The cold never came yesterday. Instead, the bright sun shone directly into the van and welcomed us to a blue morning. Temperatures were in the 50s but felt warmer, perhaps because we were inside the van with the windows closed. The campgrounds were quiet. Like other late sleepers, I had no plans but to hike around Fairy Lake, a small stock pond that flows into the Yellowstone River.
But I was in no hurry and neither was Sadie after she had her morning pee break. Back inside the van, she watched me, perhaps waiting for that signal to start on a hike. Instead, I sipped a Mountain Dew, went over some bags that had been hiding in the far back of the van, and dug out some winter pants and my Montrail winter boots to keep my feet dry from the snow I expected to see along the lake
It was a quiet morning as we walked past our neighbors, now up and enjoying breakfast at the camp tables the Forest Service placed at each site.
Fairy Lake was surprisingly small and yet so aquamarine. I could see dead snags in the lake. Snow mounds still rested along the northern and western shores but the trail around the lake, perhaps not even a mile in length, was basically snow-free.
Sadie enjoyed the snow mounds that we found over a hillside away from the lake, and displayed playful behavior as she darted, rolled around in, dug into and scampered across the snow mounds, wanting me to join her. The northern valley was visible here, as were more snow-capped peaks along the horizon.
A careless drinker left behind a bottle of Oregon beer. I carried that back to the parking lot. Hopefully someone kind enough will have it in their hearts to find that bottle a new home at the nearest recycling center.
Cars and SUVs were coming into the parking lot but were driving further up the road. My curiosity was peaked: where there more trails up there? I passed a sign for “Sacagawea and Scrambletop Mountain” and figured it wouldn’t hurt to try out either peak. Fairy Lake was not long enough to satiate my hiking desires, and Sadie looked ready to clamor up more peaks. She’s been getting stronger lately.
There was indeed a second trail head parking further up the road, with more campsites. Young couples hopped out of their Jeeps and Foresters dressed in tank tops and shorts. Here I was wearing a fleece sweater, black t-shirt and my heavy grey hiking pants with my Gortex boots. Who was the one who was more overdressed?
This trail was a lovely scramble over deep roots, over snow mounds and fragrant high meadows. Many people were coming down the trail at 10:30am as we were going up, and many had their dogs with them.
“I saw a mountain goat!” said one young woman to me. And all I saw was snow and steep, gravelly mountain sides. What was I getting myself into? Or even Sadie, who seemed oblivious of any dangers and yet continued the ascent.
Large swaths of snow lingered along the northern culverts of these peaks, bordered by small brooks and wet ground replete with young green growth. The high meadows here were flowering with alpine flowers, many not much taller than a few inches. One plant was especially fragrant and reminded me of a combination of lavender, mint and sage.
More people were ahead of me as I slowly caught up with earlier starters. A group with a black border collie took their time switch-backing up the rocky trail, and it was this group that I caught up with once I made it to the peak of Sacagawea at 9685’.
There were five people in this group plus Luke the Border Collie. Sadie and Luke got along fine as they were about the same size. Tom, the younger of the two men, teaches agri-science at MSU in town. His wife teaches marketing. Tom’s uncle is up visiting from Atlanta and brought along his son who looked the same age as Tom’s daughter. All were dressed in appropriate hiking gear and poles. We chatted at the peak for a good half hour when another hiker from Jacksonville, FL joined us. He had hiked to the next peak first before returning to Sacagawea. We now represented three of the country’s four corners.
The older man grew up in eastern Tennessee and started hiking as a kid with his family.
“People who hike started hiking as kids, or they lived in the mountains like I did,” he said. He had hiked parts of the Appalachian Trail as well, which prompted me to compare my memories of the trail with his. We both agreed that Pennsylvania’s section was the nastiest. At over 220 miles, it’s also one of the longest, nastiest sections of the AT.
“It’s amazing the kind of people you meet on the hiking trails” I added.
“Or on mountain tops!” the older man concluded. The older man took out his cellphone and called his business, bragging that his service provider, Verizon, is the best. I should have brought my Tracfone and called Kevin, as Tracfone is owned by Verizon.
Tom pointed out Emigrant Peak to us, due south from our peak. “That is Paradise Valley in Yellowstone!” he said, “You’ve got to see it!”
I was the only one wearing long pants, but I will admit I felt very comfortable in my attire as the wind picked up in gusts and grey clouds were moving in. We started our descent at 12:14. Luke and Sadie romped downhill in the snow slide and clearly had fun; Sadie wanted to play longer but Luke was more focused on hiking down.
We got back to the upper trail head by 1:50pm. We said our good-byes as they were continuing on to Salmon, ID where another cousin has a lodge. We returned to our campsite, which now bordered a tent of four MSU student getting ready for the July 4th holiday. A large US flag was hoisted outside their tent.
Our camp table was in the early afternoon sun. I took out my Brenchmap gazetteer to look at my potential trip from here on south. Another hike further south tomorrow looks ideal (as long as it doesn’t rain; storms are predicted for the afternoon). But why make such detailed plans? I’ve been exploring Montana on a whim more or less and have done just fine. As long as my route stays to the south, eventually I’ll end up in Arizona!
It was a gorgeous day. After the hike we stayed at our campsite, then later inside the van where Sadie took another nap and I read a bit of my Montana Roadside Stories book. This was my first day on this westward road trip during which I neither drove anywhere nor spent any money. The odometer stayed at 4360 miles. I had wanted more such carefree days of just staying local, absorbing the sites and getting a good hike in.
We made a late afternoon hike once again around Fairy Lake, just to keep our muscles from cramping up. Again the lake was quiet, again the lake was aquamarine, but this time the peaks near it cast off a reddish glow. Rocky Mountain Columbine and a few other wildflowers dotted the meadows.
As we approached the parking lot for the second time today, ATVers pulled up and four men carrying rods walked down to the lake to catch some trout.
Kevin would have loved this lake and the snow-capped peaks around us. He would have stayed behind at the camp and have prepared a good dinner for us as we dined on left-over cheeseburger and snacks. By early evening the entire camp ground was inducted into the aromas of mesquite, hamburgers, flaming logs and the laughter and chatter of beer-induced gaiety.
But I was in no hurry and neither was Sadie after she had her morning pee break. Back inside the van, she watched me, perhaps waiting for that signal to start on a hike. Instead, I sipped a Mountain Dew, went over some bags that had been hiding in the far back of the van, and dug out some winter pants and my Montrail winter boots to keep my feet dry from the snow I expected to see along the lake
It was a quiet morning as we walked past our neighbors, now up and enjoying breakfast at the camp tables the Forest Service placed at each site.
Fairy Lake was surprisingly small and yet so aquamarine. I could see dead snags in the lake. Snow mounds still rested along the northern and western shores but the trail around the lake, perhaps not even a mile in length, was basically snow-free.
Sadie enjoyed the snow mounds that we found over a hillside away from the lake, and displayed playful behavior as she darted, rolled around in, dug into and scampered across the snow mounds, wanting me to join her. The northern valley was visible here, as were more snow-capped peaks along the horizon.
A careless drinker left behind a bottle of Oregon beer. I carried that back to the parking lot. Hopefully someone kind enough will have it in their hearts to find that bottle a new home at the nearest recycling center.
Cars and SUVs were coming into the parking lot but were driving further up the road. My curiosity was peaked: where there more trails up there? I passed a sign for “Sacagawea and Scrambletop Mountain” and figured it wouldn’t hurt to try out either peak. Fairy Lake was not long enough to satiate my hiking desires, and Sadie looked ready to clamor up more peaks. She’s been getting stronger lately.
There was indeed a second trail head parking further up the road, with more campsites. Young couples hopped out of their Jeeps and Foresters dressed in tank tops and shorts. Here I was wearing a fleece sweater, black t-shirt and my heavy grey hiking pants with my Gortex boots. Who was the one who was more overdressed?
This trail was a lovely scramble over deep roots, over snow mounds and fragrant high meadows. Many people were coming down the trail at 10:30am as we were going up, and many had their dogs with them.
“I saw a mountain goat!” said one young woman to me. And all I saw was snow and steep, gravelly mountain sides. What was I getting myself into? Or even Sadie, who seemed oblivious of any dangers and yet continued the ascent.
Large swaths of snow lingered along the northern culverts of these peaks, bordered by small brooks and wet ground replete with young green growth. The high meadows here were flowering with alpine flowers, many not much taller than a few inches. One plant was especially fragrant and reminded me of a combination of lavender, mint and sage.
More people were ahead of me as I slowly caught up with earlier starters. A group with a black border collie took their time switch-backing up the rocky trail, and it was this group that I caught up with once I made it to the peak of Sacagawea at 9685’.
There were five people in this group plus Luke the Border Collie. Sadie and Luke got along fine as they were about the same size. Tom, the younger of the two men, teaches agri-science at MSU in town. His wife teaches marketing. Tom’s uncle is up visiting from Atlanta and brought along his son who looked the same age as Tom’s daughter. All were dressed in appropriate hiking gear and poles. We chatted at the peak for a good half hour when another hiker from Jacksonville, FL joined us. He had hiked to the next peak first before returning to Sacagawea. We now represented three of the country’s four corners.
The older man grew up in eastern Tennessee and started hiking as a kid with his family.
“People who hike started hiking as kids, or they lived in the mountains like I did,” he said. He had hiked parts of the Appalachian Trail as well, which prompted me to compare my memories of the trail with his. We both agreed that Pennsylvania’s section was the nastiest. At over 220 miles, it’s also one of the longest, nastiest sections of the AT.
“It’s amazing the kind of people you meet on the hiking trails” I added.
“Or on mountain tops!” the older man concluded. The older man took out his cellphone and called his business, bragging that his service provider, Verizon, is the best. I should have brought my Tracfone and called Kevin, as Tracfone is owned by Verizon.
Tom pointed out Emigrant Peak to us, due south from our peak. “That is Paradise Valley in Yellowstone!” he said, “You’ve got to see it!”
I was the only one wearing long pants, but I will admit I felt very comfortable in my attire as the wind picked up in gusts and grey clouds were moving in. We started our descent at 12:14. Luke and Sadie romped downhill in the snow slide and clearly had fun; Sadie wanted to play longer but Luke was more focused on hiking down.
We got back to the upper trail head by 1:50pm. We said our good-byes as they were continuing on to Salmon, ID where another cousin has a lodge. We returned to our campsite, which now bordered a tent of four MSU student getting ready for the July 4th holiday. A large US flag was hoisted outside their tent.
Our camp table was in the early afternoon sun. I took out my Brenchmap gazetteer to look at my potential trip from here on south. Another hike further south tomorrow looks ideal (as long as it doesn’t rain; storms are predicted for the afternoon). But why make such detailed plans? I’ve been exploring Montana on a whim more or less and have done just fine. As long as my route stays to the south, eventually I’ll end up in Arizona!
It was a gorgeous day. After the hike we stayed at our campsite, then later inside the van where Sadie took another nap and I read a bit of my Montana Roadside Stories book. This was my first day on this westward road trip during which I neither drove anywhere nor spent any money. The odometer stayed at 4360 miles. I had wanted more such carefree days of just staying local, absorbing the sites and getting a good hike in.
We made a late afternoon hike once again around Fairy Lake, just to keep our muscles from cramping up. Again the lake was quiet, again the lake was aquamarine, but this time the peaks near it cast off a reddish glow. Rocky Mountain Columbine and a few other wildflowers dotted the meadows.
As we approached the parking lot for the second time today, ATVers pulled up and four men carrying rods walked down to the lake to catch some trout.
Kevin would have loved this lake and the snow-capped peaks around us. He would have stayed behind at the camp and have prepared a good dinner for us as we dined on left-over cheeseburger and snacks. By early evening the entire camp ground was inducted into the aromas of mesquite, hamburgers, flaming logs and the laughter and chatter of beer-induced gaiety.
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