Journeys: Sphinx and Helmet

Summer has faded and soon the snow will start to fly in the short shoulder season of autumn. This leaves a small window for me to make the final push on my biggest hike of the warm season - the summits of Sphinx Mountain and its neighbor The Helmet.

The standard approach for these two summits joined by a saddle is a 10 mile roundtrip hike from Cameron in the Madison River valley. Unfortunately for me and my wallet, Cameron is a 200 mile roundtrip drive from Big Sky. Not wanting to spend the gas I luckily drew up another route to these two gems of the Madison Range. Unluckily, my chosen route  from the east would be a 32 mile death march starting at the Buck Creek Ridge trail head.

And that is where I found myself at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday morning. Sitting in my truck not really sure I was ready to throw myself into this foot and knee bashing back breaker. It had rained during the night and part of me was begging for the skies to open up again giving me an excuse to bail on the adventure. No such luck. I found the courage to exit my truck and began walking.

The first 6.4 miles of the hike were a gently rolling, but exposed ridge top - a bad place to get caught in a storm. After 45 minutes of walking I decided to pick up a light jog feeling I should make the best time I could while the terrain was forgiving. After 90 minutes on the trail I arrived at the First Yellow Mules trail junction, my first landmark on the hike. I took out the map and rechecked the next few junctions; there were three I had to pay close attention to in the next mile. The first important junction was 0.4 miles from where I stood.

A mile later I knew something had gone wrong. I was still jogging and had covered too much ground too fast bringing me to a junction with the Yellow Mules Cabin trail. I pulled the map out again. I was a mile west of a left turn I was supposed to have made to go south into Mcatee Basin. I was frustrated. I had kept my eyes peeled, but had never seen the trail junction or any trail headed due south into the basin. Not wanting to retrace my steps back a mile and sniff out some confusing slightly hidden trail I pored over the map in search of an alternative. And there it was, the solution. All I had to do was keep walking a mile out Buck Creek Ridge then simply sidehill around a knob south into Mcatee Basin where I would pick up Mcatee Trail. I would follow this trail for two or three miles to Middle Fork Bear Creek Trail, which would take me to Helmet Saddle Trail and the summits of Sphinx and Helmet.

The plan was in place and it was time to execute. I jogged the one mile out Buck Creek Ridge then dropped south off trail into Mcatee Basin. I would not see a trail again for three miles. Mcatee Trail was on the map, but not in the dirt. If the basin had been more rugged, not having a trail would have been much more frustrating. But it was a gentle roller through shrubs and tall grass. The fall foliage helped to accentuate an already grand view of Sphinx. The west end of Mcatee Basin spit me out down a steep headwall into the Middle Fork Bear Creek drainage. Hiking through trees and denser vegetation, I hoped to soon find the trail on the flanks of Sphinx.

Sphinx and Helmet.

When I did I started jogging again feeling I had lost far too much time off trail in Mcatee Basin. It was all downhill to Helmet Saddle trail and scenery flew by in a blur. I turned left and started up towards Helmet when a cow moose jumped up about 20 yards from me giving me a nice shot of adrenaline. The trail zigzagged in gentle switchbacks up a wide grassy slope to the base of Helmet and into the saddle connecting Sphinx and Helmet.

All along my plan had been to climb Sphinx first. I reckoned that since it was the bigger of the two Sphinx should be climbed first in case I ran out of time and had to leave without doing Helmet. BUT something in my gut told me to go for Helmet first. I have no idea why, but I followed my gut and was soon traversing under the south face of Helmet. At the far west end of the formation I scrambled up a dirt gully then climbed over a chockstone. This gave me passage to the gentle grassy west slope that was easily hiked to the summit.

I took a photo using a small tripod and the point and shoot making sure to get the west slope of Sphinx in the background. I ate Pop Tarts then started back down to the dirt gully.

Summit of Helmet.

I traversed back to the saddle then picked up the faint summit trail up Sphinx. The summit trail eased up the grassy west slope of Sphinx picking its way through rock ledges to the primary drainage off the slope. The trail continued straight up the loose and slippery drainage to the summit ridge. I passed a few hikers who where on their way down and exchanged "hello's".

Finally I was on the summit standing next to a large rock cairn. It might have been 2:30 p.m., much later than I wanted to make the second summit. The weather seemed fine and I had no intention to linger on the summit, which offered a magnificent view from the heart of the Madison Range. To the north was Lone Peak and the Spanish Peaks. To the south the Taylor Peaks and maybe somewhere in there, Hilgard Peak. As relieved as I was to have summited both mountains, I knew I was only halfway done and had 16 long miles to get back to my truck at the trailhead.

Summit of Sphinx.

I ran off of the Sphinx and all the way back down to Middle Fork Bear Creek trail. I wanted to keep running, but my legs refused. That "legs of stone feeling" started to set in and I walked as quickly as I could back up the drainage. As I neared the pass into Cougar Creek the trail became intermittent and I was worried that I would be forced to bushwhack again killing any good time I was trying to make.

Luck was with me and the trail became more apparent over the pass move quickly for two miles to the trail junction at the east end of Mcatee Basin. This half of Mcatee Trail was in the dirt and I followed it to the junction with Inspiration Trail Hookup. A one and three quarters mile climb put me back on Buck Creek Ridge. I was supposed to come out on the trail I had missed earlier in the day and soon found why I had missed it. Once again, there is a trail on the map, but no trail in the dirt. Two tenths of a mile of a nonexistent trail indicated by two small cairns had been the crux of the morning. But now I knew what to look for the next time.

I felt like I had the hike in the bag. 6.4 miles of ridge top trail that I had already hike was all that stood between me and my truck. I tried to jog, but my legs still refused. I walked on and on still trying to run in spurts. My entire body begged me to sit down for just a few minutes, but I was afraid to lose time and get caught in the dark.

Sunset views from Buck Creek Ridge.

It was all for naught and soon I was hiking in the dark.

Once darkness fell I broke out my headlamp and had to take my prescription sunglasses off. I had no clear lens glasses and the trail was now a fuzzy tan. I could only hope no rocks or roots would trip me up. I was laughing to myself that it could be worse. I could not be that far from my truck and would only half to suffer with the poor vision for a few minutes. Then it started to rain. And it was not one of these gentle drizzles I had seen or been in during the summer. The kind that spit for two or three minutes kicking up that peculiar dirt smell in the air. No, it hammered down. It was cold and I could have gotten my rain jacket out, but was too stubborn to stop convinced that I was only a hundred yards from my truck. 20 minutes later I arrived at my truck, drenched, cold, and smelling like a wet dog.

An epic ending to the biggest hike of the summer.

Journeys: The Grand Teton

It is 4:00 a.m., I am asleep in the back of my truck just outside Grand Teton National Park, and my alarm is screaming at me to wake up. It is too early. Ah, the beautiful broken record of my summer. My good friend, Doctor Matt, texted me yesterday from his job in Salt Lake City with a spontaneous proposition. Have time for a one day car to car ascent of the the Grand on Thursday? Of course I had time!

We carpooled from the Moose Junction visitor's center to the Lupine Meadows trail head where we ate breakfast. It was a late 5:45 a.m. when we hit the trail, but we were confident that the weather would be clear all day and that we would be moving fast. We were carrying light packs with food, water, one half rope, and a very light alpine rack. Our chosen route was the Owen Spaulding and we did not anticipate placing much gear.

We shot up Lupine Meadows trail then through the switchbacks to the first boulder field. We hardly slowed through the Meadows, Caves, and Moraine and crested the headwall into the lower saddle in three hours. We took a break in the howling wind of the lower saddle to eat a snack and put layers back on. Upon leaving the lower saddle for the upper we would enter the shade of the Grand and temperatures would plummet.

Doctor Matt stops in the Meadow to squash the sun.

We slowed through the boulders and blocks on our path to the upper saddle. We reached the upper saddle feeling the cold seep into our bones. A guide and client passed us on their descent after a successful summit. The guide had a laugh at my shorts saying that he was wearing long underwear under his long pants. Doctor Matt and I continued up and finally reached the Belly Roll, the start of the Owen Spaulding.

We roped up and quickly passed the Bell Roll, a large block jamming the passage to the Belly Crawl. We reached the Belly Crawl and I led on climbing with my hands on the top of the A-frame feature and my feet on the outward sloping slab. The crawl pinched down to a 10 foot hand traverse then ended at the second chimney where I placed a cam and belayed Doctor Matt.

At the end of the Belly Crawl.

We continued up through the second chimney to the base of the Owen Chimney. Fun easy climbing through the Owen Chimney brought us to Sargent's Chimney. We climbed straight up Sargent's Chimney avoiding ice and snow in the left slot. As I belayed Doctor Matt my legs did start to get cold. I pulled my socks up as high as they would go and looked forward to sunlight on the summit.

After Doctor Matt was through Sargent's Chimney we scrambled on easy ledges following a faint climber's trail to the summit. The summit sunlight immediately warmed us, but the wind howled and forced us to find a small alcove on the east face of the summit pyramid for shelter. We enjoyed a mostly hazy view while eating lunch. Matt declared that any additionally climbing (i.e. north east ridge of the Middle Teton) was out of the question because he had to be at work at 6:00 a.m. the next morning and did not want to be completely wiped out.

Matt on the summit of the Grand Teton.

We hesitantly left the sunlight for the shade of the descent back to the upper saddle. Because we had only one 60m half rope we were forced into the slung horn rappel over the south side of the standard rappel ledge. Admittedly, I was nervous about the rappel and used an auto bloc prusik for once. My nervousness was turned to frustration when I found the rope hung up in a crack and had to use both hands to get it out. When the rope was out I could see it drop cleanly to the ground with about two feet of slack on the ground. Relieved, I finished the rappel then fireman's belayed Matt.

The technical climbing was behind us and we made a relaxed descent back through Garnet Canyon and down the maintained trail. We pulled into the trail head just after 5 p.m. - 11 hours on the day. It seemed as quickly as it had started it was over. After a victory dinner at Dornan's, Doctor Matt would return to reality in Salt Lake City and I would escape back to the woods of Montana.

Journeys: Beehive Peak - Day 2

I woke up to warm sun on my face meaning I had slept longer than intended. We would get a later start than desired, but at least we would not have to climb in the bitter dawn cold at 10,000 feet. I was feeling worked from yesterday's climb and tried to shake the stiffness out of my arms and legs while eating a breakfast of bagels and trail mix. The decision to climb the 5.8 face route was easily made. I could tell my body was in protest of anymore man eating off width climbing.

The route started in a positive left facing corner. The guide book indicated a belay stance at 95 feet. I found a huge ledge that seemed to be 50 or 60 feet off the ground. I called down to Luke and asked how high he thought I had climbed. "60 feet!" he shouted back up. I pressed on and soon came to the end of the rope never seeing a belay stance at "95 feet". Instead I was at a terrible stance at 160 feet that was not fit for three people. Additionally, the gear placements were poor and I had to get creative by slinging a block high above the belay stance with a long cordlette.

As I belayed Luke and Julie, I snuck glances further up the route to find key features the guidebook described. It seemed like we were a little too far to the right, but still on course to meet up with a roof that we would pass on the right. Well, I hoped it was the right roof. It was the largest of three or four in the general vicinity. The more I looked up at the route the more confused I got.

Luke and Julie hung in like champs occupying the belay that was really fit for only one person. I continued up good face climbing towards the largest roof directly above us. I pulled through a steep move and popped out on a large sloping ledge. Looking straight up towards the roof I saw harder than 5.8, and potentially unprotected, rock. I sniffed around and found an easy traverse to the left on the ledge, which brought me to a dirty and grassy corner directly under the roof. I paused to look back down the face and knew immediately that we had climbed too far to the right. There was a much more natural line to the left that would have brought us straight up without the 15 foot traverse.

Speaking of that 15 foot traverse...it was coming back to haunt me already. As I started up the dirty corner to the roof the rope drag continually tried to pull me off the route. At first it felt like I was climbing with a 25 pound weight clipped to my harness, but as I was making crucial moves through the right side of the roof the weight increased to 100 pounds. I was making animalistic snarling and grunting noises, trying to pull gobs of rope up with my left hand just so I could move my feet up. The beastly audio soon transitioned to human F-bombs dropped mercilessly on my poor route finding.

"That's me!" Luke hollered up from the belay signaling that I had reached the end of the rope. Grrrrreat! I thought. I was not far above the roof and nowhere close to any good protection. I called down that I might be a minute and started searching for anything that would accept gear. A small cam went into a crack behind a block that was held into the face by what looked like two inches of moss. A second cam went in a few feet higher in a weird slot behind a hollow flake. Feeling dejected I put Luke and Julie on belay and told them to start climbing.

When Luke and Julie arrived at the crappy belay I hurriedly climbed up and to the left 30 feet to a ledge with a small pine tree on it. I was able to place bomber anchors then quickly belayed the others up for a much needed break and rack reorganization. From this good ledge it was two pitches of 4+ class climbing to the summit. We quickly cruised up only placing gear for one more belay stance.

Julie climbing on the final pitch of 4th class rock.

It was our second time on the summit in two days and this time we remembered to break the camera out for photos. More smoke blew in from the southwest creating an beautiful scene with the best God's Light I had seen all summer. Luke took advantage with some spiritual poses on the highest summit block. We retraced our descent from yesterday getting caught in a very light snow at the top of the 4th of July Couloir.

"This is how you pose on the summit guys."

Luke's spiritual pose.

We were soon back at our camp on the knoll where it was only slightly warmer. We could see rain falling further down the basin and hoped that it would cease before we got to it. We packed up our camp and began the three and a half downhill trod back to the trail head. We avoided any rain and arrived tired, but stoked at our cars. It had been a great weekend of alpine rock climbing with just enough micro disasters to keep things interesting.

Journeys: Beehive Peak - Day 1

The south face of Beehive Peak had been beckoning to be climbed since I set eyes on it in the cold of January. I had pored over the guide book hundreds of times waiting for the weather to warm, the snow to melt, and for friend's schedules to match up with mine. Finally the day was here and I had an entire weekend assault planned with Bozeman climbing friends, Luke and Julie.

We enjoyed a gorgeous fall hike up Beehive Basin to our campsite on a knoll below the peak. Summer was quickly fading into autumn and with it blankets of wild flowers and green alpine grasses faded into a withered brown that crunched under our feet. The cool fall breeze hinted at the onset of winter and kept us from shedding too many layers. We made our way slowly up the trail stopping often and spotting a moose and her calf laying under a pine tree.

We stopped on the knoll to set up camp and take a break before approaching the first route. After a snack we entered the boulder field that spilled from the base of the peak and delicately picked our way up on a loose trail of scree. My eyes were glued to the rock wall in front of us and I suddenly felt giddy with anticipation. It had been a long winter of waiting.

Julie at camp below Beehive Peak.

Luke enjoying the view back down the basin.

The three of us were attempting a 5.7 crack called Worker Bee. From the ground it seemed like a straight forward crack climb with arm and fist jams accompanied by ample face holds. Famous last words. Forty feet off of the ground I wrestled my way into an off width squeeze box. I thought I could chimney up, but the gear hanging off of my harness stopped me short. I had a good laugh when I took my hands and feet off of the rock and flapped them in the air. I was corked!

I was able to worm my way out of the jam and back down out of the box. I took a deep breath knowing I would have to climb face holds on either side of the too-wide-to-protect crack then started up again. At the top of the squeeze box the rock angled back and I set up a belay. I belayed Luke and Julie up then set off again on lead.

I soon came to another un-protectable off width section that would not accept my body jam attempts. I retreated to a rest stance then made another attempt, this time in a lie back. I pasted my approach shoes on the wall to the right and worked my hands up the left side of the crack. Things went smoothly for 10 feet or so before both the left side of the crack and the wall to right became smooth and much less featured. Gripped and stuck in a lie back 10 feet above an ankle breaking fall I started to wonder if approach shoes had been a good decision over rock shoes. I was soon back down at my rest stance, huffing and puffing.

Solid face climbing and gear placements to the left of the crack made my third attempt a success. I came to another belay stance and set good anchors before belaying Luke and Julie. As frustrating as the off width sections had been on lead it was shaping up to be a fine outing. We were two pitches off the ground enjoying good weather and a fantastic view. Above use we could see at least two more pitches of easy 5th class face climbing to the summit ridge. With the hardest climbing below us we cruised to the top.

The view from the top was only slightly hazy as winds from the south west carried in forest fire smoke from Idaho. We relaxed amongst the blocks on the summit, broad smiles stretched across our faces. Somehow I forgot to take a single photo.

We took the standard rappels to the top of the 4th of July Couloir. The couloir was incredibly loose and dirty and we took turns creeping our way down. Julie went first and Luke and I chuckled as her Chaco sandals forced her into an awkward butt slide maneuver to get down.

Julie on the first of three rappels.

Chaco butt slide down the 4th of July Couloir.

Back at camp I was feeling tired, but relieved to have the first route under our belts. We purified water from a nearby stream and cooked up a big dinner of pasta, veggies, cheese, and crackers. We were undecided on the route for the next day knowing it would be either another 5.7 crack or a 5.8 face route. We decided to sleep on it and see how we felt in the morning. I curled up in my bivy sack and tried to stay awake to star gaze, but exhaustion soon drug me into a deep sleep.

Journeys: Granite Peak

A few things had gone wrong this morning. I woke up an hour late (3:30 a.m.). I started hiking and realized I had not changed into my Rec Specs and had to return to my truck. I started hiking again. Three and a half miles later I was "lost" having missed the Phantom Lake trail junction. After reaching Mystic Lake I was supposed to walk for half a mile then make a left onto Phantom Lake Trail. My instincts told me I had walked a mile down the lake and it was time to turn around. I almost made it all the way back to the dam when I passed another hiker going the opposite direction. He was here to climb Granite Peak too. We both hiked in search of Phantom Lake Trail. We found it about five minutes later. The trail sign was post 20 yards up Phantom Lake Trail, nearly impossible to see in the dark even with head lamp. Additionally, a not so helpful crumbling trail cairn sat tucked slightly under a low bough of a pine tree.

Conrad, my new friend, and I hiked up well graded and maintained switch backs to the saddle between Prairie View Mountain and Froze to Death Plateau. We turned off of the maintained trail here and somewhat followed large cairns southwest across the plateau. We crested a small rise about halfway across the plateau and finally saw Granite Peak, the highpoint of Montana. It looked just like it had in all of the photos I had scoured online.

It looks like something froze to death on the Froze to Death Plateau.

We rested and had a snack at some bivy sites below Tempest Mountain. A mountain goat seemed interested and walked close by, but never made a move for our salty urine.

Conrad making friends.

We dropped into the col between Tempest Mountain and Granite Peak. The hike through the col was over boulders and broken rock. It was a knee bashing boulder hopping good time. As we were approaching the start of the 4th class climbing I noticed the moon hanging above the summit ridge. The moon was framed by a deep blue sky contrasted in the foreground by reddish orange rock creating an otherworldly scene.

Conrad scoping out the line up the east slope.

Conrad making moves on the east slope.

We came to the dry snow bridge and the beginning of the 4th class climbing. We crossed the snow bridge and climbed through a gradual 4th class chimney below the often noted "X" feature. At the top of the chimney I expected to see the heavily photographed crux of the climb in between two chimneys. Instead we found a dip that was traversed on large and easy ledges to another gradual 4th class chimney. At the top of this second chimney I could now see the crux of the climb as well as the steep dirty gully leading to the Eye of the Needle feature just below the summit. We scrambled through the crux, traversed left, then scrambled up the dirty gully towards the Eye of the Needle.

Conrad making moves on the summit ridge.

At the Eye of the Needle, Conrad went left and I went right then we met up again on the summit block. We smiled and shook hands knowing we were only half way finished with the adventure. We found the summit register, but could not sign it for lack of anything to write with. We struggled to find the USGS marked. After a bit of searching while taking photos we came across it on an unlikely picnic table formation.

Extreme hair brushing on top of Montana!

After a snack we started the descent. Conrad had brought a light harness and a chunk of rope and opted to rappel in a few spots. With no gear, I down climbed the route. Once off of the technical route and now boulder hopping back through the col to Tempest Mountain, I let my mind drift off. I knew we had a ways to go to get back to the parking lot and I kept trying to imagine what it would feel like to be there.

On the way out. Note the goat.

Once through the col and back on the Froze to Death Plateau I felt like the hardest part was over. It was all downhill from here. Conrad and I cruised down the plateau passing weekenders on their way in to climb the peak. Conrad stopped and chatted with each group kindly dropping beta on the route.

We were on the last three miles below the dam at Mystic Lake. I was moving slowly taking in the scenery that I had missed in the dark on the hike in. The valley reminded me a bit of Yosemite. There were a few granite domes and towers that beckoned to be climbed. The dam and power plant from the early 20th century added a mysterious feel to the whole place. I had the feeling I was standing on top of a secret underground military compound.

We reached the parking lot. I tried to remember imagining what it would be like to be here. I felt numb at this point. It had been just under 16 hours and around 23 miles roundtrip plus the extra mile of missing Phantom Lake trail in the dark made it 24 miles. Conrad added our elevation gain and loss for the trip was about 7800 feet.

I sat down on the gravel of the parking lot behind Conrad's car and we shared a dinner of tuna, ramen, and yogurt.