One of my dreams from the past few years has been to go on a backpacking trip. I’ve done tiny little ones in NC, packing in maybe 1-2 miles and it was an excellent way to get a feel for how to get along in the backwoods on survival gear. We still camped pretty cushy though as far as food was concerned because you can perch anything on the top of your head for a mile that one would not wish to carry for 10 miles. Enter, shrimp tacos and and steak kabobs.

I had the opportunity to join a trip in Montana earlier this summer and the prep began. When it came down to it I was surprised both by how much I had and how much I still needed to buy. I had things like a good tent and moderately good sleeping bag, but my backpack was old and not good for many miles (the chest strap had broken) and I didn’t have things like rain gear.

Did you know that lightweight gear is expensive? It costs money to buy things rated for backpacking. I nervously shopped rain coats for $200+ and backpacks for $200+ and shoes for $100. I didn’t get the shoes, and found a raincoat for 150% off, and a backpack for under $200, so all is well that ends well.

Note: one does not simply just buy a backpack. I cannot emphasize this enough. Get fitted. I went to both REI and Great Outdoor Provision and between them finally came up with something that fit, a Gregory Maven 55 litre. It worked well for a 4 day trip, if a bit on the snug side.

20+ people pack in a lot of gear.

Quinnebaugh Meadows and Sundance Lake via West Fork of Rock Creek Trail

Having amassed our gear and eaten an energy bite or two, we embarked. We were anxious to get started, because it was supposed to rain later on and we didn’t want to set up a wet camp.

The first section of the trail is through burn area, which is a little creepy but also pretty. It had wildflowers and berries for the first 2-3 miles before you get to the meadows, and the elevation is still low enough that the weather is warm. Not that this is desirable for hiking, but it wasn’t bad either.

Quinnebaugh Meadows are at the halfway point approximately and are the sort of restful place where one could be lulled to sleep and then surprised awake by a nice, ferocious grizzly. I wasn’t terribly worried, but had it on good authority that it is better to go into the wilderness a little nervous. Accordingly I brought a few nerves. I didn’t end up needing them, but at least I watched for wildlife.

It was near this point that it began to rain, which meant stopping and pulling out all the rain gear for one’s self and one’s backpack. My shoes started to get wet and sloshy, though they held out decently well for being about 10 years old and through the wringer on other mountains.

The last section of trail was arduous. We stopped for a few minutes to look over a baby vista and for one of our party to practice target shooting with a slingshot.

The misty and glorious view which burst upon us when we reached the hill overlooking Sundance Lake. The rain had stopped long enough to allow us to set up camp, but it was cold here, much colder, at 9,600’ elevation.

The tarp was both a saving grace and nemesis in the blowing rain. It was nice because it kept out rain but was insufficient in wind. Or rather, it kept out most of the rain despite wind but the smoke marinated us all into tasty human morsels.

Nevertheless we persisted and had some hot coffee and rehydrated food. The fire did feel wonderful, even if it was cantankerous. We all went to bed early because we had driven most of the previous night to get to the Beartooth Mountains and then hiked another 9 miles to get into the campsite. The next morning, we had decided to tackle Whitetail summit. I had my reservations about trying to summit. One, I hadn’t been able to train much for this trip and this would be an arduous climb after an arduous hike. I decided to at least try for Sundance Pass and reassess from there to see if I thought I could summit a 12,556’ mountain. Two, the last time I had tried hiking something even remotely that tall I had nearly keeled over in exhaustion.

Deciding to take it in segments was a wise idea, I figured, and we prepared to set off the next morning.

Whitetail Peak via Sundance Pass

By the by, isn’t Sundance an enchanting name?

The photo below is of Whitetail Peak, which is distinguished by the white remains of snow streaking down the couloir (which is basically the white line you see splitting the mountain). Yes, I hadn’t ever heard that word before either.

So the hike began. The first switchbacks were cut into the meadow and then as we climbed, they turned into rocks, rocks and more rocks. I found they were surprisingly easy even though they looked intimidating from the camp. Distance in the mountains is intriguing. Particularly these mountains, I think, though I don’t have many mountains to compare them to other than mountains in the east.

One climbs much more quickly than imagined.

We gained Sundance Pass and sat there awhile to eat snacks and rejuvenate, but almost before I knew what was happening the group to summit was preparing to leave and I had to make up my mind, stat. It ended up being a spur-of-the-moment decision to go. It was only a few more miles and I felt great. The next part of the climb was going to be crossing boulder fields and then a final 1000’ ascent up over some vertical boulder fields to gain the top of the mountain.

What ho! And off we went. I had been doing yoga in the past month to get more limber and strong, but the real benefit turned out to be breathing. I had learned how to breathe into things instead of waiting to breath and it made a massive difference. Where I would normally be out of breath was more a matter of control and being able to pace myself. What a gift. Who knew yoga would help prepare me for hiking.

In case you wonder what boulder fields look like, this is a mild version of them. Sometimes it’s just getting from rock to rock.

I don’t have many photos of this part of the hike and I don’t know why. I think because by then I had kicked into overdrive mode and wasn’t going to stop. The summit was the goal, not pictures along the way. The boulder scramble at the end with the remaining 1,000’ or so was unlike anything I had done before. Switchbacks suddenly looked liked child’s play, even though these weren’t technical or difficult to ascend, there was just so many of them. At the very end, as we passed through the couloir (the dip you see before the peak) I almost thought I wouldn’t make it because there was just a tiny hint of rock climbing and as tired as I was starting to get, I could just imagine losing my footing and falling down that long, white streak for thousands and thousands of feet. My courage failed, but thankfully a kind gentleman assisted me up that part and I made it to the peak.

I didn’t get photos of the peak and honestly can’t remember if I just sat there and soaked it all in or decided consciously not to photograph. It was the top of the world. Silent. Still. It almost makes me glad I didn’t get any photos of the actual peak. It feels like something reverent in my memory and not to be shared.

But here is a photo that shows a lower vantage point of some of the view.

We had heard while we were hiking in that a girl had been climbing this area solo and fallen in early July and then still hadn’t found her. A week or two after we came home they found her on the north face of the mountain, the same place we had camped and hiked. It’s crazy to think we could’ve found her.

It’s easy to get confused in the mountains. In the descent I started to go the wrong way and was quickly swallowed up in fog. I heard one of the guys calling for me and he said if I had continued to go that way I might’ve been doing some real rock climbing too. There’s only one way off this mountain.

As usual the descent was the worst part. Aching and weak ankles, tired legs, altitude making you just a little fuzzy. It was incredibly beautiful though. We saw the sunset within a few miles of the camp. Stunning.

Camp has never been such a welcome sight. Pancakes and sausage and bacon for the win!

The the next day we did nothing but laze around. Amen.

In conclusion my friends. Montana has some places worth working hard to experience, you can hike more than you think you can, and I have never thrown a pair of shoes away so happily as those Keens. They had a good decade of service and I’m grateful, but 4 blisters is too much.

Happy Hiking Grounds to the shoes,

Cheers to my first real backpacking trip completed. Next stop, Patagonia.

L. Raine

P.S. This is the best meal I had rehydrated. Comment if you want a packing list for this kind of backpacking experience and I’ll curate one.

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