Somewhere along the North Fork to the Buffalo Plateau

Looking for moose

Last night was a chilly one as the cool damp air settled into our little piece of the Absaroka’s. Our Tarptent city was wet with condensation on the inside, the remnants of a brief rain shower outside when we all arose at 6:30. My sleeping bag was a little damp but that could dry when we got to our next camp site. There wouldn’t be much of a chance to dry our gear before taking off in the morning as the sun had no chance of reaching our camp much before 10 AM.

Taking our time, we finally broke camp at 9:00 and began what I had hoped would be a great day up above the tree line.

First, however, we needed to find the trail which proved to be more difficult than anticipated. We were able to cross the river without getting wet feet but our victory was short lived as we were now walking through tall, wet grass and eventually through a wet meadow. Frankly, I didn’t give a crap if I got my feet wet----they were already fried and, who knows, maybe soggy socks would help?

I thought I saw what looked like a trail back on the opposite side of the river and we were soon walking on solid ground again after another crossing. This particular area looked like it could be prime moose habitat; wooded with numerous small beaver ponds, but we saw no signs of any wildlife whatsoever. This was disappointing as I’d had anticipated at least seeing a bear or maybe hearing a wolf howl or something.

View looking back from the upper North Fork meadows

After a short while we found ourselves climbing through more dense forest toward the upper meadows. Both heels required my now patented “toe kicks” every few steps and thoughts of bailing were again passing through my head. Perhaps an hour and a half later I found a fallen log to sit on and waited a few minutes for Bob to catch up. Had we climbed another 10 vertical feet and 60 yards we would have been sitting with the rest of the group who were relaxing at foot of the last upper meadow. By the Time Bob and I arrived they were ready to move on but bob and I decided to take in some water and a snack.

What lay before us was the best view of the trip so far. The North Fork was only about 10’ wide at this point as it meandered through the meadow. The Buffalo Plateau towered 700’ above us on either side and looked to be an easy climb from where we were. The scene looked just as I thought it would after and was definitely a worthy place to camp.

For the next mile and a quarter we happily trekked along a seldom used flat trail through the meadow. Wildflowers were blooming everywhere, the sun was shining and the temperatures were in a very comfortable upper 60’s. If it weren’t for my fucked up heels it would have been a glorious afternoon.

Lee and Bob heading up to the North Fork headwaters

The sunny skies we’d been basking under were now starting to cloud up---just in time to begin the final climb up to the Continental Divide now that we were at the head of the meadows. Perfect.

The hike up would not have been difficult had it not been for the blisters, maybe 400’ vertical feet to the tree line. The views of the long meadow below were starting to get better as we made our way up the unofficial trail.

By the time Bob and I made it above the tree line it was clear we were going to get rained upon. Reed, Lee and Steve were already dressed in their rain gear when we caught up with them and within seconds felt the first drops of a very cold rain. I figured the hail couldn’t be far behind but that never came. Luckily, the rain was only a sprinkling and only came down for a few minutes before the sun started to peek out again. By the time we started off again the squall had blown over and we had sunny skies once again.

Hiking gradually uphill, the climb out of the North Fork’s head basin was fascinating. Still on the unofficial trail, the river was nothing more than a 4” deep stream as the snow melted from what few remaining snowfields were left on the grassy slopes on either side of us. I wondered what the river would look like further below come early September when all of the snow was gone.

Bob and I were lagging behind once again as we made our way up to the divide. I’d pretty much reached the breaking point with my blistered heels and made a hike altering decision as I sat down and started taking off my shoes and socks: I was going to hike in my Crocs.

The beginnings of the North Fork up on the Buffalo Plateau

These weren’t the real things, but a pair of $9 Airwalk knockoffs so I didn’t care if I trashed them or not. Hell, even if they were the real thing I wouldn’t have cared. I’m not sure what Bob thought when he caught up with me and saw what I was doing but I didn’t care about that either. All I knew was that I was tired of the constant pain and made the switch.

By this time we were nearing the head of the basin but nowhere near done climbing for the day. The immediate plan was to follow the crest of the divide along the Buffalo Plateau but, of course, the divide undulated like the rest of the topography so we weren’t done yet.

Once we got up to the divide we were treated with a view like no other. Behind us was the long broad drainage of the North Fork we had just climbed. Directly ahead of us was the massive Woodard Canyon, replete with its own small streams draining the larger north facing snow fields on the cliffs 5 feet from where we were standing. Had it not meant a 300’ climb out the next morning, the head of Woodard Canyon would have made for an excellent camp site.

After shooting a few pictures it was time to push on. Heading south, we had to first climb a large snowfield. Lucky for me the others had kicked in some nice steps to use and the Crocs negotiated this obstacle without a problem.

The views continued to be outstanding in all directions---probably the best 360 degree scenery I’ve ever experienced. To the west were the Tetons, to the south the northern Wind River range, still with some serious snow pack covering everything from probably 11,000’ and higher. The hike had finally become what I had envisioned throughout the months of planning: Big views over broad, grassy tundra. And I could walk without wincing every step.

The crest of the continental divide. The North Fork head basin to the left, Woodard Canyon to the right

Reed finally verbalized what we were all thinking when Bob and I caught up to the rest of the group: “This is incredible up here”.

We decided that we would try to find a campsite close to where we were so that we could take advantage of the scenery and soon found ourselves near a couple of tarns fed by a snow drift in the midst of an incredible display of wildflowers. With plenty of flat, grassy, dry Absaroka tundra underfoot we went about setting up camp and taking care of the usual chores.

The only drawback to our site, as we would find out when fetching water, was the mucky shore of the shallow tarns. It was quite the task to get far enough into the tarn without dredging up silt as we sunk into the muck. Even with that minor nuisance, this was the kind of camp I really enjoyed; wide open, no shelter and views that reached into next week.

Once we had finished our chores and took the obligatory photos of our great site and surroundings we noticed some more bad weather blowing over the Tetons. We all agreed it looked like the bulk of the storm would hit a bit south of our position but we were going to get something. I figured we had about a half hour before it hit so I quickly went about whipping up a bacon tuna melt for dinner and got cleaned up just as the winds started to pick up.

Suddenly, without warning, straight line winds we estimated at 40-50 mph pounded our little slice of heaven. Both stakes at the foot of my tent immediately blew out of the dry, sandy soil so I did the first thing that came to mind: grabbed the two stakes then diving headlong into a flapping contrail.

I grabbed both rear struts, one in each hand and mulled over my next move: stay inside as is or try to get the stakes back into the ground? In a matter of seconds the first drops of rain began to fall, making my decision for me: I’d stay inside---with the hope that the storm did stay south of our position and it would be over soon.

As it turned out, it was all over in about 15 minutes and we all emerged from our shelters and immediately began searching for rocks we could use to hold our steaks down and tie off additional guy lines to.

Our stellar view of a storm brewing over the Tetons from camp 3

After the skies cleared we milled about until dark then retired to our shelters for the weekend. I spent a few minutes writing in my journal and wondering if I could actually finish the hike in my Crocs. I knew for sure I’d be wearing them tomorrow and that the terrain was such that we wouldn’t be doing any rock hopping. If we chose not to follow the divide I could always take the Lost Creek Trail across the Buffalo Plateau over to Marston Pass, tomorrow’s destination. Feeling good about the day and the rest of the hike I turned off my headlamp and tried to get some sleep.

As usual, It took a while for me to achieve ultimate slumberage as I struggled to get comfortable without the usual three pillows I used at home The night was a cool one but I was toasty warm in my 25* Western Mountaineering Hooded Aspen. I gazed out the front of my tent for quite a while looking at the stars and later watching the moon make its way across the sky to the east.