Journeys: Hilgard Peak

The digital clock in the dashboard of my truck rolls over to 6:00 a.m. I remain motionless in the driver's seat. I should have started hiking 10 minutes ago, but I lazily stalled enjoying the last whispers of warmth from the heater. A glow appears to the east barely illuminating the blue haze of distant wildfires that chokes the forest. I stare numbly out the windshield at the trail head signs for the West Fork Beaver Creek trail that I will follow to Hilgard Peak. It is going to be a long day. I have been up since 4 a.m. What if I just relax here for just a few more minutes...

At 11,316 feet, Hilgard Peak is the high point of the Madison Range and the highest point in Montana OUTSIDE OF THE BEARTOOTHS. I struggled to find detailed information on climbing the peak online. I found a somewhat helpful description of a 4th class route up the east ridge in Thomas Turiano's Select Peaks of Greater Yellowstone. I was going for the summit in one big push from my truck, to the summit, and back to my truck in one day. I hoped I knew what I was getting myself into on a remote peak in southwest Montana.

My eyes flutter open then immediately dart to the clock in the dashboard. 6:30 a.m. A small shot of adrenaline jolts my system as I realize I have lingered too long. I throw open the car door and am blasted by the brisk morning air. Wide awake I strike out on the trail setting a fast pace.

Five miles later I reach Avalanche Lake. Campfires crackle, dogs bark, and the smell of coffee fills the air as weekend backpackers start their morning. I stop for a snack and prepare to begin the real adventure - two miles of cross country travel over a ridge above 10,000 feet and through a basin covered with boulder fields. I pick a point on the ridge to the north and start marching.

45 minutes of trudging and 4th class rock scrambling brings me to the top of an unnamed summit. I can see Hilgard Peak for the first time. Add Dutchman Peak, Echo Peak, and a handful of alpine lakes and one has a terrific view of the southern Madison Range. I eat another snack and toy with the idea of a long and rocky ridge traverse to Hilgard Peak. I back off after 15 minutes when I give up down climbing a blank face with committing moves. Instead I descend a steep and loose gully on the north face of the unnamed peak.

Summit of unnamed peak. Hilgard Peak in the background.

I stopped in the basin to empty all of the dirt and rock out of my shoes. I continued through the boulder fields lining the basin. The gentle pitch of the basin did not last long and soon I was march up steep slopes toward the East Col. I passed through a higher hanging basin with a teal blue lake in it then continued up to the East Col. I looked up at the east face of Hilgard Peak and tried to remember exactly where the guidebook said the route was.

I chose the northern most gully on the east face and started climbing. The gully had grass and dirt in a narrow strip in the gut. Otherwise it was 4th class all the way to the top. I proudly stood on the summit. I looked north and saw another summit just to the north separated by a small and airy notch. From the south summit, the north summit looked taller. Which summit was the taller of the two? I took some photos and scrambled around. I looked at the traverse between the two summits and finally worked up the courage to go for it. Descending the south summit was dangerously loose. I was certain one of the blocks I was climbing over was going to pitch off the mountain and take me down with it. I made it down to the notch and skipped across it. The north summit on the other side was just as loose. I was standing in a small pile of fine gravel just big enough for both of my feet. Behind me was nothing but air. I made a low 5th class move over a block and sprinted for the summit on better ground. Good luck down climbing that I thought to myself.

On the south and taller summit of Hilgard Peak.

On the north summit I found a register and signed it. The register indicated that the south summit was the taller of the two. At least I had stood on the tallest one. And now back through the airy notch. I did not stand on the south summit again. I started down in a hurry. It had already been a long day and I surely had seven or eight hard miles to get back to my truck. I retraced my steps past Avalanche Lake and back down the established trail.

The interesting summit register on the north summit.

Thankfully my truck started just fine and had no flat tires.

Journeys: Teewinot

I woke at 4:30 a.m. I was hiking at 5:30 a.m. The approach trail to Teewinot from Lupine Meadows trailhead was steep and not nearly as maintained as Garnet Canyon Trail. It was a grunt. It was dark and I had my headlamp on. It started raining. It stopped raining. It had not rained enough to turn me back. The sun soon shed enough light that I could turn my headlamp off. I hiked. I saw another climber ahead of me. I reached the top of the Apex. It started raining again. It did not stop. I caught up with the other climber. He was sitting on a rock in his rain jacket.

"This does not look like 84 and sunny." I said.

The man chuckled.

His name was Matt McGee. We hung out and discussed what a great idea it would be to turn back. Soaked fourth class slab with consequential exposure was an unnecessary risk. The mountain would be there another day. We hiked down talking about winter mountaineering and skiing. It stopped raining, but the damage had been done.

At the parking lot we traded contact info. I got in my truck and headed for Big Sky. It started raining again.

Journeys: Middle and South Tetons

It was 3:30 a.m. and I regretted setting my alarm. Or did I? I was tired, but excited for a big day in the Tetons. My goal was the southwest couloir of the Middle Teton. The route was a 3rd class scramble, a steep loose gully with no technical rock climbing. I drove to the Lupine Meadows trail head where I packed my bag, brushed my teeth, and tried to go to the bathroom. I stepped off at 5:00 a.m. I marched on through the darkness illuminated by the cone of light from my head lamp. Other than the occasional distant waterfall the woods were silent.

The sun rose, but cast little light. The air was choked with haze from nearby forest fires. I could see enough to flick my headlamp off. I passed through the boulder field then the Meadow camping area. Some climbers were climbing out of their tents. Others were already on their way up through the Moraine. One climber was ahead of me on the Middle Teton approach trail. I continued up following the other climber. He paused atop a large boulder just ahead of me and gazed out at something then disappeared. I wondered what he had looked at. I reach the top of the boulder then looked out. It was the sun. Constrained to an orange disc in the hazy morning sky. I took a photo.

Hazy sunrise from South Fork of Garnet Canyon.

As I continued the hike I began comparing the South Fork of Garnet Canyon to the North Fork. It seemed like the South Fork had a less established trail and more strenuous boulder hiking.

I reached the saddle between the Middle and South Tetons. I looked at the South Teton and wondered how hard it would be to climb it too. It looked like a walk up. I checked my guidebook, but could not find an entry for the South Teton. I assumed this meant it was a walk up.

I started up the southwest couloir of the Middle Teton. I stuck to the right side at first to climb solid slab instead of the loose dirt and scree in the gut. About half way up I came across a pair of climbers on their descent. I asked about the South Teton. They said it was similar to the climb I was on. Just follow the ridge through a notch and then gain the summit. I also asked about the summit of the Middle Teton. It was hard to tell because there were two summit blocks right next to each other. The true summit was the one on the left they told me. The pair continued their descent. I traversed the gut of the couloir then climbed the slabs on the left side to the summit.

I looked out across the hazy valley. The Grand Teton stood to my left. I traced the Upper Exum Ridge with my eyes remembering last weekend's climb. I looked to my right and took another look at the South Teton. The weather looked good and I decided then that I would go for the South Teton too. I pulled out my camera and tripod and took the best birthday photo for my sister. Ever.

Happy Birthday Beth Ann!

I was descending through the couloir and feeling good. I passed through the saddle and up the ridge of the South Teton. I paused occasionally to look into Idaho and watch other hikers and climbers on different peaks. I scrambled through the steep-ish notch to the summit ridge. I tried to find the actual summit. On the top of one block I found a bolt sticking out of a rock, but not USGS marker. I ended up traversing the entire Teton looking for the marker, but never found it.

I relaxed at the end of the summit ridge and ate some cheese and Triscuits. I watched a pair of climbers on the Ice Cream cone. I spotted a snowfield below me that I thought I could down climb. Might as well put my crampons to work since I packed them all the way up here! The snowfield would shorten the descent and save loads of time.

I reached the end of the final rock rib of the north east face of the South Teton and came to the snowfield. The snow was not bullet proof, but was still firm. I strapped my crampons onto my approach shoes. I was not sure if it would be a good fit. I took a few steps down front pointing then tried to turn pieds a plat, but the plastic on the crampons dug into my ankles above the low top approach shoes. I continued front pointing until the angle of the slope relaxed some more. I could finally walk pieds a plat comfortably. I exited the snowfield and gladly unstrapped the crampons.

I started down the boulder fields of the South Fork toward the Meadow. Descending through the boulders was wrecking my knees. I took a long break at the Meadow to refill my water bottle and take a load off of my knees. I was back on well trod trail and moving fast. I made it back to my truck right at 4:00 p.m. clocking in at 11 hours. I was damn tired, thirsty, and hungry.

I cooked a hearty dinner of Ramen and tuna back at camp then went straight to bed. I needed another alpine start for an attempt on Teewinot the following morning before returning to home in Big Sky.

Dirty dishes and dinosaur spray. Awesome day in the Tetons.

Journeys: Beehive Peak

I woke up in the predawn hoping for a brilliant sunrise. The sky remained dull and pale. I rolled over and looked at my pack laying outside the tent door. It was covered in frost. I had underestimated August in Montana. I clambered out of the tent to use the bathroom in the cold. Below me at the mouth of the valley I saw a massive cloud inversion that covered the Gallatin Canyon and Big Sky. I roused Tanner to have a look.

Tanner checking out the inversion.

We left the tent just after seven to climb a 5.6 on Beehive Peak called What's Left. We started on a black ledge above a black dike. Trending left I climbed an extremely loose half pitch to a nice belay ledge. Tanner followed. I started up a large corner, but soon found the rock to be so loose it was terrifying. I climbed back down and looked for another way up to the left. Once again I encountered deathly loose rock. I backed down and went in search of a route up the face and out of the corner systems. I was thirty feet up and realized Tanner probably would not be able to get up the route with his hiking boots. I backed down to the belay ledge. Tanner and I talked about how crappy the rock was. I looked straight up at the original crack and went for it.

It was loose. It was dangerous. I pulled over a block wedged at the top of the crack praying that it would not come out and crush both of us. The block did not budge. I belayed Tanner up. Tanner took a breather while we scouted the next pitch. It looked to be 5.6 and on much more solid rock than the last two pitches. We ran out a full length of rope on the pitch that turned to 4th class at the top. We sent two or three more 4th class full rope length pitches and made the summit.

As usual, things got a little silly on the summit.

Extreme hair brushing.

Oh boy...

We hiked off using the 4th class descent. There were rap anchors in two places, but we did not use them opting to down climb. We continued down the 4th of July Couloir, which was completely dry and loose.

We packed up the tent and all of our gear and hiked out. Just a few miles down the road our growling bellies asked us to pull over for food at First Place Pub. We were much obliged.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park - Day 4

Summit day. 5 a.m. I wake up. Wide awake. Mentally ready to go. I look past my feet and cannot see down the canyon. I cannot see the Middle Teton to my right. I cannot see the Grand Teton to my left. The fog is too dense! I know the sun will not be up for hours to burn the fog away. I wake Nico. We look at each other and know all we can do is wait. None of have been here before. None of has seen the route. The weather is forecasted to be clear. Wait until the fog is chased away and start late.

We start at 9:30 a.m. I had almost descended straight to the parking lot instead of climbing. I had a commitment in Bozeman I was intent on keeping.

The guidebook led us out of the saddle and up past the large black dike to another smaller black dike that we followed up and to the right. We took the chimney alternative and crested the rock rib. I saw Wall Street for the first time. From my vantage point it looked terrifying. There were four climbers standing on Wall Street roping up. We crossed the gully and were soon standing with the four climbers.

We were in a traffic jam for an hour. It was cold in the shade. Anna led up to the boulder traverse at the end of the ledge and set some anchors, but Nico and I still had to wait until the party ahead of us moved on. Nico and I stomped our feet and rubbed our arms to keep the blood flowing and to stay warm. The Lower Saddle was in the sun. How many more hours would Wall Street be in the freezing shade?

"I see Sponge Bob!" Nico declared. He pointed down at the saddle.

Sure enough Sponge Bob smiled back up at us from the front of our rock cave. A square of yellow pinned down by a few heavy rocks.

Finally the party ahead of us cleared the belay and Nico and I followed up to Anna. I still had my gloves on because my hands were cold. As I tried to make the traverse the ledge suddenly became inches wide and I reached up to balance with my hands. The only problem was that I had no grip with my gloves and my hands kept sliding back off the smooth rock. Sure enough I took both gloves off and stuffed them in my mouth so that I could use my hands to make the move.

Now we were at the bottom of the Golden Step. Knobby. Golden. Golden Step. Anna continued leading and we were able to pass the party of four in front of us just before the Wind Tunnel. We scrambled up through the wind tunnel and to the top of a gully. We were not sure where we were. We climbed a pitch higher.

Was this the start of the friction pitch? Hm. Maybe. Anna led on. She did not think it looked like the friction pitch she had seen in photos. We reached a ledge at the top of the pitch. Above we could see the striking and dramatic V Pitch hanging out to the left against the blue sky. We checked the topo. We had just climbed the friction pitch. We scrambled a few hundred feet up easy terrain to the bottom of the V Pitch.

Anna on the V Pitch.

I think this was the best pitch of the climb. Quality asthetic for photos too. We finished the V Pitch and started up a steep ramp past a tower. Anna led on.

We were scrambling the crest of the ridge and could see the summit pyramid. We traversed the top of the Ford Couloir and I started to get excited. I knew the summit was a short scramble up. Reaching the summit was a thought that had been lingering since last August when my sister and I had skipped an attempt due to a heavy snow year. We joined a group of three on the summit and shook hands. A broad smile stretched across my face. It was breathtaking.

Then I unclipped my hair brush from my harness.

Anna's final yoga pose.

Hairbrush shenanigans continue.

It was getting to be late in the afternoon. There was no bad weather on the horizon, but practically ran down the mountain to our cave at the Lower Saddle. We folded up Sponge Bob and packed him away then hustled toward the trailhead parking lot. After two and a half hours of downhill hiking we reached the parking lot. It was 9:30 p.m.

I made it home at 12:45 a.m. I was exhausted.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park - Day 3

We had joked about the steep and lengthy approach to the Lower Saddle all of Thursday. We had charaded throwing up and passing out. Nico and Anna said they wanted to take it easy on the way up. Now we were on the trail with our packs and gear. It took us 33 minutes to cover the first 1.7 miles. So much for taking it easy! When we came to the boulder field at the end of the established trail we got our first good views up and down Garnet Canyon. It was a gorgeous alpine environment and it was easy to see why anyone would want to come here whether they were climbing, hiking, or camping.

Anna and Nico nearing the first boulder field.

Anna and Nico in the boulder field.

Anna and Nico stopped for water at the boulder field. I set up to take some photos. We continued "taking it easy" by passing everyone we could between the boulder field and the Petzoldt Caves.

Above the caves the crowd thinned. We entered the morainal camping zone. Anna posed for a great photo. We knew a thunderstorm was forecasted to blow in during the afternoon. It caught us just as we topped out on the fixed rope head wall at the moraine. Lightning cracked, thunder boomed, hail pelted. I asked a guide if there was much shelter in the Lower Saddle for thunderstorms and lightning.

"Well, we have huts…"

The huts were for paying customers. We found a magical rock cave just below the saddle that all three of us could squeeze into. In a break between the hail and the next heavy rain cloud we arranged our bivouac and ate some food. We cozied up under the rock laying side by side. Rain hammered down. We arranged Anna's Sponge Bob Square Pants shower curtain to keep Nico mostly dry. Yes, really, a Sponge Bob Square Pants shower curtain. To the left water roared off the Grand Teton in a muddy waterfall. Rock could be heard trundling down the faces of the great mountain. The roof of the cave was four inches from my face. I did not feel claustrophobic until I jerked awake in the middle of the pitch black and storm less night. It was difficult to move with rock on my left and Nico on my right. And rock four inches above my face. I scooted down a foot or so where the rock was not smothering me and went back to sleep.

Anna and Nico in the cave.

Ah, Garnet Canyon.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park - Day 2

Thursday. We needed a permit for backcountry camping. We decided we would camp in the Lower Saddle on Friday night and make our summit bid on Saturday. We were in line at 7:50 a.m. at the Jenny Lake Ranger Station. There might have been 10 or 12 other people in line. We slowly filed in and picked up our permits when the doors opened at 8:00 a.m. We got a sheet of paper to hang at our campsite when we got to the Lower Saddle and a wag bag each for our solid waste. Which really means fecal matter (poop).

It was just warming up and we made our way over to Blacktail Butte near Moose Junction. The mile jaunt to the Crackin' The Cherry Wall brought us to some stiff and extremely polished 5.10s. Anna was smooth leading up the routes. Nico and I struggled slipping, falling, struggling. We left as the sun started to get really hot. Nico and I were feeling completely worked over. Anna made a charcoal drawing of the Grand Teton.

That night Nico prepared a pasta carbonara feast. With a sprinkle of grated parmesan cheese it was the best thing I had eaten in weeks.

Grand Teton sunset.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park - Day 1

The sun had just come up. As usual my eyes flickered open the moments a golden sun ray graced my face. I was asleep on the ground in the Bridger Teton National Forest. Nico was asleep beside me and Anna in Rocinante. The can of bear spray lay between Nico and me. It had not been needed that night under starry skies occasionally streaked with a shooting star.

It was a day off. Anna needed to extend her visa and Nico needed a puffy down layer to survive cool weather in the Lower Saddle and on the Grand. We went to Jackson.

Sitting in a cafe, Anna pored over her visa extension application on my laptop. The mood was tense. To lighten it I asked which was more nerve wracking; trad leading or visa extending. Definitely the latter she responded amidst laughter.

Nico bought a Patagonia Nano pullover. I picked up a local cragging guidebook with hopes that we would do some sport climbing at Black Tail Butte.

The rest of the day was uneventful. We returned to camp and slept.

Jackon Lake and Mount Moran sunset.

Journeys: City of Rocks, ID - Day 5

I was able to hammer out a deal with the Italians that we would meet up for more climbing in the Tetons. I would first have to drive Ryan home to Big Sky, he had lots of editing to do on multiple projects and was no longer as stoked on the Tetons after his original plans fell through.

We reorganized the truck and Ryan drank coffee in the shade with Nico and Anna. The Italians set off for a morning climb before driving to GTNP. Ryan and I made for Big Sky.

Onto the next adventure!

Journeys: City of Rocks, ID - Day 4

The sun rose early and it was soon too hot to sleep. We sauntered over to the Italian camp and found Anna working to change a flat tire. We jumped into help, but only minimally. Anna told tale that this was the fifth flat tire of her lengthy climbing trip. She added that she was no helpless girl, changing the previous four without help. Ryan got an early morning photo fix by snapping lifestyle shots of the tire changing. This was shortly followed by a caffeine fix courteous of Anna. We chatted around the picnic table nursing coffee.

RYANDAYTHOMPSON.COM

Anna sending on Elephant Rock.

The 'stache on Elephant Rock.

RYANDAYTHOMPSON.COM

Stemming and brushing.

The sunset salon.

We spent too much time working the coffee and arrived at Elephant Rock with only an hour and a half of shade left. I fixed Ryan's static line on a route so he could jug and take photos. While Ryan was shooting and the Italians were climbing I wandered back to my truck looking for a jug of water. I found a flat tire. This time on my truck. I could only chuckle at the luck. I grabbed my water and walked back to the wall to break the news.

Everyone else had the same chuckle I did. We were soon joined at the crag by an SLC group. One burly fellow in particular had quite the mustache and Ryan and I set around snapping portraits. I was able to get a few shots of his climb.

The shade had been chased away and we were baking in the sun. We walked back to the parking lot and as we approached the cars Nico reminded me that I had a flat tire.

“Time me.” I called to Ryan.

“Hang on.” Ryan pulled out his phone looking for a digital timer. “Ok, go.”

“Wait…I'm not ready!” I was looking for one last tool I would need. “Ok I'm ready!”


22 minutes later I was much filthier and my spare tire was mounted. Ryan and I led the way to the Steinfell's Dome trailhead. Nico, Anna, and I racked up for the multi pitch sport adventure and Ryan hiked off in search of good angles for the camera.

Nico, Anna, and I sat down at the base of the climb breathing hard and sweating. The five o'clock sun was scorching. A party of two was just leaving the anchors at the top of the first pitch. We wanted more space and relaxed in minimal shade while they climbed through the second and third pitches. Ryan was perched on a rocky ridge shooting photos. At least if we got on route in the shade Ryan would have some sunny shots of the unknown two.

Climbing as three went rather quickly. Anna led all four pitches of the climb in her approach shoes. Nico and I followed each tied into one of the half ropes.

On the second or third pitch Ryan hollered up that he was going down to town to order pizza before it closed.

While following the crux pitch Nico and Anna insisted my hairbrush should make an appearance. It did. Then it came out again later for a summit salon shot with Nico working the brush and pretend hair (bear) spray while I sat on a rock. Anna showed off with some silhouetted yoga poses. The golden hour of late evening sun had just started as we rappelled the east face. I wondered how the sunset would look through the plumes of smoke from the fires near Albion.


Hiking out from the climb we turned to the west and saw that we had just missed the sun dipping below the horizon. The smoky haze was glowing pink. It looked nice enough, but I figured we had missed the best of the sunset. Hopefully Ryan got some good shots. We reached the parking lot and Ryan.

“They were out of dough!” Ryan announced.

“What, no way?!”

We were pizza-less.

“How was the sunset?” I asked.

“Dude, check this out.”

Ryan grabbed his camera out of the back seat and presented me with a beautiful shot. The landscape was silhouetted, the sun was a vibrant orange disc halved by a mountainous horizon.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, check out this shot from the summit.” I showed Ryan the shot of Nico brushing my hair on the summit. Wild laughter.

Journeys: City of Rocks, ID - Day 3

I joked about brushing my hair before being able to do anything in the morning. 10 minutes later I was standing on top of a boulder in my underwear brushing my hair while Ryan snapped photos roaring with laughter. After I put my clothes back on Ryan and I realized that we had a similar penchant for quoting Will Ferrell movies.

We shouted Will Ferrell quotes as we drove through the City eyes peeled for the green Mazda. Nothing.

We found the non mom-daughter duo at Breadloaves and got some shots. For some strange reason I called the younger gal homeslice. "Does she look like a homeslice?" Ryan screeched. Then Alpine Butterfly because of the browbeating I got from everyone for calling her homeslice.

Alpine Butterfly and her mentor departed after trading emails with Ryan and we soon took off. Where was that green Mazda pick up truck?

The Alpine Butterfly floating up a route.

It was the middle of the day and the sun was brutal. We pulled into camp to relax in the shade. Ryan did not make it out of the truck. He dropped his seat back and was immediately asleep. I sat in a cave and worked on my journal.

An hour later Ryan walked into camp. "I forgot. We need coffee. I have a pulsating migraine."

We made our way back to Rock City. It was hot outside. Ryan drank coffee. We pored over old climbing magazines. We waited for the day to cool and hoped we would find the green Mazda on our way back through City of Rocks.

We were driving up the road to the City after coffee. Ryan suddenly turned to me from the passenger seat and said, "I am really relieved that there are no dinosaurs coming over that hill to eat us."

I laughed. Then replied, "Well, at least I brought my bear spray." I made custom modifications to my bear spray canister as soon as possible.

Back in City of Rocks there were no green Mazdas in sight. Ryan was desperate for a photo. I was not sure what was worse in Ryan's life…lack of photos or lack of coffee?

We stomped around Breadloaves and Anteater looking for climbers. Unfortunately it seemed everyone was clearing out for the weekend. We swung by Elephant Rock one final time. Ryan was expecting a dejected return to camp, but I tried the positive approach saying it would all work out and we were about to find someone to climb with.

We did. Their names were Nico and Anna, an Italian climbing partnership transplanted from Italy to San Francisco and St George respectively. Nico and Anna were finishing their day of climbing, but agreed to hang out with us at our campsite later that night.

Later that night…

It was dark. The wind was picking up and a huge storm was brewing to the south. Lightning crackled against the black clouds. Beneath the dark stormy clouds we hunkered against the wind with the Italians. They were eating a late dinner of salmon and we were trying to decide how the four of us could climb and shoot photos the next day.

The west side of Elephant Rock sounded good with some classic sport routes. A heavy dose of Steinfell's Dome would be a late afternoon adventure, hopefully fulfilling Ryan's needs of climbers in sunset light. Ryan called it a good night and hustled off to bed. I talked with our new friends late into the night.

I woke hours later because the wind was howling and more lightning was crackling. Maybe sleeping on top of a rock was a bad idea. I fell asleep. I woke again. It was still dark, but there were no clouds, no wind, only a canvas of stars and moon.

Journeys: City of Rocks, ID - Day 2

The moment the sun crested the horizon and cast rays on my face I felt too hot to sleep. I climbed out of the back of the truck tripping over gear strewn on the ground. Ryan did not move or make a sound. I hid in the shade behind my truck shaking off sleep. I grabbed a book and my camp chair and started to read. 30 minutes later Ryan was up. He climbed out of the back of the truck.

"Why are we in the middle of a desert?" He asked rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands. I smirked. We had the same sense of humor. Random and obvious statements mixed with heavy doses of sarcasm.

Waking up in Idaho.

I was glad we had not driven into City of Rocks at night. I wanted Ryan to see the glory of the City in full daylight as we drove through the hills. We threw our gear into the bed of the truck haphazardly and drove off.

We were driving through the City passing large rock formations standing alone in the fields. Ryan was stunned. "It reminds me of Joshua Tree." He said. Then added, "This is my new favorite place!"

Distracted by the excitement of climbing, we went about reserving and occupying a campsite in the least efficient manner possible. As we were finally unloading our gear and ferrying it to our campsite a City employee pulled up in a Jeep. She was tan and looked to be a climber. Knowing Ryan was always looking for climbing models, I chatted her up. How was work? Where was she from? Did she climb? Was she climbing anytime this week? Do you mind having your photo taken?

The answer? Tomorrow with a group of friends.

Sounds great. She would leave a note on the message board telling us what routes she and her posse were going to climb. And, oh, she drives a green Mazda pick up truck.

"By the way" she added "there is wedding party going down at the group campsite later tonight. You guys should come."

Ah what luck. It seemed the chances of meeting new people, finding climbing models, and getting hero shots were going to be through the roof.

We established our camp then drove to the Breadloaves formation. There were a few trad moderates that I had climbed before and thought would be a good warmup for the trip. While climbing Adolescent Homosapien on the Decadent Wall we met a group of younger climbers who were planning to climb Steinfell's Dome later. Ryan inquired whether he could shoot photos of them because it would make for a great evening shot. The group said they were headed there later and it seemed like a good hook up for Ryan.

We finished our route then drove down to Elephant Rock to climb Columbian Crack. The off width section at the top was harder than I remembered. When Ryan followed he called out, "Is this the part where you started grunting a lot?"

"Yeah." I replied.

"Ok…I see why."

We moved over to the rappel station and Ryan went down first. At the base he bumped into the crew from Breadloaves. They were no longer going to Steinfell's Dome. Instead they were going to climb Rye Crisp. Ryan took off for the truck to get his rigging gear and camera. "Wait!" I hollered. The keys were in my pocket and the truck was locked. I lowered my keys down. A few minutes later I hauled Ryan's static line up and secured it to the anchors. I had decided I was going to watch the action from the top, but forgot to ask Ryan to clip my camera bag to the rope so I could haul it up. The breeze was nice and the air was cooling as the sun made its way closer to the horizon. I made sure I was clipped into the anchors then leaned back against two piles of rope. My breathing was heavy and slow. It was so nice on top of Elephant Rock.

I woke up to the sound of Ryan skipping around on the rock face just below me. I stood up and looked out over the edge. Ryan was snapping photos as a climber worked his way through the crux. Ryan looked up and saw me. "Oh, there you are. I wasn't sure if you had come down earlier."

"Nah." I replied. "I wanted to take photos up here, but forgot to ask for my camera. Besides it was nice just to sit up here and relax."

"I think I am done." Ryan said. He tucked his camera away and started lowering off. Soon I was dropping his static line down and untangling the two rope sleeping pad for my own rappel.

I was back on the ground and could not shake the drowsiness. "Want to split a pizza?" Ryan asked.

I agreed. We drove to Rock City and ordered a pizza with cheese and pepperoni…no sauce. Yes, really. No sauce.

We sat down and waited. A mother-daughterish duo sat down near us. Still no sauceless pizza. We struck up a conversation with the mom-daughter duo. They were not mother-daughter. The younger girl was graduating high school soon. The older woman was a globe trotting adventure guide taking her pupil on her first climbing trip.

Ryan pitched his standard, "Hey if we see you around tomorrow can I take some photos of you?"

"Sure…why not." was the response.

Back at camp. It was late. The sky was clear. Where was that party at the group campsite? Just three cars. No lights. No people. Ryan spread out his pad and sleeping bag and crawled in. I set up a long exposure star trails shot and laid down.

"This party sucks." I stated.

Ryan snickered.

I woke up about an hour later and clicked my camera off not even bothering to look at the result.

The result.

Journeys: City of Rocks, ID - Day 1

"She's not coming. Boyfriend drama." Ryan uttered the words without looking up from his phone. He sat across from me at a small table in the Chinatown Restaurant of West Yellowstone. Smoke from the kitchen hazed the air between us making the dining room seem hotter than it was.

"Really?" I responded with a neutral tone. My gut told me Ryan was about to pull the plug on the whole trip. We were only 45 minutes from home. It would be so easy to turn back.

"Want to go to the Winds?" Ryan asked. Disaster averted. Climbing trip was still a go.

"Sure. Have you ever been there?" I replied.

"No, but I hear it's great."

We had no guide book or internet connection. Researching routes for a place neither of us had ever been would be problematic.

"What about City of Rocks?" I asked. I had climbed there before.

Ryan's face lit up and excitement spread across his face. "Yeah I've never been there before. Let's go!"

And just like that everything had changed. A weeklong climbing photo shoot in the Tetons rearranged to four days at City of Rocks.

It was near midnight. The moon was out and nearly full almost overpowering my headlights against the desert landscape of southern Idaho. We were not lost, but we were not sure if we were on BLM land or private land. I was tired, Ryan was asleep in the passenger seat. I wanted to be asleep. I found a side road and pulled off. In the moonlight I could see an abandoned looking camper trailer. Ryan and I hauled all of our gear out of the bed of my truck and unrolled our sleeping bags and pads. The warm night got cool. The moon cast erie shadows in the sage brush. Coyotes howled in the distance.