Selway Crags, Final Installment

I rose at around 0630 in the morning ready to make an attack on Jesse Pass. There wasn't a whole lot stirring in the next tent over, so I went on a little jaunt to the other side of the lake for some photos...the smoke all cleared out overnight and was already building, so I needed to get on it. The lake was a mirror and the mountains all seemed to glow with the early morning light.

View across the lake to the west / northwest.

The low spot on the ridge is Jesse Pass.

Looking across the lake back toward where we made the descent.

I ambled back into camp to find signs of life. But I started getting curious and wanted to confirm the existence of the trail I thought I saw across the valley. Back down the hill I went, then up the other side. Hmmm, no trail. "Okay, perhaps it's just too brushy here. I'll just keep moving up the valley and grid until I find it." I did this for another bit of time, eventually coming out at the next lake up. NO TRAIL. Crap. Obviously, we were going to have a bit of fun going up the pass and move slower than we anticipated. With this thought sinking in, I hustled back to camp to get everything ready to go. Consulting the map didn't help much...we knew where we needed to go. After a quick breakfast (my raman exhausted, I resorted to oatmeal) we again donned the packs and took off. Playing in the brush and timber for a bit, we managed to find a little game trail to the lake. Interesting when the brush on the sides of the trail is littered with mountain goat fur.

Camp with the best view

Looking back across the valley at the camp. (Look close, the tents are on the rock in center.) Avalanche paths are good places to sleep at night...in summer.

Looking up toward the headwall above the middle lake.

NOW it was going to get interesting! We found a couple little cairns down by the lake, but those simply led straight up the hill and then disappeared, so we were on our own. The going wasn't too bad at first, but there was one section we could see at the very top that would be a test. Again, we found a little trail that helped immensely. I don't believe it was the actual trail, but probably enough people and critters coming down that section made it into what it was.

Halfway up the headwall!

We made it to the steepest section and with our heavy packs, the slope, loose rocks and dirt...it became very sketchy very quickly. I was getting nervous and actually felt my knees on the ground on occasion. I turned and looked at the girls, "Lean into the hill, keep the weight of the pack pushing you in, and if you feel like you are going...sacrifice your knees. If you cartwheel your dead." I saw some pretty big eyes after THAT little comment.

"Eek!" said the pika.

Thinking of what they do in avalanche country, I almost had us all unclip our hipbelts and chest straps...at least then we could dump the packs quickly if they started pulling us backwards. But then again, perhaps the pack would offer some protection from rocks. Screw it. I said a little prayer asking to get us up the hill safe, but if anything happened, a little strength and assistance to deal with it would be appreciated. (Oddly enough, once on top of the hill...I found out we were ALL praying and it was exactly the same thing all around.)

Looking down the steepest section at the middle lake.

It was SUCH a relief to top the hill and find the next and final lake. The smoke was rolling in heavy now and we still had one more grade to go in order to reach Jesse Pass. Of course, we did manage a little break and some photos (of course.) Lunch on top? Good to go!

Pond perched near the upper lake. Just DROPS off over there.

We noticed a little shelf that we could contour along to get to the pass, so aimed our sights for that. However, it was a controversy with the best "medium" to walk on to get there...beargrass or rocks? Trying both, we found the grass to be useful as handholds, not to mention it wasn't as treacherous as shifty rocks.

Rachel making her ascent on the pass above the upper lake.

Well, we found the remnants of what I think was the actual trail once we got to the shelf and were able to coast along that to the pass. What are the chances that on the flattest section of the entire climb, we find a trail? Honestly! Cresting the top, we were rewarded with quite a view of smoke and rocks. Dumping the packs, we ate a small lunch and took more photos. I searched around and actually found the trail! It looked like a good trail and using topography, we figured the little hike to Cove Lakes would be over quickly. Now we could turn it on and MOVE! Lotsa smiles going around.

Looking back down toward the upper lake. The first lake (camp) is in the middle ground behind the trees.

The crew at Jesse Pass

We bopped down the trail at a good speed and then reached a point where another trail was supposed to fork off. Was SUPPOSED to fork off. That was OUR trail. Shoot, it's not there anymore. My idea was to just cut down the hill until we passed whatever remnants of it we could find. I got the elevation of the trail from the map, consulted the GPS and tried to get us in close. This quickly led us into a shining example of the infamous north Idaho brush fields. Thick brush that is typically over your head, extremely high humidity, holes, creeks, mudholes...just amazingly annoying stuff to walk through. I started to have yearnings for my trusty chainsaw. "No trail? I'll MAKE a darn trail."

There IS a technique for walking through this stuff. You essentially bull through it, standing on brush to keep you out of the holes, and use the brush on either side as a brake and stability control. This isn't something you pick up very quickly, takes practice, so while Krista and Rachel were planning there route carefully, I would run down the hill, drop the pack and then continue gridding for the trail. I'd then make my way BACK to my pack, the girls would arrive, and we'd continue on. This routine went on for a couple hours. At one point the girls were navigating a stream about 30 yards from me. Down below them about 20 yards I heard something heavy crashing through the brush and then stop. First thought was that it must be a bear. That's the first and only time I went hunting. I pushed close to where the noise had stopped and just held ready until the girls were near the pack. I hustled back and said, "Let's go THIS way." (Away from that spot.) I didn't mention that little incident until we were out and safe.

The way you feel in north Idaho brush. Nice warpaint Krista!

We all fell, we all cussed. In the above picture, Rachel swore...I think the only time I've ever heard that out of her. "Tom, are we about done with this shit?" I knew it was serious at that point. I'm glad no one was around me at one point because I slipped off my foothold into a hole and got trapped. The momentum of my pack kept me going forward and that really didn't feel very good. Bad place to break a leg. I let loose a string of obscenities that would make a sailor blush.

We made it to the trees, had a nice break in a little fern glade, then went back into the brush to practice our climbing skills a little more. Finally finally finally, we got to a more level and less brushy approach to the lake. The upper of Cove Lakes was muddy, so we decided on the lower lake to refill water. Looking down, we noticed the only campers we had seen in days. Perfect! I saw a small girl and a llama. There MUST be a trail out of here! So, we went down and had a chat with the guy there and filtered some water. No real break here, but I kept asking the guy over and over about the condition of the trail. "Are you SURE it's brushed out. Are you SURE we won't lose it?" My worries put to rest by his reassurance he mentioned that they made it in that morning in about five hours. Hmmm, it was 1600 then. "Oh, you'll be fine. You'll make it out by dark." (I asked him again about the condition of the trail and asked, "is the trail clear enough that one could hike it with a headlamp?" He looked at me and our group and looked at me with that LOOK showing he understood my sincerity and absolute NEED that he be confident in an answer. "Yes.") Perfect. We gotsta go!

The only picture I have of Cove Lake.

"The first section is by far the steepest section of the entire trail" he said. We made an attack on that and looked back at a moose and her calf in the upper lake. Once very excited to see moose, it didn't even seem to matter anymore. We pressed to the saddle, then up some switchbacks, trying to get the elevation gain out of the way quickly. The sun was setting and the smoke in the air made the lighting extremely interesting. Everything seemed to have a sharpened orange aura to it.

Doesn't even do it justice. It WAS neat to have ash fallout raining on us like snow though. (Raining like snow? What?)

Looks like Alaska no? Notice the smoke plume.

We gained our elevation, then descended into an incredible hole by going past nearly 8000 switchbacks...we lost 1700 feet in elevation on that 1.7 mile section.

Good view though...

About 1800...we are headed to that far saddle.

We got to the first major creek in the bottom and took a break. We had more uphill to go, then the final downhill. Reaching Canteen creek, it would be a steady climb to the truck. Water and huckleberries seemed to help a lot. I pulled my filter and got an extra quart of water....drank half of it in no time, than refilled the bottle. It was getting duskier by the second, ash was raining on us, the sun was blood red, and we were still a ways out. After cresting the minor ridge between us and Canteen creek we had a little powwow. I got names and numbers of every one's "keepers" and we all got our headlamps out. One little trick we learned fighting fire was to have the headlamp on BEFORE you needed it. That done, I left Rachel and Krista. The plan was to power on to the truck and try the cell phone, just to see if I couldn't get one calming phone call out. (We were all supposed to call that afternoon when we got out of the woods. People from Montana to South Dakota were probably worrying by that time.)

"Don't leave the trail. If you get confused, stop. I'll go to the truck, make calls if I can and then come back down sans a pack so I can help pull some of the gear off the hill." Check.

I left them at 2030 and turned on the lamp around 2100. The trail just went on and on, but I finally heard the contractor's generator, saw their flood lights, and felt good about it all. They were standing around the concrete floor of the outhouse they were making....just looking at it and taking a break. I dropped my pack at the truck, grabbed the waterbottle and sidled up behind them. I stood next to them for a while and finally said, "So uh, does watching concrete dry make it go faster?" One guy jumped and said, "Where did YOU come from?" Of course I was nonchalant about it..."Oh, we're working our way out of Cove Lakes."

Long story short, I tried the cell and it didn't work. One of the contractors had a satellite phone that we tried. The first call to my folks went through (I was going to use my Dad as a contact-maker with Krista and Rachel's folks) but it was DENIED! My parent's phone didn't allow the call to go through! Crap! After that, there was no reception. So, rather than continuing to try and spending $1 per attempt, I told them I had to go. "You're going back in?" they asked.

Well, yea. Dumb question.

I put on a sweatshirt and bopped down the trail. I knew the crew would be close and then we could all get into camp together! I finally found them giggling and hiking. (I made sure to tell them they were having too much fun.) Then I noticed Krista's pack wasn't on her back where I expected to see it. Ummm, so. Well, they sat down on the other side of Canteen creek and had a short food break. Getting back up, there was no way that pack was going back on Krista. (We figured out later she was probably suffering from a neat combination of altitude sickness, tiredness, and dehydration. She described symptoms of nausea, hurting, couldn't breath...you could see her hands shaking. Scary stuff.

Well, they told me the pack was across the creek next to a big rock with Krista's dewrag to mark it. Great. I have to find a pack and hankerchief in the dark and the reference I have is that it is next to a big rock (bear in mind that we had been living in the Land of Big Rocks....which ONE?) They continued up the trail. "Is there water in the pack?" Yep. "Be sure to go over and thank the contractors." Copy.

I zipped down there and nearly turned around a couple of times, thinking I must have missed it. However, I pushed further and further toward where I had left them the first time and finally found the blatantly obvious marker in the middle of the trail (good job guys!) I was so relieved by this time I could have probably floated back to the truck. Unfortunately I couldn't. I strapped on the pack, did an about face, tied Krista's dewrag on my head, and pushed back out. It was to the point about three hours prior when your feet hurt. You can't stand still because they hurt so bad. I humped up that darn last mile in a pace that I could tell was starting to slow. I didn't stop for water, I just carried the bottle in my hand and swigged it when I could. Unfortunately I was starting to chafe between my legs. The only thing I could do about it was to hold my crotch so my trousers wouldn't rub the skin. Imagine me, walking up a trail at 2230 at night, holding my crotch.

Some real weirdos out there in the Crags....

Again, coming through the meadow and seeing the end was beautiful. I jettisoned the pack and got a huge hug from Krista...I was entirely soaked by this time, but she didn't seem to care. I grabbed a fresh water bottle and simply hit my knees. I couldn't hardly stand on my sore feet.

By this point in the trip, we didn't care about much anymore...the whole concept of privacy didn't exist. Rachel just gave a warning that she was going to change her shirt. I just mentioned that I was going to take off all my clothes and change (since I was a perfect candidate for hypothermia at the time.) Getting into dry clothing was nice and I took the opportunity to lay in the truck and just rub my feet. It's like scratching your head when you've had a wool cap on all day, feels SO GOOD.

It was about 2300 so we decided to make a camp out of the truck that night. "Just think Tom. When you get home you can tell your buddies you had two girls in your bed." Good call Krista! We threw together a pile of sleeping pads and bags, then rigged a tarp over the bed. (See my Logan Pass in October trip...very similar.) We had a hard time tying it down, so eventually used a hankercheif to rig a stop in the doorjam, and tied off one section to the llama guy's truck, and simply made it work.

Again, not to let tradition die, we laid awake and watched the fires burning and oohing and ahhing at the meteors.

After thinking my right leg would cramp all night, we got an early start, with rumbling bellies (notice, food wasn't even on the agenda the previous night.) The plan was to rumble down the rough road, pick up Rachel's car, then zoom out to Lowell where a huge breakfast awaited us at the resteraunt. Not to mention, many phone calls. We got there and found the payphone outside was out of order. Good thing we didn't come out the night before! That would have sucked. Okay, well there was a phone in the restaruant, but it only took calling cards! Where ARE we? Luckily Krista pulled a quick draw on a card and called her folks. Then I called my Dad and had him call Rachel's parents (we were rapidly running out of minutes on the card) and my office.

THAT done, we had breakfast and the girls made a deal with the owner to buy a room for a little bit so they could take showers. While in the room, we decided it'd be a good time to look at everyone's pictures. Imagine me walking into a hotel room with two girls and handfulls of cameras...then leaving an hour later. If anyone was paying attention, I'm sure THAT made them wonder.

We parted ways and made our respective journeys home.

I found out later that my Father had called the Clearwater dispatch at some point and was going to have (or had) air patrol check to see if the truck was at the trailhead. Within all this radio traffic, the CONTRACTORS overheard the conversation on their RADIO and called in that we had arrived late and left early. If I'd have known they had a RADIO...I'd have called dispatch early in the morning! Hmmm, I guess I'll mention I'm Forest Service next time and ask if they have radios.

No worries. We made it out. SAR wasn't implemented. Good to go. I have since decided that I shall buffer my exit date by 24 hours, just for cases like this. That way, if I'm still not out 24 hours after I expect to be out, I will appreciate the worry more. And if your dead, it wouldn't really matter when they came in...but I think putting up with illness or pain and/or confusion for 24 hours is easily possible.

This ends the saga of The Selway Crags Epic. I am continuing to try posting a map of our route here....but it doesn't seem to like the file size.

Talk of a trip to Alaska is already floating around. A much more relaxing trip next year...with trains, Denali (viewing), and perhaps a day of fishing. Sounds nice.

Happy and full.

By the way...I did some research when I got home. The closest fire to us was about five miles. When we were camped at the lower lake at South Three Links lakes, it was essentially over the hill and to the northeast a bit. 4300 acres named the "Lizard" fire. No WONDER it was so smokey in there!