Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

     I woke suddenly at 4 a.m. because a river of snot was flowing from my nose into my mouth. I knew immediately that I was very sick. I worked my jaw and my throat was dry and throbbing with pain. I found a roll of toilet paper in a camping box and steadily blew my nose until the entire roll had been used. I stood outside my truck leaning against the bed trying to sleep vertically. Shortly after 5 a.m. dawn slowly began to illuminate the landscape. The weather over the mountains was quite poor and soon a slight drizzle started over our campsite. I knocked on the Europeans' window and informed them I had a bad head cold and was going to town to buy some medicine. Fortunately the Albertson's in Jackson was open when I got there near 7 a.m. I bought medicine then drove back into the park. I parked at the visitor's center, took my medicine, and fell into a deep slumber in the driver's seat.

It was 11 a.m. when I woke up again. I felt groggy, but the medicine was doing its job and I felt much better. I went into the visitor's center in search of water and found Thomas and Carsten planning a backcountry overnight camping trip. "Charlie! Charlie!" Thomas called out. Thomas directly divulged the details of their plan. After they finished up at the visitor's center they would drive to Leigh Lake and hike a few miles to the west side of the lake and camp. There was a waterfall nearby and Thomas wanted to take some photos since the poor weather and gray skies would not bother the shot. Thomas offered for me to join them and promised he would tell me the best story I had ever heard around the camp fire that night. I accepted.

At the trailhead Thomas and Carsten prepared and set off quickly. I lagged behind sick and groggy preparing my gear at my truck. When I finally got started I was surprised to find a good deal of snow still covering the trail. The snow pack was knee deep in places and although I had my gaiters I wished I had my snowshoes. I caught up with Thomas and Carsten just as they reached the campsite. The Europeans were wearing jeans and tennis shoes and were soaked from the knees down. Building a fire to dry shoes and clothes was top priority. Soon flames were licking awfully close to socks and jeans hung on a line over the fire pit. While Carsten and I continued to scavenge for firewood, Thomas decided to rinse off in the lake since he was already half naked. Fully naked, Thomas danced a jig in three inches of water hooting and hollering at the top of his lungs. Apparently the lake was cold. Carsten and I laughed.

The clothes were drying quickly, but Thomas decided the waterfall was too far from the campsite. Instead we would hike back to the Leigh Lake outlet that dumps into String Lake and take photos. As we reached the outlet the sky cleared just enough to reveal Teewinot Mountain and we took some photos. Next Thomas perched out on a rock in the outlet and took some more photos. We hiked back to camp for dinner and the best story I have heard in a long time. Thomas's 13 year story.

About 15 years ago Thomas Salme decided he wanted to be a pilot. He knew he could not afford to go to flight school so he gained access to an airline flight simulator and snuck in practice sessions over the course of a year. When he felt comfortable that he could safely pilot an airplane he went home and crafted a terrible fake pilot's license out of an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of white paper. He applied to an airline and somehow they accepted his fake license. Two years later Thomas was promoted to captain of a 737. He would fly for 11 years as captain passing all concurrent training and maintaining a flawless safety record. He was finally caught in Amsterdam and arrested. He had flown unlicensed for 13 years. His punishment? Grounded for one year and fined $2,500.00. I told Thomas he would still be in jail if he had pulled that stunt in the United States. Thomas confesses that what he did was wrong, but felt he never put anyone in danger. Two years later Thomas is successfully building a photography career focused on fashion and modeling. A book about his illegal pilot's life is titled 13 Years In Heaven and will be released in Sweden at the end of May. I found it hard to believe, but Google confirmed his story. See for yourself.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

     After a backcountry photo shoot and a rock climbing trip did not pan out, I had a random idea to drive to Grand Teton National Park (GTNP) to see what I could see. At a friend's suggestion I took the scenic route from Bozeman to West Yellowstone by driving through Ennis, MT. The Madison River valley is sweeping and beautiful. It was a good thing that Route 287 was flat and straight or I might have totaled my truck while craning my neck at the view. I am so used to seeing the Madison Range from the east and it was so drastically different from the west with the mountains rising straight up from the valley floor. I arrived in West Yellowstone and checked in at the Yellowstone visitor's center to find out whether or not the route to GTNP through Yellowstone was open. It was not. I would have to take the long way through Idaho then over Teton Pass at Jackson, WY.

     As I approached the Tetons from the west I was disappointed because the mountains were banked in with clouds. I crossed over from Idaho to Wyoming and drove north past the National Elk Refuge. The valley was not cloaked in poor weather and I enjoyed seeing buffalo, elk, and moose grazing on the golden grasses in the preserved bottom land. I had no plan of what to do once I arrived in GTNP. I just wanted to explore. The visitor's center was closed so I drove to the only place I had read about, Lupine Meadows Trailhead. The trailhead is the starting point to climb the Grand Teton. I sat on the tailgate of my truck eating food and staring at the clouded Tetons. I wondered what it would be like to be sitting here preparing for a one day attack on the Grand. Is it exposed and scary? How drop dead exhausted would I be at the end of 24 hours of hiking and climbing? How rewarding would it be to be standing on the summit at 13,755 feet? Would I want to come down?

     The shadows were lengthening and the sun was sinking behind the mountains and the clouds. I decided I would continue driving the park road and check the views from the scenic turnouts along the way. This was a photography trip and at least I could do some recon while the weather was poor. As I pulled into the Mount Moran turnout I had no idea that fate was about to slap me in the face in the form of two European photographers visiting the United States from Italy.

     I was sitting in my truck checking the map and watching the clouds gradually clear from the summit of Mount Moran. A silver sedan pulled up near me and two men leapt out with cameras and frantically set about taking photos. One man with longer hair seemed to be "in charge" and he was barking orders at the other man. I could hear their banter from the  closed cab of my truck grinned at their Odd Couple antics. The clouds cleared to a point where I felt compelled to take some photos. I had only snapped one or two when the bossy fellow approached me and let me know he was a Swedish photographer living in Italy visiting America to take photos in support of a foundation owned by the Moratti family, which owns Inter Milan Football Club. His name was Thomas Salme. His quieter assistant was Carsten Boelter, a German photographer also living in Milan, Italy. We spoke briefly of photography then Thomas invited me to camp with them not far away in the Bridger Teton National Forest. I accepted and shortly we were making camp at the foot of Shadow Mountain.

     As night fell at our campsite Carsten cooked potatoes and beans and Thomas started a grizzly bear dialogue that he would keep up for the next three days. Where the bears awake yet? Could they attack us at a moment's notice? Could they tear a door off a car? Could they claw their way into my truck? Would bear spray really work? Was that a bear just out there in the wood line? Needless to say, Thomas kept his bear spray close at hand all through the night.

Journeys: West Yellowstone Backcountry II

Another trip to West Yellowstone and another pillow zone peppered with Adrian-built jumps. The day started blue enough, but as soon as we finished working the jumps, on cue, thunder roared and the rain/sleet started. That did not stop the crew from continuing to shred. I was able to pull my camera out and snap a few shots in between sprinklings from the sky. The focus of the day was a two jump line that ended up being to difficult to stick. As the weather and spirits deteriorated we resorted to pillow lines from the top of the zone. Adrian crushed this one starting with a 10 to 12 foot drop.

Journeys: Beehive Basin III

Second day with the Storm Castle Crew. This time our destination was Beehive Basin where Adrian has two big booters that he wanted to throw some tricks off of. I hooked myself up with snowshoes and gaiters and we had an easy hike in. We got up to a jump that sends you through a field goal-esque tree limb and found two friends Scottie Williams and Damien Conlin hard at work. We all jumped in and finished up the field goal jump and in-run, then they crew started their session. After a few straight airs the big tricks came out. Scottie threw a great looking Rodeo 540 and Adrian stuck a super smooth 360.

Scottie Williams - Rodeo 540 through the field goal.

After the field goal we moved on to the big jump to the right of the field goal. It was a big jump to a nice steep landing that you send 20 feet or 80 feet. Adrian was throwing massive 720's off of the big jump, but I just could not find that magic angle that I needed.

Lofty 720 tail grab.

Scottie tweaked his knee and a thunderstorm rolled in. On the way out I spotted two small-ish bear tracks in the snow.

Journeys: West Yellowstone Backcountry

I met Adrian Dingle at the Subaru Freeskiing World Tour stop at Moonlight Basin. I took a few photos of him during the second day of competition and he invited me out for some backcountry adventures later in the spring. April 20th was later in the spring and Adrian had a crew lined up to ski a pillow zone just off Route 191 near West Yellowstone, MT. I met up with the Storm Castle crew around 0900 and we took off for the trailhead. This first trip had come on short notice and I showed up with no snowshoes or other touring equipement. The pillow zone was not too far off the road and I was confident I could manage the hike whether I had to posthole the entire way or not.

The postholing was not to painful. I probably broke through every fifth step and without gaiters on my boots did get some snow in them. This would become troublesome later in the day. We were skinning, snowshoeing, trudging uphill and were about halfway to the intended pillow zone when we came across a smaller pillow zone. The crew decided to tear it up and away they went, dropping the pillows into scary tight trees. I cannot give enough props to these guys for how aggressive they attack their lines and how controlled they stay. Sick.

 

Corey Seemann sending it through tight trees.

We moved on and uphill to the next pillow zone. Adrian had built a few jumps earlier in the season, but wanted to focus on a gap to rock hip and cliff drop. We dropped our packs and got busy rebuilding and shaping the jumps for each hit. There were many hands and we made quick work of the jumps. Logan tested the gap to hip. There was a scary moment as he flapped his arms through the air wondering if he would make it to the snowy hip or check his skis on the rocks, but he made it to the snow. More speed needed next time. Adrian and Logan went to work dialing in their tricks sometimes spinning, sometimes just straight grabbing.

 

Logan Walker skis, Corey Seemann shoots.

Logan and Adrian finished up on the hip. Logan stuck a slow spinning 180 landing switch and Adrian locked down a smooth 360. We had two more hits the cliff drop and another pillow line in the woods that we had not seen yet.

Adrian on the cliff drop.

Adrian made quick work of the cliff drop sending it and sticking it on his first try. Then we move on to the final pillow line back in the trees. Gunnar Oliphant and I were scoping out angles while Adrian built up the kicker that would launch him toward the pillow. Adrian's plan was to boost the hit then sail 30 feet through tight trees to skim the pillow before coming back to Earth. Gunnar and I just looked at each other and said, "No way!" a few times. Everyone else was calling Adrian crazy. V...isions of Adrian coming up short and face planting on the pillow's boulder were the only thing overriding thinking about how cold my soaking feet were. The sun was sinking further behind a distant ridge and I was worried we would run out of light. Then, Adrian was dropping...and hauling Mach 10 toward the kicker. I composed for an action sequence, but as soon as Adrian left the jump I looked over the camera and just watched jaw wide open. The scene looked like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon on skis. Not enough speed? No. Adrian actuallly overshot the pillow completely and landed perfect and clean in the intended landing zone. I doubt anyone says, "Oh my god!" in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, but we all hollered it in disbelief for the next 10 minutes.

 Crouching tiger hidden dragon on skis.

All in all it was an epic day. The boys through down and we had blue skies and decent lighting to back it all up. Cannot wait for the next session.

Filmstrip: 7th Annual Headwaters Spring Run Off

Here are a few of my favorite shots from the 7th Annual Headwaters Spring Run Off held at Moonlight Basin, MT on March 31st, 2012. For more visit me at facebook.com/charliebolte.

Moonlight local, Chance Lenay, hucks The Toad - stylish grab included.

 Moonlight local, Chris Shafer, sends one into Jack Creek.

 Riley Carson spins and stomps a 360 out of Cold Fire.

 

Big Sky local Jeff Knaub's scary tomahawk down Rock Creek.

Filmstrip: Subaru Freeskiing World Tour

These are a few of my favorite shots from the Subaru Freeskiing World Tour stop at Moonlight Basin, MT on 24-25 March 2012. For more visit me at facebook.com/charliebolte.

 

Moonlight legend, Pat Gannon, hucks The Toad at the end of his line on day one.

 I was watching this particular competitor work his way down Rock Creek to the vicinity of the Toad. He turned away from the Toad and seemed to head towards the double stage drop that others (see Randy Evans photo) had sent throughout the day. Suddenly he stopped and hucked himself a good 60 feet down the mountain in between the double stager and the Toad. Caught off guard? Yes.

 Moonlight local, Chris Shafer, sends a shifty on the second day of competition.

Randy Evans took home the "Sick Bird" award with backflip antics such as this.

A competitor sending Hell's Half Acre the hard way.

Journeys: Beehive Basin Chapter II

My friend Tanner and I had been wanting to do some hiking this winter and we finally had our chance. I wiggled my way out of work and Tanner and I hit Beehive Basin intending to the get as close to or as high up Beehive Peak as possible. It was a gray blustery day and the snow showered down around us. We set off from the trailhead, Tanner on his skis with skins, me on snowshoes. A half mile later we were both shedding layers despite the storm. After cresting the first small hill on the skin track, we turned left off of the beaten path and blazed our own. Even with snowshoes on I was postholing in thigh deep snow. We made our way south-ish to what I am calling the south ridge of Beehive Basin (because it is somewhat to the south, but also to the west). We continued up a drainage before climbing a spur and finally ascended a steep wooded slope to gain the south ridge. Everything was going according to plan. We intended to hike this south ridge to the snowfield that guards the rocky peak above the basin. We were cruising along on top of the ridge, trying to catch glimpses of Lone Peak through the tapering storm. We broke free of the trees and found a huge rock cairn. We stopped to check things out since some of the storm had lifted. We could finally see Beehive Peak and also could see that the ridge we were on cliffed out in between us and the snowfield below the peak. We could traverse lower on the ridge on the side facing Lone Peak (west), but it was already 2 p.m. so we decided to ride off the ridge back into the basin. We dug a snow pit to test the conditions and once satisfied dropped into the knee deep powder.

Beehive Basin collage.
Photographs by Chas B.

The run did not last very long and we were soon trudging back to the trailhead. Tanner was able to push ahead on his skis, but I was forced to snowshoe up and hike out. For a second time this winter I had been turned back short of Beehive Peak.

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