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?