Thoroughly exhausted from the backpacking trip and getting home extremely late, we decided to get up early. Kidding. We slept in, and it was glorious. A relaxing morning playing with Samuel (Max’s 2 year old nephew) and we went off to run some errands. First stop was the local REI to snag a climbing harness for Kristin, and pick up a guide book on the area. Mountain Project wasn’t exactly helpful. With a harness in tow, but no book, we got the low down from an employee who pointed us to two book stores that might have it. One of them was next to a pancake parlor.
The Book Exchange, located next to Paul’s Pancake Parlor, was stop number two. Of course we got some pancakes for a 2 pm breakfast before scouring the bookstore to see what was available. Nothing. We then headed over to option number two, Barnes and Noble. As luck would have it, they too did not have the book. With 4 hours killed, and it nearly dinner time, we snagged the Mountain Project data, and headed towards a crag the employee from REI had told us about.
An easy approach along a river, and up a quick scramble up some large boulders and we made it, probably. There were two bolt lines, and we went for the one that looked easier, supposedly a 5.10a. Max, eager to lead another route, made the first go. With a high first bolt, it was a little sketchy, but he made it no problem. Solid rest spots abound, he slowly made it up, bolt by bolt until he hit the crux, and couldn’t pull it. But a solid commit made for a great clean fall. I went up to hang the anchors, but not with some difficulty myself. Not climbing as much and I’m a bit out of shape.
Kristin was last to go on top rope since it was her first time climbing not only on real rock, but also on a rope. Max had taught her the basic eight knot a few days prior, and she had promptly forgotten it. With a quick refresh, she was on the wall. The concept of searching with your hands for a hold, not the colored tape, a bit foreign to her, she made it to the first bolt with ease before calling it quits. Not bad for a first timer, especially one who’s afraid of heights. I climbed it a final time to clean gear, and we called it a day, still exhausted and running out of daylight.
On the way home we picked up a few adult beverages to relax with for the evening. Hanging with the family over a delicious dinner and a movie, we went off to be quiet and tip a few back. Kristin’s flight was at 5am, and we were just going to stay up and drink until it was time to leave.
That was a terrible plan.
After fun drinking games, and a lot of dead soldiers laying around, the clock struck 2, and we realized no one was in shape to drive. Woops. A slurred call to the airline, and the flight was adjusted to the following Monday. Free to continue partying, we decided to pass out as it was late. We were drunk and tired.
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Waking up fine, Kristin and I went up to play with Sam. Unfortunately the same could not be said for Max. Though we had consumed the same amount, his body wasn’t nearly as ok with it as mine, and he was hanging. Hard. Sauntering around and tending to him, we took an impromptu rest day. A real rest day.
I didn’t do any work, photos or writing. We simply entertained Sam, watched some movies, and full on relaxed. A welcome anomaly from the fast pace I’d been going at for nearly a month, it was thoroughly enjoyed. To simply melt into a couch, completely disconnected from the world (no cell signal or internet) and just enjoy the day. It was definitely needed. We did try to be semi-productive, and I taught Max and Kristin how to ascend a rope on prussic knots, but that was about it for the day.
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Earlier in the week, Max had thrown out the idea of hiking Lolo Peak, the nearest high point, on Sunday if we had energy. Neither he nor Kristin did, but I was still determined to do so. A little bit of research on Kristin’s phone, since she was the only one with reception at the house, and I felt prepared enough to make it. A well-traveled trail, I expected it to be marked and easy to find.
Pro tip: don’t go into the woods without a map.
I awoke to a silent house. Sneaking around to wash up and head out, it was a half hour drive up a winding 1.2 lane dirt road. Thankfully it was early enough that no one was coming the other direction. Slowly making it up, careful not to abuse my car too bad, she’s not made for this kind of stuff. The trail head was easy to find, and the trail looked solid, could probably ride a bike or run on it. A swap of shoes and I set off into foggy trail to test my luck.
It felt good to hike solo again. I could go at my own pace, stop whenever, and sight see as much as I desired. Unfortunately there weren’t many sights to see, as a thick fog had surrounded the area, and made visibility beyond 30 feet impossible. I was physically and mentally hiking in my own bubble.
Five miles in, and a trail runner zipped by me, yelling back that at the lake I only had 1000 vertical to go and I’d make it. Sweet, except for the fact that I had no idea where to go. I made it to the lake, but with zero signs and a thick fog, I was lost. A map would have been nice. I spent the next hour wandering the shore of the lake, finding foot prints from humans and animals, as well as a set of bike tread prints. Following them they all disappeared at different points around the lake. No visible trail could be found. Even with the clouds parting ways for a few minutes, I couldn’t see anything.
With an hour killed, I knew my window of opportunity had closed, and I needed to get back in time to do something else with the day. It takes a strong person to summit, it takes a stronger person to admit that they cannot summit, and turn back, even when it is close.
I completed my lap around the lake, and headed back, the trail back easy to find as I had already done it, and it was well marked. About half way back, another trail runner zipped by me, saying he saw me from the summit. I didn’t even see the summit! Dashing by, he replied that some bush-whacking was required to find the trail. Well, that explains why I couldn’t find it.
A few more parties passed, on their way up, along with a group of mountain bikers slowly pedaling up. That takes something I don’t have, as it was 4 miles of pure uphill before any kind of downhill started. I finished the hike and made it back to the house around 2 pm. With 11 miles under my belt, I felt fine. A quick meal, and we set off for the climbing gym this time, as it was easier to find, and the fog had made all the local rock too wet to climb.
We stayed there till our arms fell tired, which didn’t take long, picked up Max’s sister from work, and headed home to a relaxing evening. The following two days comprised of resting, some errands and catching up on all the worked I’d missed in the past week. Calling friends and family to let them know I was alive, and not on fire in Glacier. Slowing down to organize my thoughts, words, and photos was a welcome change, and recalling how great the past two weeks had been. But, my time in Montana was at a close, and it was a great time indeed.
