from the pass, the area looks uncampable, but these small, hidden sites will do.

Steve was worn out again, so we abandoned our plan to push on to Lake Charlotte. His stomach has been upset, and this bothers your appetite, which then compounds fatigue and altitude. He’s still game for anything, just a slow hiker, especially on the climbs.

I’ve been OK, with the exception of minor headaches on Glen Pass, and an attack of the runs, probably brought on by moldy bagels. I’d also cut my heel while swimming, but luckily not all the way through the callouses.

Overnight we were treated to an all-night serenade of avalanches crashing down into our basin. We could see sparks fly from the crashes in what is my strongest memory from the trip. Some were loud enough to wake us from a deep sleep, others were just a few rocks falling. Between the avalanches the night was calm, almost equal to the perfect silence of Lake 11,767 on our first night. The morning revealed that the cirque walls were indeed still intact, and the only evidence of nightfall was the dew on our sleeping bags.

8-15-90, To Forester Lake, 12 miles

Our hikes were falling into a pattern; two hours down to the low point, climb above tree line, eat lunch, push up over the pass, then camp just over the pass. Not a bad schedule, except it put us at our high point at midafternoon, when the rains were most likely coming. Either the guidebook miles were short on this section, or we were rounding into shape. We made great time to Center Basin. The prior night we ate one of the dinners I’d been carrying, so my pack was getting lighter. 

Keasarge Pinnacle over Vidette Meadow.

Except for the crowds around Rae Lakes, there were not as many people on the trail as I expected, especially for peak season on such a famous trail. It would be difficult to take a long hike out here without using some of the PCT, but there was great opportunity for making other trips using the PCT.

After Center Basin, the sky clouded up again. By the time we reached the last basin below Forester Pass we had on our pack covers and rain jackets. A black thunderhead was wrapped around the base of Junction Peak, and stayed there all afternoon. Luckily we were blessed with stationary storms, and never got rained on. 

Junction Peak.

Below Forester Pass we grouped up, and I decided to try to climb Peak 13,680’+, if the weather held. Passing by all these majestic Sierra summits, was just too much for me, and I had to break down and give one a try. 13,680’ is the minor peak on the west side of Forester Pass, opposite Junction Peak. Forester Pass is the highest point along the Pacific Crest Trail, and the southernmost of the six passes above 11,000 feet along the John Muir Trail, I would not get another chance to be this close to a summit again, except at Mt. Whitney.

From Forester Pass I had a 20 minute Class 2 boulder hop to the top. It was hard to tell exactly which spot was the summit, so I moved out to a small arete to cover all my bases. There were two prominent chutes on the north side that looked like potential climbing routes. Views from the peak were spectacular, especially to the south. I could see the dome of Mt Whitney, highlighted by two lightning bolts off in its direction. I was exhilarated to be on top of something, even if the peak had no name, precise elevation, or summit cairn. I confirmed my suspicion that many of these high passes were located by faults. It was clear at Forester Pass where you could see traces of the faults along the valley floor.

Forester Pass.

But I could not stay long on top, knowing that I might hold up dinner for Buddy and Steve. The descent was 25 minutes back to the pass, and then 30 minutes down to the bottom of the switchbacks on the south side. We camped at the head of the lower lake at a beautiful spot in the rocks. This was easily the coldest night of our trip. Our sleeping bags were covered in frost in the morning, and the water in the top of the cook pot was frozen. Again, the morning was crystal clear, but the overnight temperature was likely around 20F.

8-16-90, To Guitar Lake, 14 miles

Because of the cold we packed up quickly in the morning and headed out fully dressed. We stopped to dry out our gear at the Lake South America junction. It was a popular spot; we saw three other groups while we were there. Around Tawny Point we got our first trail views of Mt. Whitney and the equally impressive peaks to the north. The walk was entirely in the open to Wright Creek, and then in the trees to the Crabtree Meadow Cutoff. It would be hard to imagine a prettier walk, even in the woods the trees were spaced widely enough to allow good views of the peaks. We couldn’t see down into Kern Canyon though.

After the cold start we had one of our best weather days. The sky was deep blue with light breezes, and it was cool all morning. I was hoping we would have similar weather for our summit day on Whitney coming up.

Buddy and Steve at Guitar Lake.

We took a cutoff toward Whitney that bypassed Crabtree Meadows, still going by the ranger station. From there it was a steady uphill walk to Guitar Lake, where we would camp with about 50 other people, all with plans to climb Whitney. We even got passed on the trail by two high school girls, the first people to pass us all trip. It was strange to share the campsite with so many other groups, after all our solitude. The conversations intrude, especially the louder voices. I expect the rest of the walk will be crowded, but there is no alternative on the standard route up a popular peak.

With the clear sunny day our afternoon concern was sunburn rather than rain. But we had great views of Whitney from the lake, and I was excited about the climb. We planned to add on the short side trip to Mt. Muir if the class 3 chute did not look too difficult.

8-17-90, To Whitney Portal via Mts Whitney and Muir, 17 miles

Concerned about thunderstorms we got a 6:45 start and pounded up the trail for an hour to Trail Crest, where the spur trail leads north to Whitney. We left before the sun was up. The night had been cold enough to freeze our water.

The cairn marking the climb up Mt Muir was 500 paces from the Trail Crest intersection, and the Whitney summit was about a 45 minute hike. We stashed our backpacks at the junction for the summit trips, just taking Buddy’s camera for pictures. The summit views extended north to the Palisades, opening up views of almost our entire route. We spent about an hour on top, most of the time trying to identify the other nearby mountains. There were about 50 people on top while we were there, it wasn’t a remote wilderness peak.

After the cold drove us off Whitney, we headed over to Mt Muir, also a California Fourteener. A small cairn and a path through the talus mark the start. The top 50 feet of Muir was easy class 3 climbing. Buddy decided to skip that part, and I tried to climb it quickly. I didn’t spend much time on top, but halfway back I ran into Steve and went back up to enjoy the summit with him. Because of the crowds, Whitney was my least favorite of the three peaks climbed on the trip. Steve was particularly fired up by the climb, I couldn’t keep up with him as we headed back to Trail Crest.

Luckily for us, the rest was all downhill. From the summit of Muir, we had seen the seemingly endless line of switchbacks of the trail on the east side. With a heavy pack, the descending lasted forever, I can’t imagine what the climb would be like. The only positive was that from the trail Muir looked higher than Whitney.

Leaving the John Muir Wilderness.

Finally, we reached Trail Camp, where many parties stage their Whitney climbs. We decided to avoid another crowded camping spot, and hiked all the way out to Whitney Portal. I wouldn’t recommend the portal trail anyone except those desperate to climb Whitney, or a trail runner badly needing climbing training. The route is just a long series of switchbacks.

At the Portal, exhausted and footsore, we piled into Steve’s VW bug after a short bath in the creek. A short distance from the end of the Portal Road we stopped and ate good Mexican food in Lone Pine. We turned north, headed up US 395, and slept just off the highway near Lake Crowley, near Mammoth.

8-18-90, Mono Lake and the return drive

The next morning, we drove to Lee Vining and stopped for breakfast. We decided then to visit Mono Lake. I’d bought a book about the lake when I’d lived in Reno, but never had an opportunity to visit it. We first went to the south tufa area and hiked the one mile interpretive loop. It was a great intro stop with tufa exposures and brine flies. It was too chilly for a swim, so we just took pictures. 

At Mono Lake.

Next was Panum Crater, a 600 year old cinder cone. There was a two mile trail around the crater rim and a one-way trail through the heart of a rhyolite plug to the crater highpoint. We took the plug trail to an exposure of obsidian. 

Tufa cones and the view toward Yosemite.

For our return highway 120 over Tioga Pass was open, so we went back that way to Sacramento. Unfortunately, it snowed high up, so we did not see much, and the Tioga Pass visitor center was packed. At least this was good day not to be on Mt Whitney. I made the logistical notes that it would have been possible to stock up for a weeklong trip at the Tioga Pass store, and that there was a good mountaineering shop in the town of Sonora. The next morning, I flew back to Lead. 

South Half, 1990 PCT Map.

Of the four long PCT segments that I backpacked with Buddy (Marble Mtns. CA 1982, Alpine Lakes WA 1986, and Tahoe Sierra 1987) this would be the last in that series.

In 1994 I would head back to the Big Pine Creek Trailhead to start a climb of Middle Palisade with Karl. The blog for that trip is: Link

Literature for the Sierras

Kim Stanley Robinson, The High Sierra: A Love Story, 2022, Amazon. See especially his discussions of renaming some peaks in the Sierras (including switching the names for Muir and Whitney) and his “ratings” of good and bad passes over the Sierra Crest

John Muir, The Mountains of California, 1894,  Amazon

Clarence King, Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada, 1871, Amazon

Longs Peak and Mt Chapin, Rocky Mountain National Park, 7-28-90

Longs Peak is one of the best known mountains in the Rockies. The peak looms over the Front Range and dominates Rocky Mountain National Park. It may also be the most scenic, with its iconic diamond-shaped east face. For peak baggers, it is one of the most desirable summits in the Rockies.

Our group of geologists at the Homestake Mine in the Black Hills was doing a lot of hiking, biking, running, and skiing together in both the Black Hills and Wyoming’s nearby Bighorn Range. But with several Coloradans in the group, it was no surprise that we would try for some Colorado peaks, which were just barely in driving range for a long weekend trip. Earlier that summer we’d made a three day Colorado trip, now was the time to see if we could climb Longs in a weekend. One of our coworkers had already climbed Longs, and together with his information and our handy copy of the Borneman’s Colorado 14ers guide, we felt ourselves prepared.

Our group was Kathy & Leroy, Karl, Craig, and I. None of us had climbed Longs before, but Karl was familiar with the area having grown up in Denver. We left Lead on Friday after work and made the 8 hour drive to RMNP with a stop for dinner in Wheatland, WY. We arrived about 12:15, and spent the night in an informal USFS campground along the highway and across the road from a picnic area about ten miles south of Estes Park on CO 7. This may now be the Meeker Park Overflow site shown on the 2008 TI Map. We were close to the highway, and didn’t get much rest, particularly Kathy, who had an upset stomach.

 7-28-90, Longs Peak, 14,255’, 16 miles

We were up at 6AM and on the trail at 6:45. Our first clue as to what was to come was that we couldn’t even get a space in the main parking area. There would be so many people on the trail that day that we were never out of sight of another party. The popular analogy was of pilgrims going to Mecca. Few summits are worth tolerating this crowded a route, but Longs is one of these. The start of the hike is a pleasant woods walk on a well maintained trail. There were a few waterfalls, but the scenery improved above tree line and past Goblins Grove.

We took a few rest breaks, the most scenic at Chasm Overlook. I was surprised to see toilets at Chasm View and the Boulderfield Campground. These were necessary given the crowds. Past Chasm View the trail switchbacks over Granite Pass, past Mt. Lady Washington, and across the Boulderfield. It seemed a more direct route could have cut off some miles, but also I also imagined most hikers would consider the route already steep enough. Above the Boulderfield is the Keyhole, and beyond that point the route is a scramble. Beyond the Keyhole, the route felt more crowded as people slowed due to fatigue and discomfort with the steep slopes, loose rock, moderate exposure, and in many cases altitude sickness. Kathy’s stomach never had settled down, and she did not go much past the Keyhole.

East Face of Longs Peak from the Boulderfield.

Having done a lot of peak bagging already that year, I was in shape enough to enjoy the scramble. There were great views down into Glacier Gorge, which I thought might be the best place to go next to start some climbs. I remember one steep chute just before the top, and was surprised at the broad flat summit, which we reached at 12:15.

Karl on Longs Peak overlooking Chasm Lake.

I counted 70 people on top, and someone else had counted 100 entries in the register already that day. Our views extended south along the Front Range to Grays and Evans, and all through RMNP. We didn’t spend much time on top, just a quick lunch and some pictures. The afternoon clouds were already starting to arrive, and Kathy was still waiting for us below. Just below the Keyhole we were hit with a brief shower. I’d brought my ice ax and was nervous to push onto a less exposed spot, but the weather never turned stormy. We found Kathy at the Boulderfield, and had a pleasant walk down despite our mounting fatigue. We were back at the trailhead about 4:40. By then Craig also had a mild headache and slightly upset stomach, but the rest of us had no altitude symptoms. 

Hiram at the Keyhole.

I wouldn’t bring an ice ax again on this route, but otherwise we had been well prepared. Longs is a superb peak was an exhilarating route. I thought next time a different route might be doable, maybe the cables or something easy on the east face. We stopped for dinner in Estes Park and slept in the same noisy, informal campground we’d used on Friday.

 

7-29-90. Mt Chapin, 12,454, 3 miles

Although it may have been difficult to do otherwise, we chose an easier climb for Sunday. A high trailhead off the Old Fall River Road leads to easy slopes that provide access to Chapin, along with Chiquita and Ypsilon, its neighbors to the north. The trail starts as an unofficial approach route to the three peaks. 

Climbing Mt Chapin.

We stayed on the trail too long and ended up approaching Chapin from the north rather than from the west. The southeast side was the prettiest, and the sheer side facing the Old Fall River Road was much more impressive than the gentle slopes we climbed. In contrast to the previous day’s crowds, we saw only 6 groups. We shared the summit with a lone NPS ranger, one of the few times I’ve met rangers out on the trail.

Summit of Mt Chapin (L-R Craig, Leroy, Karl, Kathy)

We descended with the west ridge and were back at the cars before the skies threatened. The climb was about 1:15 up and an hour down with 1,800’ of climbing. Just for a sense of scale, Mt Chapin was a small peak for RMNP, but it was one of the ten highest peaks I’d climbed at that time. I was impressed with RMNP as an alternative to the Bighorns as a long weekend destination. But ultimately Colorado proved too far for even long weekend trips. I would take peak bagging vacations across the state in 1991 and 1992, and would return to RMNP and the Mummy Range in 1999 (Here). Jean and I would next visit Rocky for a week of day hiking in 2015. 2015 RMNP

Colorado Peak Bagging, Mts Huron and Elbert, 5-26-90

This trip occurred so long ago that I no longer remember how it came about. From my notes I suspect that my friend Tod from the Homestake Geology Department put it together to maximize some fun over a Memorial Day weekend. Tod, who skied collegiately at Mines, wanted to do a ski descent off Mt Huron, a 14er in the Sawatch Range that he hadn’t climbed, and then join some friends for two days of paddling. I joined up with the idea of hiking Mt Elbert while Tod paddled. John, our summer intern at the mine, also came along. John had never climbed a fourteener, but he had done some skiing at high elevation, so we assumed he’d not be prone to altitude sickness.

On Friday we made the 11 hour drive from the Black Hills  to Denver and stayed with Tod’s friends. Then we were up at 5AM to drive to the trailhead at Winfield, slowed only by an urgent emergency bathroom stop . Our plan was to follow the North Ridge Route as described in the Borneman 14ers Guide.

Ridge Route up Mt Huron.

There was a good dirt road to the trailhead at Winfield. Beyond the TH the road was blocked by snow. We got a 9AM start, early given all our travelling. We started on a wide trail up switchbacks, but then left the trail for the north ridge of Browns Peak. We were able to follow this ridge to the saddle between Browns and Huron (with only a slight detour to avoid climbing to the top of Browns), and then continued on the ridge to the top of Huron. We reached the top at 1PM, with great views and under cool clear skies. The main ridge was mostly clear or had had windblown snow with cornices. I wore shorts to the top, so snow must not have been an issue. John arrived on top looking miserable, he had a terrible headache from the altitude. 

Tod near the summit of Mt. Huron.

Tod skied from the summit off a prominent couloir on the north face. The snow was soft, but he was able to enjoy the turns, if only a few at a time. We watched much of his descent then retraced the upper part of route to the top of the cirque on the north side of Browns. There we had a quick glissade on the steep upper section. Lower down we began post holing and with John’s headache the jarring drops must have been agony. We were aiming for a prominent road on Middle Mountain, hoping to regain our ascent trail, but made little progress in the soft snow. We could only follow the road a few hundred yards then were forced to look for bare spots between a creek and a cobble moraine that made for tough walking. Finally, we hit another set of tracks that we were able to follow to the road. By this time the snow was almost soft enough to just plow through it. We were back at the car at 5PM, 4 hours up and 4 down. The post holing had made for one of my toughest day hikes in a long time. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we didn’t descend our ascent route, maybe we needed to keep Tod in sight, since he was skiing solo. 

Summit view from Mt. Huron.

At the bottom I was beat, and John was about dead. He fell asleep changing his shoes and slept in the back of the pickup. We picked up Tod at the next drainage to the east and drove to a campground on the Arkansas River to join Tod’s paddling friends. John was sick on the drive out but recovered enough to eat dinner. We were camping at 8500’, low enough to revive him.

Mt Huron, 14,005’, 9 miles, 3800’ climb

 

5-27-90, Mt Elbert, 14.433’, 10 miles, 4400’ climb

With Tod paddling and John recovering, I was solo for this hike. I’d sunburned my face and neck the prior day, but otherwise I was in good shape. Again, I was up at 5AM to get a head start and avoid the soft snow. I drove past Halfmoon Campground to the Elbert Trailhead to use what Bornerman called the Halfmoon Route, which started on part of the Colorado Trail. The first mile was trail, but then I decided to short cut the route by going directly up the northeast ridge, probably based on the successful climbing strategy we’d used yesterday on Huron. At one point I was driven to the SE side of the ridge by heavy snow, but otherwise the ridge proved good going. The snow stayed hard, and I made okay progress to tree line, where the climbing really started. I rejoined the official route at about 12,600’. Luckily I was able to stay off the snow and could follow the remnants of a buried trail. The ridge was straightforward to follow, and I pushed on as the skies clouded, reminded that I didn’t want to be late enough to repeat the post holing epic of yesterday.

Tod had warned me that Elbert has two small false summits. I reached the top in three hours, and was the first one up that day. I put on all my clothing, but still got chilled fast, and was shivering when I left the top. After the struggle down Huron, Elbert was easy. I made a fast descent to tree line, and had stopped to eat when four guys on snowshoes appeared. They had followed the standard route and had just put on their snowshoes. Because they hadn’t needed the snowshoes yet, I decided to follow their route back. I was a bit paranoid about the snow, partly as I’d just seen a couple pairs of ski tracks.

The standard route proved much cleaner, and I followed it back to the trailhead for a three hour descent. Elbert set a new personal highpoint for me. However, that record would last only three months until I climbed Mt Whitney at the end of weeklong trip on the Pacific Crest Trail. Those peaks still remain my two highest summits.

From the trailhead, I drove the car the extra two miles to the Mt Massive Trailhead to scout it. On the way back I ran into John. He wasn’t able to get in a raft with the paddlers and had gone to look for me. We ate lunch in Leadville, and then drove over Independence Pass to Aspen. The road had just been opened and there was a ton of snow, some of which had just been skied. The road was tough and the drive too far for an afternoon trip. Aspen was a zoo, packed with cars and mountain bikes.

We drove back to the campground. Tod’s folks had arrived and cooked up elk burgers for dinner.

 

5-28-90, Brown’s Pass, 8 miles

Our original goal for the day was Mt. Yale, but John was still ill, and I needed some rest from the prior two days. We were probably looking at the Denny Gulch Route, but decided to drive further west and hike the Denny Creek/Browns Pass Trail. The first mile of the trail was clear of snow to a side trail leading west to Hartenstien Lake. There is now a west side approach to Mount Yale that branches off before the Hartenstien Trail, but that must be newer since my 1990 notes, guidebook, and USFS map don’t mention it. From the side trail to the pass was all snow covered. Luckily we’d gotten another early start and I could walk on top of the snow and follow the many tracks ahead. It was a nice walk, mostly in the clouds.

The pass was wide and open and looked to be a major divide with a pair of trails branching off. On the return hike I met a USFS trail volunteer.

John had spent the morning snoozing in the truck. We went back to the CG and had a two hour wait for Tod to return. Then we had the long drive back to Lead. Luckily, John was well rested and did most of the driving. Tod and I alternated sleeping in the back of the pickup. My final note was a reminder to bring skis or snowshoes if I tried this early season trip again.

I would redeem myself on next year’s vacation trip with a successful climb of Mt Yale.