Elkhart

SO, my 99 camry toasted its tranny coming back from Glacier National Park, and wasn't back from the shop by the time I got off work 16 days later.

Undaunted, I decided to visit the local Pinedale thriftstore and purchase a brand spanking new-to-me deathtrap disguised as an old ten-speed road bike and ride on up to the Wind River Range. My plan was to ride up, hike in and spend 2 nights in the Bridger-Teton Wilderness area, then ride back to a hotel room and hamburgers.

Grabbed a bike pump and a flat kit so I wouldn't have to walk or ride the rims back to Pinedale if the tires went, picked up a map at the ranger station in town and rolled on out (up).

2000 vertical feet, 16 miles and 3 hours later I finally topped out at the Elkhart Ranger Station. I had to walk the last couple miles of the route because it was pitch black, there was some snow on the road and also because my legs had some mysterious mechanical issue that prevented them from pedaling any farther up the climb. I've noticed this phenomenon before on previous rides, and have begun documenting all further occurrences so that modern science can work out what exactly is the goddamn problem with my quads.

Set my tent up at the car-camping site, next to an horseman/elk hunter who was planning on going out with his buddy the next morning and setting up a basecamp at a lake about 5-10 miles from the trailhead. I was planning on making a long loop around the wilderness that passed by that same lake on the return trip, so I told them ttyl and left.

Well, it got snowy pretty quickly,
followed some cross-country ski blazes to my trail a ways into the wilderness. Wandered around a bit, saw a snow bunny and decided to get back on track and met up with two lady day-hikers at lunch. Had a brief convergence as the elk hunters showed up there too and took a side trail down the lake. I went on my way after I fed some mashed potatoes to these snow-birds that kept on bugging me.


Anyway, I followed the day hiker's tracks up the trail until they turned back around, and from then on the going got a little slower. Lots of snow pack, scarce trail sign and cold feet because I brought my normal hiking shoes and also I forgot my gaiters again. AGAIN. Kept pushing on, and got to my destination early, so I took a side spur and ended up next to this beautiful lake with a great view

Had a pretty easy time with the fire, got set up with the back and side of my tent on a cliff in order to minimize the directions from which I could be attacked by cougars or bears. With a fire on the right, and sheer cliff to my left and rear flanks, any offensive maneuver by an enemy force will be a head-on one, which means I have a much better chance of successfully defending my body and belongings from a savage mauling. This aspect of campsite management is an oft-ignored one, and I'm hoping that my dissertation (complete with schematics) on the subject will receive long overdue appreciation and publication in a nationally syndicated magazine. Personally, I'm hoping for National Geographic or Outside, but am willing to settle for Backpacker.

Got up the next morning to frozen shoes, but I had been using my brand new Black Diamond Mercury Mitts as booties during the cold nights, so I just walked around the snow in them to get a fire going. Thawed out my main kicks and got back on the trail to get to the intriguing small black X on my map. Photographer's Point might be aptly named, or it might not exist at all. Fuck if I know, I never did end up finding it. 

I surmised the previous day that the spot, located well off the main trail, would offer some really nice photo ops of Long Lake and the surrounding mountain peaks. I had thought about trying to get there on the first day, but decided due to weaning light, snowpack and a general unfamiliarity with the area to postpone the trip out there until the second day arrived.

SO, when I woke up and got my frozen shoes unfrozen, I started bushwhacking due west, and soon found myself at a sheer cliff wall that dropped down to a frozen, snowy creek. 

I may have mentioned before on this blog or IRL that I am an idiot of the highest caliber, and so many of you will find it unsurprising that I attempted a sketchy, crumbly descent of this cliff face rather than finding an alternate route. At the bottom of this cliff, I found a another problem that I had never faced before-the gully was lined with huge to large boulders, and the snowpack was deep enough to engulf all but the most massive. Unfortunately, the snowpack was also light and powerdery, so It made traversing the rock gardens inherently dangerous, as I couldn’t tell at which points I was stepping on solid rock or about to fall down into a crevice. I basically ended up army-crawling across this minefield to get to the opposite side and where I assumed Photographer’s Point would be.

Long story short, I postholed my way across a mile of snow before re-evaluating my short and long term goals for the trip and deciding that I didn’t give a shit about Photographer’s Point, I had a crappy camera and I wanted to get back to the trail.

It was about then that I discovered that my map, located securely in one of my many pockets, had taken its leave of me. I think I remember it saying something about heading to the store for a pack of smokes, but I really wasn't listening. Good riddance, probably.

Fortunately, the loop I planned was simple and I remembered enough of the map to make little snow-maps of where I thought I was and where I thought the trail ran. About two hours later, I stumbled across the trail, about .5 miles from where I expected I would hit it. Was still very pleased with the result, because I had not been relishing the idea of my “Plan C” which involved the necessary evils of rationing food and walking at least 20 miles of west by southwest crosscountry back to Pinedale.

It was here I made the decision to descend south along 3 large lakes to follow my preplanned route instead of backtracking along the previous days tracks. I figured that I wanted to take the risk, even mapless, and if things got bad on the southward road, I could just follow my tracks back to the trail again and then head back to my bicycle and pizza.

Ended up finding the trail very easily once I dropped down in elevation a little bit, and followed it for a couple sunny miles before I hit a snag, namely a snowed over canyon with only uncharacteristically ancient trail-sign and no clear way to proceed. Wasn’t sure it was right, so I snacked on some trail mix and thought about what to do when I heard the neighing of a horse. I initially thought it might be some kind of weird Wyoming bird and ignored it, but eventually I decided to follow the sound out of the canyon and onto the banks of the lake where the elk hunters had set up a sweet, and I mean SWEET basecamp.

Big canvas tent, potbelly stove, the works. The two men weren’t there, when I arrived, as they had ridden back to their trucks in order to find a lost stovepipe. I hung out with the remaining horses for a little bit, then set up my tent on a nearby rock that jutted out into the lake.

LOOK

Got a fire going and found what may be the best spring I have ever come across ever. Definitely in my top 10 water sources of all time.  A few feet below it, there was another less cool but still awesome waterfall that I was initially going to fill up at, but in between the two there was a metric ton of elk poop. Elks couldn’t ruin the AMAZING spring (I went upstream to check) but they did manage to soil the lower one. 

Just Look

As an aside, Trashbag Nation would like to congratulate Elks for edging out Buffalo to make it into the top 5 additions to our animal shitlist. They now join their esteemed colleagues; horses, horses, bears and mosquitoes.

When the elk hunters came back from their fruitless search, I shot the shit with them around their fire before retiring to my campsite to dry out my shoes again and go to bed.

Snowstorm came that night and dumped a good 4 inches on everybody by the following morning, so I woke up and packed out in a hurry. I had found a pair of shredded and abandoned pants on a bush the previous night, and butchered them in order to make a pair of gaiters that ended up working really well.

I followed the horse tracks back out for as long as I could, but the snow killed most of them off before I had knocked out a mile or two. Thankfully, I had already hiked this section of trail to get into the park and knew my way out. Had a extremely pleasant little walk out, got back to my bike (tires filled and not stolen!) and had a extremely terrifying ride back down to town. Sections of the road were iced and then snowed over, and my braking system left a lot to be desired which means that the brakes didn’t work and I basically white-knuckled my way down to dry pavement.

Still, had a great time, got some great pictures and got a few good stories out the trip, which is usually the whole point in the first place.

Videos about it are here and also here.