My friend Jim, and I, are both "collecting" backcountry sites in Yellowstone. He has almost 90, and I at the end of this trip, I had 68. Why do I collect sites? I guess I think there might be someplace I'll like better than my current favorite(s). I tried to come up with my favorite site, and counted 6. I obviously don't have one favorite site, but my favorite site at any moment is determined by the weather, and the wind and the time of year and what my little brain needs exposure to. I may not recognize and be able to verbalize what I want or need, but something tells me to ask for a particular site, and that site will fill some needs. Maybe it's sitting by a lake, or watching an awesome sunrise or a great sunset, or having a big view. I dunno. Checking out NEW sites is so I might find more sites that offer some needed attribute. A different lake, or stream, or a geyser or hot spring or maybe some wildlife to watch.
Beula Lake was a lake that neither of us had been to before. It's waaaaaaay in the south of the park. You take Grassy Lake Road from Flagg Ranch, enter the Targee (Targhee?) National Forest. After a bit of driving on a rutted, rocky road, there is an unmarked pull off. The trail goes strongly uphill until it intersects with the South Boundary Trail, and continues along the top of the ridge for a couple of miles. That's what the guidebook says anyway.
Jim and I don't like climbing.
Jim had looked at the map, and asked if I would be interested in driving further along the road, to the top of the hill, and then bushwhack to the South Boundary Trail, and take it to the intersection with the Beula Lake Trail. I'm not usually one to go exploring, but I really don't like climbing, and the South Boundary Trail does parallel the road there, and well, we left my vehicle at the trailhead (hey, we don't like *climbing*, but descending is ok), and drove on up. We found a place to park, and headed up, looking for the South Boundary Trail. It took maybe 5 minutes to find it. Jim put a big branch on the trail, so we'd know approximately where his vehicle was, in case we didn't want to follow the trail back to the trailhead. I believe he might have done this maneuver before.
Off we went. We followed the trail East. There were a few sticks and limbs on the trail, but mostly it was very easy walking. There were a few little dips and hills, but it was just walking in the woods.
In a few minutes we came to the intersection of the Beula Lake Trail and the South Boundary Trail.
The new trail also had little ups and downs, but nothing big. There were occasional views, but even they were blocked by at least some lodgepoles. The trail was about two and a half miles long, and I don't think there was a single unobstructed view. The forest around us had burned in 1988 (Jim had done wildland firefighting at the time, and knew), and we were walking through new growth. It was a nice walk in the woods.
If you didn't watch your feet, you could stumble over the occasional rock.
The trail led us to a big drop off, which was startlingly direct. Looking up, I finally saw some lake through the trees, but it really wasn't worth taking a picture of. It would just be a mush of trees and a little lake and sky.
Down we went. It was steep, and rutted, and there were softball sized loose rocks that would skitter out under your feet. Grrrr. The trail was straight, and once you started sliding, you'd continue. So we went slowly, and carefully.
Once down, it was only a few yards to the lake. The lake was pretty, but I didn't stop to take a picture, instead deciding that I wanted to see what the campsite looked like. It was only a few yards further. We looked around for campsites, which we found, and then looked for the food pole. It took a minute or two, but we found it on the hill back a little toward the main trail. In a matter of minutes, we had hung our food, and started the process of choosing a campsite. I grabbed one, with the hope that if I looked out my screen door, I'd see the lake and maybe stars. Heck, Jim had heard that the aurora borealis was potentially to be out, and wouldn't it be neat to look out your tent and see northern lights glowing?
I had mostly finished setting up my tent when I heard Jim muttering about something. He might have been yelling, maybe. I think there were maybe some naughty words involved, too.
I went over to see what the problem was. His tent had nice, robust looking carbon fiber poles, but to connect the strong poles to each other, there were little metal sleeves inserted into one end of each of the carbon poles. In two instances, the metal sleeves had slid into the carbon poles and just disappeared. That left him with shock corded poles that had no connecting mounts.
Jim was displeased.
He grabbed his repair kit and dug out duct tape. (This is one of those instances where WE-40 and bailing wire alone were not enough.) I held two poles together while he taped the joint. Well, they were together, but they didn't provide any of the rigid, yet springy-ness, that the design really called for. Plus, the tape blocked where the clip was supposed to clip. I suggested a little stick to go in the hollow of the pole, but the twigs either didn't fit, or were too dry and brittle. We tried a piece of wood, but the wood that we could find was all very dry, and mostly rotten.
That's when I suggested that we stop trying to fix it, and go eat.
Food is so often the answer!
It would also give us an opportunity to think about options and solutions. And to eat M&M's.
We decided that we could use Jim's hiking poles as splints, and that if we wrapped the hiking pole with a little plastic from a baggie, then put the duct tape on, he wouldn't have sticky hiking poles. (Yay thinking caps!)
So, after a ham sandwich/crackers and cheese, and M&M's, we wrapped the hiking poles and carbon fiber poles in plastic, and then taped things together. Before you make any comments, keep in mind this was not the work of engineers (at least me, I'm not sure what Jim's background is). I think it's not bad for a band directing, trumpet playing, librarian. Once the fly was on, it only looked a little funny.
I believe we each decided that the next step was to take a nap. (As a hiker, I'm not one of those distance seekers.)
After the nap, it was time to set up my little chair, and go sit by the lake. I read that the lake is 107 acres, and was "named for a mystical land of sunshine and delight." That came from p 276 of Schneider's Hiking Yellowstone National Park. (That might be the first, and only, citation on backcountrypost.com. Badly formed, maybe, but it should get you to the original source. I left off the subtitle, you'll have to dig that up yourself. And the edition. Perfect... .) I don't know about the mystery, but it was sunny, and I guess it was pretty delightful, now that Jim's tent was up.
We could see the Pitchstone Plateau rising up, across the lake.
The sun started to go down, and the colors softened.
I'm not good with night time photography, but I tried. Jim had read that the northern lights might put on a show, so we hung around the shore of the lake until it was pretty dark. Actually, until we got cold. We took pictures periodically, to see if we could see some aurora colors, but basically, we saw black and stars. Jim did see a shooting star.
In the morning, I headed down to the lake. I kept hoping there would be a moose, but none ever appeared.
Everything was damp, and the air was crisp. There was fog rising from the lake, and the sky was cloudless and bright.
I sat in my chair and just watched to see what might happen next.
With the sun up, we went and had some hot chocolate and breakfast.
We decided to walk down to where the Fall River starts. It was only supposed to be a half mile, or so. The trail started out ok, got more indistinct, and then played "let's hide under some downed logs."
The Red Range made an appearance.
This lake looks like many of the lakes in Yellowstone. Clear with views.
The outlet of Beula Lake, the start of the Fall River, was supposed to be "over there."
We got to this meadow, which looked like it might really be a marsh, and Jim continued. I decided I'd wait there.
I watched Jim walk along the edge of the trees, then behind the trees, and finally over a little knoll. In about ten minutes, he was headed back. He had made it to the start of the Fall River. It was bigger and deeper than he thought it would be, and he reported it had a strong current. In the mean time, I had enjoyed sun, and a nice view, and the services of a seat high log.
This was looking toward the Tetons.
We headed back to camp, and after our exhausing exploration (stop laughing), we each took naps.
I got up and went to the lake and just looked. I like just looking. There was an osprey that I watched, and a bald eagle, and the goldeneyes swam by as did the mergansers, and there were a few dragonflies that were checking things out.
I got a picture of a beaver lodge.
My phone has more zoom than should be allowed, which let me get a picture of these goldeneyes.
And this merganser.
But now it was time for business.
So I went to the food pole, and got some lunch.
You can't really tell, but the pole is on the side of the hill, and if you sit under the pole, you're on an incline. If you take your food over to the fire ring, you're too close to the tents... MY tent, specifically. So we never lingered over eating.
It had been chilly the night before, and we were going to look for the aurora again, and it was our last night hiking for the season (probably). I whimpered and we had a fire.
Then we went and did our aurora watch.
It's pretty hard work. Some people enjoy it.
We saw lots of stars, but no aurora.
There was no aurora show, but this was the view the next morning. It was a good consolation prize.
It got better.
Headed up for breakfast, I noticed the little mushroom peeking out of its little hole.
We wanted to do the climb while it was still cool. It was not a super early start, but in mid October, a 9:30 start IS fairly early.
We had talked to some fishermen during our stay at Beula Lake. Their description of the climb up from the trailhead made it sound extra nasty and slidy. We decided that we'd prefer hiking back to the vehicle via the South Boundary Trail, and then cutting through the woods to the road, and then hike back along the road until we got to the car. Honestly, the road walking was pretty nice.
We took a quick drive down to the Tetons, to see if the fall colors were popping. They weren't, so we went to the Lake Hotel and had lunch. I had 4 cups of coffee, among other things, and was up until 2 am. Didn't mind a bit.
On my way home, I even saw some wildlife.
Beula Lake was a lake that neither of us had been to before. It's waaaaaaay in the south of the park. You take Grassy Lake Road from Flagg Ranch, enter the Targee (Targhee?) National Forest. After a bit of driving on a rutted, rocky road, there is an unmarked pull off. The trail goes strongly uphill until it intersects with the South Boundary Trail, and continues along the top of the ridge for a couple of miles. That's what the guidebook says anyway.
Jim and I don't like climbing.
Jim had looked at the map, and asked if I would be interested in driving further along the road, to the top of the hill, and then bushwhack to the South Boundary Trail, and take it to the intersection with the Beula Lake Trail. I'm not usually one to go exploring, but I really don't like climbing, and the South Boundary Trail does parallel the road there, and well, we left my vehicle at the trailhead (hey, we don't like *climbing*, but descending is ok), and drove on up. We found a place to park, and headed up, looking for the South Boundary Trail. It took maybe 5 minutes to find it. Jim put a big branch on the trail, so we'd know approximately where his vehicle was, in case we didn't want to follow the trail back to the trailhead. I believe he might have done this maneuver before.
Off we went. We followed the trail East. There were a few sticks and limbs on the trail, but mostly it was very easy walking. There were a few little dips and hills, but it was just walking in the woods.
In a few minutes we came to the intersection of the Beula Lake Trail and the South Boundary Trail.
The new trail also had little ups and downs, but nothing big. There were occasional views, but even they were blocked by at least some lodgepoles. The trail was about two and a half miles long, and I don't think there was a single unobstructed view. The forest around us had burned in 1988 (Jim had done wildland firefighting at the time, and knew), and we were walking through new growth. It was a nice walk in the woods.
If you didn't watch your feet, you could stumble over the occasional rock.
The trail led us to a big drop off, which was startlingly direct. Looking up, I finally saw some lake through the trees, but it really wasn't worth taking a picture of. It would just be a mush of trees and a little lake and sky.
Down we went. It was steep, and rutted, and there were softball sized loose rocks that would skitter out under your feet. Grrrr. The trail was straight, and once you started sliding, you'd continue. So we went slowly, and carefully.
Once down, it was only a few yards to the lake. The lake was pretty, but I didn't stop to take a picture, instead deciding that I wanted to see what the campsite looked like. It was only a few yards further. We looked around for campsites, which we found, and then looked for the food pole. It took a minute or two, but we found it on the hill back a little toward the main trail. In a matter of minutes, we had hung our food, and started the process of choosing a campsite. I grabbed one, with the hope that if I looked out my screen door, I'd see the lake and maybe stars. Heck, Jim had heard that the aurora borealis was potentially to be out, and wouldn't it be neat to look out your tent and see northern lights glowing?
I had mostly finished setting up my tent when I heard Jim muttering about something. He might have been yelling, maybe. I think there were maybe some naughty words involved, too.
I went over to see what the problem was. His tent had nice, robust looking carbon fiber poles, but to connect the strong poles to each other, there were little metal sleeves inserted into one end of each of the carbon poles. In two instances, the metal sleeves had slid into the carbon poles and just disappeared. That left him with shock corded poles that had no connecting mounts.
Jim was displeased.
He grabbed his repair kit and dug out duct tape. (This is one of those instances where WE-40 and bailing wire alone were not enough.) I held two poles together while he taped the joint. Well, they were together, but they didn't provide any of the rigid, yet springy-ness, that the design really called for. Plus, the tape blocked where the clip was supposed to clip. I suggested a little stick to go in the hollow of the pole, but the twigs either didn't fit, or were too dry and brittle. We tried a piece of wood, but the wood that we could find was all very dry, and mostly rotten.
That's when I suggested that we stop trying to fix it, and go eat.
Food is so often the answer!
It would also give us an opportunity to think about options and solutions. And to eat M&M's.
We decided that we could use Jim's hiking poles as splints, and that if we wrapped the hiking pole with a little plastic from a baggie, then put the duct tape on, he wouldn't have sticky hiking poles. (Yay thinking caps!)
So, after a ham sandwich/crackers and cheese, and M&M's, we wrapped the hiking poles and carbon fiber poles in plastic, and then taped things together. Before you make any comments, keep in mind this was not the work of engineers (at least me, I'm not sure what Jim's background is). I think it's not bad for a band directing, trumpet playing, librarian. Once the fly was on, it only looked a little funny.
I believe we each decided that the next step was to take a nap. (As a hiker, I'm not one of those distance seekers.)
After the nap, it was time to set up my little chair, and go sit by the lake. I read that the lake is 107 acres, and was "named for a mystical land of sunshine and delight." That came from p 276 of Schneider's Hiking Yellowstone National Park. (That might be the first, and only, citation on backcountrypost.com. Badly formed, maybe, but it should get you to the original source. I left off the subtitle, you'll have to dig that up yourself. And the edition. Perfect... .) I don't know about the mystery, but it was sunny, and I guess it was pretty delightful, now that Jim's tent was up.
We could see the Pitchstone Plateau rising up, across the lake.
The sun started to go down, and the colors softened.
I'm not good with night time photography, but I tried. Jim had read that the northern lights might put on a show, so we hung around the shore of the lake until it was pretty dark. Actually, until we got cold. We took pictures periodically, to see if we could see some aurora colors, but basically, we saw black and stars. Jim did see a shooting star.
In the morning, I headed down to the lake. I kept hoping there would be a moose, but none ever appeared.
Everything was damp, and the air was crisp. There was fog rising from the lake, and the sky was cloudless and bright.
I sat in my chair and just watched to see what might happen next.
With the sun up, we went and had some hot chocolate and breakfast.
We decided to walk down to where the Fall River starts. It was only supposed to be a half mile, or so. The trail started out ok, got more indistinct, and then played "let's hide under some downed logs."
The Red Range made an appearance.
This lake looks like many of the lakes in Yellowstone. Clear with views.
The outlet of Beula Lake, the start of the Fall River, was supposed to be "over there."
We got to this meadow, which looked like it might really be a marsh, and Jim continued. I decided I'd wait there.
I watched Jim walk along the edge of the trees, then behind the trees, and finally over a little knoll. In about ten minutes, he was headed back. He had made it to the start of the Fall River. It was bigger and deeper than he thought it would be, and he reported it had a strong current. In the mean time, I had enjoyed sun, and a nice view, and the services of a seat high log.
This was looking toward the Tetons.
We headed back to camp, and after our exhausing exploration (stop laughing), we each took naps.
I got up and went to the lake and just looked. I like just looking. There was an osprey that I watched, and a bald eagle, and the goldeneyes swam by as did the mergansers, and there were a few dragonflies that were checking things out.
I got a picture of a beaver lodge.
My phone has more zoom than should be allowed, which let me get a picture of these goldeneyes.
And this merganser.
But now it was time for business.
So I went to the food pole, and got some lunch.
You can't really tell, but the pole is on the side of the hill, and if you sit under the pole, you're on an incline. If you take your food over to the fire ring, you're too close to the tents... MY tent, specifically. So we never lingered over eating.
It had been chilly the night before, and we were going to look for the aurora again, and it was our last night hiking for the season (probably). I whimpered and we had a fire.
Then we went and did our aurora watch.
It's pretty hard work. Some people enjoy it.
We saw lots of stars, but no aurora.
There was no aurora show, but this was the view the next morning. It was a good consolation prize.
It got better.
Headed up for breakfast, I noticed the little mushroom peeking out of its little hole.
We wanted to do the climb while it was still cool. It was not a super early start, but in mid October, a 9:30 start IS fairly early.
We had talked to some fishermen during our stay at Beula Lake. Their description of the climb up from the trailhead made it sound extra nasty and slidy. We decided that we'd prefer hiking back to the vehicle via the South Boundary Trail, and then cutting through the woods to the road, and then hike back along the road until we got to the car. Honestly, the road walking was pretty nice.
We took a quick drive down to the Tetons, to see if the fall colors were popping. They weren't, so we went to the Lake Hotel and had lunch. I had 4 cups of coffee, among other things, and was up until 2 am. Didn't mind a bit.
On my way home, I even saw some wildlife.
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