25 Miles To Nowhere

Yet another harebrained scheme of mine, also known as an adventure run to bag another insignificant local peak in the Boise Mountains.

Date: June 24, 2017.

Objective: Gardiner Peak elevation 6,500ft.

Stats: 25.2 miles and 4,990ft of gain round trip. Class 1. Strava track.

Partners: N/A.

Links: See Super Daves report for a better description of hiking the peak.

Gear notes: Self supported runs at this distance are tricky because you leave the trail head carying everything you'll have. That's the long way of saying 2 liters of water was slightly not enough.

Gardiner Peak is another one of those peaks where the drive is longer and probably more difficult than the hike itself. I was looking to run about 18 miles but no more than 20, but when I mapped out this route, it looked to be about 22 round trip. I had already missed a key long run a couple of weeks before so I was definitely a little under trained for this distance at this current point in time. I had also wanted to check out the Mahalo Trail, which would add a few more miles than I needed. I decided to go with the primary objective of tagging Gardiner Peak and getting in those 20+ miles as I work up to marathon-plus distance during this training cycle. I figured I could feel it out after tagging the peak and add a few more miles if I felt up for it. I kept a conservative pace and just kept moving forward. Other than stopping to fiddle with the GoPro, that is.

The trail out to Gardiner was overgrown but not hard to find and stay on. There were a few open areas that provided a nice view all the way to the edge of the Sawtooths. At the saddle just west of the peak, I found a small break in the brush that lead to a faint trail to the top with minimal bushwhacking. There was a cairn and a register at the highpoint, but no rewarding view. Lots of flies cut my time at the top short and soon I was at the junction for the Mahalo Trail. Deep down inside I knew it was a lousy idea, but I went for it. The climb out was steep in places and mostly shaded but still reduced me to hiking. Its a beautiful trail with some fun terrain. Running back down the ridge road was hot and dusty. Descending into Shingle Creek was hot and I had a couple of stops to cool off and splash some water on my face. I'm a total wuss in the heat so I took the last few miles as slow as I needed to.

Shaky GoPro video below.

Happy trails!

Couch Peak

We took a casual and scenic stroll up Couch Peak in the Soldier Mountains.

Date: June 17, 2017.

Objective: Couch Peak aka Elk Ridge 8,551ft.

Stats: 6.4 miles and 2,339ft gain in 5:40 round trip. Class 1/2.

Partners: Deez and Ketchum.

Gear Notes: N/A.

Links: Big Dan's report with driving directions. Splattski's hike.

Couch Peak, aka Elk Ridge from the road. The summit is the second point from the right.

I was looking for a peak that was close to town that wouldn't be too hard to cram into a half day trip. Since Big Dan and Splattski have pretty much done every peak I've ever looked at doing, it didn't take long to dig up some great beta on Couch Peak. I figured that the views would be pretty fantastic since the summit was a USGS triangulation station. The only other criteria I set for this hike is that I did not want to have to use the words post-hole or bushwhack to describe it. We crossed our fingers and set out with a promising weather forecast and a sub-alpine start.

Smoky Mountains with Big Peak on the left.

Wells Summit parking area.

We left the small parking area at Wells Summit just before 11am. The views were already proving to be worth the visit.

First section of trail.

The fist mile was a little steep and rocky but the trail was obvious.

Looking toward Fairfield.

Wild flowers.

A few snow patches lingered and the wild flowers were in bloom which added to the scenery.

Ridge to the summit.

The route headed north along the ridge so we were never without a fine view and a slight breeze to cool us off.

Smoky Dome in the Soldier Mountains.

 The main crest of the Soldiers was visible.

Ups-and-down-agains.

We bypassed some of the up-and-down-again stuff where it made sense too. Most of the time, we just stuck to the trail.

Looking northeast over the valley.

In addition to the fine views in every direction, we also got a nice peek into the Pioneer Mountain's as we discussed our plans for a trip into Big Basin, just a month and a half away.

False summit.

After passing the last hill on the ridge, the true summit was not much farther. The high point was obvious and had some type of radio equipment on it.

Deez on the snow.

Deez and Ketchum almost to the top.

Summit 360 Video

Summit of Couch Peak.

Pioneer Mountains from the summit.

After sitting down to a nice break and some lunch on (the) Couch, we started down with the intent of cutting out as much uphill hiking as we could. The small lingering snowfield made for some fun low angle boot skiing to shave a few minutes off the descent.

Ketchum enjoying the view.

Deez on descent,

Looking back on the route.

For being a small peak not far from Boise, its a very pleasant hike with great views and an alpine feel to it. There was one last big hill we had to go up and over to avoid a terrain trap that would be quite costly. Then the flies came out for the hot and steep 900+ foot descent of the initial rocky section just above the parking area; the days only minor disappointment.

Up and over, one last time.

Big Peak.

I'll admit that I spent a fair amount of time staring at Big Peak in the Smoky Mountains. It beckoned me the whole day and now I have another peak to add to the very, very long list of peaks I want to do. Not that its a bad thing, but you know, time...

Happy trails!

Shut Down On McGown

We took a shot at climbing the famous North Couloir on McGown Peak in the Sawtooth Range.

Date: June 3, 2017.

Partners: Josh and Mark.

Objective: McGown Peak 9,860ft.

Stats: 8.5 miles and 2,400ft gain in 8.5hrs round trip. Snow climb up to 50 degrees. Strava track.

Gear notes: Carried rope and pickets that we never used. Should have brought chest high waders and/or a raft.

Links: Idaho: A Climbing Guide.

McGown Peak in the morning.

Josh and I set out from Boise at 3am to rendezvous with Mark at the Stanley Lake trail head at 6. We had seen that another group had great conditions on Peak 9,115 a week before, but we knew that didn't mean jack to us. I wasn't sure if we could even reach the base of the peak and realized I didn't have a plan B if that was the case.

The adventure begins when you don't know what will happen next.

No matter; we were there and we were all in. We wore shoes for the approach hike since we planned on there being some standing water on the trail. Well, there was a lot of it. We waded calf deep in the frigid water, in the crisp morning air, headed for our peak.

Along the trail.

We found the creek crossing of Stanley Lake Creek with little trouble because it was wide and raging. As we poked around looking for a way over it that might keep us dry, we were burning up precious time. If we were going to cross the creek to the other side, we knew we'd have to do it again on the way back.

We're already all in, why not go balls deep.

It was a matter of desire at that point and we still wanted a crack at our peak. After stripping down to our skivvies, I went across the raging torrent first. Half way across and not too bad, then I found a deep channel on the far side that dropped me a bit more than waist deep and snagged my trekking pole. A bit startling, yes. Mission critical, no.

Then Mark and Josh made it across. We were soggy and cold but we quickly righted ourselves and continued walking, err... wading down the, 'eh-hem... trail.

Switching out soggy shoes for dry boots.

So there we were; at the base of the peak. At the point where our route left the trail we switched out our soggy shoes for dry socks and boots. What I hoped would take us a little more than an hour had taken almost three, but we weren't ready to throw in the towel yet. We still had about 3,000 feet to climb to reach the summit and I figured we'd make good time once we hit the snow. 1,500 feet per hour seemed tough, but certainly not out of the question.

Finally gaining some elevation.

We left the trail and headed up the gully to reach the snow field at the base of the couloir. This section was steep, but at least it was above water. It slowed us down a little, but we were still going to give it all we had. Once we hit continuous snow our pace picked up a bit. My toes had felt cold, but now they felt numb; not good. I did get the feeling back fairly quick. It must have been a bad combo of cold feet in cold boots laced too tight.

Approaching the snow field.

The hike to the upper snow field was a welcome change of terrain, pace and scenery.

Josh in front of McGown Peak.

We got to the base of the couloir at 11am. My best-case scenario had us high-fiving on the summit about now. The consensus was we would head up as far as we could. We were feeling good and hoped the snow would be firm up the couloir. Climbing up 45 degree mashed potatoes made our crampons useless and our legs tired.

Leading up to the Couloir, Photo: Josh S.

When we reached the shade of the couloir, the snow was still too soft and the day was only getting warmer. The sun would eventually be on the already sloppy snow.

Mark (left) and Josh (right) pause for a moment before turning back.

Booting up the soft snow was one thing, but cracks in the snow were another. They weren't shooting cracks under our weight; they were horizontal across the whole slope above us. There was no way I could justify climbing above them, only to descend the same slope later in the day.

Close up of the crack. Photo: Josh S.

Cracks and cornice's.

That was our high point of the day. Right at the base of the couloir with the best part of the climb still above us.

Stanley Lake.

Nothing left to do but survey the scene before heading down.

Mark taking pictures before heading down.

Josh heading down.

Plunge stepping and glissading back to the trees was a bit of a relief. At least we knew what lied ahead from that point on. We descended though old avalanche debris and mature trees that were snapped like toothpicks.

Descending.

Back at the trail, we put on our walking/wading shoes and steamed full speed ahead for the car. The spot of the creek crossing on the way back was not near as bad, or as cold as the first. We kept our pants on and plowed right through in anticipation of cold beer and dry clothes at the car.

Mark crosses the creek.

Hiking out.

The trail was actually pretty easy to find; just look for the running water.

Mark post-holing into the creek.

Mark was wondering what post-holing in the water would be like and his suspicions were soon put to rest.

Log hopping.

Mark, Josh and I soldered through the long, wet, cold and sloppy slog back to the parking lot. Nothing else to do but grin, bear it and crack a joke or two.

Wild flowers along the trail.

You'd think it would be easy to complain at this point, with the tough conditions, no summit and all; but no one ever did. Back at the car, we enjoyed a couple of cold one's and changed wardrobe. No worse for wear and all smiles. And a few mosquito bites, too.

McGown close up. Our route was the obvious finger of snow up the middle of the peak.

This was Type II fun, no doubt. You could classify it as Type III, but we did enjoy it. The adventure means more than the summit. In the end, the mountains always win and that's the way it should be.

McGown from the road.

Someday I'll be back to finish it off. Timing was the piece of the puzzle that we were missing.

Happy trails!