BHNF, Pilger Mountain, 11-17-91

This hike was in support of an effort by the local Black Hills Group of the Sierra Club to further protect land in the Black Hills. The Black Hills Group, and a coalition of other conservation organizations, were recommending five areas for Wilderness designation: Breakneck on the Centennial Trail in the northeast hills, Black Fox around Swede Gulch in the central hills, Sand Creek in Wyoming, Pilger Mountain in the southern hills, and additions to the Black Elk Wilderness. I was helping the Group by scouting these areas, and managed to visit each one.

Pilger Mountain was a new area for me. It is located on Elk Mountain on the outer rim of the hills in the southwest corner, not too much different from Summit Ridge or Elk Mountain Lookout (Summit Ridge & Elk Mtn.). The proposal for Pilger Mountain set boundaries using BHNF roads. My goal was a 16 mile solo loop around the perimeter of the north half of the area, using BNHF Road 312 to cut across the middle of the area.

Pilger Mountain.

I drove in via Pleasant Valley Road and BHNF 319, and parked roadside at what was presumably the end of safe driving for my pickup. I started hiking south on 319, soon reaching the junction with BHNF 312 which was well signed. From that junction it was a short walk to the 4,788’ Pilger Mountain summit, which had been recently logged, but had no tower on top. I kept walking south on BHNF 319 and passed a claim notice.

Somehow I knew that there was an old tower site just across the Fall River County line (it is not shown on the USGS topo). From the north end of a small meadow, I headed due west and picked up an old two track road. The road led to the 4,613’ tower site that had four concrete footers and two other cement slabs on a 12’ by 12’ base. It was too foggy for any views, but the top was heavily wooded. There was another claim post on the west side (for U?). The main Burlington Northern RR line was just to the west, and I could hear noise from the tracks for most of the morning. After the quick side trip to the tower site, I went back to the perimeter road.

My field map for the south half of this loop is lost, but my field notes are intact. The notes reflect the care I needed to complete an off-trail loop in unfamiliar terrain. The notes also allowed me to reproduce most of my route for this report, though that effort was complicated by the change of names for some of the BNF roads. Just after the 4,613’ tower I noted a 4,515’ benchmark and soon reached the signed intersection with BHNF 312.

BHNF 312 bisected the proposed Pilger Mtn. Wilderness. It led west across the area to Bennett Canyon, then formed the boundary of the proposal on the northwest side. While BHNF 319 had been smooth and looked little used, 312 was more used and deeply rutted. The BHNF online map (2023) now labels 312 as Bennett Road, without a USFS number. A hundred yards up the road was a spur road to a water tank. The next major intersection at a stock dam was two track BHNF 312-1A, which led south to Driftwood Canyon. I also spotted the junction with 312-3E leading east.

BHNF 312 would take me to the west side of the proposed Wilderness to the junction by a concrete covered well with two track BHNF 380 heading south into Roderick Canyon. Here 312 turned north, lost most of tis traffic, and was at its prettiest. I saw a few claim location notices, but otherwise there seemed to be only light grazing. Next 312-3D would split right to a well #2 with two tanks and a large stock dam,  and then further up East Bennett Canyon. From here my route gets hazy. I followed the “main” road until it dissolved into cow paths in the upper canyon in a heavily grazed meadow. To this point my route had been entirely bikeable, but the cross country segment was not.

The canyon became tighter, began to meander, and was filled with junipers. I could see buff colored sandstone cliff above. I followed the canyon through a turn to the east, then left it to the south to reach the rim by some exploration trenches. The canyon was easily the prettiest part of the hike. Unfortunately, this description could apply to either fork of Bennett Canyon or to East Bennett Canyon. I am uncertain if I followed my “planned route”, or went up East Bennett Canyon.

From here my notes indicate I followed an unlogged spur ridge to the east thru open timber back to BHNF 319, and had good views (east) to Robinson Flats. There is no further route info. The reference to Robinson Flats would indicate I did not complete the planned loop, had cut back to make a shorter loop via East Bennett, and neglected to make any other notes on that short cut. However, the remaining field sheet shows a return up BHNF 312 (now BHNF 394-2B, just to confuse things even more) as well as an out and back route on 319. I tend to trust the notes more. Maybe the highlighted map route was just the planned route? In either case, losing data is an expected pitfall of waiting 32 years to complete a trip report. But it would be nice to know which canyon was the pretty one I walked up. My final note was that I saw only two trucks all day, both on BHNF 319.

Of the five areas proposed for Wilderness, only the additions to the Black Elk Wilderness were approved. Pilger Mountain was borderline for deserving wilderness designation. The canyons were very pretty. The area was remote and little traveled. But it also was ranching country, with cattle and their watering stations. There were mineral claims, and several two track roads cutting the property. The perimeter roads were not the best way to see the area, but I had cut across its center going west on BHNF 312. If I had cut back east to BHNF 319 at the end of the hike, my lack of comments might be telling.

Pinnacles Backpack, Badlands NP, 10-19-91

This backpacking trip was prompted by a discovery made on my prior trip to the Badlands. In April 1990 I’d spent a weekend in the Badlands with Craig and Stacey. On Saturday we’d hiked the Castle Trail, which was now familiar to us. On Sunday we did some exploring, first going through a magnificent area where we found abundant fossils. Later in the day we stopped at Pinnacle, the overlook where the park road meets the Badlands Wall, and that serves as the introduction to the park for most visitors. Pinnacle has a sheer drop down the wall to the basin below. But it is composed of several slump blocks, each capped with trees that are able to tap groundwater collected in the open spaces of the broken ground in the slump.

On the Castle Trail, BNP.

On the earlier trip Craig was able to find a route down to the trees from the overlook. The route began at the very east end of the parking lot, just past the introduction sign for the park (these landmarks may have changed with improvements to the overlook over the last 30 years). The gully was steep, narrow, and filled with trash from the overlook. The route involved a tricky exit from the gulley, a traverse down a steep slope of gumbo, and a finish through junipers atop one of the slump blocks.

Fossil hunting in the Badlands.

I was confident that I could follow Craig’s route again and wanted to explore more in the rugged terrain below the overlook. I originally recruited several hikers for the trip, but only Don and I were able to make it. This would be Don’s first backpacking trip.

We selected the correct gully at the top and thrashed our way toward the junipers. There were a few tricky jumps in the gulley, but eventually we reached the junipers on the west end, and worked our way to the base of the wall. I was sketching our route on a field sheet, so am still able to roughly follow our route for the trip. We both were taking pictures. Don had just gotten a new camera.

Descending the gully from Pinnacles Overlook.

At the bottom of the wall, we took a break beside a sod table and were surprised to realize that we were only about a ¼ mile from the overlook. The overlook would remain in view, our reference point all day long. 

Below Pinnacles Overlook.

We set up a base camp in a juniper grove with a small wall on its other side. Coincidently, we were not far from where I’d camped with Nitro on our Thanksgiving backpacking trip in 1988. We headed upstream (east) to look for the area where I’d spotted bighorn sheep on the ’88 trip. On a whim we hiked up a side gulley to the south and ended up at the west end of Deer Haven, surprising us both.

The Badlands Wall near Deer Haven.

We then hiked further east across the base of Deer Haven. We were able to get to its east end where we were blocked by a prominent gulley, maybe the same one from 1988. We then looped south, then west gradually circling the head of the bowl, and exploring some great side gullies. One of the gullies was overhanging, so we had to slide through holding ourselves at a 60 degree angle. Much like the red rock canyon country of the southwest, the real action here is in the side canyons.

Exploring near Deer Haven.

Eventually we worked our way back to our initial overlook above Deer Haven. We decided to head back to camp by staying on the ridge that had been south of our camp. Soon we found two coats stashed under rocks on a small knob. The coats looked dry and therefore recently placed. Then we found some fresh tracks. Soon we found Loren Chapman (from Minnesota) and his son. He told us that he had been hiking in the Badlands since 1957, and had never seen another party. They had started at the farm below Deer Haven. This was also the only time I ever saw another person off trail in the Badlands.

As it turned out the drainage we were following didn’t intersect the one we were camped by, and it took a long detour to reach camp. We weren’t sure we had turned at the correct drainage, and started getting nervous about being lost in the jumbled terrain. Part of the “Bad” in Badlands is that the topography makes no sense at all, and is insanely complex. But luckily we found camp by 5PM, and even spotted two bison along the way.

We’d had a great time exploring the gullies, and had some extra time to enjoy the clear calm evening. Don had found a stone scrapper, ¼ of a fossil jawbone, and a six point deer antler, which he found useful as a climbing tool. At nearly every turn we found something interesting. I relished the uncertainty of every turn. Would a gully go to the top? Can you cross that plateau without being blocked by an unseen cliff? Poking your way into the remote corners of such a wild and untraveled place is what wilderness is all about. In the Badlands so much is compressed into a small area. We were likely never more than two miles from the overlook all day.

I slept out of the tent to enjoy the view, and ended up curled down in my sleeping bag all night. My stove was working this time, so I enjoyed hot meals. The next morning before leaving camp we explored a north side gully near camp. We climbed one steep divide ridge, but did not find the type of overhanging meanders that we’d seen the prior day.

Much of the floor of our basin was at the contact between the Chadron and Brule formations. Once we climbed out of the main drainage we were walking along this floor. It is strewn with silicified cobbles, haystacks, and sharp ridges of Brule gumbo. We found a few fossils, possibly discarded by other visitors, then dropped our packs to look for more. The extra fossil hunting wasn’t productive, but we found some steep gumbo slopes to scree/ski/slide down.

Sliding down a bentonite slope.

We planned to exit the basin west of the Pinnacles, but we strayed far enough east to recognize our entrance drainage. The sure route back was too good to pass up. We climbed to the slump block, and found it best to stay close to the cliff edge to avoid bashing through the trees. Eventually, we found a place to climb up to the road level, just below the east side of Pinnacles Overlook. I could get all the way up without my back, but there was a 6-foot high wall that we couldn’t climb with packs.

We ended up using a rope to haul our packs across the steep gully that marked the east end of the slump block. Going uphill the jump across the gully is much harder. The climb was rough, but made worse by an audience of tourists at the overlook.

Sage Creek Basin.

Driving home we went via the Sage Creek Campground and through the town of Scenic to scout the west end of the Badlands Wall. We spotted bighorn sheep 75 yards from the road, but did not see any bison. We determined that once west of the Pinnacles, one could descend to the Sage Creek Basin almost anywhere down the wall. Prime areas for other visits looked like just east of Sage Creek Pass and the areas from Antler Butte east to the Pinnacles.

Badlands NP, Pinnacles BP.

I would do one more round of off trail Badlands hiking before moving away. The next March I spent parts of two days exploring the rugged badlands just east of the Door Trail in the developed area of the park. I have notes, but no map, of those trips. This was another concentration of steep gullies to challenge my scrambling skills. I was able to hike east out to Rake Creek and back and found the markers a search and rescue  group had used to keep track of the gullies that they had checked on a recent mission.

Custer State Park, Bear Gulch-Grace Coolidge MB ride, 10-5-91

This is another ride I got from my trusty copy of the Horning and Marriott’s “Mountain Bikers Guide to the Black Hills.” I headed down to Custer Park for a short ride, hoping to have enough time to add a quick trip to the nearby 7,000’ peak I had recently discovered. (Sylvan Peak Link)

I started the ride about 10AM at its alternate trailhead at the Black Hills Playhouse Road (BHNF 753), in the northern part of Custer Park. I rode the loop counterclockwise, so the first couple miles were on the gravel Playhouse Road, and then the paved road through the Center Lake Campground Area. Then I rode down the old two track road that is the Grace Coolidge Walk-in fishing area trail. This area is now a hiking trail, but was open to mountain bikes in 1991. The Grace Coolidge Trail has 14 shallow unbridged creek crossings, none of which were a problem in the dry September weather. Tracks here included both bikes and elk.

Grace Coolidge Creek in 2023.

By 11 AM I was at the picnic area on US 16A at the south end of the Grace Coolidge Trail, ready to begin the challenging east half of the loop. While the first half of the ride had been on roads and easy two track, the east half of the loop would go through little used backcountry in Custer Park. This was also just three years after the Galena Fire which had burned through much of the park, incinerating or killing huge swaths of the Custer forests.

USGS Galena Fire Map.

The route started up an old jeep road, and was immediately in the Galena Burn. About a half mile in there is an old substation at a powerline crossing. The route description mentioned fences beyond this point, but I did not see them. Potentially these were burned in the fire. Beyond a small saddle with a cement foundation, the route was clogged with downed trees from the fire.

Approaching Bear Gulch, the guidebook route veers out of the small draw to go north over saddle 4,443’. But despite a warning in the guidebook, I missed this turn, pushing my mileage total for the day to 12.6. I stayed along the floor of the gulch until the intersection with Bear Gulch, then turned north upstream to return to the guidebook route near the junctions of the north and south forks. I was then able to follow the jeep trail all the way back to my truck parked on the Playhouse Road. The 6.8 miles of the east half of the ride took about 3 hours. Not bad, for hiking pace. I saw one bison along the way. I really liked the ride, but made a note to stay out of the burn on future rides. The complete area was mapped as 100% timber kill by the USGS.

The jeep trails were washed out in the upper part of Bear Gulch, presumably one of the aftereffects of the Galena Fire. But this area was really pretty, with lots of granite pinnacles, and the leaves just starting to change color. This is one of those rides where I wish I’d kept more detailed notes, rather than just riding the loop.

 Much of the park has healed in the 30 years since the fire, and the forest should once again be ready to explore. The east half of the loop would certainly warrant a visit on foot, and there seems great potential for off-trail hiking loops, including going from Center Lake east across the South Fork of Bear Gulch. 

1991Ride Map.

Sylvan Peak and the Black Hills 7,000 footers, 10-5-91

Early in my time in South Dakota I became interested in climbing the peaks of the Black Hills. During my first tour in 1982, I was focused on the field work that would support my master’s thesis, and didn’t get outdoors nearly as much as I would have liked. But my old slides show two different trips to Black Elk Peak (then Harney Peak). In 1987, when I returned for a six year stint, I quickly took up mountain biking to supplement my running and hiking. In Horning and Marriot’s “Mountain Biker’s Guide to the Black Hills” I discovered routes to many of the 7,000 footers, especially those on the Limestone Plateau. The longer bike rides seemed much more sporting routes than what would otherwise been long drives to access short strolls to the peaks.

Black Elk Peak in 1982.

Crook’s Tower (Crooks Tower) in 1987 was my first serious mountain bike ride. Later that summer I rode to the top of Odakota and Bear mountains. At the end of ‘87 I again used the MB’ers guide to make a late season ride to Crows Nest Peak. It seems unusual to have waited a year to climb nearby Terry Peak, but my records don’t show my first visit until June ’88, again on a mountain bike ride.

Bear Mountain, 1987.

For a while the 7,000 footer list sat dormant, until I found another project. This time my goal was getting to all the active and abandoned fire tower sites in the Black Hills. There was plenty of map examining to do as that part of the project, but it yielded some interesting results. Green Mountain (unnamed on the USGS quad) had a just barely 200’ saddle with Odakota, its neighbor to the south. At 7164’, that meant Green qualifies as a 7,000 footer. On 3-30-91 I made a late season ski trip that covered both summits. My next discovery was even more interesting.

Green Mountain from 7,159, 1991

West of Black Elk Peak is a small range bounded by U.S.16 and South Dakota 89, and anchored by Buckhorn Mountain on the south and St. Elmo Peak to the north. St Elmo is the highest named point and I hiked it in September of 1991. But looking carefully at the map I also saw an unnamed peak south of St Elmo just breaking 7,000’. The peak had a long north ridge that would provide a 1,400’ climb.

Sylvan and St. Elmo Peaks.

On 10-5-91 I headed down to the southern hills. For most of the day I rode the 10.8 mile Grace Coolidge and Bear Gulch mountain bike ride as described in the Mountain Biker’s Guide. I was done before 3PM, and decided to give the new 7,000’ peak a shot.

The north ridge proved as exciting as it had looked on the map. Most of the north slope had been logged, and there was plenty of downed timber, but not enough to ruin the walking. There were great views toward Black Elk Peak and Sylvan Lake, and especially of the climbing area known as the Outlets. I crossed one old logging road, and made a side scramble to the top of a false peak. After crossing one other faint logging road and a shallow saddle I was at the summit. There was only a small cairn to mark the top, and no other evidence of previous hikers. I enjoyed more summit views before returning the same way.

St Elmo Peak from Sylvan Peak, 1991.

The peak was a great edition to the first edition of my guide. As the high point of its own subrange, I felt it deserved a name, and called it “Sylvan Peak” in honor of the great views of Sylvan Lake. The name was adopted on the 1996 Black Hills National Forest map and is shown on later editions. The name doesn’t yet appear on USGS maps, and is not approved by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names. I don’t know if the BHNF map makers used “Sylvan Peak” because the name was used in my guide, or if someone else was equally inspired in their peak naming, but I hope name becomes official.

“Sylvan Peak” is also the highest point in Custer County. This distinction has earned the attention of a dedicated group of peak baggers called the County Highpointers. As their name implies, members devote their energies to reaching the high points of various counties, usually within a state or region. Trip reports on their website (cohp.org) describe a shorter and easier route to the summit via the southeast ridge. This route starts where a dirt road leaves the west side of South Dakota 87, 0.9 north of the South Dakota 87/89 junction, or 2.1 miles south of the start of the north ridge route. I hiked this route on 9-8-04, it is shorter, but less scenic than the north ridge.

Bear Mountain Tower, 2007.

Sylvan Peak also upped the number of Black Hills 7,000 footers to eight, the number that is still generally accepted today if you poke around online. Some sources don’t include Green Mountain, but there is consensus on the other seven peaks. For my hiking guide I tried to compile a list of “worthy” peaks that includes the 7,000 footers, summits with towers or former tower sites, mountains with maintained trails, and peaks on the Wyoming side of the range and in the Bearlodge mountains. My list has 39 peaks, with Sundance Mountain (on private land) being the only one I haven’t been able to climb.

John on Terry Peak, 1987.

Online it appears that the 7,000 footers have been climbed by a modest number of people, though there is no central source for this information. Here’s a summary of my Black Hills 7,000 footer climbs.

Bob on Odakota Mountain, 1987.

 

Height            Name                         Date                Type   # of Ascents

7,242              Black Elk Peak         ?-?-82            Hike             19

7,200              Odakota Mountain   8-16-87          Bike                2

7,166              Bear Mountain         8-16-87          Bike                4

7,164              “Green Mountain”    3-30-91          Ski                  1

7,137              Crooks Tower           6-12-87          Bike                2

7,064              Terry Peak                6-19-88          Bike                11

7,048              Crows Nest  Peak    12-6-87          Bike                2

7,000              “Sylvan Peak”           10-5-91          Hike                3

 

Here’s a link to a report on trip to climb all the 7,000 footers in a day self-supported. https://www.southdakotamagazine.com/black-hills-eight-over-seven

1991 8-30 Beartooth Range Traverse, MT

From college in the late 1970s through the mid-1990s most of my vacation trips were backpacking adventures with my friend Buddy Koonce. Buddy and I had met in 1976 while we both were through hiking the Appalachian Trail. We joined up the next summer to complete Vermont’s Long Trail, and then again the following year to through hike New York’s Northville-Lake Placid Trail. After college we both moved out west and were lucky to keep in touch.

We used those trips to explore many of the great mountain ranges of the US, from the Sierras and Cascades on the Pacific Crest Trail, to rugged Rocky Mountain ranges such as the Wind Rivers, Uintas, and Beartooths, as well as some of the canyon country of southern Utah. We often targeted the state highpoints of the western US for our trips, and were usually gone a week or more on these adventures.

I am using this blog to archive descriptions of some of my most impactful trips, obviously I was not blogging back in 1991. In 2020, going back over my notes, maps, and slides from our Beartooth trip, I realized this was probably the most ambitious of the trips in this series, and that it was now a good time to make a digital record of it before my memory of these events faded. The main images I have from the trip are a few old slides, I’ll add those to the blog if I ever get them digitized. I was able to scan a few prints that I’d made, so my apologies for the poor image quality of what is posted so far.

During the 8 day trip we traversed most of the range, were more often than not off trail, and climbed two of the three highest peaks in Montana. I was in very good backpacking shape that year. Over the fourth of July I’d spent four days backpacking in the Spanish Peaks, and had spent a week earlier in August peakbagging 14ers in Colorado. And most importantly in July I’d finished my first ultramarathon, the Deadwood Trail 50 miler.

Friday 8-30-91

I left work at the Homestake Mine in Lead, SD at 3:45 and drove to the Billings, MT airport arriving around 9PM. Buddy, James, and Mary had just flown in from Tennessee and Tod had just driven over from Gardiner, MT where he was working at the Jardine Gold Mine. I knew Tod from working with him a for a few years at Homestake, but had not met James and Mary previously. However, they had through hiked much of the AT together the previous year while on leave from their work.

We spent the rest of the evening looking over maps to choose a route. We had copies of the official 1:100,000 USFS Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness map, and a set of  custom 1:67,000 maps by Ralph Saunders from Rocky Mountain Surveys that showed off trail paths and routes. We settled on a shuttle route from Beartooth Pass to Mystic Lake that would maximize our time on the high alpine plateaus and allow us to try to climb Granite Peak, Montana’s highest point.

We drove south out of Billings through Red Lodge to the first USFS campground at Sheridan, and slept there.

Saturday 8-31-91

In the morning we went back into Red Lodge for breakfast, then I drove Buddy, James, and Mary over Beartooth Pass and dropped them at around 10:45 off with my extra wilderness map at Hauser Lake Trailhead. Then Tod and I drove our pickups over to the Mystic Lake Trailhead to spot a car for our shuttle. The road beyond the end of the pavement into Mystic Lake was very bad with deep wash boards and lots of dust, but there were about 50 cars already there. We left my truck there, and headed back to Beartooth Pass. Back at the Hauser Lake Trailhead Tod was confused about where I had dropped the others off. His more recent wilderness map did not show trail 614, their intended route. It turned out that the 1985 version of the map that I was using showed a trail that had been abandoned, and was not shown on the maps the others were using.

Since it was already about 4:15 we decided to hike to the planned meeting place at Claw Lake via a shorter route. We parked at Island Lake CG and hiked in via Trail 620. We saw lots of other hikers on the way in, but not our partners. Ominously, we also did not even see the spot where their now abandoned trail should have intersected ours. We got to Claw Lake at about 6 PM and found no other campers, but with enough time for me to take a bath in the lake. When it was clear that the others would not be arriving, we decided to stay put for the night, hoping/assuming that they would arrive the next morning.

Claw Lake ~ 4 miles

Sunday 9-1-91

After breakfast we had still seen no sign of the rest of our crew, so we split up to go look for them. Tod headed over to Becker Lake, while I retraced our route back toward the pass. After checking out Beauty Lake, I spotted Buddy just past the side trail to Becker. They had not been able to find any trace of the deleted trail, and they were forced to hike cross country almost immediately from the highway. Without the anchor point of starting on the right trail, their navigation must have been really tough. They had ended up staying at Becker Lake, which they had initially thought might be Claw because of the similar shape. They also had split up this morning to look for us.

We decided that I would go back to Claw Lake and get Tod, while Buddy returned to Becker for James and Mary. The two groups would then hike north to meet at the outlet of Jasper Lake. In retrospective, it seems almost reckless not to have consolidated the group at a known point on trail, but I guess we figured that with a full day under our belt, both groups had gotten their bearings. Tod and I headed off from Claw Lake cross country above the head of Becker, picked up one of the “off trail paths” near Albino Lake, and met up with Buddy, James, and Mary at Jasper Lake around 1 PM.

 

Our group near Wolf Mountain

The logistics finally complete, it was finally time to enjoy the hike. After Claw Lake we had essentially left the forest behind and were out in the great alpine plateau that makes the Beartooths so special. The Beartooth Range is known for its alpine scenery and for relatively easy access to its high country. Most of the trailheads off of the Beartooth Highway at well above 9,000’ and the hikes through the remaining forest to tree line are shorter and more gentle than other ranges such as the Wind Rivers. We found the cross country hiking generally not too difficult, some occasional boulders complicated things, but often you could walk cross country almost as easily as on trail. To do so however required constant attention to our maps. The size of the alpine area was difficult to grasp. The huge deep basins one expects in glaciated terrain were far apart and it was possible to link together the plateaus for long hikes through the alpine zone.

We walked together completely off trail to Flat Rock Lake passing by Lynx Lake on the way. I had a few of the nagging things for the start of the trip, I’d slightly turned both ankles, and the first roll of film that I loaded didn’t catch on the sprocket, so I had no slides so far. We camped just south of Castle Mountain (Montana’s #3) and hoped to climb it the next day.

Flat Rock Lake, ~8 miles

Monday 9-2

We woke to good weather and were headed for the summit of Castle Mountain by 8AM. Pat Caffrey’s “Climber Guide to  Montana” lists Castle as a scramble up the southeast ridge. Tod followed the valley floor past Forsaken Lake then scrambled up some rock to the Summit Plateau. Buddy and I turned up the southeast ridge even before Forsaken Lake and crested the ridge near a small saddle, probably where the main route comes in from Omega Lake. James and Mary went only up to the saddle and turned back, feeling less than 100%.

Buddy Climbing Castle Mountain

 The route worked really well, anytime it looked like we might get blocked by cliffs we’d turn a corner and a clear route would open up. The footing was solid, we had very little talus. The summit was fantastic, the north face of Castle is a sheer wall with a few long, steep couloirs dropping off. Whitetail Peak and the Sundance Pass Trail off to our east were especially impressive. We briefly talked about attempting a ridge traverse to Whitetail or Castle Rock Mountain, but it was to cold and windy to seriously consider anything but heading down. The ascent took 2 hours from camp and the return via Tod’s route took another 2 hours.

 

Tod, Buddy, and I on the summit of Castle Mountain

At lunch Tod caught some cutthroat trout and fried them up for us. We considered staying another night, but realized that moving on might give us a shot at climbing another peak, or laying over a day if we hit bad weather. We decided to move downstream on an off trail route past Queer Lake to Lake Elaine. We had to ford the main creek by Summerville Lake, but otherwise the going was again pretty easy.

Lake Elaine 12.6 miles

Castle Mountain, 12,612’

Tuesday 9-3

Tod, Buddy, and I were sharing a three man tent that was a bit small for the three of us. I tried to sleep outside that night to give us all some space, but a short rainfall after sunset drove me back into the tent. Sometime later that night Tod was the one feeling crowded, and he moved outside to sleep.

In the morning, we decided to push on to the northwest to try and set ourselves up for the climb of Granite Peak (the Montana Highpoint) the next day. We walked cross country to Jordan Lake and then followed a variety of routes and paths to a lunch spot at a bridge above Russell Lake on USFS Trail 567. At 8780’ Russell Lake was the low point of our trip to date, and we had dropped enough to be down in a forested area. We enjoyed the great trail all the way to Windy Lake. Along the way we passed Bald Knob, which reminded me of one of those classic rock climbing domes in the Sierra Nevada.  From Windy Lake we hiked off trail to Rough Lake where we camped for the night. I got in early and managed to get in another swim, noting that the water was warmer vs Flat Rock Lake. Our weather all day had been perfect, vivid blue sky and temperatures just cool enough to keep us from overheating on the long climbs.

My journal writing though was seeming inadequate. I emphasized recording events and the routes taken by the group with a lesser focus on my feelings and impressions of the experience. Looking back, I can see I’m still in that same mindset.

Rough Lake ~11 miles

Wednesday 9-4  

We rose very early the next morning fearing the reputation of Granite as a foul weather peak. Tod led at a furious pace through the Skytop Basin and up and over to the saddle on the east. We decided then to risk a traverse east to the saddle between Granite and Tempest to avoid losing our elevation by dropping down to lake level.

Our traverse went well until we rounded a corner and our bench narrowed into ledge and eventually ended. We were near the steep the head of a walled cirque that didn’t seem to show on our maps. We knew we didn’t have the time to return to first saddle and drop down to the lake to join the standard route, so we looked for any ledges above us that reached the head of the cirque. Tod found some ledges that looked OK. He led a short chimney with one or two easy fifth class moves. We then did two short fourth class traverses to bring us to the talus slope at the head of the cirque. This section was pretty sketchy, we only had a 6mm rope and any fall probably would have resulted in a pendulum swing.

 

The traverse below Granite Peak

We then hopped some huge boulders up to a west ridge that intersected the main route just below the snow bridge. The snow bridge had melted to a level below the ridge, so it was just an easy stroll across. Since we expected the bridge to be the crux of the climb, we were feeling confident. The day was still crystal clear and there was no wind.

As it turned out, most of the final climb from the snow bridge saddle was class 3-4 scrambling. At one deep notch Buddy decided to stop rather, than try to climb about 40’ of a fourth class chimney. The climbing up wasn’t that bad, but none of would have wanted to downclimb any these areas if the rock got wet. It turned out there was still another 30 minutes of climbing ahead, and Tod and I faced one more chimney of similar difficulty. Luckily for us there were cairns the entire way from the snow bridge to the top.

 

Summit of Granite Peak

The summit turned out to be a nice flat area with 360 degree views. The north face is a huge cliff with a 2,000’ drop down to a small glacier. Nearby Wolf and Whitetail peaks looked especially impressive. We could see all the way north to the Crazy Mountains and south to Lonesome Mountain. It was still T-shirt weather with no wind. After a short nap, we signed the summit register, and Tod realized that it was his birthday.

 

Summit of Granite Peak

We down climbed back to Buddy and used the rope as a handrail twice to get down to the snow bridge at 2:45. To save time we decided to retrace our ascent route (I’m not sure what the other option might have been?). The traverse and downclimb by the cirque weren’t too bad and we all were happy to reach the security of the ledges. We had assumed we might have been among the first to use this convoluted route to the top, but we spotted a small one person rock shelter near the end of the ledges.

The rest of the descent was exhausting, but mercifully uneventful. James and Mary had spent the day walking around Rough Lake and climbing a small spire south of Mount Villard. At dinner they brought out a pudding cake they had learned to make on the AT. It was a special treat to have it on Tod’s birthday.

“Climbers Guide to Montana” lists Granite Peak as a technical climb, meaning that there will be some roped rock climbing involved. The technical part of the standard route begins at a snow bridge on the east ridge where a belay is anticipated, giving the route its technical rating. Past the snow bridge, the final pitches to the top are fourth class, which means to me scrambling up and very careful scrambling down.

Rough Lake 12.7 miles

Granite Peak 12,799, Montana’s high point

Thursday  9-5

Our overnight excitement was the having a mountain goat wander through camp. We all heard it making some noise, but all assumed it was one of us out for an evening stroll. After two tough days we were looking for an easier day. We took a path down Sky Top Creek to Star Creek. We had some confusion about the route near the junction of Star and Zimmer Creeks, but got that worked out by lunch. From Star Creek we passed briefly out of the Wilderness onto to a jeep road. At this point we were just a few miles north of Cooke City, MT. We then raced a storm into Goose Lake and barely got camp  set up before the rains came. I took another swim to clean up in between bouts of the rain.

There were lots of people at Goose Lake when we arrived, and I resented their intrusion We had seen no one since leaving Claw Lake on Sunday. But we were just inside the wilderness boundary, and the area was relatively accessible. Looking around for our campsite I’d found “hundreds" of remains of other campers, many of them likely workers at the old copper mine at the head of Goose Lake. The ruins looked large enough that I was surprised that the area had been included in the Wilderness, with all the old mine debris and access via a trail that was obviously an old road. Still, the scenery here was fantastic.

Our final two days would take us over the divide near Grasshopper Glacier, and the mountains to the north looked ominous. On the west side of the pass was Wolf Mtn., rated as nontechnical in the guidebook, but looking like nothing but a cliff from all sides. To the east was Sawtooth, the only peak in the Beartooth besides Granite that required a technical ascent according to Caffrey. We looked to try Iceberg Peak the next day, it should be a scramble and was close to the pass. By evening I was warm, dry, well fed, and not exhausted. All as much as a backpacker could hope for. I was looking forward to tomorrow, an easy walkup peak, and Grasshopper Glacier. Then it would all be downhill.

Goose Lake ~8 miles

Friday 9-6

In the morning we took a late start to let the tents and sleeping bags dry a bit before packing up. We followed a good trail for an hour to reach the pass below Iceberg Peak. I was exited to try for the summit, but no one else was, so we passed it up.

The upper Grasshopper area was as forbidding as any we saw in the Beartooth. There was a mountain goat in the pass as we arrived, and we soon spotted two others. The glacier is smaller than is shown on the topo maps, but the moraine areas were much larger than we expected.

Our Saunders map showed a path across the foot of the glacier leading down to West Rosebud Creek that we planned to take to Silver Lake. But the entire upper basin above Star Lake was just a sea of huge boulders. It seemed to take forever as we picked our ways gingerly across the mess. We soon decided that climbing classifications needed to be revised to include a category for technical boulder hopping. Several times we had to stop just because our concentration was wavering, and we were at the point where one false step would lead to a busted ankle.

We ate lunch beside Point 10,932 just wishing we could get to Star Lake and thankful that we hadn’t chosen to add the extra side trip to Iceberg Peak. Eventually we left the boulder field for the steep bushwhack down to Star Lake. For our considerable efforts we were rewarded with patches of blueberries and raspberries. Buddy saw two foxes, but luckily no bears. By the time we made Star Lake it was 3 PM and we were spent. We had yet to see any sign of our route, but were convinced one would exist between Star and Silver lakes. In our overconfidence we took time for a swim and clean up in the relatively balmy water.

The bushwhack to Silver Lake turned out to be horrible. We found only narrow traces of a path a few times south of the drainage to Eedica Lake. We learned that the routes in the open alpine country we’d travelled were much different that the routes in the deep, heavily forested valleys on the north slope of the range. Often, I felt like a football running back crashing through the line as I lowered my shoulder to push through another nest of young spruce. No fun with an external frame pack! Mixed in were cliffs, blowdowns, and the avalanche debris that was the toughest obstacle. We all got cut up from the rocks and limbs, and sorry to say we all lost our temper at one time or another. At least having some company made the walk less intolerable.

Three hours later, after a final spit of rain, we arrived at a campsite on Silver Lake. James described the day as the toughest hike he’d ever done. Mary, the smallest one of us, claimed her size had made the trip relatively easier for her as she just had less brush to push away. None of us had ever bushwhacked like that with a full backpack.

Once in camp we allowed ourselves the only fire of the trip. A warm front had come in and I slept out again, bothered only by a few mule deer who wandered through camp.

Silver Lake, ~ 9 miles

Saturday 9-7

A warm morning at 7800’ allowed us to get the earliest start of the trip, despite the exertion of the previous day. Luckily for us it was all maintained trail down to my truck at Mystic Lake. But it didn’t take long for us to realize that the warmth signaled the arrival of a massive front. Before reaching Island Lake we had our raincoats on, and kept them on the rest of the trip. Despite the weather we passed waves of hikers heading in. Ironically, I missed the junction with the trail up to Froze to Death Plateau, which was the normal route for those looking to climb Granite Peak.

We did the 8 trail miles out in 3.5 hours of gradual downhill, with only a short steep climb just below Mystic Lake. The drive out features 15 miles of horrible washboard. Tod, riding in the pickup bed, was almost car sick. We stopped in Roscoe at the Grizzly Bar for a great meal. Along the way we must have dropped Buddy, James, and Mary off at the airport. Tod and I retrieved his truck from near Beartooth Pass, and we spent the night in Billings with me driving back to Lead on Sunday.

 

Make sure you always have the latest maps!

To read about an awe inspiring trip in the Beartooths:

https://10peaksbeforelunch.com/2018/08/24/montana-highpoints-beartooth-27/

1991, 7-21, Deadwood Trail 50 Mile, My First Ultra

This post describes my introduction to the world of ultrarunning. I ran the Deadwood Trail Ultra 50 Mile race twice. A successful run in 1991 was proceeded by a DNF in 1990. Describing a race that happened 30 years ago was tough, but I have a variety of notes and write-ups to draw from. Unlike many races from that era that prospered in the current ultrarunning boom, the Deadwood race was not held after 1993, so I’ve also included in this blog as much of the history of the race as I could recall.

Though I’d never been anything more than a recreational runner, and have never run anything longer than a half marathon, I’d been interested in long distance races since well before my move to Lead, South Dakota in the late 1980s. Back in those days there were few ultramarathoners and even fewer races. In 1990 Ultrarunning Magazine counted 56 ultras with 3,771 finishes, vs 2,417 races and 128,732 finishes in 2019. In contrast to today’s crowded race calendar, back then you were lucky if there was more than one race a month within driving distance.

I was lucky that in the small community of the northern Black Hills there were several veteran ultrarunners, and just as importantly, a local race to shoot for. My friends Tod, Mike, and I were interested in seeing if we could finish a race that long and were lucky to have a race that practically started in our back yards.

Early Race History

The first Deadwood Trail Ultra50 was held in 1988 in conjunction with a running relay and a mountain bike race that had 10 entrants. Local ultrarunner Terry Smith designed the course and submitted a race write up to Ultrarunning magazine. Nine of the eleven runners finished, led by Dave Wrolstad of ND, who would go on to win the race the next three years.

In 1989, 17 of 26 runners finished, with Wrolstad setting the course record at 7:12 on a slightly longer course. The winning mountain bike time that year was Bruce Junek’s startling fast 4:25. By this time the race was advertised as having 8,000’ of climb, not bad for the Black Hills! However, later versions would claim a more realistic 4,300’ of climb. I don’t think the race was on my radar at all in those first two years.

7-1-90 Race Report

My first entry to the Deadwood Ultra 50 was in 1990. I started training in the spring already in good shape thanks to a busy local cross-country ski race schedule. By the time training started I’d already made a backpack trip to the Big South Fork and hiking trips to Colorado and the White Mountains. Our small little study group got to know Terry, and joined him and some of the other local veterans of the trail race on training runs.

The training runs were generally on the Centennial Trail, which was then a new addition to the Black Hills National Forest system, and not always the easiest thing to follow. For our first training run Mike and I joined Terry, Jeff Hagen, and Larry Simonson on a cold, snowy 24 mile run on the CT from US 16A to Pactola. I had hiked most of the CT by this time, but we still spent a lot of time trying to follow the trail.  Terry, Jeff, and Larry were planning on a run of all the CT and we spent part of our time learning the route and marking some junctions. That April run was remarkably cold, and after Sheridan Lake I was running with heavy mitts and a pile coat, gear that I definitely wouldn’t need on race day. We did three other runs with the more experienced guys including a planned support trip for their end to end attempt on the Centennial Trail, but unfortunately rainy conditions forced them to abort that attempt.

Still, we learned some crucial lessons about walking the long climbs, how to eat and drink enough, how to maintain a brisk walking pace, and how to stay on course even when the trail markers were gone. It helped our confidence that we could sort of hang with the veterans. Of course, living in Lead, we had plenty of access to hiking trails and jeep roads for other training, and we did a lot of running, hiking, and mountain biking. We knew the local trails well enough that there wasn’t a need for us to train on the course.

On race day I heard on the radio that it was already 78 degrees at 4AM in the morning and knew I could be in trouble already with the heat. By the 5AM start it was already uncomfortably warm. Our training partner Tod had dropped out of the race in advance of a pending move for work, but served as a roving crew for Mike and I. Mike and I took it easy at the start, walking most of the 1,000’ foot climb from Deadwood to Mt. Roosevelt. We found the course well marked and never lost time looking for our route. The local YMCA had joined in as a sponsor and Brian Brown from the Y also helped us out with roving aid.

We stayed with a small pack on the long descent down Miller Creek. The group broke up near the Miller Creek Aid Station 1 at 9 miles and Mike and I were on our own. There was another long descent going into Aid Station 2 at False Bottom at 18 miles where Tod met us. I still felt strong at that point, but over the last two miles my left knee started to bother me. Knee issues would prove to be the bane of my ultra career. Over the years a series of IT band and tendonitis issues would arise in my races, slowing my performance, and necessitating long and painful recoveries. However, at the time I felt that the long climb up Terry Peak would allow me to rest the knee, and that I still had a chance to finish.

Mike and I split up, he was faster going downhill, and I was stronger climbing, another pattern that would hold true for most of my running races. I was unfamiliar with the course section along Burno Creek, but found it to be a pretty hike. However, it was getting difficult to keep myself hydrated in the heat. I had to force myself to keep eating, but at the same time had to ration my water two bottles between aid stations. On some gentle downhills approaching Terry Peak I realized that my knee was too stiff to run, and that I might not finish the race. The toughest part of the course, the climb under the chairlift for the Terry Peak Ski Area was just before the summit. However, I could still climb and passed three people on the final climb to the 7,064’ summit and Aid Station 3 at about 12:15PM.

I felt strong enough to walk it in, but still had 23 miles to go! I had extra food and a change of clothes at the aid station and some electrolyte tablets from work. The tablets were critical as the aid stations only had water. I’d caught up to Mike and Tod at Terry, but they took off at a good pace down the summit access road, and I had to walk the downhill. Any attempt I made to run seemed to do more harm than good as the pain in my knee altered my stride throwing my left hip out of whack and raising a blister on my left heel.

I wasn’t feeling too good when I reached the highway, but Tod was there to help and shortly Dave Thornton, another friend from work arrived and gave me a cold coke. Tod had stashed his bike at the crossing, but amazingly someone had found and stolen it. I was hobbling at this point, and wondered if I could reach Englewood and Aid Station 4 at 35 miles. Mike had arrived at Englewood well ahead of me, but dropped out of the race there. Luckily, I got a Tylenol and perked up a bit. At Englewood I took a brief stop but forgot to take another electrolyte tablet. I pushed hard out of the aid station trying to catch the person ahead of me. My hierarchy of goals for the race was to finish, and not to be last, but last I was. I stayed in reasonable shape until the Yellow Creek Road, but there I broke down.

I’d had a reasonably good race until that point. One moment I was moving well with the aches and pains expected for someone well into their longest running day ever, then the next moment I was done. Done I guess, except for being several miles short of the next aid stop. From my long distance hikes, I was used to having to push a few miles past where I’d like to have quit, but this was as close to total collapse as I’d ever been. I somehow managed to limp my way into the final Aid Station 5 at Strawberry Hill and mile 43 and collected my DNF with a time of around 12:30.

Later, a few (nonrunning) folks suggested that if I’d made it that far, I should have gone ahead and finished the last 7 miles. I had to explain that I’d been finished around 40 miles and still had to drag myself to a place where I could get a ride. I had learned that the Ultra 50 for me was really a triathlon, the three events being running, walking, and limping. I was tired enough from the race that it took me almost three weeks to write up my notes.

19 of the 29 runners would finish the race despite the heat which had reached nearly 100F out on the course. 

7-21-91 Race Report

My preparation for the 1991 race changed a bit based on what I’d learned in 1990. I used Gatorade powder in my drinks and took salt tablets and packed some pain relief meds. I ate a ton of bananas, and the power bars which were the energy fuel of the day. The race was moved from the July 4 weekend to Late July and had much milder temperatures. For training again, there was plenty of x-c skiing in the winter followed by lots of running, hiking, and mountain biking in the spring and early summer, but I didn’t have the long group training runs on the CT that I’d enjoyed the previous year. However, Mike and I were writing a “Hike of the Week” column for his paper, so we were still getting in a lot of trail running.

The 1991 race was again directed by the Ridge Riders mountain bike club and the Lead YMCA. I helped out with the course marking. Though the mountain bike portion attracted 92 riders, the run had only 10 entrants.  Going into the race I was nervous about my lack of training and the prior year’s DNF. But the change in race date had given me three extra weeks to train, and the weather forecast looked much cooler vs. 1990. Also, I’d learned to stretch my IT band more and was hoping that it would be much less of a factor.

It was drizzling at the start and we sweated through the first climb up Mt Roosevelt. Mike and I did our usual routine of passing each other on the ups and downs as our varied strengths played out. On the descent to Aid 1 at Miller Creek at about 2 hours we got some full blown rain, and I was still sweating more than I would have liked. Mike pulled ahead and I didn’t see him until Trojan, but I matched up with another runner at Aid 1. We ran together to the Maitland Road.

I was already having IT issues, just running shorter and shorter stretches until the pain in my knee became too great. First it would start just as my weight bore onto my left knee in a flexed position, then gradually the entire outside of the knee would hurt. Oddly, the IT issues would arise relatively early in the race, and at a lower mileage than I’d run pain-free several times in training. Mike and I passed some forlorn bikers who had stopped to fix a flat, at least that was good for our egos. The informal Maitland Aid Station was down to their last bottle of water when we arrived. I was a little annoyed to be getting dehydrated already. The long climb toward Terry Peak was gentler on my knee, and I found the strength to push and run some of the gentler uphills. After descending to False Bottom Creek and Aid 2 I was able to get cold water and my drop bags and felt like I was in heaven. Temperatures wouldn’t reach much over 80 for the day, and scattered clouds and a few light showers kept things manageable.

Feeling recharged, I blasted up the hill and caught both Mike and the other runner before the Bald Mountain tailings. The other runner was tired of all the climbing and even though I told him the climbing was much gentler after the top of Terry Peak he dropped there. I got to the top of Terry in ~6:30. Descending, I passed my last pair of flat fixing bikers.

Mike caught up before we reached the highway, and we ran together to Aid 4 at Englewood and 35 miles. He felt really strong and was determined to finish, I was also strong, but was concerned about my speed and inability to run on the downhills. I’d need to do the 15 miles and next two aid stations in about two hours each to finish, which meant a walking pace of basically 4 mph.

Don Gifford joined me at Englewood and walked the next mile with me. I was apprehensive, having fallen apart here the previous year. I was eating two power bars and two bananas and a salt tablet each section as well as drinking two bottles of water. Mike and I were still running together with a little yoyoing as he pulled away on the descents and I caught back up on the hills. He’d had some groin issues, but seemed to be over them.

After the Aid 5 at Strawberry Hill at mile 43 Craig showed up on his bike and rode the rest of the way with me. I knew I couldn’t quit then with him helping out, though my confidence was waning. A short surprise relocation of the course in upper Two Bit Gulch spooked me, but ultimately made the course a bit easier. The last course section was rough and steep with loose rock. My feet were sore, and my balls and nipples chafed from the sun and salt. I grumped once at Craig when I thought he was riding to close and he wisely moved off ahead to ride some with Mike. Eventually the houses in upper Deadwood Gulch came into view and I knew would make it. Craig escorted me to the rodeo grounds, and I was able to jog ceremoniously across the finish line.

Craig, Don, and Mike were there to meet me at the finish, along with Brad and Karl who had (long before) completed the mountain bike race. We’d go out to dinner that night to celebrate, and the guys got quite a kick out of my long, slow limp down the stairs from my apartment.

Of the ten runners and eight finishers Mike was 6^th in 12:22 and I was 7^th in 12;30:24. The final runner beat the 13 hour cut time off by only ten seconds. Dave Wrolstad won his fourth consecutive race. I think my key to finishing was not trying to force any running downhill after the IT band had flared up. This allowed me to maintain and efficient and rapid stride even if I was just walking. My ultra career would include only one other 50 miler (so far), but I would lower my PR to 11:51 at the 1993 edition of the Mountain Masochist 50 Miler in VA in 1993.

Later Race History

Despite my 1991 success I didn’t run the race in 1992. The Ridge Rider Bike Club had decided not to sponsor the bike portion. Ironically, they’d had too many entrants, over 130 in 1991, and found the race to be too much work. The YMCA was now the sole organizer and was working hard to recruit racers.

The weekend before the race, I went down to Colorado and ran my first marathon, the Mosquito Marathon on the trails in the mountains just outside of Leadville. I finished in a respectable 7:15 for race that went over one fourteener and several thirteeners. I came back to the Black Hills and spent every evening of the next week marking sections of the course from my mountain bike, and would spend much of the following week taking down the course markers. Despite getting no rest between my race and the course marking with a little help the course marking got done. We also placed four water caches in between the aid stations to help with the water shortages we’d had.

We had added a two-mile gravel out and back at the start to accommodate a course change near the start. The course was also vandalized near the start by someone who had removed some markers and changed some others. I remember waiting for the field along an early part of the course far longer than I’d expected before some of the leaders finally came by and told me what happened. Luckily, there was a relay that year and the lone team was all locals familiar enough with the area to remark the course on the fly.

16 of the 9 entrants finished the 1992 race. Dave Wrolstad was injured that year, and Richard Schick was the winner in 8:06. Mike also finished again, cutting two hours off his 1991 time. The main difference was significantly cooler weather in the 50s, sporadic rain in the first third of the race, and fog. I’d done a decent job of course marking, but the fog threw runners for a loop on Terry Peak. I’d neglected to flag the ski area parking lot well and when the pack arrived visibility was only 20 feet. Luckily, Lisa from the YMCA arrived to guide runners across the lot to the base of the chair lift. The temperature was reported as 42F at the summit.

Early in 1993, I moved from the Black Hills to Tennessee for work reasons. Because of the issues we’d had in 1992 the 1993 race was moved to the Centennial Trail and renamed the Black Hills Centennial Trail Ultra, and would be 50 miles and 7,000’ of climb. The course was originally planned as a double out-and-back from the CT near Sturgis with the first leg going north to Bear Butte and back, and the second leg going south to the turnaround at Elk Creek. There were 26 starters and 15 finishers, led by Larry Simonson, whose efforts on scouting the CT undoubtedly had paid off. Dave Wrolstad was back and took third.

The race was not held in 1994. Presumably, the effort of putting on such a large race for such a small field was not worth the continued effort.

The Black Hills currently (2020) has two established ultramarathons on the area’s premier trails, both offering 100 mile courses and a variety of shorter distances. The Black Hills 100 starts in Sturgis and follows an out-and-back course on the Centennial Trail south to Silver City. Ultrasignup shows results for the race back to 2011. The Lean Horse 100 uses an out-and-back course from Custer north to Dumont on the Mickelson Trail. The Mickelson is a converted rail trail and since 2005 Lean Horse has offered a relatively gentle ultra.