The Hike Out to Brooks Lake Lodge

Sunrise from out final night's camp along Cub Creek

My sleep was much better than the night’s before effort, though it came more difficult than it should have and wished I had brought some Tylenol PM with me to aid in the process. The thought of getting eaten by a bear on our last night out and the safety of all our vehicles was weighing on my mind until well after midnight didn’t help much, either.

Just before first light, Steve came over to my tent, said goodbye and in a minute the three were on their way.

Bob was also awake and started on his morning cup of coffee so I decided I might as well get up as well. We figured we’d give the others a 1.5 hour head start, which, at Bob and my slower pace, would give them at least 2 hours to fetch the vehicles and allow Reed to drop off the Trusty Rav4 at Brooks Lake.

Eschewing a real breakfast in favor of a quick escape, Bob and I packed up and were on the trail by 7:30 AM under mostly sunny skies. In a few minutes we left the meadow and were hiking through thick firs.

45 minutes later the trail petered out and we soon found ourselves hiking through a marshy swamp without a clue and very wet feet. This particular area would prove problematic to not only Bob and I, but to the other 3 as well.

A lovely view west travelling on the wrong trail

Aside from the wet feet losing the trail didn’t seem like a big deal once we bushwhacked our way through the water and brush and regained the trail after 50 yards.

Once back on solid ground we were making pretty good time but as soon as we started to climb the north side of the valley I started to wonder if we had somehow gotten off track. We hadn’t passed any trail junctions that would have taken us to the valley’s south wall so I chalked it up to another error on a USGS quad and continued along.

The views from higher up the valley wall were pretty nice but I realized that we had somehow missed the trail that would take us directly to Bear Cub Pass, now clearly visible a half mile across the drainage. Ooops.

Since I was far enough ahead of Bob to check out the GPS and map I did so and discovered that I had marked the wrong trail junction on the unit. Chalk that one up to a small GPS screen and carelessness on my part. The waypoint we were working our way over to would get us out, via the continental Divide Trail, but would end up costing us about 2 miles an extra climb (the one we were doing) and another hour of hiking. Crap. I decided not to tell Bob of my error so as not to discourage him but I had to wonder where the intended trail had been.

Looking west from the wrong trail out. We needed to be down below and back another mile

In hindsight, the only logical answer was that the trail junction had been down in the swamp, likely obscured by brush.

As things turned out we weren’t the only ones to shoot by the trail. After comparing notes a few weeks late we discovered that Reed, Lee and Steve also passed it by and took the same longer route as Bob and I.

Meanwhile, Bob and I continued to climb, looking longingly at the trail we were supposed to be on down below. A bushwhack through dense forest crossed my mind but I figured that option to be a horse a piece at this point. At about this time I felt a small “pop” inside my right knee. It didn’t hurt too much but it was enough to make me say “oh!” out loud.

A poor picture of the juvenile moose I had encountered

When I finally reached the trail junction marked on the GPS (It was right on) I was pretty stoked: we now had only one easy descent and climb then a nice flat hike back to Brooks Lake. It looked like I was going to get out of the Teton Wilderness in more or less one piece---even if it meant limping a little bit on a rapidly deteriorating right knee.

Dropping 350’ in only a matter of minutes, we now found ourselves hiking through the dense brush along Cub Creek. Plowing through the creek in my Crocs and was soon climbing Bear Cub Pass---the last climb of any significance for the hike. There were actually some switchbacks on this section of trail which made it seem ridiculously easy.

About 2/3 of the way up was a trail junction which no doubt was the trail we should have been on had we not missed it an hour out of camp. I figured that little miscalculation probably cost us at least an hour and 2 miles of extra hiking.

Nearing the pass, I saw some movement in the brush about 75 yards ahead. I stopped, pulled my pepper spray from its holster and stood still, watching intently. More movement, but I was still unable to identify whatever creature was moving about. 30 seconds later a young bull moose showed himself through the trees, oblivious to my presence.

He walked slowly toward me, munching on whatever it was he was eating then stopped on the trail, giving me a perfect view of his hugeness, now only 50 yards from me. Then he looked right at me and I was busted. He continued to check me out long enough for Bob to catch up and get a good look before retreating back into the forest.

10 minutes later we were crossing the continental divide and exiting the Teton Wilderness above Upper Brooks Lake, which was now in full view. At the far end of the large meadow was the Brooks Lake Lodge and, hopefully, Reed and the trusty Rav4. Call it three miles. I told Bob the trail to the lodge stayed to the right (west) or Brooks Lake and that I’d try to pick him up at the most advantageous location I could

Seeing the lodge gave me a burst of energy and I soon left Bob behind to eat my dust. I flew past Upper Brooks, crossed a few shallow streams and was soon at another trail junction that led to the Bonneville Pass TH. Hopefully the others knew this or they’d be doing some extra walking themselves.

Bob crossing Cub Creek

As I began descending a small hill I was startled to see three hikers coming up. When asked where they were headed, one replied “Canada”. CDT hikers. I gave them what little information I could of the next few miles and started off again.

At about this time, only about 45 minutes from the lodge, a familiar abdominal pain was starting up again. Great---this could suck and Bob could catch me. After another 15 minutes I hit 3 of 10 on the pain scale and pushed myself to go faster while I could still tolerate the discomfort.

The Brooks Lake boat landing was now within clear view so I scanned the lot for the trusty Rav4, hoping Reed had the compassion to shorten our hike out by a half mile or so by parking there. Nope, not there, but then I told him to wait for us up at the lodge which was now tantalizingly close.

The pain increasing there was one more short climb up to the lodge. I said “screw it” when I realized that the path I was taking led through an empty corral and made a beeline directly to the lodge without getting stopped, questioned, trampled or shot.

A quick look around the main lodge revealed no trusty Rav4. What the hell? The others left long before we did, hiked faster AND we took the longer, scenic route to the lodge. They should have had plenty of time to complete the shuttle. Unless they also got lost, or mauled by a bear, or charged by a Moose, or eaten by a wolf.

A female wrangler approached and asked if she could help and suggested I check the boat landing after hearing my story. Well, I was just there but trudged back down anyway, the pain intensifying by the minute. I really hoped that I’d missed part of the parking area and Reed would be waiting there.

Upper Brooks Lake just outside the Teton Wilderness boundary

Nope. I could see Bob chugging down the trail off in the distance and waited for him so that I could tell him the trusty Rav4 was AWOL and that I was heading back up to the lodge.

So back up to the lodge I went, tired, pissed off and hurting. This time I entered the lodge and was stunned by the views looking out toward the lake from the lounge. Had I not been suffering like I was the views probably would have been even better. A friendly lady (whose name I cannot recall) greeted me cheerfully and allowed me to use the phone to try to contact Reed. I got Reed’s voice mail, left a message and sat down on a very comfortable leather couch.

After a few minutes the nice lady told me there was another hiker down by the main gate so I got up, took a look and there was Bob---and Lee’s truck. Yes! I thanked the desk clerk for her kindness and hobbled down to the gate the best I could. The pain level was now up to a solid 7 and getting worse.

As it turned out, Reed, Lee and Steve also had gotten “lost” at the same spot we had and missed the first trail heading up to Bear Cub Pass. To make matters worse they then took the trail heading back down to Cub Creek---the trail we were all supposed to take up to the pass. I’m still not clear exactly what happened to them or how far back down they went but I do know that Bob and I finished up about an hour behind them.

OK, wait here for a half hour and then get the hell out to a doctor for an exam and some good narcotics. I was now nearing 9 of 10 and near tears once again. Sitting “Indian style” didn’t help me out this time so I waited in misery for close to an hour before Reed finally arrived with my vehicle.

Reed making his way out near the Brooks Lake Lodge

Within a couple of minutes we said good byes, loaded up the trusty Rav4 and I was behind the wheel---thinking that focusing on driving would help me forget how crappy I felt. I made it to the main highway before giving up control to Bob.

Bob decided that it was probably best to get a motel room in Dubois for the night then get me to the Dubois Clinic ASAP. I wasn’t going to argue that and by 4:30 we had another room at the Twin Pines Motel and pulled into the clinic.

Luck was on my side as Vaughn Morgan, MD happened to be in from Jackson that day and within 10 minutes was in the examination room. I apologized for my stenchy smell and told the Doc I suspected a kidney stone. A few preliminary tests and a sample cup of urine later the Doctor agreed and shot me up with a pain-killer that never really killed all of the pain.

I was still contemplating taking the long way home via the Teton’s Yellowstone and the Beartooths but the doctor nixed that idea for me, and for once, I actually listened to someone’s good advice, though I was pissed and disappointed.

$10 for a bottle of vicodin along with the locations of regional medical centers that could take care of my condition should I have more problems later and we were out of there.

I was already wasted upon arrival back at the motel. Bob took a shower and I passed out on the bed. Bob woke me up and said he was going out to get pizza and I made my way into the bathroom to get cleaned up. I decided on a hot batch and was soon snoozing in the tub.

Bob woke me up by announcing the arrival of a very good-looking pizza so I forced myself out of the tub and into some clean clothes. I was now shivering which was a clear sign I was carrying some sort of infection---“probably a bladder infection” I thought.

On my bed was a large piece of pizza on a paper plate. I laid down next to it, ate a bite, then another. My third bite was never actually chewed because I fell back to sleep, mouthful of pizza and all, until the next morning.