Livingston, Montana

Dear friends-

It’s been quite some time since I last posted, but the project is not dead!

I spent the first week of October in a cabin near Livingston Peak, at the north-east corner of the Absaroka-Beartooth wilderness area. This is the area known to Dave as the Crow Mountains - the location of his third hike. The wilderness area was officially declared in 1978, the year after “In the Shining Mountains” was released.

It’s a strikingly beautiful area. In October, the valleys and low lands are bone-dry grasses and dust surrounded by rocky mountain peaks already bearing patches of snow. Separating the two is a thick band of conifers, dense and dark. It’s a spectacular but terribly wild area.

Looking north near Livingston Peak towards the Crazy Mountains

Looking north near Livingston Peak towards the Crazy Mountains

Dave’s third hike began at Slough Creek trailhead in Yellowstone, and ended somewhere in the Boulder River drainage. Despite my research I’m not confident about his exact path for the last days of the hike - much of his time was spent off-trail, and the details he gives will be impossible to verify except by a hiker on the ground. However, the exact route is probably unimportant as long as I follow the path of least resistance north along the ridges above the Boulder River. The fact that the route crosses a number of deep drainages helps explain why Dave didn’t move too fast through the area.

Some light reading…

Some light reading…

Into the Bitterroots!

A quick update from Missoula, Montana: I leave in 15 minutes to begin the final leg of my driving journey to the Selway River and the Bitterroot mountains.

After much research, thinking, and training, I have prepared a 40-pound pack to spend 9 nights / 10 days on the trail. Roughly 20 pounds of that is food, water, and fuel. I hope to cover at least 10 miles per day.

My planned itinerary is as follows:
June 5, 6: Hike from Selway Falls Campground to Moose Creek ranger station along the Selway River
June 7, 8, 9: Continue to Moose Lake along East Fork Moose Creek
June 10, 11, 12: Back to ranger station
June 13, 14: Back to trailhead
June 15: Drive back to Missoula

For most of the trail, my emergency fallback will be the Moose Creek ranger station. Close to Moose Lake it may be easier to proceed north to Elk Summit guard station - although I will first verify with the local rangers that it is staffed at this time of year!

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Not the Bitterroots! Photo courtesy Cori Storb

Not the Bitterroots! Photo courtesy Cori Storb

On this day in 1977...

On April 25, Dave Thomson took his first steps away from Selway Falls, heading east into the wilderness towards Lost Horse Pass. He carried a 45-pound pack of necessities inspired by the mountain men: flour, jerky, honey, rice, a rifle. His pack was heavy and his legs were not accustomed to the trail, but there is no doubt about how he felt.

“And up the Selway River in the springtime, long footsteps and a light heart, taking in the power of that river for the first time... I was high all morning with being on the way, the river, walking into the flush of spring, under the High‑Water moon.”
— David Thomson, In the Shining Mountains. pp 63, 65

So why am I not also in the mountains today? As it turns out, Dave’s 1977 hike coincided with the lowest snow year since modern records have been kept in the Bitterroots. On his starting date, there were 19.70 inches snow-water equivalent (swe) on the ground at Lost Horse Pass. Today there are 39.80 inches snow-water equivalent. Until this snow melts down at least to the 1977 level, I will get turned around even earlier than Dave did.

I plan to monitor the snow level until it approaches 20” before starting my hike. Referencing the typical snowpack curve, this may not be until early June. Unfortunately this creates a conflict between two goals for the trip: is it more important to hike in early season? Or is it more important to try to cross the divide?

Snow level. Black is 2019. Red line shows level on April 25, 1977.

Snow level. Black is 2019. Red line shows level on April 25, 1977.

Re-entry

If there's a single feeling I took home from the Grand Canyon, it's this: silence. For 25 days the cacophony of the modern world was irrelevant - no cell phone, no internet, no news, and only the river and the company of 15 wonderful humans to occupy my mind. When I had free time, I would just sit and look at the world around me. A world of rock and sunlight, of water and the signs of water.

For those 25 glorious days we rose with the sun, spent most of the day in light but continuous exercise moving to the next camp or exploring side canyons, enjoyed dinner and some social time, and then went to bed as darkness fell.

If I woke in the night, I would see familiar stars above me and then go back to sleep rocked by the cradle of the water beneath the raft. Each night we camped in a new place but I never felt the dislocation that's natural when sleeping in hotels or couch-surfing.

When we met another group, we greeted them as friends and fellow travelers - cheering them on, exchanging plans, and even sharing supplies if necessary. For most of the time we saw no one except ravens and canyon wrens.

The experience was of a small tribe moving through the wilds under our own power and without outside support. An illusion naturally, since all of our gear and food had been carefully prepared for us by an outfitter. But for all of my skepticism about evolutionary psychology, this tribal situation felt absolutely and completely right for my mind and my body.

Sadly I spent the first half of the trip carrying the stress of my previous life with me - a world in which one's best effort is never enough. Eventually I came to hear the message of my tribe: relax and enjoy. Take each day as it comes. Lead or follow as appropriate. Forgive.

I'm back in the "real world" again but I feel like a stone skipping over the surface of a pond. I look normal, I act normal, but inside I struggle against assimilation. As the experience fades into memory, I'm scared that the lessons will slip away before I can integrate them into my life. But perhaps that's still the old Marc talking.

If you’d like to join me on my next Grand Canyon trip, get in touch! I’m already working on getting a permit for next time.

Finally relaxed on day 24. Photo courtesy Aurora Roth (auroraroth.com)

Finally relaxed on day 24. Photo courtesy Aurora Roth (auroraroth.com)

Into the Grand Canyon

Tomorrow night I will be camped on the bank of the Grand Canyon, the first of the 25 days it will take to raft the length of the canyon. I was invited on this trip almost two years ago, and have been preparing for it for months. I will be out of communication until the beginning of April.

To save money, I moved out of my apartment at the end of February and will be nomadic until the weather turns cold again next winter.

Many changes, much excitement.

Wish me luck.

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