The Wind Rivers There Are Not Enough Superlatives… Left to Right: Pingora Peak/Cirque of the Towers, Ellen at Indian Pass/Basin, Clark Lake and Gannet Peak Introduction When I was an innocent Seattle-ite, I hiked the Enchantments and thought I'd never see anything comparable. After Patagonia, Washington's wee bit of granite seemed but a small piece of rubble. For awhile, I didn't think I'd ever bed down in another granite range that moved my soul as much as Patagonia (neither the Himalayas nor the Tetons did it). But then I planned an accidental trip into the Wind Rivers… and every subsequent trip to the Winds has felt like that. The Winds exploded my theory that first loves are forever, that first loves are the best. After hiking the John Muir Trail (which came close), I still plan to have my ashes spread at Island Lake because that remains where my soul belongs. This collection was ordered chronologically - from Cirque of the Towers to Titcomb Basin, to a traverse from Titcomb Basin to Green Lakes. Left to Right: campsite against the Warrior, the team at camp, waterfall in the upper cirque Cirque of the Towers - August 2000 After a week of research in Yellowstone (including 3 days backpacking in searing heat), we headed to Pinedale and the Cirque of Towers for fun. The team included Ellen, my friend Matt, and 3 new graduates (Kevin, Chris, Danny). While Kevin and Chris were Yellowstone veterans, Danny just accepted a newly funded position as my research assistant. I found Pinedale to be a quaint town that felt like West Yellowstone before the yuppies moved in (RETROSPECTIVE COMMENT - the yuppies have moved in). After confusedly driving around town (impossible but can be done), we found the hotel I'd picked on the web. Appropriately run by this trip's obligatory longhaired blond man (albeit MUCH older than the original), the cabins were clean and welcome. Everyone but Kevin (the only one who had worn cheap tennis shoes - NOT expensive hiking boots) had multiple blisters and 2-6 bleeding toes from Yellowstone. Consequently, we decided to enjoy a full day of rest before strapping on the backpacks again (this would mean going ALL the way into the Cirque on one day - not half-way, as originally planned). After showering, we inquired with the hotel owner about a good place to eat. He must have thought we looked rich because he sent us up to this marina on magnificently Patagonia-like Lake Fremont (a 4-mile drive UP from town). Despite the cost (and the fact that we were all underdressed), dinner was fantastic. We sat outside on this huge deck - Lake Fremont before us, the sun setting to the west. After the meal, we rolled ourselves back to the cabins where Kevin mixed tequila and Sunny Delight, and we sat playing cards while, outside, it poured buckets. The next morning, we went out for breakfast at this awesome greasy spoon (The Wrangler) that served giant oval platters of food. Afterwards, Matt and I dealt with groceries and mailing research specimens while the others did laundry. I then spent most of the afternoon sorting food (something I enjoy greatly… probably because I can put stuff in bags, knowing someone else is going to carry it). In what we agreed later was an unnecessary precaution, we rented an obscenely small bear canister that would only hold some of our dinners (rent = $25 deposit at the ranger station, claim-able upon return). For our party to have put ALL our food in said devices, we would have had to rent at least 5 canisters. We regrouped at 5:00 p.m. for grilled hot dogs, salad, chips, and ice cream. Most of the rest of the night was spent packing - although Ellen and Matt got sucked into watching their first episode of Survivor (then in its first season). Both were appalled at how trashy the show was in terms of "depicting the dark side of humanity." Nevertheless, jokes abounded the next few days - mostly about whether Ellen would be the first one voted off our little island. August 3 - Into the Cirque Over night, it rained buckets. Even as we set out (nice forecast in hand), it rained during the entire 2-hour drive. Memories of the pampas came to mind as we bounced over the horrible dirt road that snaked through scrubland - no sign of mountains in the distance. At the trailhead, over 50 cars (10% with horsetrailers) jammed the main parking lot and beyond. I can't say spirits were lifted by any of this - not to mention that we had to stuff lame feet into cold and rock hard boots. The planned mileage today was 9 miles/2500 feet - although Matt's new GPS unit said we did 11 miles/2800 feet. As usual, the team bifurcated and we would not see Kevin, Chris, and Danny (the boyz) close-up until Arrowhead Lake (8 miles in). The first 5 miles to Big Sandy Lake were easy and scenic. Although we didn't appreciate it at the time, the rain kept the dust and horse shit smell down. At Big Sandy Lake, we stopped for a substantial lunch. Above, we heard and then saw Kevin yelling and waving. The boys were a quarter mile up, having finished their lunch and decided to press on to Jackass Pass. Given the parking lot, observed traffic to this point was surprisingly low. Up to this point, the trail was open to stock (indeed, we saw lots horses, mules, llamas - plus a whole lotta dogs). After Big Sandy, the trail was closed to stock and became more akin to a climbers' path - although there were extensive easy sections. We trudged up the first headwall, which was steep-looking but well-graded, and then the way flattened out for a long time. We then began this gradual climb up giant granite slabs. Given the sweltering heat, many breaks were necessary. We meandered around North Lake, gaining and losing an annoying amount of elevation. The quality of the trail diminished greatly here, turning into an uneven mess of pure rock. We were using our hands to carefully maneuver our backpacked bodies in an exhausting manner. There was so much shit to think about in terms of foot placement that you never had time to consider the fact that your toes were bleeding in your boots (they were). Near Arrowhead, Kevin greeted us as we slogged breathlessly. He then proceeded to lead us to this ACTUAL climbers' path where Chris and Danny were waiting to propose an alternate route. Again, I have to stress that the REAL trail we'd been slogging was considered unofficial - and NOW we were considering leaving said trail to use a bona fide Wind Rivers' climbers' path (ha ha). It took me a long time to process all this but eventually I figured out where we were going relative to the regular trail. Left to Right: setting out in the rain, big climb from North to Arrowhead, on unofficial talus route above Arrowhead Looking at Jackass Pass, the real trail proceeds right and climbs high over the lake. It then drops to the far end of the lake before TOTALLY CLIMBING straight up Jackass Pass (over 10,000 feet). But Jackass Pass is not the lowest point on the gap above Arrowhead. The climbers' route we opted to take headed left of Arrowhead, contouring a gigantic talus boulder field (mobile-home sized rocks, in many cases). The way then climbed briefly to an obvious notch lower than Jackass. From there, it proceeded directly into the Upper Cirque of the Towers. Not fully understanding this, I skeptically watched Danny and Chris start bouldering. 90% of the route was fine but there was a boulder jam so big near the end that I almost fell to injury or death when I snarled up therein. The way was also such that everyone fanned out, making up his/her own route. After losing sight of everyone, I found myself wedged by my pack between these two car-sized boulders, an 8-foot drop before me. I couldn't do anything cautiously as I cussed and throttled myself and my bloody pack through this slot. At one point, everything gave suddenly and I almost face-planted on granite. I emerged last from the rocks, cussing like a sailor and vowing that I would NOT do that again. The view from the climbers' route "true" pass was probably one of the grandest I have seen (despite the wild light). The Cirque spread out in all directions - Pingora, the most photographed and climbed, central and captivating. The rudimentary trail from the notch was thin but we followed it for some time, in search of a camp near one of the high lakes (Hidden - and, amusingly, we never found it). The camping situation and terrain in the upper cirque is fascinating and may trouble beginners who want defined campsites. Simply put, there are none. The good thing is that even with a zillion people up there, there is so much room that you never really see neighbors (but we sure as hell heard dogs - thanks to this fucking group climbers who left their pets tied poorly to shrubbery while they were out all day). Given the crazy topography, you have to hike a lot of cross-country (and most of it is pretty gnarly) to find a useable patch of ground. Also, there are no pit toilets or bear wires, so be prepared to shovel a lot and don't count on finding a tree tall or sturdy enough to hold your food.