Sonielem Traverse - Missions

On East Saint Mary's peak with the Soneilem ridge in the immediate background. Photo: Jeffrey

During 50th anniversary celebrations of the Wilderness act, it seemed appropriate to pay homage by casting off into the wild Mission mountain wilderness on a new and unknown traverse. As much as I enjoy recreating anywhere that is outside, spending time in designated Wilderness is always rewarding, and it was no surprise to return to civilization grounded, energized, and a little humbled.

I overestimated the length of the outing, so we headed out very early from Saint Mary's reservoir. Not wanting to drive two vehicles, we both biked the shuttle to Mission reservoir by headlamp, and were jogging from the trailhead at 7 am. The trail to Lucifer lake is steep but good, and we made decent time running when possible, but mainly just hiking and enjoying the morning. From a water refill stop at the lake, we cast off into the brush, heading for the base of the avalanche path at the toe of the Sonielem ridge. We had to do a couple of map checks, but the bushwacking was not too bad by Mission standards, and we were able to nose our way up through brush infested cliffs with minimal carnage. I had no beta for climbing the steep northeast face of the ridge, and an unanticipated skiff of fresh snow had us both nervous.  Fortunately, we were able to weave a way through the cliffs, even if it was a touch more exposed than we would have liked. We really didn't want to have to downclimb, so it was with great relief that we topped out on the ridge.

Bushwacking to the base of the ridge.

Jeffrey all smiles as we top out on the Sonielem ridge.
Glacier peaks and Picture lake in the background.

The initial ridge was clean easy, and we walked over the Sonielem high point before starting a more exciting ridge section to Peak Y. The knife edge traversing was engaging, and I enjoyed deducing the routefinding puzzles on the fly. Soon enough, we bypassed a final cruxy vertical step on the west, and walked easily to the top of Peak Y. The traverse to each of the Lowary peak summits was also clean and quick. After another lunch break on Lowary, we jogged down to the saddle, and huffed it up to St. Mary's peak, intersecting a hiking party just a few hundred vertical feet below the summit. After chatting and relaxing on the summit for almost half an hour, we jogged the 5,500 vertical foot descent to the car at a casual pace, hopping over downfall and yelling for bears on the steep and rugged trail. We arrived at the reservoir tired but not too worked, and immediately jumped in for a swim. Great day in the hills.

The exposed middle portion of the Sonielem ridge.

Belly flopping near the summit of Peak Y.

Normal Greywolf from East St, Mary's photo.

Thoughts:
Although it is perhaps generous to call this a classic outing, the clean ridge section of the traverse is high quality (with the exception of some rotten rock here and there). It is also fun to be in a place seldom visited by humans, despite the Soneilem ridge's commanding presence from the valley. Gaining the ridge at the beginning of the day was a big push, but after that, the rest of the day just kind of flowed by with ease. Of note, while the difficulties never exceed moderate class 4, bailing from the traverse would be long and difficult.

I can't help but dream about a traverse around the rim of Mission creek, from the Sonielem ridge to Kakashe. Maybe someone fast can go do it and let me know how it goes...

Our day was somewhere around 7,500 vertical feet, and done in about 8.5 hours at a moderate, steady pace with several long stops.

Holland Lake loop in the Bob

Lydia coming up to the Holland lookout.

When Leah suggested we do a long run with our friend Lydia, I immediately suggested the Holland Lake to Holland Lookout loop in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Fortunately, they were both excited about the idea, so after a huge breakfast at the River City Grill in Bonner, we rallied out to Holland Lake. We kept the pace bright but relaxed, and the run to upper Holland Lake was enjoyable and quick, and aside from a few huckleberry picking stops, the short push to Pendant pass was also quick. With a cool breeze in the air, we lost no time dropping down Pendant creek all they way to Pendant and Big Salmon Falls. This portion of the trail was muddy from the recent rain and heavy horse traffic, and we spent a lot of time walking around puddles.  

Distractions along the trail.

Lydia and Leah climbing to Pendant pass.

Rolling down Pendant creek.

From the falls, we managed to run by the Smokey Creek trail junction, but we realized our error quickly, and an easy backtrack had us back on route.  After a hard climb through wet brush to Smokey lakes, we continued up to Necklace lakes for a late lunch break. Refreshed, we made the final short push up to the Holland Lookout. The views from the top were unobstructed by clouds, and we took another full break to appreciate it all. We descended the Lookout trail, and the descent was smooth and easy. In fact, we all arrived at the car pleasantly tired, but far from worked after about 25 miles and something well north of 5,000 vertical feet of exploring in the Bob.

A questionable looking guy (Brian) in front of a beautiful mountain (Buck).

Montana had a bumper crop of beargrass this year.
Here, Leah climbs though it.

Newly weds celebrating at the Holland lookout.  Photo: Lydia

Team Storyberg was not able to keep up with Lydia on the long, smooth downhill back to the car.

Aside from the novelty of pushing deep into the Wilderness, I thought that the Pendant and Smokey Creek portions were the least enjoyable parts of the loop.  As long as one does not mind a shorter run, a Lower to Upper Holland to Sap[hire lakes to the Lookout would be a higher quality outing, I think. Also, Lydia is running really well right now. I certaintly wouldn't want to have her breathing down my neck on a downhill in the last few miles of a long race...

Anaconda Pintler Traverse

Looking back at the first half of the traverse from Howe.

I have been eager to attempt a long mountain adventure for some time now, and I was fortunate to find the time, weather and motivation to traverse the bulk of the beautiful Anaconda Pintler range from Haggin to Warren peaks in a magnificent long push.

I spent the previous afternoon driving for hours and setting up the 37 mile bike shuttle. Between the downhill riding and the tail wind, the shuttle went by quickly, and it was nice be out in the crisp, fallesque afternoon.  I camped in an aspen grove on the outskirts of Anaconda. I was able to get to sleep before 8 pm, and before I knew it, dawn broke, and I was off.

At the start.

Mount Haggin is guarded by almost 6 miles of vehicle-restricted road, and the first bit of the outing was spent walking with purpose. I arrived a Hearst lake in less than two hours, refilled water, and started up the mountain. Even with at a deliberate slow pace, the climb flowed by quickly, and I was on the summit by 10 am.  The descend of the West ridge was fast, aesthetic. I think that the most inspiring peaks of the range are in this sector, so I just kind of cruised along, trying to take it all in. Soon enough, I found myself bypassing peak 10,282 and dropping into the head of Mill creek for a water stop. The last time I was on peak 10,282 was with skis, and I was chased off the summit by a thunderstorm, ice axe buzzing. This time was much more civilized. With water secured, I made the long traverse to Mount Evans. This involved two long climbs and a fair bit of additional ridgeline traversing, and I arrived on Evans a bit behind schedule. Nevertheless, my mind and body were both in the game, and I left the summit in high spirits.

Haggin from the Hearst lake dam, 1.5 hours in.

Looking west from Haggin, with the clean West ridge extending in the foreground.

Water stop halfway between Haggin and Evans.

Looking back to Haggin from Evans.

Looking out to Warren (one of the middle peaks in the far back skyline) from Evans.

The traverse off the summit of Evans is a bit slow and tedious, but after bypassing most of the difficulties on the West, I was treated to a quick downhill over wild orange rock, and a surprisigly quick scramble up Mount Howe.  I summited Howe feeling great a bit ahead of schedule.  This would be the theme for the remainder of the day.  The next hour or so to Little Rainbow was fast, and it was good to finally at get a peek into the Storm lake basin. From the summit, a quick down put me at Storm Lake pass. I succumbed to the manicured trail, bypassing Mount Tiny in the process. The trail dumps out on Goat Flat, and I marched up the high plateau before engaging a short and tricky narrow ridge (easy 4th class) to the summit of Kurt mountain.   2024 update:  Subsequent trips have revealed the easiest way by far to navigate the ridge between Goat flat and Kurt is to bypass the difficulties on the West.  Stay below the crest where it is technical.  There is one distinct steep ledge/cliff that drops about 50 vertical feet below the low point of the saddle.  If you stay below that, it will be scrappy but easy.  The traverse to Queener was cleaner than anticipated, and I arrived on the summit plateau well ahead of schedule. I did not go out to the exact summit. Having planned on traversing this section in the dark, I reveled in the last few hours of sunlight during the descent of the West face.  I continued along the ridge for a mile or so before dropping to a series of unnamed lakes in a beautiful little tarn below Fish lake for a water stop.

The middle quarter of the traverse.
Little Rainbow, Tiny, Kurt, Queener and the Storm and Seymore lakes basins from Howe.

On the edge of Goat flat, ready to engage the
more-technical-than-it-looks ridgeline to Kurt Mountain.

Fish peak from Queener. 

Sunset on the South ridge of Fish just before dropping down for water.

Another clean and fast thousand vertical foot climb to Fish peak went by effortlessly, and I walked over the summit without stopping, trying to take advantage of every last minute of daylight.  I turned my headlamp on about half way to Cutaway pass, and the remaining descent went smoothly, albeit slowly in the dark. I was happy to hop on the trail as it climbed west from Cutaway pass, but soon it dropped off the ridge, and I cast off up jumbled talus and boulders into the trail-less darkness.  I spent the next two hours traversing over Beaverhead mountain and two unnamed summits. The ridgeline along this section was slow at best. There were two distinct long 4th class knife edge ridge sections, and I spent a lot of time weaving my way through the technical terrain.  I just kind of bumbled along, slow and safe, with frequent map checks to make sure I stayed on route.  Soon enough I walked over the final summit and down the South ridge before veering west off the crest and down to camp and treeline. Essentially navigating blind in the dark, I spent quite a bit of time traversing around cliffs and rock slabs on the descent into Maloney basin, but it worked, and I found a bivy spot around 2:15 am. My appetite had been good all day, and I was able to house down a quick dinner of Hammer Perpetum, rice sticks, and salame before crawling into the sleeping bag.

Last light on Fish, lookng down to Cutaway pass.

The world was a little hazy at 1 am on top of Beaverhead, but I was still fired up.

Bed for the night in Maloney basin.

I didn't hear my alarm, but ended up waking up at dawn anyway. Soon I was continuing down into Maloney basin, but the going was better this time because I could actually see the terrain. I had slept magnificently, benefiting from the sleeping bag and little pad, and my legs han't had quite enough time to actually get sore yet, so I was surprisingly fresh. I was able to find the trail without difficulty, and took it for a mile or two in the direction of Warren Pass. I had not yet decided how to tackle Warren peak, but after some deliberation, I chose the longer but more conservative south side of the peak. I forged a horrid route through the moraines below the East face of the peak, but it still went quickly, and I was soon at the saddle below the Southeast ridge. For a second time, I chose longer and more conservative scrambling over tricky climbing, and kept traversing to gullies on the South side. I was able to find solid alpine tundra in the gullies, and the march to the top went by quickly. I lingered on the windless summit for a few minutes, snacking on Snickers bars, looking back on the range, and taking it all in. I descended the first half of the Porter ridge before dropping North down an unnamed gully to Tamarack lake. The Porter ridge was fast, but the gully was filled with all manner of unpleasant steep dirt, gravel and trecherous rolling talus. I just kind of shook my head and took my time, and soon enough I was at the lake. The run out of the Tamarack lake basin was hilighted by bumping into a group of UM students who were on a freshman backpack trip.  Good to see them out in the Wilderness. After a quick dip in Carpp lake, I jogged the final few miles on sore legs, and walked out to the car at 12:55 for a point to point time of 30 hours, 35 minutes.  The rest of the day was spent retreiving my bike, eating fried chicken in Anaconda, and booking it home.

Warren at sunrise on day two.

On Warren, tired and happy.

At the bottom of the unpleasant descent to Tamarack Lake.

Thoughts
This was a great adventure. I have not done a multi-day traverse in several years, and it was rewarding to get back at it. On an outing like this without a set route and limited beta, I really enjoy putting all the pieces together - figuring out the route, figuring out where to get water, deciding how light to go without being stupid, deciding which peaks to summit and which to bypass, and then just going for it and putting it all together on the fly. And when everything comes together, the hours and hours of unencumbered continuous movement in the mountains leaves me deeply energized and satisfied.

The mountains of the Anaconda Pintler range are not especially high or rugged in comparison to adjacent ranges, but the ambience of the range is enhanced by Wilderness designation. The trail system is also extensive and well maintained. I will be back for sure to do more trail runs. The route itself was good, but in my opinion, adding Warren peak at the end was not worth the effort.  Haggin to Storm Lake Pass or Haggin to Cutaway would be full adventures but doable in a day.  

I stuck with my plan to move at a conservative pace, and as a result, felt great for the majority of the trip. My 30.5 hour time is speedy enough to qualify as a fast traverse, but I don't think this route is definitive enough to qualify as a standard traverse route.  I must admit, pushing into the night was the least enjoyable part of the outing. The views were reduced to the glow of the headlamp, I was getting sleepy and stumbly, everything went slowly, and frankly the darkness was kind of scary. For gear, I took a minimal kit, but did throw in several items to keep a comfortable margin of safety (light sleeping bag, non-running day pack, enough clothing). I also used trekking poles for the first time in several years.  I think they help for long efforts like this to save the old pins from excess fatigue. 

Statistics
Approximate total elevation gain (based on topo map):  18,400 feet
Length: 41 miles done in 30 hours, 35 minutes
Accomplices: None
Put in:  Anaconda, MT
Take out: Carpp Lake trailhead
Equipment:  Saucony Exodus running shoes, capaline shirt, wind shirt, Patagonia Houdini Jacket, Camp Magic pants, buff, warm hat, 40 degree down bag, tiny foam pad, 3 x 1L water bottles, emergency kit, light day pack (not a running pack), trekking poles, dirty girl gaiters. 
Most exciting piece of equipment:   Leopard print Dirty Girl gaiters.
Named summits: Haggin, Evans, Howe, Little Rainbow, Kurt, Queener, Fish, Beaverhead, Warren
Fatigue factor (1-10): 7.5
Stoke factor (1-10): 9.8 (10 is by definition impossible without skis)
Memories to suppress:  Shattering the screen on a brand new camera. The night.

Route images

Haggin to Evans

Evans to Fish

Fish to Warren

HURL Elkhorn 50 mile race report

I had a great run at the HURL 50 mile race.  The event was well organized and refreshingly low-key, and the courses are notable for their wild character and almost complete lack of road running.  The camping at the start line is also nice and relaxed. It is a great event - go check it out next year. The racing aspect of the run was derailed for me when I veered off course around mile 40 and and lost about 15 minutes. I finished in 10.41 and 4th place over about 54 miles and 13,500 vertical feet, including the detour.

I adopted a start slow strategy, and while I may have pushed the aerobic threshold, I stuck with my plan, even as runners faded off ahead on the first two climbs. The slower start payed off over the last 15 miles.  I moved up from 6th to 4th place over the last half of the course, even with the detour, and it was gratifying to have adequate energy for the big climb out of Elkhorn town at mile 28.  Having never run beyond about 38 miles, I was elated to feel the legs turning over easily all the way to the finish, which I attribute to having a good race, starting slowish, ongoing gains from strength training, and a lack of leg trashing flat roads. My time was a bit slow, even without the detour, but that is OK. A week later, I am about 90% recovered, and am excited for a few weeks of mountain adventures before lining up at the back of the pack at what looks to be a much harder/improved Rut 50K in September. 

Leah had a strong run, finishing the 50K course in under 7 hours, which is closer to her (unrealized) full running potential, and helps validate the strengthening trend in her running this summer.

Three Joe traverse, Bass Creek

Bass Lake and beyond from Stormy Joe.

I was finally able to spend a fine summery Sunday traversing from Little to Stormy Joe in Bass creek. I have wanted to do this traverse ever since hearing about Missoulian mountaineer Forest Dean's attempt last fall. It seems like kind of a long day in concept, but in reality it is quite doable, and I had a blast.

I left the Bass creek trailhead 7:15 and walked the normal winter route to the upper trailhead, then continued up the Little St. Joe trail for about 15 minutes. I wasted about 15 minutes searching for water (in retrospect, year-round water is available near the little saddle below the final summit pitch, somewhere around 8,000 feet), but otherwise the climb was casual. With 3 liters of water squirreled away in the pack I proceeded to the summit of Little St. Joe, ate a Snickers bar then continued west toward Big St. Joe.

Just your typical Big from Little St. Joe photo.

 I ended up passing a solo hiker headed out to Big St. Joe on the long ridge traverse between the peaks.  The ridgeline traverse was a little craggy and brushy in a few spots, but nothing too bad.  I worked through the summit cliffs on Big St. Joe via a stout 4th class gully just north of the ridge proper.  I hit the summit of Big St. Joe in 3:45, feeling fantastic and enjoying the day.  The descent to the Big/Stormy saddle was a bit slow at first, but the last 1,000 vertical feet went quickly on open sandy scree.  From the saddle, I was pleased to find a relatively krummholz and cliff-free route just south of the east ridge of Stormy Joe, which I took for most of the climb.  Eventually the sneak below the cliffs petered out, and I scampered up some 4th class rock and climbed the last few hundred feet on the ridgetop.

Crux gully on the east rideg of Big St. Joe.  I followed the right edge of the snow,
started up toward the left notch, then cut right near the top of the gully.
You just kind of have to follow your nose.
The exit from the gully was stout 4th class - plenty of holds but steep. 

5th lifetime summit of Big St. Joe.

It got a little bushwackey for a few bits, but wasn't as bad as it looks in the picture.

Looking back at Big St Joe from Stormy Joe.

Afer a celebratory stop on the summit, I made the slowish descent of the Southwest ridge, then cruised down an unmaintained trail from the Bass/Lolo Cr. saddle to Bass Lake.  I had a slow quirk when I dropped beyond the trail, but it was good to get a bit of character building bushwacking in just to keep things real. Having only been to the lake in the winter, I was struck by the beauty of the lake in summer, especially when it is full. I existed via the Bass creek trail.  I have been wanting to run this one for several years, and it was great. Of note, I took the summer trail on the North side of the creek, and it was quite nice for running, albeit a touch slower than the South side/winter trail. For stats, I think the checks in around 7,000 vertical feet and something just shy of 20 miles and done in 7.38 at a moderate but steady pace.

Bass Lake outlet, where I swam.

Thoughts
This is a good traverse. The peaks are iconic, the length is solid yet eminently doable, and the ridgeline traversing is relatively fast, at least compared to characteristically slow ridgelines in the central and southern portions of the range. The outing is blissfuly lacking in commitment, as one can bail south off the ridge pretty much anywhere except off the cliffy south face of Stormy Joe. It would also be a fine outing in the reverse direction.  Go do it.

With a long race in just 6 days, I held the pace back a bit, and it was encouraging to feel good all day.  I had a relatively smooth day, but have no doubts that it could go faster.