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June 11, 2007

A Weekend In The Beartooth Mountains

I could write for quite some time with flowery prose about the beauty of the Beartooth Mountains. However, nothing I would write could do justice to that which I experienced this weekend. So, I will simply say: the Beartooth Mountains in Montana are jaw-droppingly spectacular and you must go there sometime in your lifetime.

I am told that the Beartooth Mountains cover 3000 square miles of the earth. The majority of the range is composed of tall, above-treeline mountains and plateaus, as well as deep, steep, glacier-carved canyons. Glaciers sit high on the mountain peaks and some say there are dozens of still unmapped alpine lakes. It is wilderness in its truest form, with most of it wholly untouched by humans.

Thursday

Despite last week's snowstorm and resultant road closures, my sweetie and I decided to go ahead with our weekend in the Beartooth Mountains, and we took the long way around to get there. At sunset on Thursday evening, we found ourselves bumping up the dirt road into East Rosebud Canyon, one of the main drainages on the east side of the Beartooth Mountains. The road ends at a small lake called East Rosebud Lake, and we camped at a forest service campground there.

The snowstorm had abated and the skies were clear, but there were remnants of the winter weather. Snow covered the mountains around us and a bitter wind blew down the valley. We set up camp, cooked dinner, and retreated to the tent as efficiently as we could. I slept long, hard, and completely unaware of the world around me after 9 days of sleep deprivation and challenging 12-hour shifts at work.

Friday

We woke up the next day to a beautiful Friday morning. There was almost no one else in the canyon, so it was completely quiet, except for a moderate breeze. We took our time, lounged around, cooked a hearty breakfast, and generally relaxed the morning away.

Around 1 pm, we set out for a planned 2 to 3 hour run up one of the smaller side canyons that feeds into the gargantuan East Rosebud Canyon. I don't know what the canyon is called, but the trail roughly follows Phantom Creek. The trail begins at about 6100 feet elevation and tops out at a pass at about 9800 feet elevation. From there, it drops into the next big canyon to the north. Because this trail rises steeply into the mountains and likely into the snow leftover from the previous few days of bad weather, we didn't know how far we would make it.

From the trailhead, the route immediately switchbacks 1000 vertical feet up a glacial moraine, which fills the bottom of this side canyon and allows Phantom Creek to cascade steeply downhill. The grade was perfect for running and we made our way quickly to the top of the moraine. From there, the trail edges around one canyon wall for several miles, climbing gently as it goes. Before we knew it, we arrived in the back of the canyon, at about 7700 feet elevation, staring up at the pass over which the trail climbs. It was clear that the pass was impassable. We could see that, not only was it still covered with a giant cornice created by a long winter of wind and snow, but also by a fair bit of new snow from the last snowstorm. Additionally, there we a few slide-outs of the new snow over old snow.

However, at 7700 feet elevation, we had not yet encountered snow, so we continued uphill on a long series of well-graded and entirely runnable switchbacks through a forest. At 8000 feet elevation, we encountered snow. At 8500 feet elevation, the snow was continuous and a few inches deep. At 8900 feet elevation, it was truly winter again, and our running was reduced to a post-holing hike. We kept saying that we would turn around, yet we both kept climbing uphill. The trees were thinning out as we approached the treeline and we were seeking the big view that would be our reward for all the climbing. At 9500 feet, we got the view we were looking for, and it was spectacular!

There, we finally turned around, as it was becoming unsafe to proceed ahead. The weather was iffy, with darker clouds, rain drops, snowflakes, and a stiff wind, for us in our nearly naked (not literally, but in a mountain-climbing sense) trail running attire. The trail was headed straight into the treeless, snowy, and still dangerous abyss beneath the pass. We had only brought fuel for a 2 to 3 hour run, and we were now 3 hours into our jaunt.

We donned windbreaker jackets and picked our way carefully downhill through the snow. Soon we were out of the snow and running again. The trail was smooth, soft, clear, and just perfect for running. We were within sight of the trailhead before we knew it. We were pushing hard at a good clip, but I was feeling the lack of fuel. I tripped hard over some rock that I never even saw, let out a yelp, and proceeded into a series of stumble steps. Somehow, by the grace of some omnipotent power and certainly not my own, I never actually fell down. Thank goodness because it wouldn't have been pretty to go face-first into the nasty, rocky, sharp glacial moraine that surrounded the trail. What an interesting ending to an interesting run! We arrived back at the campsite after about 4:40 time out running.

We spent the evening refueling and relaxing. We cooked dinner, made a campfire, watched day turn into night in East Rosebud Canyon, and fell asleep under a clear, star-filled sky.

Saturday

We awoke to a warm, sunny morning. The plan for today was to run the trail up East Rosebud Canyon. We set out in the late morning, headed up the canyon. East Rosebud Canyon is an absolutely huge, glacier-carved canyon that descends steeply out of the high Beartooth Mountains. Every few miles, a glacial moraine of some sort chokes the canyon. Behind the moraine, the East Rosebud River naturally dams itself into a lake. Through the moraines, the river cascades quickly and steeply downhill. As such, the canyon is made up of a series of quiet lakes seperated by loud, boisterous, fast-moving river cascades.

We headed up the canyon from East Rosebud Lake. It was 3 miles and 700 feet elevation gain to the next lake, Elk Lake. The climb was gentle, but I could feel yesterday's run (both general fatigue and the muscle destruction that comes from running without appropriate fuel) in my legs. From Elk Lake, it was 3 miles and 700-800 more vertical feet to Rimrock Lake. Then, Rainbow Lake was just another mile and a few hundred vertical feet above Rimrock Lake. Rainbow Lake was our destination and turnaround point.

The run up through the canyon was unreal. The canyon walls were unforgivingly steep and laced with waterfalls. We could see mountain goats high above us, and I stared in awe at how they could place themselves so precariously high on cliff faces. The river flowed through the cascades with a deafening roar that made conversation impossible. Contrastingly, the 4 lakes were quiet, calm, and peaceful. We took our time and tried to absorb every little detail that we could.

After sitting briefly at Rainbow Lake, we headed back downhill. I was happy to feel that, despite feeling fatigue while running uphill, I still had my downhill legs. So, we returned the 7 miles to the trailhead at a tough but sustainable clip. It was actually downright hot by the time we got back to the car! In all, we were out just under 3 hours.

We took our dirty, sweaty, hungry selves into the little town of Red Lodge, MT, which sits near the foothills of the Beartooth Mountains. There, we indulged for the evening in a nice hotel and some gourmet food.

Sunday

On Sunday, we planned to cycle from the town of Red Lodge up the infamous Beartooth Highway to the Beartooth Pass. This highway climbs from 5500 feet elevation at Red Lodge up to the top of the Beartooth Mountains at 10,900 feet elevation over about 28 miles of paved road.

I didn't make it. In fact, I'm embarrassed to say that I turned around at 7500 feet elevation. I wasn't even close to making it. We climbed for 2000 feet up a canyon that served as a wind funnel, and the headwind was stiff. There was a lot of tourist traffic and almost no shoulder. On the other side of the guardrails on the edge of the road, there were multi-hundred foot cliffs. The weather was chilly, and promised to get even colder up high. I just felt unsafe.

My sweetie, who is a much more talented and experienced cyclist, decided to continue on. We agreed that I would ride back to Red Lodge, pick up the car, and head out the Beartooth Highway until we met up again. My 2000 foot descent back into Red Lodge with a huge tailwind was fast and easy. I ended up with about 2 hours of riding time. I loaded up my bike and headed out the highway. A time later, I found my sweetie at about 10,100 feet elevation and a few miles below the pass, riding uphill into a constant wind of at least 40 mph. It was still a violent winter up there! My sweetie said he was glad to see me and he happliy jumped into the car. He ended up with more than 3 hours of riding time, all climbing.

As a side note, I don't like being schooled by something. I don't like setting out to do something and then not doing it. I'm already plotting my revenge on the Beartooth Highway. I will ride the highway this summer, so stay tuned.

Our weekend ended on Sunday night when we returned back to my house in Yellowstone. To be honest, I was exhausted (but elated) after this weekend, and I slept for 12 hours on Sunday night! By the way, my sweetie took a bunch of pictures, and I'll try to post some here this week.

Posted by Meghan at June 11, 2007 11:04 AM

Comments

Posted by: backofpack at June 11, 2007 9:02 PM

Posted by: JeffO at June 12, 2007 11:34 AM

Posted by: bridget at June 12, 2007 5:46 PM

Posted by: Beth at June 12, 2007 7:39 PM

Posted by: anne at June 17, 2007 2:34 PM

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