Journeys: Mount Blackmore

I got a late start on my journey to hike Mount Blackmore, but I did get started. I felt like I was in a rush for starting late so I hauled as fast as the snowshoes would let me on the hard packed skin track in Hyalite Canyon. It was a steep five miles each way and I hoped to get out before night fall, but had my headlamp with me just in case. I left the trailhead around 10 a.m. and reached the three mile marker above the lake at 11:15 a.m. I was feeling strong and confident that I would make it back to my truck with plenty of time to spare. Things slowed down when I finally left the trees above the three mile marker and stepped out into a large bowl. The east face of Mount Blackmore shot up to my right and a steep saddle was directly in front of me to the south.

Mount Blackmore from the skin track.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

The skin track had ended and I felt I could pick my own route to the summit. I started up a gentle spur off the east face thinking it would be a hop, skip, and a jump to the top. As I hiked up I stopped to take a look at the scenery now that I was well above the trees. I noticed a benched in trail switchbacking up the steep saddle in the distance. For some reason I felt compelled to stick to the trail and backtracked down the spur and started up the saddle. I bypassed the switchback trail and let the crampon style snowshoes claw straight up the steep slope. I soon found myself on the ridge line, which had a more exciting view than the spur did. To the south I could see Alex Lowe Peak and Mount Bole. To the north Bozeman and the Bridger Mountains. It was a mile from the saddle to the summit, but it felt shorter. The wind picked up near the summit. I stopped to take photos until my hands were too cold to stand it. It was a gorgeous mostly blue day with a few clouds blowing by. A Tibetan peace flag flapped in the increasing wind and I put my gloves back on.

Just below the summit.
Self Portrait.

For the descent I chose to jog down the east face. The snow was crusty and I often stepped through it to dirt, rocks, and grass. Step, slide, step, slide. I cruised down the gentle face. I gained the spur that I had backtracked off of and kept my pace up. Back at the hard packed skin track I unstrapped the snowshoes. Without soft snow the snowshoes caused my knees and lower back to ache. I was feeling good and picked up a light jog carrying a snowshoe in each hand. Just before 2:00 p.m. my truck was in sight and I was back at the trailhead parking lot. I attribute the speed of the hike to the well packed skin track. If it had been deep powder I would have been gasping and struggling.

Journeys: Lava Lake

I was half a mile into a mini epic 1500 feet in elevation above Lava Lake in the Lee Metcalf Wilderness near Big Sky, MT. My calves were throbbing and my stomach was beyond growling. I was bonking. I had two peanut butter and honey sandwiches with me, but refused to eat them until I reached my high point at the top of the ridge. Ah, the ridge, a goal that was not part of the original plan and had me stretched nearly to my limit.

I had started the day in the late morning intending to take photos on the six mile round trip hike to Lava Lake. I Googled images of Lava Lake the night before and looked forward to the photographic potential. The Googled photos all showed Lava Lake in the summertime and I assumed it would be as equally impressive in the winter as in the summer. When I arrived at Lava Lake I found it completely frozen. While the area was quite beautiful, it was not nearly as inspiring as it was in the summer when the water of the lake could be seen.

Lava Lake in winter.
Photograph by Chas. B.

Because I was unhappy with my photographs at the lake, I decided to venture higher to the ridge top to the east. I hoped the ridge top would reward me with a vista of some distant snow capped mountain tops. I immediately lost whatever trail might have been blazed to the ridge top as soon as I set off from the lake. I followed narrow natural flats in a switchback manner before stumbling out of the treeline into a wide open and steep slope. The slope was not so steep that I was uncomfortable, but I did occasionally slide in the sugary snow just beneath the crusty surface. I soon sought the traction of a rock field above me. I continued up through two basins until I was a few hundred yards from what I believed to be the top of the ridge.

Very close to the snow pack.
Photograph by Chas. B.

This brings me to my screaming calves and hungry stomach. At this point it felt like I was putting more weight on my trekking poles than on my legs. I would stop every few steps dizzy and wobbly to drink in the scenery and rest. Near the top the snow thinned and I hiked the last few feet through rock field to find that I had not reached the top of the ridge.

Frustrated? Yes, but I could see what had to be the ridge top and it was only another quarter of a mile away. A quarter mile through gentle windswept snow followed by a steep pitch up a dirty hill completely void of snow. The Gallatin area is in bad need of snow. Lots of snow.

I probably could have stopped to take my snowshoes off since there was no snow, but why break my rhythm? I think the added traction of the snowshoes helped anyway. Soon I was at the top and in slight dismay as I could tell immediately that I had no reward for my camera lens. Although the sights were pleasing, there was nothing to be adequately framed for a decent photo. Or is it that I am not that great of a photographer? Or was I just too tired to care? I was tired and it was time to eat. I plopped down in the dirt without a care and devoured my PB and H's.

Mountains in need of snow.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

The sandwiches surprisingly settled my stomach and I knew I would make it back to my truck without bonking again. From my high point I was able to pick out what I thought would be a mellow route down to the lake. My descent started mellow, but I soon found myself in a jam between a narrow and steep avalanche chute to my left and a snow less field of death scree to my right. I actually attempted the death scree only to eat it hard landing on my right hip. I retreated to the avalanche chute and hiked down past sheets of ice left from the last slide. At the bottom I looked back up the chute and surveyed the churned earth and broken trees, glad that I was not around the last time there was an avalanche.

I pushed on through a final tree stand before reaching the lake. It was 3:00 PM and my goal was to be back at the truck at 4. I had to haul, but the going was easier as it was slightly downhill. My energy bonk on the side of the ridge had bothered and surprised me and I was glad to see my truck again when I got to it at 4:02. I drove straight to the nearest familiar restaurant and devoured a chicken sandwich.

Next hike = Beehive Basin