|
The day we’d all been looking forward to for nearly a year was finally at hand---we were going to the Beartooth Mountains!
Despite pounding down more Stellas than I should have, I awoke in good shape at 5:45 AM and snuck out of the room to check my e-mail for the last week. Finding nothing life altering in my in-box, I went back to the room to find the others up and moving, Ward taking a shower.
 |
| The Sierra Trading Post's store in Cody, WY. Cooler heads prevailed and we drove right by without spending a dime! |
We were able to get checked out by 6:30 and decided that Pistol Pete’s would be the ideal way to start the day. Besides, Ward had yet to experience their breakfast burrito. I, on the other hand, wasn't’ feeling up to tackling that monstrosity and settled for an equally large omelet.
After paying our bill we crammed Ward into the back seat of the trusty Santa Fe and began our journey to the Beartooths.
The drive over the Bighorn’s was vaguely familiar to Brad and I, but Ward was seeing these mountains for the first time. The Santa Fe didn’t seem to be objecting to the extra weight and soon we were over Powder River Pass and heading down toward Tensleep.
I had forgotten how quickly the topography changed once we got down from the mountains. It seemed only 10 minutes earlier that we were driving through Pine and Spruce. Now, the craggy rocks were barren of most vegetation, and only the water of Tensleep Creek provided for vegetation. Only a few minutes more down the road and we found ourselves driving through the high desert of the Bighorn Basin.
 |
| Ward at Dead Indian Pass checking out the Beartooths off in the distance. |
By 8:50 we were in Worland and 40 minutes later passed through the metropolis of Greybull, where we stopped for water and snacks. Our arrival in Cody was marred somewhat by the thick smoke, which we assumed was coming from the fire near Red Lodge.
Brad, who was enamored by my MSR Pocket Rocket, needed to make a quick stop at Sunlight Sports to pick one up for himself. While Brad was making his purchase I asked Ward if he might want to pick up a water shoe a little more substantial than his flip flops. The water would be flowing and I was concerned he might lose a flip flop to the stronger currents. Ward, however, politely declined to purchase a pair of Crocs for aesthetic reasons.
After making a wrong turn and a drive through the length of Cody, we quickly righted our course and began looking for a place to grab a bite to eat and some gas for the final leg up to Island lake. We settled for hot dogs at a convenience store. An added bonus were the two extra mayo packets I was able to grab for use on the trail later.
The scenery out of Cody was something I’d wanted Brad and Ward to see. The Beartooth highway is world famous, but not a lot of folks even know about the Chief Joseph Scenic highway which runs between Cody and the Beartooth Highway. The highpoint of the drive was a stop at Dead Indian Pass at just over 8,000’ This is the historic site where the Chief Joseph and his band Nez Perce pulled a fast one on the US Calvary. The monument at the summit of Dead Indian Pass commemorates the passage of the Nez Perce through here, but it does not mention the confusion they created for those tracking. To me, this area epitomized the American west.
 |
| Unlike most of my previous trips, the views were fantastic as soon as we got out of the truck. |
It didn't take us long after leaving Dead Indian Pass to realize we were getting close to our ultimate destination. Clark's Fork of the Yellowstone soon became our traveling companion as we neared the Beartooth Highway and Island Lake.
Once we made the turn onto the Beartooth Highway things began to get interesting. A beautiful set of Falls, wildflowers, Beartooth Butte… Yeah, this was going to be fun.
We pulled into the parking lot at Island Lake at 1:00 on the nut (just as I had planned it) and immediately noticed that yes, the mosquitoes were going to be a small hindrance. I decided that I’d rather not be bothered by the little bastards and slathered a handful of Ultrathon over my arms and legs while getting my pack ready to go, and by 1:30 we were on the trail---making sure the truck was locked this time!
Immediately we were rewarded with views of Island Lake, which, just weeks earlier was still frozen over, and Lonesome Mountain. More importantly, we were hiking a flat trail with none of those annoying up and downs I enjoyed so much in the Winds a year earlier. The fact that we were hiking adjacent to Island and Night Lakes was gravy---as was the distinct lack of smoke from the regions wild fires.
 |
| Lonesome Mountain dominated the views during our hike to Becker Lake. |
About an hour and one quick water/rest stop into the hike we began looking for the unofficial trail which would take us to Becker Lake. In true Rainman fashion, I was able to predict the location of this unmarked trail to within about 10 feet.
A few small boulder hops and a few steps through some snow and we were on the ridge overlooking Becker Lake. I had no idea we were going to stop here for the night but when we saw the inviting “18th Green” we knew we had to camp here for the night.
Adorned with plenty of flat patches of ground to pitch our tents, we rapidly got settled in for the night and began preparing our dinner. The differences in cooking techniques and styles were as different as the three of us.
 |
| The "18th Green", our camp at Becker Lake. (12T 612879 4982627) |
Having transformed Brad into a “gram weenie” over the winter, he dehydrated all his own food at home. Ward, on the other hand was also eating dehydrated fare, but got his in the form of Mountain house Pro Paks. Meanwhile, I had determined that the way to go for this trip was to eat mass quantities of Spam, Tuna and flour tortillas. Tonight it would be a tuna melt quesadilla.
Once we’d finished cleaning up, Ward and I hung our bear bag from a nearby cliff face and settled onto a large comfortable rock overlooking the lake to take it all in. It was hard to believe we were actually here after 10 months of anticipation, planning, e-mails and clandestine gear purchases.
Sometime during the evening the wind had shifted and we began to notice the faint odor of smoke. Shortly after that we debated whether or not the clouds we were viewing directly to the south were in fact clouds or huge plumes of smoke. I became a little concerned that some moron at the island Lake campground had set it on fire, consuming the trusty Santa Fe with the left over Stella's and the Montbell bag along with it. This would become a running joke throughout the balance of the trip.
Finally, the mosquitoes became too much to bear---even with head nets. Their annoying buzzing drove us to our tents where we’d attempt to rest up for the rigorous trip ahead. We were all looking forward to really getting off the trail tomorrow but really didn'’t know what to expect.
|
