In my dream last night, I did a lot of running. Some villains were attempting to blow up a school that I was trying to save, so with the help of a motley crew of relatives, friends, acquaintances, my dog, and more than a few strangers, we agreed to settle things over a prison-rules game of softball. Before I could find our who won the game, however, I was awakened by my roommate - who decided that four feet away from my face at 7am was the perfect time and place to give himself a buzzcut with a broken beard trimmer. I do remember, though, that right before the screeching swarm of bees alerted me to morning, I was struggling against injuries to both of my legs as I ran to save the life of my uncle, who of course, was in dire peril for one reason or another. Upon waking, I discovered that the pain in my legs was very real. Weird, I thought.
It didn't take me too long to determine the source of my cramping legs. As it turns out, hiking in canyons is slightly more difficult than hiking in the comparatively tame hills that I'm used to. I can't say for sure why that thought didn't cross my mind until I was staring up at the canyon's cliff-walls; sweating like a politician in church; knowing that I still had two miles to the rim. "This really sucks," became my battle cry, and I put it to good use. I can't remember the last time I drank so much water... And that was just the first time I had to climb out of the canyon, and I wasn't even wearing my pack or soaking wet.
Rewind to Wednesday afternoon. In trying to figure out what to do on my weekend, I discovered that I have literally hiked every inch of every trail in the Old Faithful area. This poses a big problem to me, who is not rich in transportation options. In fact, my only reliable modes of transportation are attached to me and don't smell all that great. So I began to meticulously plan a trip that may or may not happen, depending on the generosity (or lack thereof) of those with vehicles. It became apparent to me that I would not be able to reach my destination, hike out, hike back, and get a ride home - all within one day. "Screw it," I decided, "I'll just go camping." It was shaping up to be a 35-mile weekend, but hey, these are things I have to see before I leave Yellowstone. So, backcountry camping permit in hand, I packed my bag and made a trip to visit my very lovely friend at the activities desk to make sure there was a spot on one of the buses the next morning. Bingo. Transportation accomplished.
Thursday morning I woke up, wondered what I was getting myself into, went back to sleep, woke up again, looked at the time, snatched my gear, ran out the door, devoured breakfast, and caught the bus just in time. I sat in the back and listened to the same guided tour that I've heard several times before on the same bus. One lady commented that she was glad I had bear spray with me. Thanks, lady... The trip was uneventful to say the least, with the exception of one spot in Hayden Valley, where we observed bison in rutting season.
Hmm... Bison sex. Interesting... The incredible part of this rather uncomfortable scene was that (aside from the shamelessness of roadside "dating") we got to watch the progression of two of North America's largest male land mammals as they eyed one another, exchanged words, got to arguing, then began butting heads and fighting with enough force to effectively demolish any decent living room. All this to show off for the ladies. If only humans were as civilized...
Anyway, we arrived at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone at around noon, and when the vacationers dispersed for lunch, I went on my merry way. I had registered for the campsite at the furthest extremity of Seven Mile Hole - a daunting name for a trail, in hindsight. First, though, I made a quick side-trip to Inspiration Point, which turned out to be somewhat less than inspiring...
...Yeah right. I was freaking pumped to get hiking. And so I set off. I had ambitiously planned another side trip to the summit of Mount Washburn, the trail to which intersects with Seven Mile Hole shortly before Seven Mile Hole plunges into the canyon. Thinking I was a pretty macho dude, though, I decided that I would just hike down, set up camp, come back up, hike Washburn, then descend again for the evening. That way I wouldn't have to lug my pack up the side of the mountain.
This plan would've worked, but for a few minor exceptions:
- I am not as macho as I like to think I am
- The canyon ascent was brutally unforgiving
- As soon as I got to the rim, I got smashed with a thundering hail storm
- At this point, it's already 6:30 and getting dark, and there are still 5 miles to the summit of Washburn
- I am not as macho as I like to think I am
So about a mile into the Washburn Trail, I realized that I was being an idiot and I turned around, having done nothing more than hiking some odd useless miles and having to strip down to my skippies to avoid getting all of my clothes completely soaked (but of course they got wet anyway). So yet again - only this time discouraged and wet - I descended to my campsite where, luckily, my camp was mostly not-drenched.
Now having some time to kill, I decided to go exploring. There was a neat little stream not too far from camp, so I went to check it out. This was a good decision.
Nothing like a nice jacuzzi session after a long hike. [Note: They say it's very illegal to get into hot springs. I say, If a person gets into a hot spring in the canyon and nobody's around to see it, did he really get into the hot spring?] Under normal circumstances, this would've poached me like an egg, but given that this hot spring was connected to the much cooler canyon stream, the temperature was perfectly safe. In any case, this made my evening. [Note: I don't recommend just jumping into any old hot spring though. People die from doing that... Which explains its illegality.]
Trying to get to sleep was something of a bother, considering that my pants and shirt were still wet, but eventually I fell asleep, dried off, and actually ended up having one of the more pleasant nights' sleep that I've had here. I think there's something about total solitude that puts me at peace. That, and I was completely worn out from the hike. Whatever. It was a pretty decent evening.
Morning came slowly, and with it my dread of the ascent to the rim of the canyon - this time with my pack and with wet shoes. But I decided that the sooner I got the heck out of there the better. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to climb out in the heat of the midday. So off I went, water bottle close at hand. There were some places that were so steep - and soggy - that I literally had to crawl on all fours up the trail. Let's just say that this hike would give many a CrossFit workout a run for its money. (2.2 miles weighted lunges, Rx'd weight 30#, 1 round for time) But then sights like this are so much better appreciated when you're drenched in sweat and gasping for air.
Long long long long story short, I made to the top. The plan now was to hike along the canyon rim until I reached the Howard Eaton, which I would take for 15 miles to Fishing Bridge, where I planned on hitching a ride. The rim hike was quite pleasant, though it found me ascending and descending halfway into the canyon a couple more times to get some good pictures. In fact, I'll just let the photos do the talking about this trail:
So yeah, moisture was kind of the story of the day. Water water everywhere... Anyway, I discovered at the end of the trail that my hopes of hiking the Howard Eaton back in the direction of home were for naught. I owe this to the smartypants who went and got himself mauled by a bear earlier in the season (See Bear Spray). The park authorities closed the Wapiti Lake Trail - and several other nearby trails - for the remainder of the season, and it just so happens that the Howard Eaton shares about 0.2 miles of the same trail. So my access point was cut off, even though the Howard Eaton veers off in the complete opposite direction after parting with the Wapiti Lake Trail. Bummer. I concluded, though, that this must have happened for a reason, because another 15 mile hike wasn't exactly looking appealing at the time.
So I hitched a ride with a nice European family (I swear, the Europeans are amazing for hitchhiking) and sort of just flew by the seat of my pants. After a nice conversation, I told them they could dump me off at the trailhead of Elephant Back Ridge - another flippin' mountain that I just had to climb. At this point, I'm thoroughly exhausted. But hey, there's a top to every mountain...
...And half of the hike is always downhill. So what the heck? It's only my legs that I'm bothering.
Obviously, though, my legs have their own way of getting back at me.
[Footnote: Gross Elevation Change within the 27 hours I was on the trail: 6138 feet]
It didn't take me too long to determine the source of my cramping legs. As it turns out, hiking in canyons is slightly more difficult than hiking in the comparatively tame hills that I'm used to. I can't say for sure why that thought didn't cross my mind until I was staring up at the canyon's cliff-walls; sweating like a politician in church; knowing that I still had two miles to the rim. "This really sucks," became my battle cry, and I put it to good use. I can't remember the last time I drank so much water... And that was just the first time I had to climb out of the canyon, and I wasn't even wearing my pack or soaking wet.
Rewind to Wednesday afternoon. In trying to figure out what to do on my weekend, I discovered that I have literally hiked every inch of every trail in the Old Faithful area. This poses a big problem to me, who is not rich in transportation options. In fact, my only reliable modes of transportation are attached to me and don't smell all that great. So I began to meticulously plan a trip that may or may not happen, depending on the generosity (or lack thereof) of those with vehicles. It became apparent to me that I would not be able to reach my destination, hike out, hike back, and get a ride home - all within one day. "Screw it," I decided, "I'll just go camping." It was shaping up to be a 35-mile weekend, but hey, these are things I have to see before I leave Yellowstone. So, backcountry camping permit in hand, I packed my bag and made a trip to visit my very lovely friend at the activities desk to make sure there was a spot on one of the buses the next morning. Bingo. Transportation accomplished.
Thursday morning I woke up, wondered what I was getting myself into, went back to sleep, woke up again, looked at the time, snatched my gear, ran out the door, devoured breakfast, and caught the bus just in time. I sat in the back and listened to the same guided tour that I've heard several times before on the same bus. One lady commented that she was glad I had bear spray with me. Thanks, lady... The trip was uneventful to say the least, with the exception of one spot in Hayden Valley, where we observed bison in rutting season.
Hmm... Bison sex. Interesting... The incredible part of this rather uncomfortable scene was that (aside from the shamelessness of roadside "dating") we got to watch the progression of two of North America's largest male land mammals as they eyed one another, exchanged words, got to arguing, then began butting heads and fighting with enough force to effectively demolish any decent living room. All this to show off for the ladies. If only humans were as civilized...
Anyway, we arrived at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone at around noon, and when the vacationers dispersed for lunch, I went on my merry way. I had registered for the campsite at the furthest extremity of Seven Mile Hole - a daunting name for a trail, in hindsight. First, though, I made a quick side-trip to Inspiration Point, which turned out to be somewhat less than inspiring...
...Yeah right. I was freaking pumped to get hiking. And so I set off. I had ambitiously planned another side trip to the summit of Mount Washburn, the trail to which intersects with Seven Mile Hole shortly before Seven Mile Hole plunges into the canyon. Thinking I was a pretty macho dude, though, I decided that I would just hike down, set up camp, come back up, hike Washburn, then descend again for the evening. That way I wouldn't have to lug my pack up the side of the mountain.
This plan would've worked, but for a few minor exceptions:
- I am not as macho as I like to think I am
- The canyon ascent was brutally unforgiving
- As soon as I got to the rim, I got smashed with a thundering hail storm
- At this point, it's already 6:30 and getting dark, and there are still 5 miles to the summit of Washburn
- I am not as macho as I like to think I am
So about a mile into the Washburn Trail, I realized that I was being an idiot and I turned around, having done nothing more than hiking some odd useless miles and having to strip down to my skippies to avoid getting all of my clothes completely soaked (but of course they got wet anyway). So yet again - only this time discouraged and wet - I descended to my campsite where, luckily, my camp was mostly not-drenched.
Now having some time to kill, I decided to go exploring. There was a neat little stream not too far from camp, so I went to check it out. This was a good decision.
Nothing like a nice jacuzzi session after a long hike. [Note: They say it's very illegal to get into hot springs. I say, If a person gets into a hot spring in the canyon and nobody's around to see it, did he really get into the hot spring?] Under normal circumstances, this would've poached me like an egg, but given that this hot spring was connected to the much cooler canyon stream, the temperature was perfectly safe. In any case, this made my evening. [Note: I don't recommend just jumping into any old hot spring though. People die from doing that... Which explains its illegality.]
Trying to get to sleep was something of a bother, considering that my pants and shirt were still wet, but eventually I fell asleep, dried off, and actually ended up having one of the more pleasant nights' sleep that I've had here. I think there's something about total solitude that puts me at peace. That, and I was completely worn out from the hike. Whatever. It was a pretty decent evening.
Morning came slowly, and with it my dread of the ascent to the rim of the canyon - this time with my pack and with wet shoes. But I decided that the sooner I got the heck out of there the better. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to climb out in the heat of the midday. So off I went, water bottle close at hand. There were some places that were so steep - and soggy - that I literally had to crawl on all fours up the trail. Let's just say that this hike would give many a CrossFit workout a run for its money. (2.2 miles weighted lunges, Rx'd weight 30#, 1 round for time) But then sights like this are so much better appreciated when you're drenched in sweat and gasping for air.
Long long long long story short, I made to the top. The plan now was to hike along the canyon rim until I reached the Howard Eaton, which I would take for 15 miles to Fishing Bridge, where I planned on hitching a ride. The rim hike was quite pleasant, though it found me ascending and descending halfway into the canyon a couple more times to get some good pictures. In fact, I'll just let the photos do the talking about this trail:
So yeah, moisture was kind of the story of the day. Water water everywhere... Anyway, I discovered at the end of the trail that my hopes of hiking the Howard Eaton back in the direction of home were for naught. I owe this to the smartypants who went and got himself mauled by a bear earlier in the season (See Bear Spray). The park authorities closed the Wapiti Lake Trail - and several other nearby trails - for the remainder of the season, and it just so happens that the Howard Eaton shares about 0.2 miles of the same trail. So my access point was cut off, even though the Howard Eaton veers off in the complete opposite direction after parting with the Wapiti Lake Trail. Bummer. I concluded, though, that this must have happened for a reason, because another 15 mile hike wasn't exactly looking appealing at the time.
So I hitched a ride with a nice European family (I swear, the Europeans are amazing for hitchhiking) and sort of just flew by the seat of my pants. After a nice conversation, I told them they could dump me off at the trailhead of Elephant Back Ridge - another flippin' mountain that I just had to climb. At this point, I'm thoroughly exhausted. But hey, there's a top to every mountain...
...And half of the hike is always downhill. So what the heck? It's only my legs that I'm bothering.
Obviously, though, my legs have their own way of getting back at me.
[Footnote: Gross Elevation Change within the 27 hours I was on the trail: 6138 feet]
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