Bighorns WY Backpacking Loop 1999

 From 1986 through 1993, when I lived in South Dakota’s Black Hills, the nearby Bighorns Mountains of Wyoming were my first choice for heading into the high mountains. The Bighorns have it all, a huge central core of designated wilderness (189,000 acres), an extensive trail system, tall alpine peaks, and exceptional mountain beauty. I made a dozen or so trips into the range, mostly for summer weekend backpacking trips, with some peak bagging on the side. Ever since Jean and I had started hiking together I’d wanted to take her to the Wyoming Mountains so that she could enjoy them as well.

1999 was also the year I had decided to make a career change. Mining geology was unlikely to keep me at home in the future, so I had decided to enroll in the UT MBA program to give me a better background for applying for different types of jobs locally. To ease the transition, I’d decided to give myself part of the summer off. I ‘d driven out to Rocky Mountain NP for some backpacking and then drove up to the Black Hills to mountain bike some of the Mickelson Trail in case I got the opportunity to update my Black Hills trails guide. Jean then flew into Rapid City, and after a break in day we were off to the Bighorns. We planned a loop similar to a five day trip I’d done in 1986 with Craig that would include a side trip to the top of Cloud Peak and a section of off trail hiking. The loop would begin at West Tensleep Campground, go north to Mistymoon lake then east to Medicine Cabin Flats and south to Seven Brothers Lakes before turning west past Lost Twin and Mirror Lakes before returning to West Tensleep.

7-29-99

After hiking up Crow Peak in the Black Hills we drove through Spearfish, SD for supplies, and then to Buffalo, WY where we had a huge, tasty meal at Bozeman’s. It was another hour drive to the Bighorn NF West Tensleep Campground. We found a site, set up camp, and enjoyed the cool mountain air.

 

7-30-99

We spent part of the morning re-organizing our gear and talking with a wilderness volunteer at the campground. He stated that there had been a noticeable increase in traffic into the wilderness since the publication of an article I’d written on the range in Backpacker Magazine. I doubted that the story had really had that much influence, but selfishly hoped that the story had been well read.

Our five day trip would be Jean’s longest ever, and we both noticed the corresponding increase in weight of our packs. We were surprised to see a lot of hikers on the trail coming out as we hiked north from Tensleep toward Mistymoon Lake. Still, we made good progress and arrived at Lake Helen near tree line in time for lunch. We started to tire as the trail passed lakes Marion and Mistymoon. Beyond Mistymoon there is one more short climb before you reach the informal campsites on the upper reaches of Paint Rock Creek. We were lucky the volunteer had warned us about the crowds. Among the groups scattered about was a noisy cluster of seven tents pitched near the alluvial fan, and at least another 9 parties scattered over the valley floor.

We chose a relatively poor site on the bench above the falls on the east level. To my surprise, the Bighorns usually reliable dinnertime showers did not materialize. We endured a bit of howling at the moon from our neighbors, but were tired enough from the load hauling to fall asleep quickly.

Upper Paint Rock Creek 8 miles

Jean at Lake Helen

7-31-99

We awoke to an unusual sight. Instead of the usual clear blue skies, we had a totally cloudy day. Our plan was to take a day hike to the top of Cloud Peak. This would be Jean’s highest summit ever. I had been there twice before, and was confident that we both could make the climb. We thought the clouds were the remains of a front that had given us two hours of light sleet and hail early that night. It was an ominous start when Jean got both her boots wet trying to cross the small creek near camp right at the start. We made good progress on the start of the climb that follows the very northern fork of Paint Rock Creek. The route then ascends to the main part of the southeast ridge with some tricky (at least in the fog) route finding, Generally we were able to find some cairns and some well-trodden tracks, but we also got side tracked a couple of times onto rougher ground.

At around 12,000’ the southeast ridge narrows down for the final climb to the top. The clouds showed no sign of breaking and visibility was decreasing. I realized that on the descent it would be difficult to retrace our route down with just a compass as the bearings for the main wide part of the ridge and the valley that would lead us to our fork of Paint Rock Creek weren’t that different. Jean is susceptible to altitude sickness and now was starting  feel its effects. About 30 minutes above the narrow point of the ridge we decided to take a break to eat, and ended up getting chilled. My legs were shaking and my teeth chattering, so we decided to turn back while the descent route would still be fresh in our minds.

Considering the time and effort we’d put in to plan and execute the trip, plus the 3 ½ hours of effort of the days climb, it was a huge disappointment not making the top. But it was the right choice, continuing on was dangerous, plus we had three more days of the trip ahead and it would have been a shame to ruin it by forcing an epic descent.

Even going down, it was tough to find the top of the narrow ridge section and the route required constant attention. We didn’t drop below cloud level until we reached the small lakes that form the headwaters of the creek. The descent ended up taking longer than the climb. We talked with a woman who had been part of the only party we’d seen earlier on the mountain. She had turned back in order not to slow up her son and husband. We retired back to our camp to enjoy the warm red glow of a glorious sunset.

Upper Paint Rock Creek 9 miles

 

8-1-99

It rained again overnight but our front had passed through and the morning skies were clear. Our route for the day was to be over Florence Pass and through Medicine Cabin Flats to Seven Brothers Lake. It took two hours to reach Florence Pass from Upper Paint Rock, but the walk is one of the prettiest in the Bighorns. Shear cirque walls are all around and there are snowfields, moraines, and waterfalls scattered amid an abundance of lakes. We even spotted a large boulder rolling down the west wall of Florence Canyon. It took another two hours to reach the creek ford In Medicine Cabin Flats and we had lunch there. This was Jean’s favorite part of the loop. She badly wanted to return, camp in the park, and successfully climb Cloud Peak.

In another hour we reached the side trail to Seven Brothers. We passed several parties along this section including two groups of 10 or so. Reaching the lakes required another half hour of steep hiking. We found the last half of the trail to have been rerouted to emerge at the first lake. We pushed on another half mile to come out at the big campsite on Lake 2, probably the same spot where I had camped on my first visit in 1986.

We ran into a Boy Scout Troop that had used a shuttle from the Bighorn Lodge to haul them from West Tensleep to the Hunters Corral Trailhead. Our hike for the next day would feature two off trail sections, so I scouted the start of the first section that would take us Lake Angeline, and found the start marked by a large cairn.

Seven Brothers Lakes 10.5 miles

Medicine Cabin Park

8-2-99

For my Bighorns hiking I used the guidebook written by Michael Melius to the Cloud Peak Primitive Area published in 1984 (the area became designated wilderness in that year), which is now long out of print. The guide had great route descriptions, good maps, and a terrific sense of the special places in the range. Much of my desire to write a hiking and biking guide to the Black Hills came from the enjoyment of the Bighorns afforded me by this book. The book described a route between Seven Brothers and Lake Angeline and then a cross country hike over point 11,476’ down to Middle Tensleep Creek at  the mouth of the Lost Twin Lakes. I had used this route in 1986, but it proved to be a tough go for Jean and me.

Jean had recovered from a badly broken leg that allowed her to hike and backpack nearly at her pre-break level. But I should have realized after our Cloud Peak adventure that it would be extra difficult for her to carry a big pack over the huge talus that we would find approaching peak 11,476.

The route to Lake Angeline was torturous at best. A large, patchy burn obscured much of the trail, which at least at that time was not shown on any maps. To compound our problem, this was not a straightforward route, but one of those twisty, turning ones whose course is hard to predict. Jean is better than I at spotting old trails, and it was often her sharp eye that bailed us out. But after about 80 minutes of hiking we emerged onto the Lake Angeline Trail, though this trail didn’t look frequently used either.

Past Lake Angeline we climbed the rocky ridge to the north of the lake. We did our best to walk on the tundra where the footing was decent, but the upper part was just a field of huge boulders. The climb took us two hours and it was tough on Jean, especially not being able to trust her leg.

Luckily, the west side of the pass was grassy and gentle, and we were able to cruise down a gorgeous series of flowery meadows to the north fork of Middle Tensleep Creek. We saw no evidence of people between Lake Angeline and reaching the trail along Middle Tensleep.

We debated where to spend the night. Our choices were Mirror Lake, just down the trail, or Lost Twin lakes, a mile or so climb out of our way. Luckily, Jean was still game to try Lost Twins. The Lost Twin Lakes sit snuggly in the bowl of a steep cirque surrounded by Darton, Bighorn, and another unnamed 12,000 foot peak. The dramatic rock face at the head of the lakes reminds me of the diamond on Colorado’s Longs Peak. We found a cozy secluded campsite in the few trees near the lake shore listening to a loud waterfall on the north side of the cirque.

Lost Twin Lakes 8 miles

Lost Twin Lakes

8-3-99

We both slept in late, partly because of an easy day ahead, but also because we were both reluctant to leave such a beautiful place. We talked with the only other camper at the lake, an ultrarunner from Virginia who was planning to climb Bighorn and Darton peaks that day. The walk out was easy, especially the flat section into Mirror Lake. Our decision to camp at Lost Twin was validated when we found several large groups at Mirror Lake, including both male and female college student groups. Several other groups were heading in to Lost Twins and we saw a number of fishermen as well.

It always seems a shame to leave the mountains, especially when you’ve put in the effort to do the approaches, and have worked yourself into shape with a few days of carrying the heavy packs. Despite missing the top of Cloud Peak, and our frustration with some of the boulder hopping, we were really happy how things went. Jean was eager to come back, that’s always the final test for a trip.

The Bighorns were the end of the hiking on this particular trip. That night we drove to Murdo, SD, and the next night made it to Ames, IA to visit Jean’s family.

Finished at West Tensleep Trailhead, 6.5 miles

1999 Bighorns 5 Day Loop

Pikes Peak and Rocky Mountain National Park, 7-18-99

This Colorado trip was the first part of a three week vacation that I took after quitting my job at the ASARCO Coy Mine to join the full time MBA program at the University of Tennessee. After Colorado. I spent the middle section mountain biking in the Black Hills, then Jean joined me for some hiking there. We then headed to Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains for a five day backpacking trip, before driving home via the Iowa Highpoint and a stop in Ames to visit family. The Bighorns trip is written up in its own trip report (Bighorns).

7-15-99, Nashville

Colorado would be a long solo driving trip, so I planned to break things up a bit. I drove our Corolla, stuffed with my mountain bike, my backpacking gear, and assorted items. On the first day I went west to Nashville, and stayed with the Koonces, where Buddy and I took a three mile run.

7-16-99, Wild Cave Tour, Mammoth Cave National Park, 5.5 miles

Jean and I had made our first trip to Mammoth Cave the previous year. While Jean isn’t interested in caves, I am very much interested. I’d signed up for the park’s wild cave tour, hoping for a taste of what exploring a cave would be all about.

Wild Cave is a long, difficult tour advertised as 6 hours and 5.5 miles. The tour started at the Carmichael Entrance and used Cleveland Avenue to reach the Snowball Room for lunch. Afterwards we passed through lots of named areas to reach the paved tour route at Frozen Niagara. For more on this tour (wild cave tour).

Though I was used to being underground and climbing through rough terrain, the trip wore me out. I still had to drive another five hours, with a dinner stop, to spend the night at Mt Vernon, Ill.

7-17-99

I drove all day, making over 750 miles to spend the night in Goodland, KS. The break from hiking did me some good, I was less tired than from the caving, perhaps buoyed somewhat as the landscape after Topeka began to look more western.

7-18-99, Pikes Peak, Barr Camp, 7 miles

I started the day with the drive to Colorado Springs, then with a stop at an Army/Navy store in Manitou for supplies, and a copy of the Trails Illustrated map. I got a front row parking spot at the Barr Trailhead and decided to head up for a climb of Pikes Peak, the mountain I’d been staring at ahead on the highway for a full day. I went down to the cog railway station, found a phone, and told Jean my plans.

Leaving about 12:45, I arrived at 3:05 at Barr Camp. Barr Camp then was  a non-profit which had a main cabin, a smaller upper cabin, and three lean-tos. I took one of the tent sites. The first three miles of the trail were steep, with continuous switchbacks. The trail was crowded, especially in the first half mile, even with a light rain falling the entire way. The rain was too light to climb in my rain jacket without sweating, but I did wait 30 minutes at the camp before finding a tent site. I found the camp a bit of a letdown, it was small dark, and gloomy, though some of that might have been due to the weather. There were a few good tent sites. Mine was adequate, just a short ways up the trail from the camp. The menu at the camp seemed basic, mac and cheese, spaghetti, and cream of wheat. I could not tell if they had any guests for the night.

I had felt good during the climb, but was a little woozy afterward, and took an ibuprofen after dinner. It was really good to be out west. Thank heavens for cool dry air.

Pikes from the east looks huge. You can’t see the foothills that make up the first 3-4 miles of the climb, the mountain appears to rise straight up. The trail was in great shape, well worn granite to make an easy surface, and lots of views in the first half. I slept for ten hours, waking only twice, both times to heavy rain.

7-19-99, Pikes Peak, 14,110’, 19 miles

The day’s climb up Pikes Peak went super well. I was on the trail by 6:30, at Timberline Camp at 7:45, and at the summit by 9:30. Despite the altitude, I’d felt strong the entire way. The trail was in great shape, with lots of switchbacks. There was even a section along the lip of the south cirque for an extra view. The trail got a lot nicer once it breaks tree line, with almost all of the route laid out ahead. It seemed far too long since I’d been above tree line. Once out of the trees I could mark my progress better. There were lots of other hikers, I got on top just ahead of a woman trail runner who had left the trailhead at 5:30.

Pikes is known for its paved 19 mile road to the summit, the summit visitors center, and the cog railway coming up from Manitou. All this combines for a crowded summit catering more to tourists than to climbers. The summit though was a bit disappointing. In the fog I couldn’t find a cairn or USGS marker amid all the development, I guess there’s really no need for one in such a developed area. I spent about 45 minutes on top, mostly trying to stay warm in the summit gift shop/restaurant, though as a hiker I felt out of place. The summit was fogged in.

I took my time on the descent, which was 3:30 with several photo stops. I checked out the A-frame, which was small, clean, and nicer compared to Barr Camp. Back at camp, I slept for 20 minutes out in the sun, then decided to hike back down to the trailhead. With the full pack, this was also a slow three hour trip, with a few sprinkles of rain. I got a motel room for the night.

Pikes Peak A -Frame

7-20-99, Rocky Mountain National Park, Cub Creek BP, 4.1 miles

My main goal for the Colorado part of the trip was to visit Rocky Mountain NP for some backpacking and peak bagging. First, I needed to contact the park Backcountry Office to reserve a permit. In the pre-cell phone era, this meant calling from a pay phone. I made a couple calls without getting through, before deciding to just drive up there and throw myself at their mercy for whatever permit I could get. In the meantime, I’d been driving around Colorado Springs, finally finding a grocery store before I hit the road.

At Rocky I was able to get a permit for that night at Cub Lake, and would be able to start my planned hike to Lawn Lake and the Mummy Range the following day. I was still getting organized at the Visitor Center when I realized that I could use the park shuttle to get to the trailhead. But the bus came almost immediately, so I threw some gear together and raced after it as it pulled away. The driver stopped for me, but I realized I’d left my permit in the car, and had to go back to the car. I found that in my haste I’d left a car window open! I organized a bit more carefully, and caught the next shuttle.

From Cub Lake TH it was a two hour hike to the Cub Creek Campsite. It was a nice walk up the valley of Cub Creek, then over a small moraine to camp. The valley was mostly sagebrush with primrose, columbine, and gaillardia. The bedrock looked to be all gneiss. I saw five parties.

The lake was small and almost filled by lily pads. Nice campsite with two tent areas (the other unoccupied), a privy and marked walkways. Quiet, but buggy. No katydids, no fireflies, I felt guilty rattling around with my cook gear. I was stiff and sore from the big day yesterday on Pikes. I washed up at the lake and realized that’s something I miss in the Smokies, no lakes.

I went back down to the lake after dinner to escape the bugs. I perched on the big shoreline boulder that so many lakes seem to have. There was a skinny deer that let me watch it browse. Next up was a family of six ducks cheeping their way around the pond. Two visiting day hikers left as the sun began to set.

7-21-99, Rocky Mountain National Park, Lawn Lake, 8.5 miles

The plan for the day was to hike out from Cub Lake and then hike up to Lawn Lake to position myself for a day of peak bagging the next day. It was hot for early morning, I was sweating by 7:30AM. The hike back to the Cub Creek Trailhead took 50 minutes. After the drive, I found some shade near the Lawn Lake TH, and used it to repack my gear.

The trail to Lawn Lake was an old road, but pretty, much of it within view of the Roaring River. In 1982 the Lawn Lake Dam failed. The subsequent flood scoured out the valley of Roaring River, killed three people, and destroyed much of the gateway town of Estes Park. Much of the damage from this flood was still obvious. I also got good views of Ypsilon, Fairchild, Mummy, and the mountains to the south. There were a lot of day hikers, but not as many as I’d seen around Cub Lake. I also passed a NPS crew working on the trail. There was about 2,500’ feet of climbing spread over 6.2 miles.

After a week on the road, I was getting the mountain scenery I’d been craving. The campsite at Lawn Lake was spectacular. It sits at 11,000’ at tree line, surrounded by the mountains I hoped to climb the next day.

Lawn Lake.

7-22-99,  Rocky Mountain National Park, Mummy Mountain (13,425), Hagues Peak (13,560), and Fairchild Mountain (13,502), 7 miles

This would be my big peak bagging day. I hoped to climb the three 13ers in the north end of the Mummy Range in a single push. I was following route described in the Dannen’s RMNP Hiking Trails Guide from 1989. To spend that much time above tree line I wanted an early start, and was on the trail at 6AM. I backtracked down the trail to Black Canyon and then started up the steep south ridge of Mummy Mountain. Further up the grade relented some, with some easier boulder hopping and tundra walking. It took 1:50 to reach the summit, which had a register. I used the timer to take a photo of myself on top. 

Summit Mummy Mountain.

I found Mummy more satisfying than Pikes, partly because there was no trail, and no crowds. It seemed more like a wild mountain. It took about 15 minutes to descend down to the saddle with Hagues Peak, and then another 35 minutes to go up its east ridge. From Hagues I got views of a lot of new country to the north and west. There were two survey points and a register on top. I was still feeling strong, though I’d had to take a few “wind” breaks on both ascents. Though it was just after 9AM there were already clouds forming, so I headed off quickly to “The Saddle” (12,398’) with Fairchild Mountain. “The Saddle” is labelled on the topo map and I’ll use the quotation marks to distinguish it from other unnamed saddles. By my next visit to Rocky the Trails Illustrated map would show a trail continuing from Lawn Lake to “The Saddle”.

The descent from Hagues was steep! I practically had to down climb the first 200’, before I got down to some gentler terrain. Even so the descent took about 40 minutes. I’d kept an eye on the clouds all morning and it still looked safe to head to Fairchild, if I hurried. 

Summit Fairchild Mountain.

Luckily for me, Fairchild was the gentlest of the three peaks. I suspected that via “The Saddle”, or Trail Ridge Road, that it would also be the most climbed of the three. I had pushed straight through the saddle without a break and made the 1,000’ climb in 45 minutes. Again, I got a summit photo and small snack before heading down at 11AM.

From “The Saddle”, I descended directly to Lawn Lake and above Crystal Lake on what the 2015 map now shows as “The Saddle” Trail.

Once below “The Saddle” elevation, I felt I would be safe from storms, and took a much more leisurely hike directly back to camp. It had been an exhilarating morning full of the high peak bagging I so enjoyed. I took another snack break at the rim of the cirque holding Crystal Lake. But I may have taken too much time; a hard rain caught me at treeline, and subsided just as I reached my tent. Lightning soon followed and I was glad to be safely dry and snoozing in my tent. Hiking through a mountain rain is tough enough, but at least I wasn’t up on the mountain exposed to the wind and lightening. The entire descent had taken about 2:15.

The afternoon rain quit just long enough for me to walk to Lawn Lake and spot the next storm coming over the saddle. This one had a hard rain that splattered dirt up the sides of my tent. By 6PM I was hungry and a lull in the rain tempted me to cook. Big mistake, the rain came harder, and it took forever to boil water for Mac and Cheese while standing in the deluge (Its almost always wise to postpone your camp chores until drier weather arrives). About the time I finished, some sun flashed from The Saddle, and the rain stopped. A double rainbow briefly formed in the east. My tent (probably our first Sierra Designs Meteor Light) held up well, the floor was just a little damp, and the bathtub skirt was dirty from water splashing, but it didn’t leak. My clothes were damp, but there was too little sun to dry them off.

After dinner I ran into Paul, the only other camper at the four Lawn Lake sites. He was standing in the trail looking indecisive when I saw him. He’d gotten soaked trying to set up his tent in the deluge, and was thinking of heading out. I convinced him that the rain was over, so we re-pitched his tent and dried it out with my pack towel, which soaked the entire towel. Paul was inexperienced and underequipped, but should have been able to dry out by morning. His food was sandwiches wrapped in foil. Rocky was using tent pads outlined with wood frames, which is a good idea except when the soil inside the boards gets eroded away and then the frames serve as a rim for the small lake that accumulates in the pad after a rain. Finding (or making) a gap in the boards lets the water drain, leading to a much drier campsite.

7-23-22, Upper Chipmunk Lake 9.7 miles

I woke to much more promising weather. I retraced most of my inbound route, and then went back up the Ypsilon Lake Trail. I passed 27 people, including Paul, who was headed back to his car for more food. The climb to Ypsilon Lake was tougher, but more interesting, than that to Lawn Lake. Once in camp, I set my gear and tent out to dry. The area was still wet and heaven for mosquitos.

Since I’d made camp early and weather looked promising I decided to head up off trail to Spectacle Lakes, in the next cirque above Ypsilon. My guidebook, and all the park people I’d talked to had recommended it. The guide mentioned it was challenging with a set of ledges near the top. A father at the adjoining campsite described the ledges as fifth class, but I decided to head out on a “manway” near the inlet of Ypsilon Lake to see for myself. It turned out two rocks climbed the first lip, the better one was on the right side. Next there was a flat area where I looked unsuccessfully for a trail splitting left to Mt Chiquita. I followed another solo hiker to some slabs which required some steep scrambling and a sloppy scramble up a cascade. The other fellow went through the slabs, but I thought it was my day to play it safe. The climbing itself wouldn’t have been bad but the descent down the slabs, especially if wet, would be unsafe, especially for a solo hiker. I took a leisurely stroll back to camp and got some bug free time at Ypsilon Lake. Mounts Chiquita and Ypsilon, both thirteeners, would have to wait for another day. 

Ypsilon Falls.

7-24-99, Hike out, 4.1 miles

It was awfully comfy in my sleeping bag the next morning, so I slept in until 7:30. The hike out took 1:45. There were enough other hikers on the trail that I was almost glad to be leaving the park, even on a perfect weather day.

From the trailhead I drove north towards the Black Hills, where I’d spend the next five days hiking and mountain biking in support of my Black Hills trail guide, mostly on the then new Mickelson rail trail. Then I would pick up Jean and drive to Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains for a five day backpacking trip and an attempt on Cloud Peak. I’d hoped to drive all the way to Custer, SD for some camping, but I was tired and dirty enough to stop and get a room in Newcastle, WY.

For a later visit to Rocky Mountain National Park see (2015 RMNP).

Wild Cave Tour, Mammoth Cave National Park, 7-16-99

This tour was the start of a three week vacation that I took after quitting my job at the ASARCO Coy Mine to join the full time MBA program at the University of Tennessee. A visit to Pikes Peak and some backpacking/peak bagging in Rocky Mountain National Park was the first portion of the trip, but I stopped at Mammoth Cave on the trip out to break up the drive. I spent the middle section of the trip mountain biking in the Black Hills, then Jean joined me for some hiking. For the final section, we headed to Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains (Link) for a five day backpacking trip, before driving home via the Iowa Highpoint, and making a stop in Ames to visit family. 

7-16-99, Wild Cave Tour, Mammoth Cave National Park, 5.5 miles

The drive to Colorado would be a long solo trip, so I needed to break things up a bit. On the first day I went west to Nashville, and stayed with Buddy and Ellen Koonce. That left a short drive to Mammoth Cave.

Jean and I had made our first trip to Mammoth Cave the previous year for backpacking and the easy cave tours. While Jean isn’t interested in caves (they remind her too much of her dark childhood bedroom) I am very interested. There’s a lot of similarity between big caves and the host rocks at the Mississippi Valley-type zinc mines where I’d been working over the last six years. I’d signed up for the park’s Wild Cave Tour, hoping for a taste of what exploring a cave would be all about.

Wild Cave is a long tour advertised as 6 hours and 5.5 miles. We started at the Carmichael Entrance. First they gave us all helmets and a bit of training. The start of the tour was two test loops; the first was a squat and knee crawl, the second was a long tough belly crawl. One person dropped out even before the first crawl. After the entrance we caved two short, developed areas, and then arrived at the Snowball Room, where we could buy lunch in the underground cafeteria. After visiting Wind and Jewel caves in the Black Hills I was surprised that the Park Service would allow so much development at Mammoth, but Mammoth had been a tourist destination long before it was acquired by the NPS. The Snowball Room had concretions of gypsum on the roof, and I imagined most of the best specimens were long gone.

After lunch we had a lot of long walks through the underground equivalent of narrow slot canyons, barely wide enough for my hips, and typically 6-8’ high. Often the passages were much lower, requiring a crab walk or knee crawl. Some channels were very linear, while others meandered like streams. I couldn’t figure out why the difference.

Neither of our guides had any particular insight into the geology of the cave. The tour route was impacted, some obvious holds were worn so smooth that they were tough to use. The guides had some leeway in selecting their routes, probably a necessity when it would be tough to judge the ability of the group. We saw more cave features toward the end, and even used some of the Introduction to Caving Tour route. The guides said that Wild Cave had more caving, so the Introduction to Caving Tour might be easier overall.

I took some notes on the route on a park brochure, the transcription is below. I don’t have a detailed map of the cave, so some of the feature names are unconfirmed. It was tough enough to take notes on the route, but I wish I’d been better able to describe the formations. 

We used the Carmichael Entrance (a manmade entrance) and took the elevator to Cleveland Avenue. We went through the Barehole (the tightest squeeze) then a rinky dink back to Cleveland Ave. From my reading later I learned that a rinky dink is a long convoluted route designed to confuse new cavers. Next, Clark’s Crawl (knees and stoop) to Kathleen’s Crawl, long and tiring belly crawl, led to the Snowball Room and lunch.

After lunch was Peanut Butter Alley, named for its sticky floor, past Thorpe’s Pit (the last feature shown on the park cave map). Thorpe’s led below the discovery level, and we descended to Lower Boone Avenue. We then did a loop through some low areas, and took the canyon crawl to the Old Lantern Room. The next few features were Nelson Pit, Edna’s Dome, and Hanson Pass. I later tried to find information online about the features I’d noted, but cavers hold their information closely, and I found little information beyond a few images.

Next we went to Cathedral Domes, where water was leaking through cracks in the sandstone cap above. The water must have formed a small lake as I noted crayfish and camelback crickets. The domes were vertical, very high, and roughly cylindrical with small flutes on their inside. They were not unlike some of the high narrow domes in the zinc mines that contained high grade ore. Next came Becky’s Alley and Greta Grotto with more flowstone, and good hand holds. Then Lion’s Jaw and Butt Slide. Next was a newer route, Dave’s Lost Sea. This was the first difficult going we’d encountered since lunch. It was a long knee and hands passage with some squatting to reach the large Robertson Avenue leading to Fox Avenue and Big Gypsum Avenue. Our guide then took us off route to the Spiral Staircase. We climbed a long stretch of breakthrough called the Compass Needle to reach the paved tour route at Frozen Niagara.

Though I was used to being underground and climbing through rough terrain, the trip wore me out. And, I still had to drive another five hours, with a dinner stop, to spend the night at Mt Vernon, Ill. In another two days I’d get to Colorado Springs to start the Colorado hiking portion of the trip.

Black Mountain Marathons, 2-27-99 and 2-23-02

In my early years in Knoxville, I intended to continue running marathons and ultras. I started out successfully with a 50 miler at Mountain Masochist (MM50) in 1993 and the Smoky Mountains Marathon (KTC)  in 1995. But I lapsed the next couple years as work and my home life kept me busy. But eventually I could devote more time to running, and Jean was supportive of the time I’d need to get in shape to run ultras again.

In 1998 I ran my first 50K at Holiday Lake (Holiday). Next I looked for a mountain course where I might be able to compete. Black Mountain, just east of Asheville, NC was a new race then and looked to fit the bill. The race started in 1998 with just a marathon, according to the results listed on Ultrasignup. For 1999, the full 40 miler climbed Mount Mitchell, the highest point in the eastern US. I would not be ready for that event, but targeted the companion marathon, which was an out and back course from the town of Black Mountain up to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Most of my training was in the Smokies. Jean and I were hiking big miles to finish our 900 miles, sometimes hiking up to 20 miles a day. My mid distance runs were around 10 miles at Knoxville’s Lakeshore Greenway. My longer runs were around the Townsend Y, capping off with two 19 milers around the West Prong-Lead Cove loop in just over 4 hours. There was some backpacking and off trail hiking in the mix also, but probably not as much trail running as I needed.

On Friday before the race, Jean met me after work at the mine in Jefferson City, and we drove 110 miles to Black Mountain. We had a room at the Super 8, which was very nice back then. We ate dinner at the Olympic Flame. Then we went to race check-in where we were told that snow line was about 4,000’ on Mt Mitchell, and the snow depth was about 20” max.

The start was at 6:30 AM and we were able to walk over from the hotel. I wore tights, wind pants, short and long sleeved poly pro shirts, wind shell, ball cap, and heavy mitts. I changed out of my wind clothes and switched the mitts for glove liners in the town of Montreat and ran rest of the way like that. This being the pre-digital era I did not take any pictures or a GPS track. 

1999 Black Mountain Marathon Map.

The race started at Lake Tomahawk in Black Mountain. The first stretch to Montreat at 3.2 miles took 27 minutes. I knew already that I was way ahead of my target time which was to finish under 6 hours. We went through the beautiful, tidy campus of Montreat College. At the end of campus, the course climbed a super steep paved road, which we left at a water tower. Then we climbed more steep switchback trails to reach the Old Toll Road at Sourwood Gap. From Sourwood Gap we would follow the divide up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I hiked hard on these steep sections and was passing runners after being only 6-8 places from the back of the pack going into Montreat.

Low on the divide there was snow in the shaded areas. The Old Toll Road was not too steep, not too rocky, and was 100% runnable. We passed several cabins past the aid station at Bills Knob at 8.0 miles. I remember being told that the property there was owned by a hunting club that allowed access for the race. 

1999 Aid Station List.

I enjoyed the Toll Road, and the views from its open and rocky top. It was about another hour to Aid 3 at Pinnacle Knob on the Parkway at 12.2 miles. I was still ahead of schedule, but wanted to keep running strong as long as I could. The Marathon turnaround was just past Pinnacle. We could see the tower on Mt Mitchell, probably looking a long way off for the 40 mile runners. I could also see the cluster of summits around Clingmans Peak, where I had hiked to complete my South Beyond 6,000 (900).

The runners had been bunched up climbing to Pinnacle, but on the descent things stretched out. I was by myself, and ran the next section back to Bills Knob without getting passed, and catching 5 others on the way. I slipped a bit on the packed snow that had probably started at ~6” deep. I took one bad fall on the descent, but had no pain from it the next day.

I was looking for excuses to hike to rest my legs, but the course was relentlessly gradual downhill. I kept running, knowing that my knees would eventually protest. Most of the snow was gone below Bills Knob and I was able to continue to hold my place in the pack. Below Bills Knob both IT bands began to flare up. But on the gentler terrain I could shorten my stride and run pain free. My nutrition was good. I’d eaten six of Jean’s Anzac cookies, some of her Leadbread, and drank a ton of Gatorade.

I still felt good coming into Montreat. At one point a police escort followed me and another runner ahead of me through town. By that point I wanted to walk but was too embarrassed to do that in front of our escort.

By now I expected to be about an hour early. The course had been far more runnable than I had thought, and we’d had much less trouble with the snowpack. The end of the course looped through town, where we were cheered on by the crowd. The final leg was a lap around the lake. I surprised Jean who was walking around the lake, and finished in 4:42, which would stand as the best result of my eventual three Black Mountain Marathons.

The 40 mile challenge runners started arriving about an hour later. Jean and I left the finish area soon after, and I slept most of the afternoon. We had tried to drive home from VA on race day last year at Holiday Lake, and soon found out that I was useless as a driver on race day.

The evening awards ceremony was a step up from any other race I’d attended. The catered dinner was fantastic and there were great prizes for the winners. I was already thinking about trying the 40 miler, but would apply too late to get into either race in 2000.

The logistics went well. The Super 8 was within walking distance of downtown so Jean could browse the shops during the race. We were only 9 miles from the BRP exit for the Folk Art Center in Asheville. Jean and I did a little hiking at the Montreat Conference Center the next morning before returning home. The race was cancelled in 2025 due to storm damage from hurricane Helene.

 26.2 mi, 4:42:26, 4100’, Solo, 26^th of 57

From the race website in 2025: On September 27th, Hurricane Helene swept through Western North Carolina, leaving the Black Mountain & Swannanoa Valley as ground zero for some of the most devastating damage in the region. We have had numerous discussions and questions regarding the races, held the last weekend in February for 26 years. Unfortunately, there is extensive damage throughout the trails that will greatly limit, if not outright prevent, volunteers from getting to any support stations. At this time, there is no plan in place to remediate the damage before March. In addition to the trail damage, the State Park itself is closed until March. Meaning there will be no summit possibility and no support staff from the State Park. All permits for the Blue Ridge Parkway in this area, have been put on hold as well. Combining this, with the recovery that Black Mountain, Montreat and the entire Swannanoa Valley are still actively engaged in, simply make the races untenable for 2025​.

2-23-02, Black Mountain Marathon, 4:44:26, 51/94

After running Black Mountain in 1999, I got lazy and did not sign up early enough to avoid the wait list in 2000. Instead, I ended up running my second 50K at Oak Mountain (Oak Mtn 2000) in Alabama. In 2001 I was able to complete the Mount Mitchell Challenge, but the next year I hadn’t done enough long runs to be ready for the Challenge. I had built up by running at Lakeshore and the Townsend “Y.”  Two 20 milers in the Smokies were my longest outings. My running had declined due to all the hiking that I’d been doing for my latest book “50 Hikes in Kentucky.” (KY50). But I got lucky, and was selected off the wait list for the marathon. 

2002 Black Mountain Marathon map.

But though my running wasn’t strong, I still was in decent shape for the Marathon and was lucky to catch a good weather day. Temperatures were forecast for 50F with an overnight low of 25F on Friday night. I ran in tights, a T-shirt, two long sleeved wickers, and thin gloves. I would strip off the two wickers and gloves along the way. The 2002 course was essentially the same as in 1999, basically through Montreat College and then up the Toll Road to the Blue Ridge Parkway and back. Once again I took no pictures or GPS track.

My race strategy was basic. I knew that I risked IT band issues with the long steep return leg and my minimal training, so I decided to push the climbing on the first half more than I would normally. I might as well run while I could! Things started well, as I felt strong on the Montreat College trails and on the lower part of the Toll Road. I even forced a short walk just to break the running up a bit.

But about two miles from the turnaround the IT band in my left knee acted up, and I had to do a lot of short run/walk. I was afraid that I would need to limp all the back to the start. But after I got through the worst of the rocky section on the descent my knees felt better, and I could run easily. Over the next three aid stations I even gained a few places. I was even able to run a little bit of the steep road coming down into Montreat. I passed two guys on the last hill before Lake Tomahawk, when they started walking and I kept running.

My goal had been to run about what I had in 1999 (4:42), and have a mid-pack finish (I was 51 of 94 finishers). At 4:49 I was just short of those goals, but with the left knee trouble I’d had that was still a good result.

Steven entered the Challenge and finished in 9:01. He looked like he’d had a rough race and had fallen three times.

Jean and I stayed in Black Mountain on Saturday night and went to the post race banquet. We ended up sitting at the same table with overall winner Will Harlan, and got to hear David Horton stop by to entice Harlan to enter one of his races. I tell the story with Horton kneeling next to Jean and begging for a race entry.

2003 would find me in the 40 mile Challenge again, and I would run the marathon one more time in 2006 still finishing mid-pack, but this time in just over 5 hours. (2006 Black Mountain)