Caffeine and Mountain Season

About a year ago, I sat in a coffee shop in Bozeman, MT and furiously typed away in a caffeine-fueled rampage about the beginning of mountain running season. Once again, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop in Bozeman, MT furiously typing away in a caffeine-fueled rampage. Unlike last year, my mountain season kicked off weeks ago. However, the mountains around Missoula are still chock full of snow. The wildflowers exploding on the hills around Missoula kept leading me to believe I might have a shot at traveling higher in the mountains. But every venture up high, I was met with walls of snow and slow plodding. I yearned for ridgelines and alpine running. My wintertime fantasies of summer running in the high-country seemed possible when my friend Ben Stout shared a few photos of his runs in Idaho. All it took for me to flee hours south towards warmer temps and lower snowlines was a photo of ridgeline void of snow at 11,000’. My daydreaming could finally come to life! The photos from Ben led me to believe I could fast-forward through a few weeks of snowmelt if I simply headed south to Idaho. With visions of ridgeline rambles, swaying wildflowers, long glissades, and sweet sweet singletrack, I drove six hours south to meet up with Ben a few weeks ago.

The mountains of central Idaho are one of the best hidden gems I’m aware of (well, hidden to everyone except the burgeoning population of Boise). Ben and I met on the side of a two-lane highway by a dirt road, delightfully far from cell phone service. It was late afternoon, but that didn’t seem to bother either of us as we set off on a 19-mile loop in the Smoky Mountains. A small crackle of thunder and warnings from a day hiker had us excited to tackle the snow and likely weather that were sure to come. What’s a good mountain run without some spice? Much to our liking, the clouds broke and we made it at least a few miles before the snow started. The delightful singletrack through the woods we’d enjoyed for four miles was soon crisscrossed with heaps of dense snow. We leapt onto these and seemed to always punch through to our knees. We continued uphill and enjoyed beautiful views of Prairie Lakes. The snow became deep and consistent as we went over the 9400’ pass above the lakes. Thankfully, the snow firmed up and we didn’t posthole too bad. The opposite side of the pass greeted us with incredible singletrack and views of the Pioneer and Boulder Mountains to the east. We dropped down a few thousand feet before climbing back up and over Norton Lakes Pass. A quick side trip to Norton Peak (10,336’) featured spectacular ridge running. When I say spectacular, I mean the ridge running of dreams (and crazy European trailrunning Youtube videos). 

There isn’t much more enjoyable than hopping around on a raggedy ridgeline in nothing but shorts. Snow-chocked couloirs dropped off precipitously on either side of the rocky, “runnable” talus. We hopped and clambered about under a blue sky with puffy clouds floating around. Ben and I hooted and hollered in excitement, giant grins plastered on our faces. We could tell the sun was burning our shirtless torsos, but the warmth felt so good in the breeze. The two of us forgot about all the worries in the world during that traverse. Navigating the precarious ridgeline, we were fully absorbed in our foot placements, handholds, and the sea of mountains surrounding us. It seemed remarkable that we were in the middle of a global pandemic and nationwide reckoning with racism. These difficult topics were the dominant conversation over the days we spent running together. The issues our society is currently never ceased to be on the periphery or forefront of the hours of conversation. Endless footsteps in wilds places is how I best think, challenge, understand, and cope. I’m grateful for the opportunity to run with thoughtful friends and try to make sense of this strange world we live in. 

Later than night, around 10pm, Ben and I sat by the campfire a few beers deep. We realized we should probably figure out where we were going to run the next day. Inspired by the creativity provided through our libations, we figured we’d go for a big point-to-point traverse in the Boulder Mountains across the highway. The following morning came fast. Our route would take us from Boulder City to Galena Lodge, 20-25 miles with ~8,000’ of depending on if we did a side trip up Silver Peak. And depending on how good our route planning was from the night before. We knew we’d hit snow, but didn’t have the slightest idea how much. In short, we had no idea what we were getting into.

We ran up a rough jeep road for several miles into a wide basin tucked below 11,000’ peaks. Here, we found the remnants of Boulder City, a mining town plopped in the mountains aside icy lakes at 9,000’. We also found a lot snow. And unlike the day prior, our legs drove into the soft snow like fence posts. “Postholing” is such an accurate term it hurts. Our travel was comically slow, our legs quickly went numb, but we eventually made it to Boulder Pass, around 10,600’. Seeing a tantalizing ridgeline that we weren’t sure was possible to travel on, we made the mile-long side trip to Silver Peak. This mile involved rock hopping, a few exposed class 3/4 scrambles, and the occasional bout of running. Sitting at 11,112’ on Silver Peak, we were all smiles and laughter looking at the swathes of wilderness surrounding us. The Sawtooths, Smokies, Boulders, White Clouds, Pioneers, and Lost Rivers were all visible. The jagged snow-covered peaks were a far cry from the potato-land Idaho is known to be. Shhhh don’t tell anyone. 

lol @ mud

Our mile-long journey back to the pass was made a bit spicier by the decision to travel just below the ridge and avoid the more technical sections. We found ourselves traversing loose rock and the upper reaches of some high angle snow fields. To our wild amusement, I accidentally started an avalanche. It started as a lazy sliding of snow but grew into massive wet slide that scattered the boulders 1000’ below like they were marbles. We were both safe and no one was around, so we watched in amazement at the power of the mountains. COOL. After that fun, we bloodied our shins running/postholing a few thousand vertical feet down from the pass. A few more miles of off trail travel before another long ascent to a pass left us happy and exhausted after 26 miles of “running”. 

Running in quotes seemed to be the theme of this trip. Once again, at 10pm we found ourselves a few beers deep around a campfire, this time joined by Gus Gibbs and Micah Drew. Pointing at maps excitedly under the glow of headlights, we decided we’d head up to Sawtooth Lake and make a go at summitting Alpine Peak. The next day brought, shocker, the chance to once again “run” across miles of snow. Gus managed to drag us all onto the ice and slush covered Sawtooth Lake, which at 8,430’ was still wearing its winter coat. We stared at him in bewilderment as he jumped over a crack in the ice and ran out several hundred yards. We played a nice game of “good idea, bad idea?” before joining in on the fun. Our feet were immeditately soaked and frozen from playing on that thin layer of slushy ice perched atop a few hundred feet of dark, ice cold water. We left the lake top to head up 1,200’ of snow to Alpine Peak. Another glorious ridgeline brought us to the summit at 9,861’. This time of year, my favorite part of getting up high in the mountains is the hope of a long glissade back down. Alpine Peak did not disappoint, and the four us skied on our feet most of the way back down to the lake giggling like small children. 

I’m still wildly caffeinated sitting in a coffee shop in Bozeman, MT. And just like last year, I’m about to go run up to Baldy Peak in the Bridger Mountains. Last year, I said “just run to Baldy Peak” and then found myself scrambling and post holing for another hour along the spine of the Bridgers. We’ll see what happens today. Whatever happens, I couldn’t be happier to be up playing in the mountains again.