Public Land Rant

On the drive down to meet up with my buddy Alex in Laramie, WY I wanted to get out of the truck and move around a little. Looking on the map I found a section of the Medicine Bow National Forest near I-80 and hoped I could find an access point to a trail or a dirt road that I could run on. However, I ran into an interesting pickle: the Pitcher-Brokaw road that provided access to the National Forest wound through private land and ultimately "stopped" with the posting of "Private Road" signs. Not wanting to cause a fuss, I parked the Champ, changed my clothes, and took a jog back down the road.

It frustrates me that private landowners are able to block access to public land. Earlier this hunting season a buddy of mine and I were unable to gain access to some BLM land on an obvious BLM road, due to "No Trespassing" signs on private property. There is also a huge section of the Swan Range back home near Kalispell, from the Columbia Mountain trailhead to the Strawberry Lake trail that has no public access due to a lack of access points across private property. It doesn't seem fair that a landowner can block other people's access so that they can have a large section of land for their own enjoyment tax free.

I understand that we in America seem to have an inherent right to private property, but since we are all basically owners of the public land spread over the country we should have the right to access. I don't really have a solution for various access problems since it all takes money to maintain trails, roads, etc., but I just needed to blow off some steam. If any of you have a brilliant solution, or want to put me in my place, I'd love a response.

Extremely Grand Mountains

When you drive south through Yellowstone the road crosses the Continental Divide three different times, all at elevations close to 8000 feet. The funny thing is that it didn’t even feel like I was driving in the mountains! The Park sits on the high plateau of an extinct volcano and even when mountains jut above everything else, the base itself sits fairly high in altitude. However, crossing into Grand Teton National Park and spying the jagged skyline of the namesake summits is a totally different story.

I really lucked out and caught a weather-window because it sounds like the last week or so has been kind of nasty, with a storm dumping about a foot of snow. But today, although cold, there were strips of blue peaking out among the few clouds that floated across the sky, accentuating the grandeur of the Tetons. I drove down to Jenny Lake, after stopping at every available visitor center to pick up a map, all of which happened to be closed for the year. Not to be deterred, I found signs for a trailhead, geared up, and tromped off into the snow. It was incredible! The trail went around the Western shore of Jenny Lake and then up into Cascade Canyon. Once the trail started climbing and heading west, I had a view of the steep cliffs and jagged spires of the mountains themselves.

Head down and moving hard to make it to Hidden Falls and Inspiration Point, I almost ran over a cow and a calf moose who gave me the stare-down. Not wanting to get on the bad side of mama moose, I back-tracked and then broke trail in the snow up the horse path heading to the Falls. The features of the Falls were pretty cool: ice was forming on the rock and choking the water’s path causing it to move down the cliff in an interesting pattern. From Inspiration Point, the view of glass-like Jenny Lake and the low-lying mountains to the east was excellent.

I scampered back to the Champ, made a sandwich and took off down the road hoping to drive through the Jackson Hole area before it got dark. Thankfully the sun held out long enough for me to see the town of Jackson, some pretty gnarly ski terrain, and even 16 massive bull elk hanging out together in a field located in an elk reserve (needless to say I pulled over and looked at them longingly through my binoculars).

The beauty of peaks reaching for the sky, especially when they have snow on them, astounds me. Today I had such an incredible feeling of joy just by rounding the corner and seeing them. They seemed so pure, untouchable, otherworldly. I realized today that climbing, whether on rock, ice, or for skiing, is my attempt at being a part of that.

Glimpses of Heaven in Colter’s Hell

Historical accounts tell of a hard core, mountain man named John Colter arriving back at the trading post for the yearly rendezvous telling stories of water shooting straight into the air out of the ground and rivers so hot you could catch a trout already cooked. This fantastical land was given the name Colter’s Hell and was written off as the hallucinations of a man with no companionship for too long. Then more people discovered the area, Jim Bridger being one. Ultimately the area would become one of America’s first National Parks: Yellowstone.

It was a drive down memory lane for me this morning. I woke up from a camp at a fishing access on the Yellowstone River on Hwy 89 south toward the North entrance of the Park. The drive took me past Pray, MT and the entrance to Yellowstone Bible Camp that I attended several times during High School. I also drove by Corwin Springs, reminding me of Ben and Katie: friends that I’ve come to have a number of great adventures with. The mountains with snow on them standing in stark contrast to the brown of the rolling foothills below took me back to the wheat fields behind our house in Cut Bank, where the stubble of the now-harvested wheat fields swept west until the white peaks of the Rockies thrust up blocking their path. Then there was that family reunion on my mom’s side that brought us all together for a week. But that was a long time ago. It is interesting to see how things look familiar to you and yet totally different. I was looking at the mountains and the rivers with a renewed appreciation, with years of hunting, fishing, and climbing the mountains of my Montana home.

Herd of bison in front of steam coming from the Artists Paint Pots.

In “Colter’s Hell” this morning I was greeted in Mammoth to a herd of elk. It was cool to see them milling around and I had fun trying to memorize their shape, color, and movements so as to help my hunting chances when I get home from my trip. I got to see the beauty of terraces being built from water bubbling to the surface from deep below, depositing the minerals that it carries with it. At one point I ran around the boardwalk at the Fountain Mud Pots and saw a geyser in action, some crazy gushing water (that I found out was created in the ‘50s when an earthquake occurred 25 miles away in Montana), and the mud pots themselves dancing away their curious bubbly dance. Then there was the herd of bison crossing the road, silhouetted by steam from a nearby hot spring, a coyote pouncing on some unfortunate creature out in a field, and a white ermine literally porpoise-ing through the snow. Unfortunately I missed the gushing of Old Faithful by mere minutes. I pouted and begged it to prove unfaithful, erupting early just once for me, but alas it held to its ideals.

Upset after missing Old Faithful, which is steaming just to the left of my head.

In fact I feel like I could go on and on about the wonders of the earth that is available to see in Yellowstone: the blanket of snow created a unique atmosphere, rivers rushing over steep precipices into the boiling channel below, and more mountains than I could take in while driving. What an incredible testament to a Creator! Everywhere I looked it seemed as though I was catching glimpses of Heaven in this place dubbed a “hell.”