The Legends Packraft the South Flathead(MT)

     As is our habit, our crew planned one blow-out trip this year. A reunion of sorts that is open to as many as possible. Due to a move, a deployment, and an impending marriage, this time it was just three of us. The Scopas and I on a packrafting trip in Montana's Bob Marshall Wilderness. We planned multiple trip options to be decided upon when I arrived in Great Falls. We needed to have good(enough) water for our 7 day, 6 night trip. Our likely candidates were the South Fork of the Flathead and the South Fork of the Sun.

     Plan A was start at Lodgepole TH on the south side, hike to Youngs Creek, float to White River then hump back over White River Pass. Then we could have floated out to Gibson Reservoir on the Sun River. Plan B was to start at Benchmark TH hiking over Observation Pass to Danaher Creek, floating down to the Flathead and back out over White River Pass or Larch Hill Pass. These were ambitious for us. My packrafting experience is limited and it had been several years since I carried a 30+ pound pack. Not to mention that any altitude over 6000ft. seems to upset my stomach. 

     The trip got off to a halting start as my initial flight was delayed and I ended up arriving 7 hours late, and to Helena, not Great Falls. Thank you Delta. While I was enjoying a 4 hour layover in Minneapolis, Amanda sent me some links about fires in the Benchmark area. As we looked at the maps, we realized that it was back to the drawing board. Now our shuttles would have to drive a lot farther on both ends. Think adding 3 hours each way to an already 2 hour drive. Yuck. 

     After perusing the maps all afternoon in the airport and about 4 hours in Scopa's living room, we made a decision. In at Lodgepole Creek TH, over Youngs Pass to Youngs Creek, hoping to float from a trail crossing 1 mile down from Hahn ranger station. Then 3+ days on the South Fork of the Flathead, walking back out over the Swan Range to the west at Wire TH. Projected mileage about 19 miles on foot, 64 on water, and 19 miles back out on foot. This would make it my longest backcountry trip. The entire South Fork on my boat's maiden voyage! This is surely the stuff of legend.

Day 1:

     Andy dropped us off at the Lodgepole Creek TH about 1:00 P.M. on Sunday, August 5th. After a departure photo, we took to trail with relish. My 33.75 lb. pack wasn't that bad after all. My phobia for carrying heavy weights kept me lighter than even Amanda. Sure, it could have been lighter, but this was the perfect trip to test my MLD Trailstar.

     The trail up to Youngs Pass is wide and easy to follow. It's an area that has burned in the last several years so there was no shade for those first 4 miles. Despite this, it was still very pretty due to the abundance of purple Fireweed blooms. And even though it was nearly 90F,  it didn't feel bad to a southerner like me. Youngs Pass itself is very wide so it didn't feel like I'd accomplished much when we rested atop. Amanda stripped one foot to discover that a hot spot was really a torn open blister. Bad start for her! Scopa taped her up and we moved down into the valley following Jenny Creek for the next 5 miles or so until camping at the first flat spot we came to. There was a group of about 18 right next to Youngs Creek so we kept our distance. 

Day 2:

     Up with the Sun and onward within 2 hours(I know, I know). Our goal was to walk the 9 miles to Hahn cabin and floatable water by early afternoon. The pace was decent but poor Amanda was having issues with her heel. Her faithful husband piggybacked her across about 6 water crossings that day while I carried her pack. Keeping her foot dry was tough that day. Several hours after lunch we arrived at Hahn to find it shut up. We had hoped for fire updates. Oh well,  the only indication we saw was haze on the mountaintops north of us in the valley. Within a mile of Hahn we found floatable water. Time to inflate our vessels.

     The water was clear and beautiful. We dragged more than I would have enjoyed, but it was a pleasant, breezy day. There were probably 20 fly fishermen on the banks that afternoon in the next 5 miles. It didn't bother me, just surprised me. After all, it was about 14 miles to the nearest trailhead. There were some slight rapids in this section. It was good practice in boat handling. At higher water it would have been VERY interesting. We paddled a lot more than expected and exited our boats to pass by shallows a lot. Eventually we came to the confluence with Danaher Creek to find a half dozen other inflatables. There was a 2-man NRS, multiple Sevylor inflatable kayaks, and one Sotar Kayak. We talked with a great group of guys there. A couple even took our Alpackas for test paddles. Their jaws dropped when I told them our total pack weights were 33-37 lbs. The Sotar alone weighed more than that!

     We set up camp on the east side of the Flathead, enjoying our freezer bag cooking. I played with some new rice sides. The Scopas ate much better than I for the entire trip. Maybe I'm too lazy to prepare good menus. 

Day 3:

     Up at dawn again, and paddling the mighty Flathead. We were very excited at this point. The valley was wide and gorgeous mountain vistas surrounded us. We made steady progress for less than half an hour before the first of several portages around logjams. It was an amazing sight to see all those long, straight pines stacked up like pick-em-up sticks in the river's bends. At least the boats weren't heavy like a canoe or kayak! After dragging most of the morning I actually said,"that's it, I'm done. I'm selling my boat. How disappointing." I guess I'm a baby about stuff like that. It was so frustrating to go so far away from home and have an experience just like my first canoe trip nearly 30 years ago. 

     Have no fear. After lunch ate those words. The water deepened and picked up speed. It was a dramatic change. We would find that each afternoon would be better than each morning. And each morning would be better than the previous afternoon. This river just gets better and better. Selecting lines is a skill that needs practice for a would-be packrafter. My skills are admittedly weak. This was only my third trip in a packraft anyway. Come to think about it, that's about all the Kayak experience I had as well. A lifetime in 2-man canoes doesn't prepare you for this. Scopa did a good job of providing mentorship without offending my notably prickly pride. Learning to ride wave trains and avoid holes helped a bit. Heck, I hadn't even known what gimbal meant. 

     We camped just after passing a spit rail fence on our left that was Salmon Forks Ranger cabin. Our camp area was a narrow shelf on the east side of the river. Scopa hung the bear bag while Amanda and I set up camp. We were done with plenty of daylight left. After eating, I relaxed by my tent and watched Scopa flyfish in the distance. It really is beautiful to watch. Too bad I don't fish. 

Day 4:

      The river beckoned us earlier this day. We wanted to get past Meadow Creek Gorge today. Not knowing if that meant a long portage or lots of scouting, we made good progress all day. Way over 3 miles per hour. Scopa carried our map (I carried our GPS)and we teased him mercifully for having it out so much. The truth is, it's much more difficult to keep up with your location on water than on land. Differing pace makes it easy to lose where you are. Traveling at the bottom of a valley means that your distant views are often obscured by low ridges. So eventually, I stopped teasing him about it and just thanked him for being so diligent.

     By mid-morning, we passed a packbridge with a sign marking the gorge 5 miles below there as dangerous. Goosebumps. That's all I can say to describe how excited we were to see that. My familiarity with my green Yak was improving so I wasn't even scared. Well, maybe a little anxious. I didn't even know we were starting the gorge until the first time I went involuntarily swimming in roaring water, frantically trying to grab my boat. It was a stupid play. The water ahead was calm after a decent sized rapid with 2 holes. I was so concerned with following their lines that I tried way to hard to get out of the main channel as they pulled off to take pictures. I made the rapid, then fought the current just to avoid leading through that section. Lesson learned.

     I went swimming 2 more times through the gorge. It was above my skill level by a bit. Amanda went over easy once after getting lodged between 2 rocks(and my boat). Again, bonehead play be me. Following too close to avoid having to pick my own line through what I thought was going to be difficult. I apologized profusely to be met with silence. Ouch! Lesson learned. Scopa handled everything this low water river had to throw at him. He only portaged one time through the gorge(and only after his wife strongly hinted that she expected him to). Even then, he walked downstream and had me push his boat through a 4' wide section of big rapids. Seems he wanted to learn what the water would make the boat do. It got lodged and he had to climb down into the jaws of death to dislodge it. It would have been funny if I wasn't standing beside his lip-biting wife.

    We emerged victorious from the gorge and camped at Cedar Flats. Scopa had lost the bear cord(in addition to 2 of our bear spray cans and my survival lanyard) so he fashioned a short rope and headed across-creek to hang our bags over the edge of the sandy bluff. It was a great idea. A bear would have likely been up there searching for it, looked down at us and said,"Oh well, I guess I'll have to eat them instead."

     We camped along a trail 20 steps into the woods in a small clearing. This night we pitched only my Trailstar and shared it. Room for 3, easy. That was the warmest night of the trip though and the bugs bothered me a bit that night. Deer flies don't bite as bloody as and Arkansas horsefly, but they reduce your comfort substantially. 

Day 5:

     We took our sweet time breaking camp this morning. A bit sore from all the hard paddling(and swimming) through the gorge the day before perhaps. We knew the water would help us cover ground fast. The only thing is we were also coming to the realization that our exit plan was going to be extremely uncomfortable for Amanda due to the angry flesh on her heel from Sunday's open blister. It's hard to keep it dry when you're in water all day. 

     I overturned my packraft after a nasty solitary hole that I should have avoided. The hole was about 3 feet deep with backflow making a loud sucking sound when the butt of my boat ended up there. It actually made me stationary, bouncing in place. When I paddled hard right to try to push out, the entire boat turned that direction and flipped me in an instant. I kept my paddle but couldn't grab the boat for about 30 yards downstream. And the water was moving fast. This one actually scared me a bit. Lesson learned; don't zig when you should zag.

     When we stopped for lunch, I removed all gear from my bag to make sure it was dry. My Zpacks liner drysack and Mountainfitter drysack kept all moisture at bay. The Lifeproof case for my iPhone worked seamlessly as well(there were about 3 drops inside it the previous day after the canyon). Using their Delorme Inreach in conjunction with an iPhone, we began making arrangements to be picked up about 4 miles into Hungry Horse Reservoir at Peters Creek Campground on the East Bank. This cut a full day off our trip and still we would have plenty of time to waste today. Scopa went fishing, Amanda laid in the sun, I laid in the shade. The UV index must have been high that afternoon. Once we finalized our extraction plan, we headed downriver a few miles to camp by the first road bridge on the river. There were some very friendly and generous trail angels camped beneath it. They gave Amanda first aid supplies and a Dr. Pepper, and Scopa and I adult beverages and ribs and chicken. We set up the Trailstar again and made a fire and dinner. Amanda crashed early while Scopa and I stayed up to put out the fire. It was a wondrously cool night.

Day 6: 

      This was the earliest we actually got in the water. Although we only lacked about 5-6 miles, there was no telling how much time the lake paddling was going to take. Our ride was scheduled for noon. It was the coolest morning by far on the trip. Maybe low 50's. No sooner than we got in the water Amanda found the fast channel along the east bank and hit a rock, spilling her into the water. It wasn't a spectacular crash like mine, but soaked her nonetheless. After hearing her teeth chatter 15 minutes later, we pulled off to build a fire and dry her out a bit. She took it with good cheer and appreciation. And she didn't even complain about being wet or cold. Tough gal!

     Within an hour we were paddling on the calm, wide water of Hungry Horse Reservoir. It was fairly slow going. We took a few breaks before a slight headwind picked up. Scopa even enticed me to try to create a sail for our boats with my Trailstar. Failure. We deduced that a large kite would be the only practical way to pull yourself across calm water. The headwind made breaks counter-productive, so there was little choice but to paddle non-stop. Our top speed on the lake was about 1.5 miles per hour. Do the math on that one and you'll realize that we paddled non-stop for about 2.5 hours or so. Precisely 2 strokes short of making my arms fall off. Scopa's navigation led us directly to Peters Creek campground. We had a short swim/bath to remove stench before a long car ride back to Great Falls. Max arrived as we were deflating rafts and packing up. 

     As we began our trip back from the wilderness, I fell from consciousness. Oddly, I dreamed that the trip went on. One of the things I find about true wilderness is that it either gives me a slight sense of unease or a craving for continuation. This time, I wanted nothing more than to plan the next trip back into the "Bob".  I lament that the GPX file from my Garmin was corrupt so I can't show you our route. The simple version is 19 miles walking to water, 5 floating Youngs Creek, 60 miles floating the South Fork of the Flathead, and 4 miles across Hungry Horse Reservoir. Most of those miles across pristine wilderness. The trip of a lifetime. Thanks to the Scopas, the Poyes,  the Kelsos , and Jeff Gravatt for making it happen for me.

Lessons and Observations; Lifeproof cases for iPhones do keep water out. Keep GPS off when you know you won't get a signal(battery) and touch screen not rubbing anything(battery). Clip bear spray to pack when rafting & portaging. Trailstar makes a poor sail, but worked well and slept 3. Carry backup bear line. Beef Rice Sides need meat too. Delorme Inreach really works. Cairn Map of Bob much better than Forest Service map. Flatwater packrafting is hard. Tape Amanda's heel before first step on trail. Be thankful for such great friends. Carry a dedicated water shoe(barefoot runners worked for them).

Guest Post- PJ Orsi: Packrafting North Fork Blackfoot River

     This account of a packrafting trip on Montana's North Fork of the Blackfoot River was forwarded to me by a good buddy.  They entered via Dry Creek TH, hiked trail 483 and 481. They paddled from Camp Creek to North Fork Falls, portaging to the pack bridge. Then they floated out to the car bridge below North Fork TH. I asked for and received permission to publish it here. The author is PJ Orsi of Great Falls, MT. I just met and chatted with him for a while. He allowed me to snap a few photos of his newly customized packrafting backpack. Enclosed are those images.





Written by PJ Orsi-

     So the idea was... me and a buddy get a couple of packrafts (ultra-lite inflatables that are rated for whitewater)... backpack into the back country and shoot some elk, butcher said elk, tie them onto our rafts, and ride the river out to glory... this was our dry run:

     What we didn't consider? If we climbed 2700 feet to put into the river... the river then had to drop 2700 feet before we got back to the truck.

     Well, we left at 4:30PM on Friday, backpacked 11 miles/climbed 2700ft over Red Mountain and into the Scapegoat Wilderness. Then, we inflated our rafts floated 1.5 miles through an alpine meadow where we saw a bunch of harlequin ducks, and caught some fish for dinner... after that we ran into log jams, and after 6 hours of going around a log jam, then wading 30 yards and going over the next one, we deflated our rafts and bushwhacked a quarter mile to the trail (everything is wet at this point so I am wearing water shoes instead of soaked hiking boots)... and then we hiked 5ish miles until it got dark.

     In the morning, we were studying the river ahead of us, when we noticed an area of the topographic map where a couple 100ft elevation lines ran together and through the river in front of us. After examining the map, we inflated our rafts and floated a mile downstream until we hit the gorge we saw on the map... we fished there, caught two more trout, and cooked them for lunch... then we climbed out of the canyon and hiked another 5-ish miles along the rim of the gorge. We confirmed our suspicions about the gorge when we looked over the edge at one point to see a 100+ ft waterfall midway through the gorge. After the gorge we came to a back country ranger station; upon our arrival,  some old guy who happened to be there informed us that "Boys, there is significant river ahead of you... but who knows, you might live.”

     So we inflated our rafts and started to float... only thing was, the next 10 miles of river was one huge cascade of class 4-5 whitewater with virtually no breaks. We saw a bunch more harlequin ducks, and almost died multiple times. Both rafts flipped at different points, we lost some gear, and at one point my boat became lodged between two rocks on the edge of a 6 ft waterfall, my only option: jump over the edge holding onto a tie strap attaching my pack to the boat. Luckily I am heavy enough that the boat dislodged and followed me into the pool beneath. I had enough time to scramble back onto the boat in time to hit the next drop.  At first we were careful, scouting each curve of the river ahead, but  at some point we stopped scouting ahead since we were running out of daylight and all our gear was soaked. Another night in the mountains would have been very cold. All our gear getting wet included my dry bag, which failed at some point leaving my gps and 1911 in a bag of water, which also meant that we lost some ability to track our progress.

     Eventually we saw a fisherman on the shore and asked how much further to the bridge (our takeout where my truck was waiting),  the guy got confused and pointed around the bend in the river,  about 100 yards away… was the bridge. We got home at on Sunday night  around 9:30PM. We covered 32 miles as the bird flies, and I have no idea how far we actually went between the river bends and the switchbacks, all in two days and two nights.

Underwater shot from mounted camera when PJ's raft flipped!

     We saw an elk as well as a ton of bear and wolf tracks... and alot of harlequin ducks too... but this probably isn’t a feasible way/area to hunt elk.

Scopa modeling the "Orsi-Pack"

Note the room on bottom to mount the packraft for hiking.

The use of zip-ties allows for attachment of alternative dry sacks.

Double tied at higher stress points.

Use of the sack's buckle for additional reinforcement.

Legends trip to the Bob

Jake backed up against the Rockies.

     Back in mid-July, I was roasting away in another Arkansas summer(the hottest I had ever experienced). I was laid up with a torn up shoulder, and bad motivation with a general feeling of lethargy. This made me dream of a trip to cooler climes and better outdoor conditions.  Summers in the Ozarks bring temperatures of 95F+ daily with night times above 70. Bugs, briars, snakes, poison ivy, heat, and humidity make hiking an endeavor to partake in small doses only.

     So under this shroud of chains, I dreamt of visiting the West. Drier climate and higher elevations. Cool breezes and wider trails with less undergrowth barging in. Being on a budget, I didn't have to think long to decide a course of action. A call to the busiest man I know was in order. I informed Scopa that I wanted to visit him in Montana for at least a long weekend of backpacking. He broke into the talk of an excited teen. "Hell yeah!", said he, "Let's do the Chinese Wall". We each went to work trying to arrange the trip. I was disappointed to find that he wouldn't be able to take leave(he's USAF) until mid-September. Bummer. By then, the southern heat would be dissipating. I mean, that's the beginning of Ozark-ian prime season. Too late. I'd already made up my mind.

     We extended an invitation to the usual suspects, and one bit. Hard. Will had been denied three consecutive leave requests(USAF also, bless them). He was chomping at the bit. We decided on a date, while Scopa, our host came up with three possible trek options. The one thing we knew is that it would be in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, and that it would be, to quote Will,"EPIC!" 

      For us Arkansas boys, we had research to do. What would the weather be like? What gear would we need to purchase? Isn't that Grizzly country? That would be my job. My brother Will expects a proper briefing in a proficient, military manner. So I read as much as I could, researched better insulation layers, etc. I read the history of the "Bob", looked up weather averages, and even what kind of conditions were possible if it stormed. I have determined that with trips like these, fun seems to be split into three parts: planning and dreaming, the trip, the stories. Many of you should know what I mean. The planning for this one lasted two full months. The hiking section of the trip would be 5 days. The glory would last forever. At least that's my attitude.

     Will and I flew into Great Falls International airport on Sunday, September 18. Scopa and his family picked us up and we had a joyous reunion. Will and Scopa are childhood best friends and Scopa is like a surrogate brother to me. We went to his house and had to immediately empty our carefully packed backpacks. Everyone likes to show off new gear and be the first guy with a Backcountry Boiler or full side zips on their rain shell. I presented our host with an 11 gram titanium cathole digger. We re-packed and decided on an itinerary.

     The plan was to drive ourselves to the Benchmark trailhead, via the town of Augusta(gravel road through the downtown). Then we would hike northbound on the CDT to Indian Point ranger station(closed for season), on to Larch Hill Pass, before turning off and crossing the Continental Divide. From there, we would hike down the other side, headed south to the White River. Then returning to the CDT via White River Pass, and coming back out of the "Bob" the same way we went in. A 55 mile trip by our estimate.

     Now, a word about the Bob for the un-initiated. The Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex is actually three separate Wilderness areas that adjoin each other. The Scapegoat, Big Bear, and Bob Marshall, combine to form a 1.5 million acre wilderness, adjoining Glacier National Park to the North. No roads, no cell phone towers, and in our case, no hunting. A true wilderness, like Thoreau never even imagined. Home of Grizzly Bear, Cougar, and wolves. Tall mountains, deep valleys, and wide alpine meadows. Aspen, Cottonwood, and more conifers than I could name.

     I won't give you a step by step trip report. I couldn't even if I had used a voice recorder. There was too much to be seen, and scarcely enough time to enjoy it. But I will give you a day to day summary of how the trip went.

Scopa and Will at the trailhead.

Day 1:

      We arrived to the Benchmark trailhead and grabbed our packs. It was 10 A.M., and the sky was a cool crystalline blue that I've only ever seen over the Rockies. It was 50F and breezy. Glorious hiking weather. The CDT is well marked at the TH and the path was wide and firm, though with a slight dampness to the soil. Must have rained the day before for a bit. Scopa and I had included gaiters in our kit, so I was unperturbed. We walked down into the Sun River Wildlife Refuge which envelops most of the ground we would cover on our trip. It was kind of nice to know that the deer, elk, and grouse wouldn't be spooked away from us throughout our adventure. Why go out if you're just terrorizing the wildlife anyway?

South Fork of the Sun River, looking North.

     The first section of the trail isn't even in the Bob. It's several miles of gentle downhill walking across a wide trail before you come to the signage welcoming you and asking for a registration. Shortly after that, we crossed a wide wooden bridge over the South Fork of the Sun River. It appeared to be a great river for kayaking or pack rafting. Clear, fast running, and wide. It may have been a little shallow in places, but appeared to be about knee deep. After the river, we passed through an area that has seem fire in the last several years. Although it's a bit sad to see the standing carcasses of those long, tall pines, it really is beautiful in a way. Just not the type of thing I'm used to seeing.

     The trail is between 5k and 55k for the next 6-8 miles. Mostly gradual ascents and descents, with an occasional steeper section. It was all very well maintained by the forest service and local hiking clubs(I don't know which). Shortly after we crossed the West Fork of the Sun River on another wide wooden bridge(labeled "Pack Bridge" on our map) it began to rain. Gently, but with volume and consistency. The views South became obscured by a hazy cloud. The wind didn't blow, but it cooled dramatically. We ate our lunch standing beneath the cover of a cedar grove. My hands were freezing by the time I finished with my MetRx Big 100 bar. I wanted dry gloves for that evening so kept them in their drysack. Fortunately, my arms are shorter than average so my First Ascent BC200 sleeves would fit over my hands and trekking pole handles. It wasn't bad, but we began to wonder if we were gonna have to pitch camp in the rain that night. 

We got wet, the peaks got snow.

     About mile number 10 was Indian Point ranger station. Scopa let us in on a secret; there's a cabin there, so we could dry out on the porch if we needed to.  So we unanimously agreed to press on, despite the misery inherent with hiking while soaked and cold. To our South, the haze lifted, revealing a new snow line about 500 feet above us. Gorgeous! We arrived at the cabin around 3 P.M.  I stopped just below to refill some water bottles while Scopa basically claimed the porch of the cabin. The rangers were apparently gone for the season. We needed to dry some gear out before looking for a place to camp. As it turned out, we just bivvied right there. The sun had come out and helped to dry us out. I set up a clothesline and Scopa found a good cook area within the horse corral. Shoot, it had solar powered electric fence, and our gamble was that the manure would mask our food scents a bit anyway. We enjoyed our hot food with some coffee and hot lemonade. Then we selected a fire ring and dried our socks a bit before bed.

Day 2:

  
 We arose by 7 A.M. to a hard frost on our bivvy. It was around 25F. Chilly for us Arkansas boys! We packed up and continued on toward the Chinese Wall. The elevation gain was less gradual now, but not horrible. By 7000 ft, I had a headache and wobbly knees. Well, wobbly calves at least. I really think that I was a bit unprepared for even this elevation. I live at about 1200 ft. Scopa shrugged off my complaint as just being too fat. Maybe. We were looking at the Wall by about 11 A.M. It was astoundingly beautiful. Just imagine a sheer 1000 ft bluff, stretching as far as you can see. 

  

Navigation, old school style.

Our trail turned to the North and our elevation began to jump up fast as we had to climb up a pass. The rain had turned the trail into mush here. It was pretty tough going for me. The trekking poles really helped since I was taking a step back for every three forward. But the downhill after the pass was even worse. It was like mud skiing, though with large obstacles. That took even more out of me. We continued on though I was becoming more aware by the minute that our goal of Larch Hill Pass that day would be unachievable for me. The other two were beasts. I could sense their disappointment. But I knew that I needed to be reasonable. I've always read that hikers from low altitude should jump no more than 1600 ft between campsites above 5500 ft. The elevation, pace, and sloppy trail were draining my energy. It probably doesn't help that I weigh 215 lbs and hadn't drank enough water. I demanded lots of picture taking stops that day. We decided to camp beneath the Wall, so we waited until we found a good spot about 45 minutes before dark. We were three miles or so short of the pass. I don't remember if we decided then or not, but I had a sinking suspicion that we were going to need an itinerary change. Our mileage for day 3 was kind of a guess anyway, would be the longest of the trip, and now we were going to have a 2.5 mile pass to climb in addition to it.

Will, meet Wall.

     Our camp spot was on a gorgeous stretch of alpine meadow with beginning of a pine forest about 200 yards away. We cooked there and built a fire to dry our socks again. It was cold and would get colder still overnight. The bear line crew spent forever getting a line hung. It seems to be a lot tougher to hang in Griz country, where you need so much more height from the ground. In the absence of hardwood trees, they had to climb pines to get the lateral line high enough. Will and Scopa seemed to delight in both line hanging and fire building. I'm generally too lazy for a fire, and in Arkansas only really need a critter bag. Though we have black bears, it's the raccoons and 'possums that will get your food.
We bedded down for a cold night around 9 P.M.

Chinese Wall, looking North.

Day 3:

     We woke before sunup, and were treated to a glorious sunrise across the mountaintops on the other side of the Sun drainage. It was crisp enough for gloves. Maybe 25 F again. The good thing about the cool temp was that the trail was firmly frozen now. The going was much faster while it was still frozen. We began to grind up the 700 ft. rise to Larch Hill Pass (el. 7780 ft.). We hadn't eaten breakfast and I was feeling extremely nauseated. This is where I really failed my companions. About 550 ft. into the climb, I was heaving. I knew I'd feel better if I vomited, but also that I needed to keep my nutrients and water down. So I begged them to break for breakfast, which was oatmeal. They agreed. I had much difficulty even eating 2 packets of instant oats. My legs were weak and my belly was bubbling. Maybe I just didn't eat enough the previous day, or maybe I was a bit dehydrated, but I really think it was the altitude. Weak, I know. I will say that I almost always get altitude sickness when I snow ski.

Scopa, straddling the Divide.

     My "limitation" brought about the itinerary change. Our new direction would be to stay on that side of the Continental Divide, and hike down into the Sun River drainage, returning to the Pack Bridge after 2 days. Our mileage would supposedly be longer, but the altitude and altitude gains would be negative. So, the guys left me behind to scramble up the pass, while I packed up and started down. within 5 minutes, they yelled out that they had reached the divide. I was filled with regret that I had turned back, but not badly enough to follow them up. I really felt sick. I really have no idea how people tackle 14ers. 

     The trail back took us past our camp from last night, and the trail had softened by then. We hung a hard left onto the Moose Creek trail and began an earnest descent across a seemingly never ending meadow. The trail was much drier because of the morning sun it seemed to get. In many places it was a knee to hip deep rut. after several miles, we came upon wolf tracks. It was the first time I'd ever seen them in person, but were stunningly obvious. It was just a few at first, but then we walked on top of them for the next dozen miles or so. In hindsight, I still cannot believe how active the wolves were. Our habit of yelling ,"Yo... Bear!" likely kept them clear of us that day. We checked the map and decided on an approximate camp area near some water crossings. The rest of our day was downhill, with few rises. We passed through another burnt out area with long, straight tree trunks spread out like "pick em up sticks". The day had
been glorious.

     Our camp area was a meadow split by a large gully. We selected the side closest to running water, while cooking and hanging on the other. While setting up our shelters we found a several day old pile of bear scat. Great. No fire that night. I think we were all tired. We were asleep shortly after 8 P.M. Shortly before I achieved REM, I heard something large just below where I was sleeping. I hollered to the other guys, "did you hear that?". They both told me to go back to sleep. Those mean guys. I read that you should talk to a bear if they come into your camp. I just wanted to be safe, not the official camp weenie. Oh well. I guess I was the weenie. It wasn't the last time that night that I heard the noise, but I never spoke up again. I just shined my light down there until it stopped. It got really cold that night. No
kidding. Probably around 20 F. We all agreed it was the coldest night so far.

Wolf tracks.

Day 4:

     We arose before dawn again. My feet were a bit sore from my new-ish Salomon XA Pro 3D trail runners. No specific painful area, just sore and sensitive. There was heavy frost inside of me and Will's GoLite Shangri La1's. We knocked it off as good as we could before shoving them inside our mesh outer pack pockets. Scopa had water boiled for our oatmeal. We scarfed and ran. Our day would be about 16 miles, so we wanted a good early pace. I loosened up and lead that day. My normal fast pace isn't as fast as Scopa, but it's similar to Will's. We turned South onto the North Fork of the Sun River trail about 9 A.M., then came upon a large stream. It was a wet crossing, but we found a log downstream a bit and gambled. Scopa led, with me and Will following. I lost one of my strap mounted Bolthouse bottles. Normally this could have been a dangerous mistake. With two companions there wouldn't be a water shortage for me though. Besides, we were in a wide river valley, with water
sources abundant. They still got a good laugh at the fat guy though.

     We made good time this morning as the terrain was nearly flat. The forest had thinned out as we approached the West Fork of the Sun again. While we were hiking along and talking about politics or something else we seldom agree on, we heard the loud snapping of cedar branches to our 4 o'clock. I just knew it was going to be a Grizzly. Good thing I was in front of our group! Nope, I was shocked to see a full grown Wolf. No kidding. Big, maybe 120+ lbs. Grayish-tan with a much darker shoulder area and head. He darted towards us from within 30 yards. Then he seemed to notice that we were all armed with two clubs apiece. Seemingly, he thought better of a confrontation and bounded into the thicket. Once we were safe, I scrambled for the camera in my hip pocket, but to no avail. Instead, I got pictures of the brush where he disappeared into. Why couldn't he have just sit and stared at us instead. Nevermind, I didn't really want to get to know him that bad.

     Our luck that morning gave us something to talk about for the rest of the day. Every so often one of us would say,"we saw a wolf!" I still do this every couple of days. It's one of those things I never thought would happen to me. It is very hard to explain. Even after all of the tracks we had seen the previous day, it was(and is) just unbelievable. 

     After a while we stopped for lunch. Will boiled water for Ramen while Scopa laid out his damp fly and bag. I hurried into the bush to make an appointment with a cathole. I found very fresh bear scat of acorns. I mean steaming. The grass was over knee high but had been laid over in several directions by high winds. Not the kind of thing I get to see in Arkansas. With trepidation I finished my business and returned to the guys. 

     We learned something new that day. If you make Ramen and add cool iodine treated water to it, the whole mess turns blue. As in "blue water" blue. Very interesting. It kind of made me wander if that kind of chemical reaction was toxic. Nevermind. It was my brother Will who was eating it, not me.

     The trail skirted the river within a quarter mile for the rest of the day. It was fairly level except where it had to rise as the valley narrowed. It was clear for most of the way except where it entered aspen groves laden with tons of berry laden thorny type bushes. We just called it "bear habitat" and kept moving. I was grateful for my long pants and gaiters there.

     We crossed what seemed like miles of meadows, where the track looked like furrows, sometimes 5-6 lanes wide. The horses are probably the cause of this. It's inexcusable in my opinion to take a thousand lb. animal and create new trail instead of the perfectly good one that is within 3 feet of you. 

     After the first wet crossing of the trip, I noticed pain in one of my Achilles. Maybe it just tightened up in the cold water, but it would give me pain with each step for the remainder of the trip. I also noticed soreness between two of my toes. This turned out to be a spot where sand had entered through the mesh top of my shoe and rubbed my skin raw. Some medical tape solved it easily though. We arrived at Pretty Prairie by about 3 P.M. Of course it took us 25 minutes to cross it! It was likely about 2 miles long. I was walking with a decided limp by now, with an uneven stride caused by my Achilles. We set up camp in some shade along a fast running small creek. The guys scoped out our cook/bear bag area while I claimed my camp spot. Will and I laid out our damp gear in the hot sun while Scopa donned his barefoot runners and took a 4-5 mile jog. That guy irritates me with his youth and stamina. I'd nearly
crippled myself hiking 16 miles that day, and he goes JOGGING!?!?!

Will and Jake, West fork of the Sun, southward.

     We were tired that night so crashed early again, with no fire. It would be our warmest night so far, with a low about 45F. I slept like a stone. 

Day 5:

     We arose and cleared camp by 7 A.M. Nobody felt the need to eat a hot breakfast since we were about 5 miles from our ride out of the wilderness. We selected a track that gave us a more direct withdrawal. No bridge for the Sun River, either. Shoot, we just waded through without removing our shoes. It's generally no fun to hike in shoes when you feel water sloshing around, but it wasn't bad with my Salomons. I considered it a test to see how they'd dry out. They worked fine. Our new goal was brunch in Augusta on the way back to Great Falls. It was all the motivation we needed to knock out the remaining miles. Some folks snapped our pic at the trailhead, and we climbed in Scopa's Jeep. 

     Both Will and Scopa were amazed that the Ziplocs full of Gorp they left in the jeep were apparently pillaged to the last crumb by mice. Somehow, within a fully locked up late model vehicle, the snack food
had fed an entire mouse family for the winter. Ah, the things you see in Montana.

Three members of the Legends Patrol, after wading the river.

    I was exhausted, but content. 61 miles of backcountry fun in less than 96 hours. Fast and light in new surroundings. Good companionship and a wonderful adventure. We were strangely silent on the return trip. Augusta welcomed three weary hikers with a brew and burgers. Strangely, not even a single complaint on our appearance or lack of hygiene. Maybe they've seen it before. Maybe they have low standards. Either way, it was the perfect ending to a perfect trip. The first bacon double cheeseburger and onion rings always are.