Spanish Peaks Traverse
I took Ethan to Montana the third week of August to stay in our Family's cabin on the Gallatin river, and spend some time with my parents. Aside from a lot of fly fishing, I did a 3 day solo traverse of the Spanish Peaks in the Lee Metcalf Wilderness. This was a route I'd scoped out years ago which circumnavigates the drainages of Hell Roaring Creek by following several high ridges to make a near-loop. Most of the 37 mile route would be on trail, with a 6 mile cross country section that was somewhat of an unknown. I didn't have much beta besides topo maps and one photo I'd taken a few years earlier from a nearby peak. However, I was pretty confident it would go, and my only real concern was the exposure to weather inherent to ridge walking in the Rockies.
8am on Monday morning my dad dropped me off a mile down the road from the cabin at Indian Ridge. I passed a trail crew a couple hours up the trail. I wouldn't see another person for over 48 hours. The miles passed easily. After about 11 miles and 5,000 feet of climbing I was feeling hot, perhaps affected by the altitude, and needed to eat. I sat down in the trail and made some gatoraid, which helped immensely. I walked out to Beacon Point before heading down from the ridge, with dark clouds building overhead.
Shortly before Thompson Lake I found running water and stopped for Lunch. I stopped again at the lake to sit on a boulder and watch fish rise. The weather wasn't immediately threatening so I continued on to Summit Lake. Summit Lake is perched on the divide between Hell Roaring Creek and Spanish Creek. It's awfully exposed feeling but the setting is spectacular. I checked in with the SPOT. After some deliberation and a brief bit of rain I set up camp near the lake. There werern't any other options in the area. I wasn't feeling very well due to some combination of the sun exposure, altitude, and insufficient lunch. I knew I needed to eat, so I prepared half my dinner. It took me a while, and a couple ounces of single malt to get it down.
An hour later I felt like a new person. I spent the last hour of daylight taking pictures, and went to bed early. I was up and moving by 7:00, feeling a little nervous about my route, which I still hadn't seen. To get a look, and to avoid climbing the two passes the trail takes around Peak 10390, I headed for its summit. The early morning light on the surrounding peaks was beautiful, and my plan looked managable from the top.
After a couple miles consisting of a mix of sheep and goat trails, talus, occasional scrambling, and some awful sandy side hilling I was feeling good about the rest of the ridge. I summited Peak 10337 and was standing on Wilson Peak by 10:40. The scramble to the summit was especially fun. With the crux of the trip behind me, I only had a straightforward mile and half descent to the trail.
I started to dally, because it was early and I didn't have much further to go. I still ended up at Deer Lake at 2:00. I hadn't been there in 20 years, and was surprised how easily my memory of the area returned by being there. I got my Tenkara rod out and caught a few Grayling, but was quickly bored by the easy fishing. I had a hard time figuring out how to pass the time. Wandered around. Took photos. Eventually it was late enough to make dinner. I cooked and ate on the far side of the lake, stashed the ursack under a tree, and went to bed early again.
I woke up at 1am to the sound of Thunder rumbling in the distance. It went on for quite a while. Rained off and on. The wind picked up. Finally it seemed to fade off. Just as I was drifting off... BOOM. Five seconds between lightning and thunder. Then three seconds. The farthest I got on the third flash was "holy sh..." As bright as midday. An explosion. The ground shook. The scent of burning electricity in the air. Three or four more terrifying strikes followed, separated by a few minutes each. Then total silence. I waited 10 or 15 minutes before I dared get up and look outside. The stars were out and not a cloud in the sky. I walked around a bit. No signs of the forest burning. Back to bed.
I still managed to get up early, and was headed up Table Mountain just after 7:00. The route across the plateau is marked by large cairns, which weren't always easy to follow, but it didn't much matter as it was easy walking and I mostly just made my own route. The clouds were building earlier in the day so I kept up a quick pace. I started having foot pain on the steep descent off the plateau down to Lava Lake. I was later able to blame this on worn out shoes. There were people at the lake, the first I'd seen since Monday morning. I dropped my pack on the shore, made gatoraid and soaked my feet. A family of chipmunks nearly succeded in making off with my lunch. I threw rocks at them. They thought I was feeding them. People Suck.
I'd been at the lake about 20 minutes when my dad showed up with Denali, then Ethan and my mom. I was happy to see my boys. Ethan threw rocks and sticks into the lake for Cody to chase. After lunch we hiked out together, passing the crowds of people that come with proximity to a trailhead. We drove the two miles back to the cabin. The thunderstorm had been intense there as well, and everyone was tired. After a rest, we'd go fishing.
