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        "A voice in the cyberspace wilderness."                                                 February 2005      


Mission Mountains as seen from Rattlesnake Wilderness.                                                          Courtesy of John Fothergill
How to Lowbag a Peak

By John Fothergill

I was pissed, not for long, but definitely fired up. I couldn’t understand why Chuck and I were following Adam.  We were on a climber’s trail that went straight up so steep that if we fell our asses, we would have been sliding for a while, maybe back to the bus. But, as we gained elevation and the mountains started to show themselves my anger was subdued by the Mission Range. 

We finally reached a  flat spot on the ridge, around 8,500 ft, where the packs were dropped to make the summit push. Looking down into the glacier carved cirque to the east we noticed a large animal below us. Not sure what it was at first, as we where in grizzly country, we were a little concerned as it started to run towards us. Followed by its young, they stopped and we saw only a couple of mountain goats. They turned and disappeared as quickly as they had come.        

After an easy walk up the ridge and across some snowfields we were awarded with a view like none other, the whole Mission Mountain range. To the west was the majestic Mission valley. To the south the view was straight in to Missoula’s personal wilderness: the Rattlesnake Wilderness Area. The highest peak in the range, Macleod Peak, towered above all . The view to the east went straight through the Missions across the Swan Valley and into the Swan Range. Looking north, we were awarded with a view of the highest peak in the Missions, MacDonald Peak. We wondered if our buddies, who were attempting the summit, had made it. A full 500 ft higher than we were, there was considerably more snow up there.

After proper summit celebrations, Adam decided to hike the ridge over to West St Mary’s peak. An option Chuck and I decided to decline. We watched Adam walk the snow covered knife edge ridge with considerable speed.  When he returned he showed no signs of calling it a day. Two peaks and countless elevation gained was not enough to satisfy this soul. So Chuck and I watched him glissade down the east face of the mountain to the snow covered Vacation pass. From there he went on to tackle two more peaks.  Chuck and I decided to go back to the packs and set up camp.

 

Despite our best intentions it was dark when we left Missoula that evening. Adam's baby blue VW bus was loaded down with gear, food, and Sierra Nevada. The anticipation increased as the bus sped down the reservations gravel roads. Camping at the trailhead guarantees an early start time in the morning. But, going straight to bed was not our plan.We had to stay up for awhile to drink a few beers and bullshit. With the moon almost full, a walk down to the nearby reservoir revealed strange sights. It was extremely low and judging by the vegetation growing below previous high-water marks it had been for some time. The rocks lit up by the moonlight made the reservoirs dry edges look like some sort of surreal moonscape.

With just a little nip to the air, Chuck and I opted to set up the tent, always a last resort. Adam had no worries with the comfort of the bus. Judging by the old fire rings and the multitude of old beer cans we were in a party spot.  However, the night passed without any excitement except for the anticipation of summiting a 9,400 ft peak in of the most spectacular mountain ranges in Montana.

A breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and sausage will set any person right, well maybe not the vegans of the world.  But should you so choose you won’t be disappointed.  The combination has just enough grease to counteract the beer consumed the night before and to provide the fuel needed to hike 5,400 hundred feet with an overnight pack on your back.


Back up on the ridge, we dropped down a little on the east side to avoid the howling wind. No words could do the scene justice, but if you want to know what heaven looks like try 8,500 feet up on the east side of a ridge staring directly at Grey Wolf mountain. The irony of being the only people camped up there was not lost on me.  Not that I wasn’t glad that for the solitude but perplexed as to why others weren't there. By the time Adam found us, it was already dark, the fire was started, and dinner cooked. When planning a trip like this here is a tip you won’t read in Backpacker magazine; bring whiskey. There is nothing like a couple of nips when you are sitting by the fire enjoying the night sky and it helps when it’s time to howl at the moon.

Mother Natures show began with the stars. They came out with unbelievable force that can only be seen when you are far away from any city. The stars were joined by an almost full moon that casted its light onto the sheer west face of grey wolf mountain like a spotlight on a dancer. The moon then reached the perfect apex in the sky and illuminated one of the many gorges in the glacial cirque below us. For a few minutes it looked like a large golden snake resting down there. It was then time to connect with the primordial self and howl at the moon. The only problem with a camp like this is you don’t want to go to sleep. 

After a perfect night's sleep we awoke to a unbelievable sunrise. Unfortunately, worldly duties called us and we had to leave in the morning.  Breaking camp was quick and easy but leaving wasn’t. The three of us sat on the ridge basking in the October sun occasionally shifting our bodies to get one last look at all the views that would humble any person. The hike down was short, steep, and brutal on the knees but worth all the orthopedic surgery I’m going to need.

John Fothergill bags mystery peaks and legend has it that he once sat on a cliff ledge with a family of mountain goats for three days.

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