SPRING IN THE WIND RIVER RANGE

We were up at 6:30 on Thursday, July 21^st. We had breakfast burritos and broke camp. We drove the southern end of Sinks Canyon Road, which is a good dirt road that passes several nice lakes and at least one more campground. Eventually we rejoined the highway, which we took to Farson and on to Pinedale, on the west side of the Wind River Range. From Pinedale we followed a paved road up to Elkhart Park. Elkhart Park is one of the few trailheads in the Wind River Range accessible by paved road, and it’s quite popular. Despite the early date, there were probably 20 cars at the Pole Creek Trailhead at the upper end of Elkhart Park.

The plan for our backpacking trip was to spend two days hiking the 12 miles to Island Lake, a subalpine beauty a few miles west of the continental divide. From there we’d spend a couple of days doing dayhikes. Island Lake is an ideal basecamp destination because there are numerous hiking options from there. We planned to hike up into Titcomb Basin and Indian Basin. If conditions allowed, I hoped to make an attempt at Indian Pass and possibly even Fremont Peak. Fremont Peak is the second highest summit in the Wind River Range, and the third highest in Wyoming. I’d attempted it once back in 2006, but a late start and a mid-day thunderstorm thwarted that attempt. I was concerned that the late season snowpack would prevent a summit attempt this time, but I was going into the trip with an open mind. Honestly though, I was just hopeful that we could make it to Island Lake. That wouldn’t be a bad place to lounge around for a couple of days, even if we were lounging in the snow.

Thanks to the long drive to the west side of the range we hit the trail around noon. We debated having lunch in the parking lot, but ultimately decided to get up the trail a little ways first. We hoisted our packs, and saddled Boone with his. Boone carries his pack on most of our hikes, but it was a good bit heavier than normal on this trip. He was carrying all of his own food for the 5-day trip.

We hiked the first mile of the Pole Creek Trail, passing numerous dayhikers on their way back from Photographer’s Point. Photographer’s Point is one of the most famous views in the range, and one of the few that is within range of the average dayhiker. I was looking forward to visiting it for the first time, as it promised to be one of the early highlights of our trip.

After a quick lunch featuring apple slices and cheese on fresh buns we resumed the hike, which was an easy but boring trudge under heavy Lodgepole Pine cover. The mosquitoes were pretty thick in those woods, which kept us moving. The trail was quite muddy, evidence that it had been covered by snow a few days earlier. We passed a number of snow patches, but most of what we saw was disappearing rapidly. Of course, we were still at a relatively modest elevation. I expected conditions to change dramatically over the course of the next couple of days.

Later that afternoon we passed a group of mountaineers on their way down from Gannet Peak. Gannet Peak is the highest summit in Wyoming and draws climbers from all over the country and the world. The route we were following is one of the two most popular approaches. Gannet Peak sits just north of Titcomb Basin. Since these hikers had made it through, I was a little more hopeful that our trip could be successful. On the other hand, Christy pointed out that they were hard core mountain climbers equipped with ice axes and crampons.

Before they passed by I got a little information out of them. We were warned that the crossing of the creek draining Seneca Lake was scary. Beyond that, we’d want to abandon the trail around the north side of Little Seneca Lake since it was underwater. The mountaineers suggested traversing the snowfield on the south side of the lake instead. The final challenge getting to Titcomb Basin would be crossing the raging torrent draining Indian Basin. They suggested that we explore upstream along the creek in search of a place to rock hop.

After that conversation, I wasn’t sure if we should be encouraged or if we should turn around. It sounded passable, but again, you have to consider the source of the information. If they thought Seneca Creek was scary, how would we feel about it?

After 3 miles we reached the meadows of Miller Park, which provided the first view of our hike. From there, two more miles of steady climbing brought us to Photographer’s Point. Actually, that’s a bit of a misnomer. The trail actually passes high above the true Photographer’s Point, but I can’t imagine that the view from the down there is any better. From the trailside cliffs the highest peaks of the Wind River Range towered above a bench land of alpine lakes and scattered evergreens. We enjoyed the view from the trail, but exploration off the trail along the cliffs to the north revealed an even better vista. From here we had a clearer view of the mountains ahead. Plus, directly below, the narrow gash of Fremont Canyon yawned up at us, its roar audible from several thousand feet below.

While exploring around I stumbled upon a nice campsite a short distance from the cliffs. There were numerous tarns around for water, and a steady breeze was keeping the mosquitoes at bay. We had hiked less than 5 miles to that point, and it was only mid-afternoon. Originally I’d planned to hike a couple more miles to a lakeside camp. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over years of backpacking, it’s that you don’t pass up a 5-star campsite. This definitely qualified. Plus, all the dayhikers had cleared out, meaning we had the place all to ourselves.

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and enjoying the view. Later, we had pasta for dinner before enjoying a lovely sunset. The only disappointment was that there wasn’t much alpenglow from our vantage point. After dark, the wind died suddenly, and the mosquitoes emerged from their hiding spots. Christy had already retired to the tent, and Boone and I joined her immediately. I slept fairly well that night, but Christy had a restless evening, likely due to the altitude (10,350’).

The alarm went off at 6 on Friday morning, but we snoozed until 7. This was a bad move, as there wasn’t even a hint of breeze. We eventually emerged from the tent to a horrific swarm of mosquitoes. They were truly ungodly – possibly the worst I’ve ever experienced. We had oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, both containing more than the daily recommended allowance of winged insects. Our campsite may have been a 5-star accommodation the previous afternoon, but we couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Fortunately the bugs weren’t much of a factor once we actually got moving down the trail. After more hiking through the woods, we reached another meadow at the junction with the Sweeny Lake Trail. We enjoyed a fine view from the tarn in the middle of the meadow, and noted a campsite in the woods nearby.

From there we headed on to lovely Barbara Lake, and then to larger Hobbs Lake. Both are subalpine gems, and we took a break at Hobbs to get water. A few more minutes of hiking beyond Hobbs Lake brought us to the crossing of the stream that drains Seneca Lake. In late July in a normal year this crossing is fairly easy. When we arrived it was a raging torrent.

The creek tumbles down through a narrow canyon, with impressive, foaming cascades both upstream and downstream of the ford. The roar of the stream was so loud we had to shout at each other to be heard. We took our packs off to assess the situation.

I looked at the map, and contemplated the idea of following the near side of the creek up through the canyon to the lake’s outlet. Crossing there would probably be safer, but getting up through the canyon would be arduous, if not impossible. Going downstream was simply not an option. Either we’d cross there or go home.

I have a lot of respect for the power of moving water, particularly when there is a long run of waterfalls immediately downstream. This crossing was scary, but at the same time, I was reluctant to concede defeat. I decided to try the crossing without my pack. That meant I’d have to do it three times, but at least I wouldn’t have my pack to contend with on the trial run. I did carry Boone’s pack across though. We were concerned about his ability to make the crossing, and relieving him of his pack would make it a bit easier.

To be honest, I was terrified. Yet, I was also determined. I switched to river shoes, said a quick prayer, and eased into the icy water. The ford wasn’t very wide, but the water was knee deep and incredibly powerful. The creek was so turbulent that it was impossible to see where I was stepping. I felt my way along the creek bottom with my feet in an attempt to avoid the more awkward rocks. The current strengthened in the middle of the stream, and I focused on maintaining my balance. Then I was past the worst of it, and a minute later I stumbled up onto the bank. I dropped Boone’s pack and turned to make the return trip.

Going back was a little better since I knew exactly what to expect. I rejoined Christy on the bank and briefed her on the crossing. I wasn’t really worried about her – I was confident that she could do it if I could. Boone was more of a concern. However, there was only one brief stretch where he would have to swim. He’d be able to stay on his feet for most of the ford.

We hoisted our packs and took the plunge. Christy and I made it across, and Boone eventually followed once he realized that we weren’t coming back. Boone did great, and I was proud of him. I’ve seen him chicken out of much easier stream crossings in the past.

We took a break on the far side to warm up and let our feet (and brains) thaw. Then we resumed the hike with a big climb that warmed us up even more. Near the top we passed two hikers heading the other way. They told us that they had seen a moose at the lake they had just left. Excited, we headed that way, hopeful of the first major wildlife sighting of the trip.

We reached the lake a few minutes later, but the moose was nowhere to be seen. We stopped on a rock outcrop just above the lake for lunch, hoping that it would make an appearance. It was not to be though, and eventually we resumed the hike. Another climb brought us to Seneca Lake. Seneca Lake is a subalpine beauty, and much larger than the lakes we’d passed thus far. There was still a good bit of snow around Seneca Lake, which suggested that the water levels would remain high for at least a few more days. In fact, we had to wade through part of Seneca Lake because the trail was flooded. In normal conditions the trail squeezes between the lake and a sheer rock wall. On this occasion, the water was thigh-deep. At least there was no current to contend with!

We reached the outlet of Little Seneca Lake. We left the trail here, following the advice of the mountaineers we’d passed earlier. Instead of following the flooded trail around the north side of Little Seneca, we’d traverse the south side. From our vantage point, it looked like a fairly easy off-trail hike through the snow.

Well, that’s what it looked like. We rock hopped the stream and began the traverse above the lake. At first the walking was easy, until I plunged through a snow bridge that had formed between two boulders. I fell rather ungracefully to my armpits, but was able to pull myself out of the chasm. We proceeded with caution, but everyone fell multiple times. I even saw Boone nearly disappear once. There wasn’t much left of the snow through here, and what was there was rotting out from underneath us in the afternoon sun. In hindsight, this would’ve been a much better strategy first thing in the morning.

Boone freaked out after his fall and refused to continue. This was discouraging since we’d come more than half way. Eventually we gave up on encouraging him and tried to traverse the dry boulders closer to the water. This was exceptionally difficult, but at least we could see where we were stepping. On several occasions I had to lift Boone (all 80 pounds of him) over a chasm between boulders. Boone wasn’t comfortable with this, either. At each he put up serious resistance before we were able to drag or cajole him onwards.

After an hour of this we’d gone a few hundred yards. To add to the fun, dark clouds began to build above us. Finally we reached the far end of the lake and joined the Highline Trail. We crossed the stream one more time and headed north on the Highline.

Another climb ensued, mostly in soft snow. The portions of the trail that weren’t snow-covered were a muddy mess. In fact, most of this hike was in one or the other, and by this point we found ourselves preferring to walk in the snow.

We finished the ascent and noticed that the thunderheads had drifted off to the south. Things were looking up, and we reached the junction with the Indian Pass Trail a minute later. This was a relief, since Island Lake was little more than a mile ahead.

We descended into a basin through snow, slush, water, and mud. We passed through a broad, swampy meadow, and noted a high, impressive waterfall cascading down the cliff above us. The last time I’d hiked here, at the same time of year, there’d been no waterfall there at all.

Another tricky stream crossing intruded, but we were able to jump it. A minor ascent to an unnamed pass followed. From there, it was all downhill through more snow, slush, water, and muck. As we descended, Island Lake unfolded below us. Island Lake is one of the most gorgeous lakes I’ve ever seen. Countless granite islets dot the water, and the highest peaks in Wyoming rise above its far shore. Waterfalls cascade down the surrounding cliffs and into the water. Under normal circumstances its beauty is amazing. On this visit, with the surrounding mountain sides covered in snow, it was even more breathtaking.

The Indian Pass Trail descends almost all the way to the lake. However, part of the way down we turned off to the north in search of a campsite. On our 2006 trip we camped on bench above the lake. The view from there was spectacular, and I was hoping to find the same spot. We spent 30 minutes searching that hillside, but most of the likely campsites were still covered in snow or were too wet or muddy. Eventually we gave up on that approach and headed down to the lake. Camping close to the lake isn’t legal or practical, so we headed up to the top of a knoll at the southwest corner of the lake. There is a popular campsite with a few scattered trees here, and luckily it was dry and mostly snow free. We set up camp there, thrilled to have such a great site for the next two nights.

We had salmon and pasta for dinner that night, and enjoyed a lovely sunset. Surprisingly, the mosquitoes were almost non-existent. The few that were around were slow and sluggish. Apparently, they’d just begun to hatch here, thanks to the late spring.

The most amazing thing about our visit to Island Lake was that we had the area almost entirely to ourselves. On our 2006 trip, there were many other groups camped in the area. Even then it wasn’t really crowded since Island Lake is so large, but having the whole thing to ourselves was an unexpected treat.

IT’S ICE

We slept in a little the next morning, as our plans for the day were a little less ambitious than normal. We eventually rolled out of the tent to a warm, sunny morning. We made breakfast burritos using freeze dried eggs, dehydrated salsa and cheese, and tortillas. Coffee was a nice touch, and by the time we finished breakfast we were ready to go exploring.

Our 2006 visit to Island Lake had included one layover day. Christy had rested at camp that day, while my hiking buddy Dave accompanied me on an attempt at climbing Fremont Peak. That attempt ended prematurely, thanks to violent, early afternoon thunderstorms. Photos from that attempt can be seen starting here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9067009@N03/707767186/in/set-72157600625826158

Because of the weather, we didn’t get a chance to visit Titcomb Basin – an alpine wonderland of lakes squeezed between towering cliffs. Our goal for Saturday was to spend the entire day there.

I loaded up Christy’s pack for our dayhike since it’s lighter and more compact than mine. Then we left camp, following the Indian Pass Trail around the south side of Island Lake. This part of the hike offered more fine views of the lake, but was tedious due to the abundant snow, water, and mud. One large creek crossing created a challenge, but we were able to rock hop it with some difficulty. Beyond we climbed away from the lake, through more snow and mud. At the top of the knoll we paused to let a large group of college-aged hikers pass by. They were in the middle of a 40-day trip, and were heading towards Titcomb Basin, where they planned to meet a horsepacker to pick up food. The kids seemed to be in good spirits despite the challenging conditions, and they were delighted to play with Boone.

We hiked on, passing above an unnamed alpine lake fed by a roaring cascade. A few minutes later we reached a fork in the trail. The trail to the right heads up into Indian Basin and on towards Fremont Peak and Indian Pass. We continued ahead, towards Titcomb Basin. After a hundred yards we reached the ford of Fremont Creek. There are a lot of rocks here, but the creek was a raging torrent. Crossing might’ve been possible there, but it looked dicey. Plus, there was a rugged series of cascades immediately downstream.

We followed the creek upstream about a hundred yards. Just below another major cascade we reached a boulder garden. The rocks are huge here, and close together. We rock hopped there, moving carefully. The crossing took several minutes, as the creek is quite wide, but it was actually fairly easy. Reaching the far side was a relief, and we knew that there were no more major obstacles between us and our goal.

We headed back downstream and rejoined the trail. From there, we walked mostly through snow to Titcomb Basin. A couple of additional climbs followed, and at the top of the last rise the basin stretched out before us. The view was astonishing. Jagged spires of grey granite arched towards the sky on all sides. Immediately I understood why Titcomb Basin is a world-famous rock climbing destination. Below us, a mostly frozen chain of lakes stretched the length of the basin. Although there was open water in a few areas, all of the lakes were at least partially frozen. I had to restrain an urge to whoop for joy.

We hiked down through the snow towards the foot of Lower Titcomb Lake. We found some bare granite just above the water and sprawled in the sun. We had lunch there, and reveled in the beauty of the area and the utter solitude. Normally in late July Titcomb Basin is crawling with backpackers and rock climbers. Today, we had it all to ourselves.

Titcomb Basin is a big place, and I wanted to see as much of it as possible. I suggested hiking on, but Christy had other plans. She pointed out that it couldn’t possibly get any better. She was more than content to relax in the sun and watch miniature icebergs float by while Boone and I hiked.

We were in the middle of the basin, and needed to return to the main trail to continue up the valley. This proved to be more complicated than expected. The area in between was snow-covered, but some of that snow was blanketing a thin layer of ice on top of the lake. Getting to the far side required navigating through the maze. After 15 minutes, I was still within shouting distance of Christy! Finally I regained the trail and headed towards the upper end of the basin.

This part of the trail was almost completely snow-covered. The scenery remained stellar up to the middle lake, which was even more frozen than its sister downstream. I filtered water there and enjoyed more fantastic views towards the upper end of the basin.

At that point I had a decision to make. My original plan was to continue to the upper end of the basin and return the same way. However, after studying the map, I became intrigued by Mistake Lake. Mistake Lake sits high above the basin, directly below the west face of Fremont Peak. It’s a long but narrow lake, and its position on a bench high above the basin seemed downright improbable. I couldn’t resist checking it out.

I climbed up slopes of snow, rock, and even grass away from the Titcomb Lakes. As I climbed, the view of the basin below grew more expansive. Eventually I reached the top of the bench and hiked north towards the lake. Finally Mistake Lake came into view. The lake was still almost completely frozen, and the view literally took my breath away. In the far distance beyond the lake, Gannet Peak and other high peaks crowded the sky.

After a long break I returned the way I came. I took a shortcut back to the lower lake though, dropping straight down the slope and bypassing the middle lake. Initially I had some trouble finding Christy amid all of that snow and ice, but eventually I spotted her and found my way over to her. I rejoined her at 4:30 and we started back. The return hike was tedious, as I wasn’t feeling well. It may have been the altitude, but I think it had more to do with being in the sun all day.

The final creek crossing on the south side of Island Lake was more challenging on our return. The water had risen thanks to the extra snow melt under the warm afternoon sun. We eventually made it across without getting much wetter than we already were. We made it back to camp around 6pm, and spent the rest of the evening relaxing.

We had one more day in the area at our disposal. I spent much of that evening debating what to do with it. Originally I’d planned to make another attempt at Fremont Peak. However, I could clearly see the mountain from our campsite. The ascent route climbs through a gully before following a ridge to the summit. The ridge looked like it was in good shape, but the gully was obviously full of snow. Indian Pass was another possible destination, but I figured that conditions up there would be similar. Also, either of those destinations would require a long hike. We had decided to hike a couple of miles back towards the trailhead late on Sunday afternoon to get a head start on the hike out. As a result, a long, challenging dayhike would probably be overdoing it.

I got up before 6am on Sunday for sunrise photos. It was downright chilly at that hour, particularly since I was just standing around the tripod. Eventually I realized that it was time to get moving. I’d decided to hike to Indian Basin, while Christy spent the day enjoying Island Lake. I retraced our steps from the previous day until I reached Fremont Creek. The sun was just clearing the mountains to the east when I arrived, and I stopped for a quick breakfast of granola cereal beside the creek. Afterwards I headed upstream to the crossing we’d used the previous day.

I was about ¼ of the way across when I noticed a shiny glaze on the next rock. I poked at it with my hiking stick and broke off a chunk of ice. Yikes! I looked around, and realized that most of the rocks were glazed with ice. Apparently spray from the creek had moistened the rocks, and the water froze overnight. I couldn’t find a way to get onto that next icy rock without leaping, and there was no other reasonable route. Discouraged, I retreated to the near shore.

I spent a couple of minutes contemplating my options. I looked up at the sun, which was just above the ridge to the east, and realized that the ice would melt quickly once the sun rose higher. I wasn’t ready to give up on the hike, so I settled in to wait.

It took 30 minutes before the rocks were fully in the sun. I then made a second attempt, and crossed without incident. On the far side I turned upstream and rejoined the Indian Pass Trail.

The hike to Indian Basin was much more challenging than the previous day’s exploration of Titcomb Basin. There was much more snow up there, and nobody had been that way. Heading into Titcomb Basin we were able to follow the footsteps of the numerous mountaineers bound for Gannet Peak. However, hardly anyone had been through Indian Basin this year. As a result, I kept loosing the trail in the numerous snowfields. One snowfield was particularly steep, and I had to put on my Yaktrax ice cleats to cross it.

Eventually I reached the top of a bench with a view of several frozen lakes below. High above Fremont Peak beckoned, but I knew it was out of the question. Instead, I explored around the lakes until I reached a creek crossing that would’ve resulted in a good drenching. That seemed like a great place to turn back. I headed back down, satisfied with my visit to Indian Basin, though I wanted to go further. I guess I’ll need to plan another trip to the Wind River Range so I can climb Fremont Peak and visit Indian Pass.

The hike back to camp was uneventful. I had lunch with Christy there, but decided to do a little more exploring before we broke camp. I hiked along the west side of the lake towards the north end, exploring hidden coves and passing deserted campsites. Eventually I reached a point where I was treated to a fine view across the water to two massive waterfalls cascading into the lake. One of them was on Fremont Creek, while the other was just an unnamed tributary.

I returned to camp and we packed up. The hike out of Island Lake was much more difficult than the walk in. Climbing a steep hill in snow and slush is much more challenging to sliding down it! The experience was different in another way, too. We’d had Island Lake, Titcomb Basin, and Indian Basin mostly to ourselves over the last couple of days, but that was changing. Lots of hikers were on their way in, and all of them wanted info on trail and camping conditions.

On our return we decided to take the trail around Little Seneca Lake. We did have to wade through knee-deep water for about 50 yards, but it wasn’t too bad. When we reached the area between Little Seneca Lake and Seneca Lake I began searching for campsites. There were actually some other groups camped in this area, but I spotted a knoll that looked promising. I climbed to the top, and found a small campsite. It was breezy up there, which was appealing now that we were back down in the mosquito zone.

We set up camp there and spent the rest of the evening relaxing. Unfortunately the breeze that had drawn me up there faded away before dinner. The bugs swooped in, but we were able to keep them at bay with a small but smoky fire. We had tuna mac for dinner and played some games before heading to bed.

MILLER TIME

We hiked out on Monday. We broke camp early and hiked past Seneca Lake again. This time we were able to rock hop part of the lake we’d waded a few days earlier. When we reached the ford of the stream draining Seneca Lake it was completely different. It was still a big creek, but nothing like the raging torrent we’d survived on the way in. Now we could actually see the rocks at the bottom of the stream. It’s funny how much of a difference a few days can make.

We passed many groups of hikers heading in. There were young people, old people, boy scouts, families, and more. Apparently word had gotten out that the Wind River Range was open for business. We were feeling pretty smug that we’d timed our trip perfectly. We were there early enough to beat the crowds and (most of) the mosquitoes, but were able to finish the hike safely.

The highlight of the hike out was Miller Park. The meadows were covered in golden flowers that had bloomed in the last few days. We stopped for a break and a snack there before continuing on.

We were almost at the trailhead when we passed four young men dressed like Daniel Boone carrying rifles. As we passed, one commented that a dog like Boone was worth a lot of money. This made me a little nervous, and we parted ways quickly. Despite our eagerness to get into town, we couldn’t help but notice their truck when we reached the parking lot. There were probably 50 cars and trucks at the trailhead, but we instantly knew which one was theirs. Don’t ask how we knew – we just did. It was big jacked up pickup on oversized tires with a dirt bike in the back. The front bumper had a sticker that said, “Obama is white trash”. We’re still trying to puzzle out what that meant. Considering the source, that’s like irony wrapped in more irony.

We made it into Pinedale by 3pm. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant for a late lunch. It was rather expensive and disappointing. Then we made a quick stop at the local outfitters to pick up some minor supplies. From there we headed out of town and on to the Pole Creek Bed and Breakfast. We’d stayed at Pole Creek in 2006 and were looking forward to another visit.

We met Dexter and Carole when we pulled in. They were as friendly and accommodating as we’d remembered. They were actually overbooked that night, so they offered to let us stay upstairs. Since the bathroom was downstairs, they reduced our rate from an already reasonable $65 to $50. We took showers and I uploaded my photos from the trip to my laptop. Then we soaked in the outdoor hot tub while Boone played with Dexter and Carole’s dogs. Afterwards they offered to let us do laundry there, but we passed up on the opportunity. We had to get packed up for our Yellowstone backpacking trip, which we were starting the next morning.

We drove back into Pinedale for dinner. We ended up at the Wind River Brewing Company, which was packed. We sat outside since the weather was great and the mosquitoes were elsewhere. The food was fantastic and the beer wasn’t too shabby, either. The Wind River Brewing Company may have been the best meal of the trip.

Although we weren’t able to do everything we’d planned, our Wind River Range trip was still fantastic. We got to see the mountains early in the season, which was a completely new experience. On the other hand, I still haven’t successfully climbed Fremont Peak. We’ll have to return in a couple of years so I can make another attempt. Tragic, huh?

Continue reading about our trip as we backpack to Heart Lake and climb Mount Sheridan in Yellowstone National Park.

Back to Wyoming

Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports

Home

Please remember to Leave No Trace!