Spending the night in Custer National Forrest was my goodbye to South Dakota (even though it’s in Montana). A legit camping site, not just a pull off, helped to make the night quiet and safe. With a bit of reading to wind down from the day, and excitement for the week ahead to be filled with lots of adventure, a real bed, and an adventure buddy.
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Waking up to the dew covered ground and the sun shining through the trees, I stretched and smelled the crisp morning air. Today was a travel day, 8 hours of driving across the massive state of Montana separated me from a great friend, and glorious shenanigans.
Though I didn’t like the idea of just driving past half the state, I found that there really isn’t much in the eastern half of Montana. A few small towns littered about, its mostly just plains and large rolling hills. Though it was a beauty to behold, I was glad to be driving through it to grander times. There were also a handful of thunderstorms that were extremely localized, often visible as a tornado of rain on one single area. Quite the sight to behold.
I took a rest stop in Bozeman to do some work, and wander around the city for a bit. Though I spent my entire time at the local library getting work done, I was glad. Looking out the window vicious clouds rolled in and the wind was making the trees walk the limbo. With a successful pit stop and a refreshed body and mind, I made the final cruise to Missoula to meet Max.
Arriving at his sisters house, I was met with open arms, and lots of licks from the doggies! DOGGIES! Unfortunately I missed dinner but was still able to feast on the left overs, and they were amazing! A real meal, even cold, tasted so good! But then, after a bike ride around the city with the last of the day light, came the peace-de-resistance.
I could do it. I can count! Now, I could count to one, uno, solo, mono, the big index (or middle, ring, pinky or thumb). I took my first shower since starting this trip, and did it feel GLORIOUS! Though I have been jumping in a few lakes to rinse off, nothing beats a warm shower, with a washcloth and soap. I’m pretty sure this is what paradise feels like: a great meal, awesome company, clean body, clean clothes, and a warm bed. This was the life, and I had only been here a few hours. Whatever this week had in store, I would walk away with a smile, something I would need to survive the following day.
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Montana has some of the best rock and ice climbing in America. With Bozeman hosting the international ice climbing competition annually, you better believe there’s some good rock out here. Wanting to climb, and now having a partner in rope to do so, Max and I set our sights on an easy 5.7 multipitch route not too far from town. The plan was simple: 6 am wake up, 7 am depart, 8 am arrive at the trail, 9 am start the climb, 12 pm summit, back at the car by 2 and see how we feel for the rest of the day.
The execution was far from that.
We rolled out of bed at 630 and made breakfast. But soon after, Max’s nephew Samuel woke up and wanted to play with us. You can’t look a 2 year old in the eye and say no to playing with him, especially when that gives his parents just a little extra, and much needed, sleep. After an hour, we decided it was time to hit the road and make use of the daylight. Wandering down the highway with the great (read: terrible) instructions from mountain project, we made it to the trail head after a few wrong turns, loaded up, and began the 45 minute walk to the base of the climb. Halfway up, we find the marker for the cut off trail, read the description to verify…and realize we’re on the wrong trail.
Smashing.
Walking back to the truck, we realize this is going to be one heck of an adventure if we can’t even find the right trail. But thanks to offline maps, we we’re far from the real trail head. A 10 minute drive and again we were off, this time on the right trail! Again, part way up, we found the markers and the cut off trail. Hiking up the long steep trail, our legs were burning, the sun beating down on us; we were exhausted and haven’t even made it to the climb yet. Looking up to gauge how much further to go we realize we’re on the hike down trail from the top of the climb.
Smashing…again.
Back down the trail to the cut off and on, we were sure this was the right way. Absolutely sure, 100% positive, this was it! Thankfully, it was, and as we neared the start of the climb, we looked down the canyon we were hiking up only to see the initial trail we had tried. The more you know. Further following the terrible instructions, we scrambled up a quarter mile gully filled with choss, lose rocks on a steep slope. It was not a pleasurable hike/scramble. Finally, we made it to the base of the climb…we think. Not really sure since the instructions just petered off and there were no clear markers, but it looked good enough.
Current time: 1130. Right on schedule! Hungry from all the hiking, we stopped to have a fabulous cliff bar lunch before our ascent. The first two pitches were more class 3 hiking than anything, but a few piece of protection placed just to get the feeling back and give Max some experience removing pieces for when the real climbing started. Slowly meandering up the arete, the wind started to get vicious.
At each belay station I was finding a place to huddle in the rocks to escape even part of it. With just a t-shirt and the sun behind looming dark clouds, we were a few hundred feet up on the side of a cliff with raging wind all around. It was cold, I was miserable, and we kept pushing on, hoping that the weather report for zero rain held true. At one point I was violently shivering when Max showed up, and thanks to some emergency dried pineapple, my spirits rose enough to get us out of there. Slowly we made it up, pitch by pitch until we came to a gully that could be hiked out of, and safely put us at the top to hike down. It was within reach, and we could feel the satisfaction that we had made it, a few hiccups, but still made it!
Or not.
Looking around, the hike down was far from where we were…very far. It was game time, we had to get to the top of a ridge that was far away, safely, and hike down. Slowly we began bushwhacking our way in what looked like the best direction. Meandering up and down the summit gullies, choss piles, and hoping nothing decided we looked like dinner. We made it to another summit point! But it was even worse than the first one. A quick game plan said that the visible gully way off yander was out best bet, and we could see that it was guaranteed safety. Getting there, wasn’t.
After more scrambling on mossy rock just a few feet from rolling cliff lines, we made it to the final traverse to the golden gully. But it was a doozy. Opting to tie in to the rope, and place gear for safety was our brilliant idea that was more of a mental back up than a legitimate safety, but it was the best we could do with the tools we had. Slowly making our way over, I hear a buzzing, but ignore it. Max then informs me that there’s a ground hornet next a few inches from my feet right as they begin to sting me.
I quickly get out of there, and Max manages to have a gust of wind give him his break. Calm and collected, we keep moving forward, the top of that gully our only objective. With another choss pile to slowly go up and a small bit of climbing, we made it. We actually made it!
HALLELUJAH!
We were safe! The sun was still up, the hike down nothing we hadn’t done before (oops) and thoroughly exhausted, we began the slow hike down. Again more bushwhacking was needed as there didn’t appear to be any actual trail that was more than 10 feet from the cliff line. Since we had already narrowly escaped death, the further from the cliffs was the better. Thankfully we didn’t look like dinner to anything on the hike down, and managed to make it back to the car at 830 pm. Just as we had planned.
Home wasn’t too far, and with a delicious meal in our famished bellies, sleep was easier to find than a Starbucks in New York City. A good day indeed.
