Journeys: Fan Mountain

I spent most of the morning trying to talk myself out of hiking Fan Mountain. I was feeling tired and lazy, but in the end those weak thoughts motivated me to shake away complacency and go for it. Right off the bat I got stuck in chip seal traffic in the canyon on Highway 191. I sat in traffic and did not hit the trail until 1 p.m. Late? Yes, but the weather was forecasted to be clear all day and I was not worried about afternoon thunderstorms. I hiked a couple of miles in on easy trail until I reached the base of the east ridge of Fan Mountain. Then the real adventure began. Off the trail I bushwhacked up steep meadows and basins choked with dense knee and waist high vegetation. The going was slow and I took time to yell at bears I never saw.

The route.

I was tired and I had not even reached the tree line. I walked up an old and loose mudslide. I slipped and fell. I cursed. I pushed on through a thick stand of young trees. I reached the tree line and looked for a place to stop for lunch. Beyond a knobbish rock out cropping I saw a good spot with a small shade tree and pressed on along the edge of the ridge. The knobbish rock out cropping was loose and I fell a few times cutting my hands and cursing. Near the end of the rock out cropping I came to a notch and had to down climb a gully to escape the notch. The ridge was turning to pure talus. I scrambled to the final shade tree, but ended up eating on a rock in the open sun.

The summit still seemed so far away and there was nothing, but open talus to the top. I was worried that I would run into a  technical section and have to make some funky sidehill traverse on the steep and loose southeast face to get to the top. The sun was glaring down and I trudged up the slope with my eyes glued one step ahead. I kind of spaced out and when I snapped back to reality I realized the slope was relenting and I looked up. The summit was just an easy 50 yards ahead.

I was there and it felt good. I immediately plopped down on my butt and drank gulps of water. It was calm and beautiful. Then suddenly an unrelenting swarm of flies appeared out of nowhere. I did not care much and continued to rest. I started taking photos. It was a great afternoon and part of me wanted to take sunset photos from the summit. But I knew a night time descent would be foolish. I was probably six miles or four hours from my truck.

Summit self portrait.

Looking down the west ridge to Ennis Lake.

Cedar Mountain.

It was 6:15 p.m. when I did start down. I only stayed on top for 15 minutes. I retraced my steps down the east ridge. When I could I ran through the meadows and basins back to the trail. It was nearly 8 p.m. Would I need my headlamp to finish the hike?

I was standing at the intersection of two dirt roads contemplating which way to go. I chose the dirt road less traveled and immediately came upon a large black bear walking away from me 75 yards out. The bear grazed along and I silently pulled out my camera to snap a few terrible photos. I did not have my big lens. I suppose I could have asked the bear to pose better, but thought I should not intrude on his evening.

Big Black Bear Butt.

A gorgeous sunset over the Madison River valley lit the path back to my truck. I had run out of water two miles ago and when I reached my truck I chugged water out of a gallon jug. How do mountaineers survive two or three days without water in the Himalayas when things go wrong?

Journeys: Lone Peak

The day started with a plan to climb Fan Mountain, but that plan quickly disintegrated. I only had five hours for hiking before I had to be in Bozeman and as I drove to the trailhead I knew there was no way I could summit Fan Mountain and make it back to my truck in five hours. Instead I parked at Moonlight Basin's Madison Lodge and hiked out Madison Loop Trail to Southside Road. At Southside Road I continued uphill to the ski run, Horseshoe Cutoff. It was a little strange to be hiking up ski runs in the summer void of snow. I jumped the same deer with a patchy coat twice on my hike up to the backcountry access gate on Horseshoe Cutoff. At the backcountry gate I left Horseshoe Cutoff and continued up towards Deepwater Bowl and the Forest Service wall. The Deepwater Bowl had a few patches of dirty snow, but was mostly green with blankets of wildflowers. I scaled the gently sloping west side of the Forest Service Wall (the east side is a sheer and crumbly cliff) through a soft grass meadow and wildflowers. At the top of the meadow and the top of the Forest Service Wall I came to a weather station and endless dinner plate sized talus to the summit still a few hundred yards up.  I spotted one mountain goat. I scrambled upward and the mountain goat slowly cleared off as if I were annoying him. I climbed up the skier's entrance to the north summit snowfield, which was still covered with snow, and passed the Moonlight Basin ski patrol shack at the top of the mountain.

Ah, the summit. It had a new meaning having walked to the top. I watched as a tram car docked at the mountaintop station. I watched expecting to see a throng of tourists spill out towards the tram attendant. Instead the attendant reached into the car and pulled out what looked to be a sub sandwich...or maybe a burrito? The tram door closed and the car started its descent. I sat down and ate lunch.

On the way down I stumbled across the entire mountain goat herd. There must have been three or four adults and three kids. The were laying on an old patch of snow and scampered off as I approached. I retraced my steps back to my truck and took off for Bozeman.

Fan Mountain next time?