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| Kings Peak 13,528 feet at Sunrise from Dollar Lake (Utah). |
Chapter 1: Borah,
Borah, Borah
After work on Friday, Phil and I headed south from Missoula
through Darby, picking up several $1.59 “meat” sliders at the Peoples Market and
proceeded over Lost Trail Pass into Idaho. Our destination: The Wagon Wheel
motel in Mackey, ID. We arrived shortly after 9PM, sorted our gear and turned
in for the night.
Throughout the night, we awoke to the intermittent
spattering of rain on our window. Our
alarms sang us awake at 4AM. Outside, the glow of lightning illuminated the
sharp high ridge of the Lost River Range. Although not encouraging, the
distance of the system and the forecast allayed our concerns of being forced
off Borah again by the range’s fickle weather. The forecast called for 40% of
precipitation in the morning, decreasing through the day. We grabbed a bite and
hit the road.
We were moving at 5AM. Short and steep, the standard route
on Borah Peak climbs 5,267 feet in just over 3.5 miles (the trailhead is at 7,400
feet, the summit at 12,662). This was Phil's third attempt and my second attempt of Borah. Phil and I made quick work of the first 2,500 feet
under the illumination of our headlamps. At tree line, ~10,000 feet, we doffed
our headlamps and were provided the first glimpse of what the weather held for
us. Although not particularly foreboding, streamers of rain underhanging
growing cumulus clouds were amassing across the valley, directly West of Borah.
We acknowledged the atmospheric instability and proceeded with caution,
accepting the fact that we may be skunked again on Borah.
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The clouds clearing off of the upper half of Borah Peak
(on our way descent) |
We moved swiftly up to 10,500 and then 11,000 feet, before
engaging in a serious conversation about the changing weather. The rumbling of
thunder had steadily increased in both intensity and frequency. The streamers
of rain and grown into a wall of precipitation – rain, snow, sleet, its
contents we did not know – and was moving quickly in our direction. We made the
call to retreat off of the high ridge and gain shelter in the trees before
making a final decision about Borah. On the descent, the lightning strikes
became visible in our vicinity, striking near the base of the mountain and
surrounding ridges. The seriousness of our situation apparent, we abandoned the
ridge and began a speed hike/run down the northern slope of the ridge into a
clump of trees and rocks.
200 feet above the trees, the wall of precipitation revealed
its true contents. First rain, then sleet, then hail. The wall engulfed us. I
had sped ahead to find some semblance of protection for us to sit out the
storm. After careful going with 20-50 feet of visibility, Phil and I found
ourselves nestled safely in at 9800 feet, 1200 feet below our high point.
Lightning struck and thunder sounded in our vicinity, but never seriously
threatened our position. The hail and rain persisted for no more than 15
minutes before easing off to drizzle and then dissipating entirely.
During those 15 minutes, Phil and I weighed our options: 1)
descend and give it another go the following day; 2) descend, head south to
Kings Peak in Utah and return to Borah in 2-3 days; or 3) wait it out and give
it another go from our position. Option ‘3’ was the most attractive choice as
it kept us on our original itinerary and saved us from having to re-ascend
2,000 feet in several days time. And who knew what the weather would do!
The soft echo of thunder receding to our east, we made the
decision to give it another go. We quickly re-gained the ridge crest and caught
up with a couple that had waited out the storms below the trees. As it turns
out, an early start was not to our advantage!
From the ridge, it was clear that the worst had passed.
Although precipitation swirled the valley and low clouds continued sweeping
over our route, there was little threat of lightning.
Within an hour we were back at our high point, just below
‘chicken-out ridge.’ We picked our way up and over the ridge, climbing and
down-climbing sections of the exposed ridge. As we reached the final section of
‘chicken-out’ clouds swept over our windward perch, bringing with them 30-40
mph winds and snow. So it goes.
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Chicken-Out Ridge as seen from the summit ridge of Borah
(photo taken on descent) |
As it snowed upward – the snow literally blowing from the
valley below up – we pressed on to the summit ridge. With 50-100 feet
visibility, we picked our way up the ridge with the occasional cairn guiding
our progress. I built several additional cairns along the route up to the ridge
crest. We hit the summit just after 10:30AM. This was Phil’s 45th
state high point (and his third attempt)! Hurray! Although the snow was easing
off, the wind chill was enough to limit our time on the summit. We took a few
perfunctory summit shots and headed down.
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| Phil on the summit of Borah Peak, his 45th state high point. |
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| On the summit of Borah Peak with wedding prayer flags. |
The descent was happily eventless. As we descended the
clouds began to thin. By the time we reached the bottom of ‘chicken-out ridge’
the summit of coming into view. And by the time we reached the car, blue sky
peeked through broken clouds. We reached the car at just after 12:30PM.
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| Phil descending the summit ridge of Borah |
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Sometimes you have to go up to go down. Phil climbing on our
way down 'chicken-out ridge' |
Total time: 7.5 hours
Total vertical ascent: ~6400 feet
Total mileage: ~8.5-9 miles
Chapter 2: Kings Peak
Next stop: Kings Peak! Kind of. From Borah’s trailhead we
headed back to the town of Mackey for a celebratory burger and fries. We
continued south through Idaho, into Utah, before heading east into Wyoming. At
8PM we found ourselves in the town of Mountain View, Wyoming, the gateway to
Kings Peak. With damp gear and a rather damp 12-hour forecast, we opted to stay
at the Country Cabin Inn in Mountain View rather than camping at the trailhead.
We spent the evening drying out our gear and organizing our packs for our
overnight in Henrys Fork basin.
We awoke at 6AM on Sunday with the intention of hitting the
road. Again, Mother Nature had different plans for us. With rain and lightning
hammering Mountain View, we took our time gathering ourselves for departure. We
hit up ‘Maveriks’, the gas station next to the inn, for a day’s old Krispy
Kreme donut breakfast and coffee.
We tentatively departed for the trailhead under the curtains
of rain and flashes of lightning. All the forecasts we looked at promised
back-to-back clear days from Sunday to Monday. We rested all of our hopes on
this being the case.
From our northerly approach, we crossed the border into
Utah. The rain abated at this time. We arrived at the trailhead (~9,400 feet) just
before 9AM. This was later than we had planned on, but it was, as it turned
out, the best of all possible outcomes given the weather. We disembarked at 9AM
under breaking clouds and a glimmer of blue. The rain on the drive in would be
the last precipitation of the trip.
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5.5 miles up Henrys Fork towards Kings Peak. Phil looking up trail
at the range. |
Our spirits buoyed by the stabilizing weather, we cruised up
the gentle slope of the basin to Dollar Lake. After a delightful 8-mile hike we
hit Dollar Lake at 12:15PM. The weather was stunning: blue skies, clear
atmosphere and 50 degrees with a light breeze. We quickly erected the tent,
cached all unnecessary gear and hit the trail at 12:30PM for the summit.
An hour later, we found ourselves at Gunsight Pass. From Gunsight
Pass, the trail proceeds down into Painter Basin, skirts West Gunsight Peak and
then heads up to Anderson Pass and the base of the summit ridge of Kings Peak.
We received intel from a couple of hikers that there was a well-cairned route
that traversed high on the back of West Gunsight Peak, effectively trimming an
hour or more from the standard route. We quickly found the route and clawed our
way up to the expansive alpine that is the northern slopes of West Gunsight
Peak. What a lark! The walk was beautiful around the mountain. Kings Peak comes
into view quickly, dominating the skyline on our bearing.
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Looking north from Gunsight Pass. Our route took us
under the cliff band on the right and up the talus slope to
the high bench center. |
Under blue skies, we reached Anderson Pass and the base of
the summit ridge (12,400 feet) at 2:30PM. We scrambled our way up the ridge,
exchanging pleasantries with many of the folks heading down. At about 12,800
feet we passed a pair of gentlemen working their way up the ridge. One of the
men was moving by way of a pseudo-crawl, using both hands to brace himself on
easy terrain while his friend kept a close watch, occasionally guiding his
progress. I stopped to chat with them briefly and they gave off the vibe of
being very experienced outdoorsmen. Interesting.
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Phil looking out over Henrys Fork basin - from whence we came -
from just below Anderson Pass en route to the summit. |
The Kings Peak summit ridge is a very pleasant
walk/scramble. At about 13,450 feet, the ridge juts sharply up, providing a fun
scramble to the top. At 3:30PM we stood on the 13,528-foot summit of Kings Peak
and the top of Utah. So beautiful was the day, we were in no hurry to descend.
We were equipped with headlamps and plenty of warm clothes should we find
ourselves descending the final miles in the dark. We ate, drank, took pictures,
chatted with a gentleman from Idaho, laughed and celebrated Phil’s 46th
high point. We observed the fact that we had – unplanned – summited the high
point of Idaho and Utah in two consecutive days. There was a group of rather
boisterous young men – dare I say my peers – tempting fate with various summit
hijinks i.e. peeing off the summit, throwing rocks. One of men had a rifle
protruding out of his pack. I asked him why he had it and he said he was hoping
to bag a ptarmigan or two. Huh.
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On the summit of Kings Peak, the high point of Utah.
Phil's 46th high point. |
At 4:10PM we began our descent. We passed a total of 6 folks
still scrambling their way to the summit on the way down the ridge. At about
13,200, we ran into the gentleman that was ‘feeling’ his way to the summit. As
Phil and I approached the duo, Phil suggested that perhaps he was blind.
Plausible. We reached the men and chatted again. I asked, “I don’t mean to be
offensive, I am simply curious, what is your technique all about.” He took the
question with grace and responded happily. He explained that he had suffered a
brain injury many years back and half of his body was not especially
responsive, while his balance suffered severely. Wow. Amazing. It was an
inspiring moment. This man was literally crawling his way up the mountain,
moving no faster than ½ mile an hour while his friend patiently guided his
movement. He went on to explain that this is a part of recover journey back to
climbing. At this pace, they were likely to summit around 5PM. Phil and I
expressed how impressed we were and carried on with a new sense of respect,
understanding and appreciation for those that strive in the face of serious
adversity.
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| The upper portion of the summit ridge of Kings Peak. |
Pain-free with my health, suddenly rheumatoid arthritis
faded to white noise, an innocuous diagnosis made manifest only by the pillbox
that lie in our tent below.
We stopped below Anderson Pass to filter a few liters of
water for the rest of the return journey to Dollar Lake. We picked an easier
line around the backside of West Gunsight Mountain and cairn-hopped our way
back down to Gunsight Pass. The glow of the setting sun illuminated the red,
brown and white rocks of surrounding mountains as we cruised down the trail
into the basin. It truly was the ‘most beautiful day in recorded history.’ We reached our campsite around 7PM, 10 hours
after we had left the car. The GPS read exactly 18 miles with ~4,300 feet of
ascent on the day.
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| Gunsight Peak and Gunsight Pass on the descent. |
We filtered several additional liters of water and watched
the sun set on the surrounding peaks with a woman from Bountiful, UT. We split
a 3-cheese pasta Mountain House meal – I prematurely put in half-heated and
unboiled water into my mac and cheese, rendering it uncooked and possibly
bacteria-ridden - and hit the rack. I woke up several times to relieve myself
and found the sky to be among the clearest I had ever seen. Layers of stars
succumbed to even deeper layers of stars.
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| Phil sitting on a rock at Dollar Lake as the sun sets. |
We awoke at 6AM to a cloudless sky. I surprised Phil with
cinnamon rolls I had packed in for our final breakfast on the mountain. We
watched the sun rise from the point we had watched it set the evening before.
With Starbucks coffee and cinnamon rolls we dined like kings of Kings Peak. “If
this isn’t nice I don’t know what is,” said Kurt Vonnegut. And in this moment –
as in so many moments in life – it rang true. We had succeeded and in so many
ways. From safely gaining the summits of two state high points in consecutive
days to edifying conversation to awe-inspiring beauty, it was all a success.
Although our primary objectives were peaks, the underlying drive was the
pursuit of beauty and life through mountain travel.
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| The trail to Kings Peak from Dollar Lake at sunrise. |
We broke camp at 8:30AM. I walked 100 feet from our camp to
relieve myself. Looking up, my gaze met the eyes a cow moose some 50 feet away.
Accompanying her was a calf several feet further. She didn’t seem to mind my
presence. Careful not to disturb the animals, I grabbed Phil and we viewed from
a safe distance.
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| Look closely! A cow moose and calf. |
With the day ahead of us we opted for the longer and less
traveled route out of Henrys Fork. We hiked about a mile up the trail to 11,000
feet and crossed the basin. The terrain was breathtaking: lakes, ponds, marshes
and stands of trees all back-dropped by 13,000-foot peaks. The trail we were on
disappeared and we proceeded to bushwhack 1-2 miles across the valley. We came
upon another moose, this one 100-yards distant, in a marsh near one of the
myriad ponds. The topographic map had us below the trail and so we traversed up
and over a couple of knolls before catching sight of a massive cairn marking
the trail. On the trail, we got back up to our 3-3.5 mph hiking pace and
cruised on down the valley.
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| The peaks of Henrys Fork from Elkhorn Crossing. |
Our trail junction came quickly. At the junction we ran into
a couple that had spent several days up the basin picking off several
13,000-footers in the area. They introduced themselves as Jennifer and Gerry
from Montrose, CO. They were extremely – an understatement - knowledgeable
about the state high points and Gerry disclosed that he had completed all of
the high points. Jennifer asked if we were familiar with the Colorado 14er
books. It immediately clicked: this is the
Gerry Roach! The Gerry Roach of mountaineering and guidebook fame. He was the 2nd
person to climb the highest point of all seven continents and has over 2,000
Colorado Peaks under his belt. We
chatted with Jennifer and Gerry for a couple of minutes longer before heading
down the remaining 5.5 miles to the trailhead.
As was our wont, we made quick work of the final, relatively
flat, section of trail. We were back at the rental car around 1:30PM.
And that was it. Just like that, it was over.
Total distance: 30.5 miles
Total vertical ascent: 4,600 feet
Total elapsed travel time: 15.5 hours (27.5 hours on the mountain)
Moose sightings: 3
En route to Salt Lake City, we stopped off at Don Pedro’s
Family Mexican restaurant in Evanston, Wy. Phil and I shared some laughs,
stories and fajitas. All good things. We made the gorgeous drive to Odgen and
down to Salt Lake City to our hotel just off the Salt Lake City airport campus.
A couple of hours ago Phil and I exchanged our farewells and
headed on our separated paths: he to Chicago and I back to Missoula. Back to
our lives and loved ones. The trip was a short, but rich lark. It was
beautiful, gorgeous and life giving. With a full cup – life-filled - I return
to the venerable vagaries of normal life and give back. Phil once shared this
poem with me:
“You cannot stay on the summit forever;
You have to come down again …
So why bother in the first place?
Just this: What is above knows what is below,
But what is below does not know what is above.
One climbs, one sees.
One descends, one sees no longer,
But one has seen.
There is an art of conducting oneself
In the lower regions
By the memory of what one saw higher up.
When one can no longer see,
One can at least still know.”
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| An abandoned cabin on the hike out. |
