THE WILDEST WILDERNESS
I’ve been curious about the vast wilderness in the
Absaroka Mountains south and east of Yellowstone National Park for years. It’s a mysterious area, without much
information available. The only maps are
the basic USGS quads. There are two
guidebooks, but one is ancient and the other is a basically just a second
edition that’s a little more recent.
Even a typical Google search doesn’t turn up much.
Part of the region is famous though, for being the
most remote place in the contiguous United States. It’s known as The Thorofare, and some parts
of it are over 20 miles from the nearest road.
That’s straight-line distance.
Actual hiking distance from the closest trailhead is farther yet.
Last fall, my friend Dave, from Lander, Wyoming,
suggested that I check the area out. He
sent me links to a few Youtube videos of the area, which
captivated me. I started studying the
topo maps, and I became intrigued.
Internet research wasn’t productive, so I finally caved in and ordered
the ancient guidebook. I ended up
spending most of January researching the area.
That was a bit awkward, since we had a trip to Oregon planned. I should’ve been researching Oregon, but I
couldn’t focus on anything except the Absarokas.
The problem with doing extensive research was that I
kept finding more and more places that I wanted to visit. I came up with a bunch of route
ideas, but incorporating the most compelling destinations would require a 10-12
day trip.
Meanwhile, Christy was recovering from surgery to
repair a torn tendon in her ankle.
Unfortunately, the surgery didn’t work.
A second surgery was scheduled for late April. The good news is the second attempt seems to
have solved the problem. Unfortunately,
the timing of the second surgery meant that she wouldn’t be able to resume
hiking until late summer, at the earliest.
We had to cancel our July trip to Oregon.
Christy was a good sport about it. She told me that I should still go without
her. My initial thought was to stick
with Oregon, since we already had flights booked. However, the more I thought about it, the
more I realized that I was overlooking a rare opportunity. She has bad knees, so when we backpack
together, I carry most of the gear and food.
Six or seven days is about the most I can manage with her. Solo is a different story. Half the gear and food means being able to do
a trip that is twice as long. In fact,
in 2013 I did a 12-day solo trip in Glacier National Park without resupplying.
I realized that I had a rare opportunity. I wanted to do a long trip, and I actually had the opportunity to do it. I changed my flight to Denver, reserved a
rental car, and began making plans in earnest.
I wanted to incorporate a number
of places in my trip, including:
- North Fork Falls, on the North Fork Buffalo River
- The Parting of the Waters at Two Ocean Pass, where North Two Ocean Creek
splits. The western fork becomes Pacific
Creek, which runs west to join the Snake River, which eventually joins the
Columbia River on its journey to the Pacific Ocean. The eastern fork becomes Atlantic Creek,
which runs east to join the Yellowstone River, which joins the Missouri River,
which eventually joins the Mississippi River on its journey to the Atlantic
Ocean (Gulf of Mexico).
- Bridger Lake and the Thorofare region of Yellowstone National Park.
- The very beginning of the Yellowstone River.
- Younts Peak, which is the
tallest mountain in the Thorofare region, and one of the most remote peaks in
the contiguous United States.
- Ferry Lake, an alpine gem on the Buffalo plateau, featuring a long run of
waterfalls on its outlet stream.
Most of all, I wanted to finish the trip with over
20 miles of off-trail hiking along the Continental Divide. Years ago, when I first heard about the
Continental Divide Trail, I was thrilled.
Imagine hiking the Continental Divide from Mexico to Canada! I was disappointed when I found out that most
of the CDT isn’t actually on the Continental
Divide. There is a good reason for this
– most of the Continental Divide isn’t walkable. There are a few exceptions though. One of them is on the Buffalo plateau in the
Teton Wilderness. I couldn’t imagine a
more thrilling way to end the trip.
I decided that the best approach would be to start
at the Turpin Meadows trailhead on the Buffalo River and finish at Brooks Lake. Going in the other direction would mean
starting the trip above treeline, where hanging my
food wouldn’t be possible. I planned to carry
a bear cannister, but I’d never get 12 days of food in it.
This route would require a car shuttle. A loop from Turpin Meadows was also an
option, but it would require eliminating something from the trip. I messaged my friend Dave in Lander, and he
offered to shuttle me from Brooks Lake over to Turpin Meadows at the start of
my trip. That was very generous of him,
as it is a pretty long drive from Lander.
Originally I planned to hike 14 miles from Turpin Meadows to North Fork Falls on
the North Fork of the Buffalo River on the first day. Although the terrain looked easy, that would
be ambitious for the first day, with heavy packs and not much time to acclimate
to the altitude. I feared that I was
setting myself up for failure.
Eventually I decided on a minor change.
Instead of starting on Monday morning, I’d get a head start on Sunday
afternoon. I’d knock out 4 or 5 miles on
Sunday, leaving me with 10 miles or less on Monday. Since I had already labeled my maps, and I
was calling Monday “Day 1”, I decided to refer to Sunday as “Day Zero”. My final plan was as follows, with estimated
mileage based on the guidebook and Cal Topo map measurements:
Day 0 – Turpin Meadows to Soda Fork Meadows: 4 miles
Day 1 – Soda Fork Meadows to North Fork Falls: 10 miles
Day 2 – Layover day, hike
to waterfalls in the headwaters of the North Fork Buffalo River: 13 miles.
Day 3 – North Fork Falls to Two Ocean Pass: 9 miles
Day 4 – Two Ocean Pass to Bridger Lake: 8 miles, plus side trip to Yellowstone Point.
Day 5 – Layover day, hike
to waterfall on Cliff Creek in Yellowstone National Park: 10 miles.
Day 6 – Bridger Lake to the mouth of Woodard
Canyon: 14 miles.
Day 7 – The mouth of Woodard Canyon to the Continental
Divide: 12 miles
Day 8 – The Continental Divide to Ferry Lake: 8 miles, plus morning side trip to Younts Peak, 5 miles.
Day 9 – Layover day, hikes
to waterfalls and views near Ferry Lake:
distance highly variable.
Day 10 – Ferry Lake to the Continental Divide below
Wall Mountain: 12 miles
Day 11 – The Continental Divide to Perry N Boday Lake: 10
miles, plus 5 mile morning side trip to the summit of Wall
Mountain.
Day 12 – Perry N Boday
Lake to Brooks Lake: 12 miles.
Did I mention that Christy was a good sport? She spent weeks dehydrating meals for
me. This trip would’ve been impossible
without them. She made me 12 dinners
that weighed a little over 5 pounds.
I made another sacrifice to save weight. My DSLR camera and lens weighs 3 ½
pounds. My smallest tripod (a mini Gorilla pod) is another ½ pound or so. Eventually I decided to leave the camera at
home and just use my IPhone 13 Pro for photos. It was a tough decision, as the DSLR is much
better for waterfall photography. I did
some experimenting with photographing waterfalls with my phone before the trip,
and I decided that it would be good enough.
My next concern was how to keep my phone
charged. I take A LOT of photos. I would also need my phone for maps and GPS. It would never last anywhere near 13
days. I have two portable chargers that
are good for two recharges each. Each
one is a ½ pound. I decided to bring
both. But would that be enough
juice? I had my doubts, but it was
impossible to know for sure. I did some research, and found positive reviews on a Lixada solar panel.
It wasn’t powerful, but it only weighed a few ounces. I decided to get one to keep my portable
power bricks fully charged. Later I
decided that I could easily carry two, so I bought a second one. So, two power bricks and two solar
panels. They totaled a pound a half,
which was still a lot less than my camera.
The only thing left was to decide if I wanted
company. Part of me wanted to tackle the
challenge solo. Another part of me
didn’t want to be eaten by grizzly bear.
In terms of safety in grizzly country, there isn’t much difference
between hiking solo and a group of two.
Still, there is something reassuring about having company.
Ultimately, I invited several friends, but none of
them were able to join. It looked like
it would be a solo trip, but Christy suggested that I consider her Uncle
Larry. He had thru-hiked the Appalachian
Trail, the John Muir Trail twice, and the Sierra High Route three times. He would be comfortable with long-distance
hiking and off-trail travel.
I sent him an invitation, but I wasn’t sure if he
would be interested. He was able to
resupply every few days on most of his trips.
That wasn’t an option with this trip – we’d be starting out with 13 days
of food. That’s heavy, no matter how
much you dehydrate.
I was a little surprised when I got his message
saying that he wanted to join, but also a little relieved. It would be good to have company, and maybe
not turn into bear shit. Larry booked a flight into Denver, and I got
us a free hotel near the airport for Friday, July 15th. We planned to meet up there and drive to
Wyoming the next day.
NO SLEEP ‘TIL DUBOIS
Getting
from Asheville to Northwest Wyoming isn’t easy or cheap. Flying into Jackson, Wyoming would have been
more convenient, but it was horribly expensive ($1,300+) and flight options
were limited. I looked at Salt Lake City
and Denver. Denver was cheaper, and
American Airlines could get me from Asheville to Denver with a single
connection in Dallas. I’d fly out late
Friday afternoon (after work), and I would arrive in Denver around 10pm. That was my best option, so I booked it,
though I’m always hesitant to book flights late in the day, particularly in
summer when thunderstorms are common. Flight
delays and cancellations are much more common later in the day.
Christy
dropped me off at the Asheville airport Friday afternoon. My flight to Dallas was smooth, and
on-time. I had a 3-hour layover, so I
skipped the train and walked all the way to concourse C. I had dinner at an upscale Mexican
restaurant, where I got a surprisingly small burrito for $18. Inflation happens in multiple ways. Sometimes prices go up. Other times, burritos get smaller. Or both.
I
strolled over to my gate a bit before boarding time. The boarding process was smooth, and everyone
eventually got boarded and seated. The
air conditioning wasn’t working, but the pilot assured us that it would cool
off once we started moving. That was
briefly reassuring. Then the power went
out.
A
flight attendant reassured us that the power would be back on in just a few
seconds. About a minute later, the
lights came on, but that was immediately followed by an announcement. “This plane is out of service. Please gather all of
your belongings, disembark, and wait in the gate area.” That was met with a collective groan.
Shortly
after everyone got off, dozens of phones pinged simultaneously. I looked at mine, only to see that our 9pm
flight had been rescheduled to 5am Saturday.
This was met with an even louder groan.
We
were told to check our email, as they would be providing hotel
accommodations. That wasn’t as great as
it sounded. It was now well after 10pm,
and our flight was rescheduled for 5am.
The nearest hotel was 20 miles away, and there was no shuttle
service. I would have to make my own
transportation arrangements there and back.
I did some quick math, and I figured that I wouldn’t get there until
midnight. I’d have to leave there at 3am
to get back to the airport for the 5am flight, and I would have to go back
through security. Was it worth the
trouble?
The
flight then got pushed from 5am to 6am, but it still didn’t seem
worthwhile. I might get a few hours of
sleep, but I wouldn’t sleep well knowing that I’d need to get a taxi or Uber to
get back to the airport. I decided to
stay.
Some
of my fellow passengers left for hotels, but many others just sprawled out in
the waiting area at the gate. That
seemed like a bad strategy to me. I was
focused on avoiding exposure to Covid, as getting sick 20 miles down the trail
would be a disaster. I decided to find a
quieter area, away from people. I walked
through about half of the C concourse, before settling on gate C-9, which was
deserted. I crawled up under a row of
seats, clipped my backpack to a chair post, and attempted to sleep.
I
dozed off and on, but the airport was bright and loud until after
midnight. It did quiet down for a few
hours, but it was still a rough night.
Gate C-9 of the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport was definitely the worst campsite of the trip.
American
Airlines didn’t specifically say why the flight was delayed. They implied that the delay was due to a
mechanical issue with the “power outage”, but in hindsight, I have my doubts. Was it a rouse? I’m guessing it was some sort of staffing
issue, but they didn’t want to admit that.
The
second attempt was smooth, and I landed in Denver early Saturday morning. I got a breakfast sandwich and a large
coffee, picked up my luggage, and eventually made it over to Avis. Avis was a shit-show too. After a lengthy delay I picked up my car,
which turned out to be a Toyota Corolla.
From there I drove over to the Holiday Inn Express that I had booked
using points. I wanted to get something
out of it, so after meeting Larry in the lobby I went up to the room and took a
shower. At least that woke me up a
little bit.
Next
up was the most dangerous part of the trip – the 6 hour
drive from Denver to Lander, Wyoming on almost no sleep. I probably should have asked Larry to drive,
but I was running strong on excitement and caffeine. Traffic was surprisingly bad leaving Denver,
and there was a lot of construction on I-25.
Reaching Fort Collins was as relief, as it would be all back roads from
there.
We
stopped at Ace Hardware to pick up stove fuel (denatured alcohol) and REI for
bear spray. We had lunch and A LOT of
soda at the Yampa Sandwich Company before resuming the drive north. The rest of the drive was uneventful, and we
arrived in Lander late that afternoon.
We
stopped at Safeway to pick up groceries and final supplies. Larry brought almost all of
his food with him. I had my dinners, but
I needed almost everything else. We also
picked up chicken, potatoes, vegetables, and charcoal for dinner that night.
We
drove another hour north from Lander. A
few miles south of Dubois we took a dirt road up towards Torrey Lake. Plan A for the night was an informal, free
camping area at Ring Lake. I was worried
that it would be crowded on a Saturday night, but there was one good spot and
some marginal spots available. We took the
good spot above the lake shore, set up camp, cooked dinner, and enjoyed a nice
sunset. The mosquitoes were pretty terrible, but it was a good spot to camp
otherwise. I noted that it wouldn’t have
worked for hammock camping, as there were only a few scattered trees. I slept well that night, but it would be a
few days before I fully recovered from my sleep deprivation.
RING LAKE CHURCH OF GOD
Larry
and I woke early on Sunday morning. I
had coffee and a bagel, broke camp, and started organizing my gear for the
trip. We ended up fully loading our
packs there in the camping area. That
way, we would know if we were missing anything.
We still had to drive through Dubois to get to the trailhead, so that
would be our last chance to pick up any last minute
supplies.
I
was missing a travel size tube of toothpaste, regular Advil, and my camp soap
bottle was nearly empty. I also had managed
to break my cheap sunglasses somewhere along the way. We stopped at the small grocery store in
Dubois later, where I completely forgot to buy any of those things. Fortunately, I was able to get by on half of
a travel-size tube of toothpaste, and I had some stronger pain killers. Sunglasses would have been helpful, but I
managed without them.
We
were treated to some entertainment while we were packing. Apparently there is
a full-blown church service every Sunday morning on the shore of Ring Lake,
including a live band. The band was
warming up while we were packing. They
featured a couple of guitars, a bass, and a male and female singer. They were pretty good – we actually
considered sticking around for the service. We had a lot on our agenda though, so we
finished packing up and headed out.
We
drove the rest of the way up Torrey Lake Road to the Glacier Trailhead. The valley is loaded with petroglyphs, and I
wanted to look for them. Larry was on
board with that plan, so off we went.
I’d forgotten to ask my friend Dave for directions, but I had found a
blog that suggested searching on the rocks near the trailhead. I tried that, but I didn’t have any
luck. Larry skipped this adventure, as
it was hot and sunny, and he was focused on charging his phone. He sat in the car while I wandered around.
Later
I found out that they are high above the actual trailhead, in a band of cliffs
visible from the parking lot.
We
stopped at another place farther back down the road for a second attempt. There were some spots that looked promising,
but I didn’t find anything. Later I
found out that I was really close to the correct area.
We
gave up on that and drove into Dubois.
We stopped at small public parking lot, used the bathroom, and called
our wives one last time. Then we hit the
grocery store, where I completely failed to purchase any of the things I actually needed for the trip. We did get sandwiches and cold drinks for
lunch, which we consumed before we left town.
We
were a little ahead of schedule, but there wasn’t anything else left to do
except head for the trailhead. The drive
to Brooks Lake was easy, first on the main highway and then on a good dirt
road. We parked at the Continental
Divide Trailhead and wandered around enjoying the scenery. Brooks Lake is spectacular, with sheer cliffs
to the East and West.
Dave,
his friend Rose, and his hound dog Grace arrived a bit early. Dave used to live in Hendersonville, and we
have mutual friends, but we hadn’t actually met
previously. We have been Facebooks
friends for a couple of years, and I’ve enjoyed keeping up with his adventures
in Wyoming. It was great to finally meet
him, and Rose and Grace, in person. We
chatted in the parking lot briefly, before piling into his truck. Rose went for a short hike, while Dave drove
us down to the Turpin Meadows Trailhead.
We talked about a little bit of everything on the ride, which took 30
minutes or so.
Dave
dropped us off around 3:30 under partly cloudy skies. There were a lot of vehicles at the trailhead
parking lot, but there wasn’t anyone else around. We thanked Dave again for the shuttle and
hoisted our packs. Well, Larry hoisted
his pack. Mine was a good bit heavier,
and Dave had to help me get it on. That
wasn’t a great sign! We were committed
though – Dave was heading back to Brooks Lake to pick up Rose for a night of
car camping. There was no going back.
I
noticed a sign at the beginning of the trail that mentioned the “Yellowstone
River bridge replacement project”. That
was intriguing, as I hadn’t heard anything about a bridge replacement. It also sounded important, as we would need
to use that bridge to get across the river.
Oddly, the sign included a map noting a couple of areas that were
temporarily closed to camping, but it didn’t mention anything at all about the
actual bridge. That was puzzling, but I
couldn’t look it up on the internet. We
wouldn’t have cell service for at least the next 12 days.
Our backpacking trip started with a climb,
but 10 minutes up the trail we crested the first hill. I looked back to see a spectacular view of the
Tetons getting hammered by an afternoon thunderstorm. I was a little concerned that the storm would
head our way....
We
briefly followed a hillside high above the lovely Buffalo River. Technically it is the Buffalo Fork, not the
Buffalo River, but later we would follow the North Fork Buffalo. North Fork Buffalo Fork sounds dumb, so I’m
just calling it the North Fork Buffalo River.
A
few minutes later we reached a junction with the North Buffalo and South
Buffalo Trails. The South Buffalo Trail
leads up through a canyon before splitting.
One fork goes up to Ferry Lake, and the other heads to the Continental
Divide and Perry N Boday Lake. Both of those destinations were on our
agenda, but we were taking a roundabout route to reach them.
A
long, grueling climb followed. The
scenery wasn’t very exciting, except that the woods and meadows were full of
wildflowers. The display featured an
incredible variety. We eventually passed
Mud Lake (without actually seeing it). A gentle descent brought us to the south end
of Soda Fork Meadows. These meadows
stretch for a couple of miles along the North Fork, up to the confluence with
the Soda Fork.
We
had a tough time finding a campsite that first night. I thought Soda Fork Meadows would have plenty
of options, but we didn't see anything close to the trail. We eventually found a nice one on a hillside
at the north end of Soda Fork Meadows, but there was an established outfitter
camp already there. Although it is a
federally designated wilderness area, some outfitters set up elaborate
campsites at the beginning of the summer and remove them after hunting season. There wasn't anyone around, and we thought
about camping there anyway, but we couldn't be sure that the "owners"
wouldn't show up later that evening.
Instead,
I scouted a faint trail heading towards the river. After a few minutes I noticed a decent spot
in a strip of woods between the river and a small meadow. There was no view, but it was close to the
river and more sheltered. That proved to
be advantageous, as violent thunderstorms rolled through at dusk. At one point there was lightning and thunder
on all sides of us, but we only got a little rain down in our little hole by
the river. The storm passed quickly, and
I slept great, serenaded by the river.
PURPLE YELLOW RED AND BLUE
We
got up early on Monday and settled into our typical morning routine. To summarize, I’d spend 2 hours making
oatmeal and coffee and packing up. Larry
needed less than half of that time to eat some sort of bar and pack. What can I say? I like coffee, and I’m slow in the morning.
We
had gone a bit out of the way looking for a campsite the previous evening. I didn’t want to backtrack, so we attempted
to follow a faint trail that is shown on the map. It appears to be the route of the Continental
Divide Trail, but the actual CDT may be in a slightly different place. We climbed a steep hillside away from the
river, and the faint path disappeared in a meadow. Instead of wasting time and energy looking
for the trail, we just headed cross-country through the meadow to the North
Buffalo Trail. That worked, and before
long we were back on the horse highway.
After
a short distance, we reached the point where the trail curves away from the
river and begins a major climb. The
river runs through a canyon, which the trail avoids. I was curious about the canyon, and I wanted
to get a look at it. We stopped for a
break, and Larry decided to skip the side trip.
I wasn’t disappointed, as that meant that I could leave my pack there
with him. I made short work of the side
trip. There were a ton of fallen trees,
and it was a minor achievement reaching the top of a hill with a mediocre view
of the canyon. From my vantage, I could
see a lot of whitewater and even more dead trees. There were many standing dead trees, and many
more on the ground. Getting a closer
look at the canyon would’ve been a major undertaking, and it didn’t look like
it would be worth the trouble. I
rejoined Larry and we resumed the hike.
The
stunning flower show continued. Someone recently
asked me if I had ever seen a super-bloom.
My initial response was, "yes, almost every summer". We plan our trips out West in late July for
practical reasons, but one benefit is that we usually catch the annual flower
show at its peak. Almost every year is
great, but this year’s was the best I've ever seen. Our timing was perfect. We started our backpacking trip at a
relatively low elevation, where the woods and meadows were covered with
flowers. From there, we gradually
climbed higher, following the bloom.
Almost every day featured a spectacular flower show, with a tremendous
variety.
We
eventually crested a big hill and made a brief descent into vast North Fork
Meadows. This is a lovely stretch of
trail, close by the river. Early on we
passed a really nice campsite in a stand of
trees. That was the kind of campsite I’d
hoped to find in Soda Fork Meadows the previous evening.
There
were a few people fishing the river near the campsite. We passed a family returning from a day of
fishing the previous day, too. Other
than that, there were only a couple of horse parties. One was a National Forest work crew, and the
other was an outfitter. We chatted with
the outfitter briefly. He asked us where
we were headed. That was surprisingly difficult
to answer, so I just went with where we were heading over the next couple of
days. I told him that we were planning
to hike to the headwaters of the North Fork to see all of
the waterfalls. He raised an eyebrow at
that and said, “good luck”. That seemed
ominous.
We
enjoyed a long, easy walk through North Fork
Meadows. It was a cloudy morning, which
made for more dramatic scenery. The
river and trail curved East, and the meadows were slowly replaced by forest. Before long we reached a campsite and a major
junction. The North Fork Two Ocean Trail
continues ahead there, up a long, steep climb.
We would get to do that on Thursday.
For the time being, we were continuing up the North Fork on a
less-traveled trail.
The
scenery was a bit subdued. There were
some views of the cliffy ridges on either side of the valley, but the views
were diminished by thousands of standing dead trees. Apparently the
valley was ravaged by a wildfire at some point in recent years. There was one particularly nice stretch
though, after the trail left the river to climb over a ridge.
Shortly
after that I spotted a side trail leading towards the river. I followed it down to a lightly used campsite
with a nice view up the valley. I was
tempted to camp there, but I really wanted to camp at or near North Fork
Falls. I returned to the main trail and
caught up to Larry, who had just passed by.
We
hiked another 20 minutes before we could hear the roar of the waterfall in the
distance. The trail began to climb, before
meeting an obvious side path leading down towards the river. We followed it down a moderately steep hill
to the base of spectacular North Fork Falls.
North
Fork Falls is stunning. The river drops
down through a narrow cleft in the towering cliffs surrounding a deep blue /
green pool. Most of the waterfall isn’t
visible from the base, but the final double drop is an amazing sight. Still, I wasn’t quite satisfied with that. I wanted to get a view of it from farther
downstream.
Following
the river downstream would’ve meant wet shoes, and I didn’t want to get my
boots or camp shoes wet. Instead, I
climbed back up the spur trail and bushwhacked through the woods towards the
point I’d picked out. The flowers were
incredible in this patch of woods, and I stumbled upon the first batch of
monkeyflowers of the trip.
I
eventually popped out right at the spot I had aimed for. From there, I had a great view of the cliffs
and three levels of the waterfall. The
waterfall is much bigger than it appears from the base, as the
majority of it is hidden from view.
I
spent a bit of time experimenting with a tiny tripod I’d purchased to hold my
phone. It seemed like a good idea, but
the reality was a different story. The
mount was just barely big enough to hold my phone in its case. Or not.
I was taking photos when the mount popped off the tripod. My phone fell right into the river. Luckily it landed in a shallow pool, and
these newer phones are waterproof.
I
had hoped to camp near the base of the waterfall, but the terrain wasn’t
conducive to tent camping. There was one
possible spot along the spur trail, but it was marginal, and there were a lot
of standing dead trees around it. It was
a windy afternoon, and it looked like one of those trees could come down at any
moment.
Larry
and I debated our options. I’d read that
there were campsites in the first meadow upstream from the waterfall. It was either that or backtrack 20 minutes to
the site I’d spotted earlier. We decided
to continue up. That turned out to be
one of the best decisions of the trip.
The
climb was steep but mercifully short. We
eventually crested the hill, and I spotted a flat, open area down below. There was even a side trail heading down to
it. We decided to check that out.
We
arrived on a flat, open knoll near the brink of the falls. You could camp a small army there, and we
nearly started to set up. However, the
wind was howling across the open hillside.
We decided to see if there was a more sheltered spot closer to the
river.
There
was. Tent site options were limited, but
the spot was spectacular. We were just
upstream from the very brink of the waterfall.
The roar was incredible, and there was a nice view down the valley,
too.
We
set up camp, and I did a little exploring.
I wandered along the tops of the rock towers on the edge of the plateau,
overlooking the waterfall. North Fork
Falls is even more spectacular than I realized.
It starts with a cascade and a small drop, before a monster plunge into
a slot canyon. After a short run through
the slot, it cascades over the final double-drop and into the pool at the
base. Most of this was visible from
various vantage points near our campsite.
The most spectacular spot was the final rock tower that was accessible. From that point there is a mind-blowing view
of the upper waterfall.
Before
the trip I’d only seen photos and videos taken from the base. Those looked impressive, but I didn’t realize
that I was only seeing a small part of waterfall. If you ever visit this waterfall, be sure to
hike to the top and explore around. You
don’t want to miss any of this one.
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