Electric Peak

On November 1st we successfully summited Electric Peak. Boogie-woogie-woogie! And boy, it may have been the scariest most death-defying thing I've ever done. It's only 4.2 miles from the campsite but that last .2+ is sheer absurdity... especially when you take the wrong route.




Cliffhangers, endings and a journey home:

From the trail junction and beginning of the S. E. Electric Peak Trail it begins like any good cliffhanger does, gently. You rise and fall meandering towards the peak till suddenly, the story takes a turn. Suddenly you're digging your toes into the dirt scrambling straight up the mountain wondering what happened. And soon you realize that you're on a straight path towards the peak. It's inevitable. You see that thin line of the ridge under your feet lead all the way up and into the clouds that ominously hides the summit.

Once on the turn, you simply apply effort and some hard breathing to make progress upward. Not easy, but you know what needs to be done. You put your head down and summon that 'can do' mountain climbing ego and press those toes into the spongy black dirt lurching your 150 lbs. forward.

They say that all the trails in the West are nicely graded and switchbacked. LIES!

The grade shifts from a nice hillside ascent to standing on the balls of your feet on a slope so steep your calves can't stretch far enough to put your heels down. You lean forward in fear of falling backward. In fear of tumbling forever into the stream now far, far below. Head down and lurch. Step. Step. Step. Rest. Step. Step. Step. Rest.

The story is kept interesting by surprising you with a small reprieve making one switchback through a dry gully. Step. Step. Step. Step. Rest.

You pause to take a photo and turn so that those lovely heels can finally return to earth again.

"Onward and upward," the ego shouts with a overly dramatic point to the top as you lean into the hillside like leaning into the wind.

Soon there's wind too. Up ahead you can hear the wind whistling over the ridge. You brace yourself and prepare to lean forward and sideways suddenly feeling less like a climber and more like those inflatable, weighted clown punching dolls being pushed every which way.

The clear path to the summit begins to appear less clear. Follow the ridge, yes. But the agreeable or likely path up, not so clear. You know where the story is going, but how? Straight up the ridge? Along the rocky bluff? Turn left at Albuquerque? It's a mystery!

Pick a path and go. There's a storyline and a plot, but it ain't a mystery, it's more a choose your own adventure.

You find a faint path here and there guiding you up the increasingly precipitous ridge. Treadway going from black dirt to black rocks. The side of the ridge looking less like a hill and more like a cliff.

The character list is short but sturdy. Your compatriot leads the way providing certainty and resolve when yours is lacking. He is the embodiment of the climbing ego.

The rocky bluff that once protected you from the bitter, blowing wind becomes a shade of fiery red like that of a past girlfriend's hair.

The wind brings a song floating into your head. "It's raining in Baltimore, for 50 odd years. Watching and waiting today."

That bluff becomes the ridge and the separator between a slope of loose rock and vertical wall. The further up the mountain the further it stands out like the dorsal fin of an ancient creature.

To be continued...

No pain, no gain

Or at least no good photos. Bouldering at the edge of Firehole Falls where the snow has melted from the spray of warm thermal runoff has its consequences, other than falling into the water below.


*Photos by FASTLAYNE

Bigfoot Stamp of Approval

Black bear or grizzly, 'dem some big feet. It was an exciting experience to be 4th on the food chain in the park. Grizzly, black bear, and a pack of wolves could all kill me for food. Bison and elk could charge if I crossed them. Seeing such wildlife makes me feel the same way as I do when looking up at trees, mountains or stars. The environment we live in is so much larger than we imagine. Seeing the power and magnitude of the natural world rekindles the magical truth, that we are simply a tiny speck among the vast sea of wonder. With courage, we must remember that we are not in charge of our world, we are simply in charge of our own destiny.

Steaming Sunset

This is taken from my favorite pull-off on the grand loop above Midway Geyser Basin. The road that exists today is the same route that was originally cut through the wilderness when the area was designated as the world's first National Park in 1872. Panoramas like this give you no doubt as to why people fought against potential commercial interests to protect this remarkably unique land.

The Firehole River collects the steaming water from Grand Prismatic Spring on the left and Excelsior Geyser on the right. Click the image for a satellite view of the area.

Thanks FASTLAYNE.

Back home and adjusting to the distractions of 24/7 tv, internet and lights. Just wanted to thank FASTLAYNE for joining me on this adventure.
Come back every day for a my favorite shots from the trip.

*FASTLAYNE self-portrait

Homeward bound

Wyoming sky.
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I'm coming home.

On our last night in the park, it snowed 6 inches where we were and way more higher up. What a way to end our trip and Yellowstone NP's season.

See ya'll soon!

*FYI, I now know how to put on semi-truck snow chains.
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