Grouse Butte Training Hike

Between our Chamberlain trip, and my Idaho Centennial Trail trip, I wanted to get in one last training hike. I didn’t want to rest for all the weekends. Unfortunately, Ambrose wasn't feeling up to a hike, so a short backpacking trip was now out of the question. We had thought about a trip to Johnson Lake in the Queens River area. Ambrose was inclined not to go anywhere at all, but I insisted. I needed that last hike! 

I decided on a short but sweet little day hike in the Boise National Forest. We would drive to Willow Creek Transfer Camp and I would do a day hike up to Grouse Butte. Grouse Butte is almost on the Idaho Centennial Trail. When I did that section of the ICT, I thought about going up to the Butte, but decided against it. It was like an extra quarter mile and 300 feet elevation. But I always figured I’d come back some time and get to the top. I’m not a serious peak bagger, but I like to climb high points. 

I’d actually planned to hike up to Grouse Butte last year, but I wasn’t feeling great that day and I ended up stopping at the top of Virginia Gulch. I hoped that I wouldn’t encounter the same kind of issue, but it was also nice to know that I could get a good hike in even if I didn’t make it all the way up. After all, Virginia Gulch is like 2000 feet of gain in like two miles. It's a challenge. 

I took off from work early on Friday so we could drive out. It's a 3 to 4 hour drive, and we both wanted to get there well before dark to get the tent set up. Ambrose drove, and I finally got a picture of a weird house in Featherville that has a sign reading Qspot. I’ve been seeing it since 2020, but hadn’t managed to get a picture until now. 

When we got to the Willow Creek Transfer Camp, I was surprised. I had been there in late June, and it had undergone some changes. New rocks lined the road near the campsites, and there were no picnic tables. The Willow Creek site was still under construction, and I’m pretty sure they were using the tables from transfer camp down there for something. I hope the tables come back, but we made do without them. 

I got the tent set up, and we settled in for some relaxation time. 

The next morning, I got up early, got dressed and got in the car. Sure, I could have walked the mile or so to the trailhead, but Ambrose was able and willing to give me a ride. How could I possibly refuse? Especially since I asked. 

There was one vehicle at the trailhead already, and I wondered if I was going to catch someone or maybe cross paths as I hiked up. I’ve encountered hikers on this trail before, but not a lot. It’s a tough trail. I think more people go up on motorbikes than on foot. Ambrose parked the car, and we both got out. I got my pack on while Ambrose grabbed the camera to take some pictures of me. He got quite a few, though the lighting wasn’t great. He even caught me in the middle of regripping my trekking poles, and I can see my hands in the flicking position, just slightly blurred. 

I started hiking at about 6:40 in the morning. The sun wasn’t shining on me, but it was up enough to give me plenty of light to hike by. Not as much to take pictures by though. The light in the morning always gives me a bit of trouble with photos. I don’t like using the flash, because it tends to put too much light on foreground objects and completely lose detail in the background. With my point and shoot, I need to get good angles and hold the camera quite still to get decent morning light pictures. 

The start of the trail is a bridge over the Boise River. Ambrose took some pictures of me on the bridge, and then crossed with me. It was clear many motorbikes had been crossing the bridge from the tracks in the dirt. Also, and unfortunately, clear, was the pile of toilet paper behind a large tree trunk. It was as if someone asked themselves, what is the absolute least I could do to get rid of this toilet paper? Because the only way this would have been more disgusting was if it were literally in the middle of the trail. I mean, it was less than 3 feet from the trail, and not buried at all. Plus, they were probably no more than the length of the bridge from their car. Why could they not have just walked it to their car to properly dispose of it? Why leave it there? I just don’t get it. 

So that wasn’t the most pleasant way to start my morning, but I tried to let it go. I can’t make other people respect nature and our shared spaces. I can only try to provide the best example that I can with my own actions. 

The Virginia Gulch trail starts off kind of easy. It lulls one into a false sense of security. Sure, you’re hiking up this canyon, but it’s not that hard. Surely it won’t get any harder! Ha!

After maybe a quarter mile of relatively flat trail through nicely shaded woods, the trail begins climbing. Switchbacks start and they just don’t stop. The switchbacks bring elevation and views, but they also have a relentless elevation. Up, and up, and up. Then some more up. 

Having hiked this trail several times now, I was expecting the pain. And to be honest, it didn’t feel as hard as it had the last time. Maybe I was in a bit better shape this year than I had been in 2020. That would make sense, considering how messed up that summer season ended up being. But I’ve also found that familiarity with a trail tends to make it feel easier. 

It didn't seem to take long at all for me to reach the higher parts of the Gulch. There are some tremendous views, especially when the light is right. Today, I had threatening storm clouds massing in the distance, but no rain. And no one else on the trail. Which either means that whoever parked at the trailhead was walking along the river (there’s another trail that does that) or they were hiking so much faster than me that I couldn’t catch up. But the lack of foot prints made the former more likely. 

I felt pretty good when I reached the point where the trail crosses a road. It actually follows the road for a stretch, so I hoped I was remembering correctly to take a left. I walked for a bit farther than I expected, but I had indeed chosen the right direction. The trail veered up away from the road and I followed it up. This is where the hiking stops being so relentlessly uphill and starts rolling. Plus, the views began to include expansive views of the Sawtooth range. 

I don’t know exactly what it is about those views, but they fill my heart. They uplift my spirit. I try, again and again, to capture their essence in photographs, but I only get poor substitutes. Well, some of them are pretty nice photos, but they fall short. The best they can do is remind me of being there, which gives my spirit some secondhand lift. 

The combination of clouds and sunlight gilded the landscape even more impressively than usual. I probably could have stayed there a while, but I wanted to keep moving. Just because the hardest part of my hike was done didn’t mean my hike was done!

I took a break at the same spot I took a break the first time I hiked the trail, where a sign was posted on a tree, despite there not being any intersections at that spot. I also took that opportunity to go off trail and dig myself a hole. I was glad that I was able to wait until that point for hole digging, because the switchbacks don’t offer a lot in the way of off trail space. Up here, I can find a spot well off trail to do my business. 

Then I hiked on. The trail crosses a road, and then I came upon an intersection that I didn’t remember where the trail split. I decided to stick to the high road, just in case. I was pretty sure that was the route I’d taken last time. It brought me to another road crossing, and I could see where the low trail seemed to join back up right at the road. I figured I’d try that one on the way back, see how it was. 

Here, the trail becomes road. There’s a gate that allows the road to be closed off to vehicles. I think they close it in the winter, because the snow gets too high to safely drive. Oh, and in the spring, it keeps vehicles away from migrating animals. I do know the last time I was up this way, which was in early May of 2018, there was snow on the trail. If there’s snow in May, there’s definitely going to be a lot more snow in, say, January. 

Past the gate, the road wound on for longer than I remembered, with more uphill. And more switchbacks! But soon enough, I could see Grouse Butte up ahead, getting closer and closer with each step. I took another break along this stretch of road. I sat with my back against the embankment and watched as the line of sunshine crept from the edge of the road towards me. I ate a snack and enjoyed the incredible views. 

I was very excited to see the junction where the road I was currently walking on met up with the North Fork Lime Creek trail that I’d hiked before. When I hiked there in 2018, the entire junction was covered in snow. I had no idea what it really looked like. 

I suppose that excitement was why I found the sight a bit underwhelming. And it seemed like the signs must have changed, because I thought that the sign post was in a different position than it was before. Still, it was neat to see where the Lime Creek trail actually met the road – it was nowhere near where I had hiked over the snow. 

Then it was time to climb the butte, at long last. There’s not really a trail up to the top of Grouse Butte. There’s use trail, and maybe old trail, but nothing recently maintained. I remembered when I first saw it that there were tire tracks going up the butte, but I didn’t see any tracks now in the dirt. 

I did hear the roar of a motor in the distance, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out if it was a motorcycle or an ATV. I had a butte to climb! 

After a short hike up, I found a sign marking Grouse Butte. The map has it at 6941 feet of elevation, but it’s got fairly good prominence. To the north, the sprawling giants of the Sawtooths dominated the view, while to the south, rolling foothills gave way to green fields. The wind blew, and insects whirred, and I was delighted. 

As I hiked back down, I could see what looked like an old trail going up another butte right across from Grouse. I didn’t know a name for it, but I was out here to train. Why not climb another hill? When I got back to the junction, I could see there was a sign on that old trail. It stated that the route was closed to vehicles, but it wasn’t one of those “area closed behind this sign” signs. Since I’m not a vehicle, I decided to go on up. Especially because the motor I heard earlier was sounding closer, and I needed to dig a hole. What better place than up a hill where no one could see me? 

This butte had less of a top than Grouse. I’m not even sure it’s technically a butte, but I’m going to roll with that anyway. I wasn’t sure exactly where the high point was when I got up there, so I walked around a bit on the lumpy dirt interspersed with grasses and bushes. Then I caught sight of something weird, a shade of orange that I was not expecting to see. I mean, there are some orange flowers out there, but this orange was way too concentrated to be natural. 

I headed over to check it out and found a very strange sight. There were two shades of orange, and even some pink now that I was close. Most of the orange was like cellophane, broken and scattered over about a square yard. Then there were strings and balloon remnants, plus a white tag. At first, I thought it was a weather balloon. I’ve found those out in the woods before, and I think it’s really neat. But there was no box with instructions for return, just the tag that warned against touching if the balloon was still inflated, due to the dangers of explosive gas. 

At that point, I figured it must have been a part of fire retardant disbursement. I’m not sure that makes sense or not, but I couldn’t think of what other purpose sending a balloon like that out would be. Since I was on a day hike, I gathered up what I could (after taking pictures) and stuck it in my pack to take out to the trash. I wished I could take it all, but I wasn’t really equipped to hoover up cellophane from the dirt. I hoped that the cellophane was a modern biodegradable type; it was falling apart quite easily. 

Then I hiked back down to the junction. I had to step carefully, because the old road no longer resembled a good walking surface. I caught a glimpse of the motorcyclist I’d been hearing, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t see me. Then I started back down the road. Before I had time to get into my rhythm, I heard another motor coming. I stepped as far to the side of the road as I could, while also trying to be visible. Luckily, the driver of the ATV saw me and slowed to go around me. I exchanged smiles with the driver and passenger, and then kept on hiking. 

The clouds that had been threatening as I hiked got a bit more threatening as I descended towards the gate. I even felt a few raindrops. It was also time for lunch. When I got down to the junction below the gate, I picked a spot to sit and eat lunch that was sheltered by evergreens. I might get a little wet if the rain were to start in earnest, but I’d be well protected from sprinkles. I sat down to eat my lunch – a Sans bar. While I sat and ate, two ATVs came down the road. Both drivers looked like hunters, but only one of them noticed me. They drove off well before I finished eating, motor sounds echoing through the hills. 

When I was ready to move, the threat of rain had moved on. It still wasn’t sunny, but that’s not a bad thing when I’m hiking. I had a choice at this point – risk that the low trail would rejoin the high trail or just take the high trail again. 

I took the risk. 

It paid off. This trail was better maintained than the other one, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the high trail were closed the next time I got up there. The low trail stayed low longer, which made the climb to rejoin the high trail a bit steeper, but I liked it. 

I continued on the trail, crossing the road again and taking a break at the same spot by the sign that I had on the way up. I spotted a gnarly looking bit of junk on the dirt of the trail. It looked like a fistful of mucous, but it was a weird brownish color. I did take a picture, but I’m not going to post it. I wondered if it was some kind of afterbirth or maybe even part of some animal’s menstrual cycle. Personally, I found it fascinating, but I didn’t have time to linger and examine it more closely. 

The descent of Virginia Gulch is steep and pretty quick. By now, I have a good idea of the trail. I can tell when I’m getting close. But I fell prey to my overthinking. 

You see, throughout this hike, I had been using my InReach Mini to communicate my progress to Ambrose. We were using this trip to test how well the InReach to InReach communication worked since we'd be relying on that for my ICT trip later in the month. I’d sent him a message when I got out of the gulch, another at Grouse Butte. But the main thing was going to be sending him a message when I wanted to be picked up. It’s hard to judge how long it takes the messages to get through. We were hoping to figure out how long I might have to wait if I send him a message right when I need to get picked up. 

So I know I’m getting close to the bottom of the gulch, to the bridge where Ambrose will come and pick me up. I’m within an hour for sure, maybe half an hour. So what do I send to Ambrose? Something that makes sense to me as a “get ready to be at the bridge soon,” right? I tell him I’m on my final approach. 

To me, that means, get yourself ready and head over to the bridge. 

That’s not what it meant to Ambrose. 

I was actually within about 20 minutes of the bridge. I arrived and saw that he was not there. There was another vehicle parked, though not the one that was there in the morning. 

Now, I could have walked to the campsite. It’s not that far. But by now it was the principle of the thing. I’d asked for pickup, and to walk back would defeat the purpose of the exercise! So, I waited. 

Then I sent another message, less subtle. “Pick me up.” 

But that took a while to get through. I parked my pack on the ground so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I sat on a crooked bench that lives near the bridge. I sat on boulders that border the parking area when the shade left the bench temporarily. 

About half an hour after I had arrived, Ambrose finally pulled up. It wasn’t that he hadn’t gotten my message about the final stretch. It was that he did not at all interpret that message as a call to come to the bridge soon please honey. I definitely learned an important lesson there. Be clear and specific on my satellite messages. 

We got back to camp around 3:30, and I spent the rest of the afternoon recovering. I made sure to drink a lot of water and eat sufficient fuel, including post hike protein. It was a nice, relaxing afternoon. 

In the morning, we had breakfast and then drove on home. Time to get ready for the Idaho Centennial Trail!

Ambrose got some pictures of me getting ready.

Ambrose caught me mid-trekking pole adjustment.

Crossing the bridge over the Boise River.

I can't believe people just leave toilet paper on the ground like this.

Mmm, ripe thimbleberries.

Virginia Gulch is starting to get steep.

A little sunshine.

ICT sign!

Scarlet Glia.

The clouds were hanging out, but the sun was warm.

Transitioning from trail to road.

The gate is open.

I couldn't get enough of these views.

This junction looks so different when it's not covered in snow!

There's the butte!

Bird in flight.

And here's the top!

Butte selfie!

So beautiful!

Another butte's top.

That butte had a mystery balloon.

I really hoped these clouds would not drop rain on me.

Heading back down.

Teeny-tiny flowers way close up.

I couldn't get the camera to focus on that flower without my finger in the frame.

I love the Sawtooths.

More views.

The threat of rain has passed.

Back to the bridge!

Now to wait at the parking lot...

Niece Camping 2022 - Part 1

Over the last winter, I decided to invite my oldest niece to spend some time camping in Idaho. I wanted to show her what it’s like out here, and to give her an introduction to backpacking as well. Now that I’ve discovered backpacking, I wish that I’d known about it sooner, so I figured it would be good to introduce her to it as a teen. 

My original plan had her flying in and then getting driven out that same day, but her dad preferred that she be on a direct flight, so I changed it to having her come in the day before I had originally planned. For that first night, I booked us a room at a hotel, and another hotel night would come on our last night in town before she flew out in the afternoon. 

So, she flew in on Wednesday night, and I brought her over to the hotel. I had chosen it based on price, and I regretted it once I saw the actual location. I thought it would be run down but nice. It was rundown and not very nice. Survivable, yes, but I decided that night to cancel the second night I’d reserved and rebook in a different hotel, more expensive if necessary, for Sunday night. We went out to get some food and stopped by my apartment afterwards. I did want her to see why we weren’t going to be staying at my place, and I also needed to pick up a loaner shirt for her so she would have a synthetic shirt for the backpacking portion of the trip. Ambrose and I are very serious about safety in the woods, and that means no wearing cotton! 

Neither of us slept very well at the hotel, but we got through the night and got up with enough time to get breakfast at The Griddle before going to Boise State for a college tour. Yes, she’s just a rising freshman, but I think it’s never too early to start seeing yourself at college. I know her dad wants her to go to college, so I thought it would be good for her to take the tour and learn a bit more about what college could be like. Being a fourteen year old, she protested a bit, but went along, which was all I asked. She even seemed to enjoy the tour a bit, especially as it was ending, even though the shoes she wore were getting uncomfortable. I may have undersold the size of the campus to her… 

After that, we had one more task before us. She had flown out with acrylic nails that she’d gotten to celebrate 8th grade graduation, and we needed to get those off before going into the woods. I had to call around to a few places, but I finally found a place with an opening early in the afternoon. We headed over, after a stop at a grocery store for some necessities (like a phone charger). We got lunch at a nearby deli and then got her nails off. 

Then it was time. Into the woods we went. 

I warned her that we’d be running out of cell service at some point, but I wasn’t sure when exactly. It depends a lot on which carrier you have and she’s got a different one than I do. But I knew that it would run out, if not right after Mountain Home, then before Pine and Featherville for sure. Luckily, she did have downloaded music to share, so I got to listen to Hamilton for the first time. I wasn’t sure that I’d enjoy it, because I don’t tend to listen to musicals very much, but I absolutely enjoyed it. It was a lot longer than I expected, and we didn't even finish by the time we got to the first night’s camp at the Willow Creek Transfer Camp outside of Featherville. 

I chose the route that I did, taking 84 to 20 to the Pine/Featherville Highway, so that she would be gradually eased into the woods. An interstate, then a highway, then a much narrower, but still paved road, then the dirt road. I was a little concerned when we reached the turn off for Willow Creek, because someone had put a sign up about a family reunion and I worried the site would be full or crowded. Then I saw that the main Willow Creek campground, which was not where we planned to stay, was closed for renovations. That might push more people to the transfer camp where I did want to stay. 

But luck was with us; the family reunion looked to have claimed some spots outside of the formal transfer camp, and only one other group was at the transfer camp itself. We claimed a spot and started working on getting the tent and chairs out and ready. She helped unload and with getting the tent up. Then, to take a break, I acceded to her desire to go swimming. There was a nice little bend of Willow Creek that offered safe water, and she changed into sandals and swimsuit. I decided to just use my underwear, because I was pretty sure that we wouldn’t be spending much time in the water. I know Idaho water, and it is freezing cold. It’s full of snowmelt and runs from high elevation mountain springs. But that’s something you’ve got to experience for yourself to truly appreciate, so down to the creek we went. 

The sun was nice and hot, so I wasn’t worried about us getting too cold. I stripped down and used a log to get myself over to the water, immersing my legs, but not going any lower. The chill of the water turned my legs red almost immediately. My niece entered the water and exclaimed at the temperature. We did NOT end up staying in that water for very long. 

After that we finished getting the tent ready by pumping up the air mattress and getting the blankets inside for insulation. I decided to leave the rainfly off for the night so we could see stars through the mesh. I also introduced her to the down blanket that has kept Ambrose and I warm many a night, Stinky. Stinky lives up to its name, but at least the smell is more like dirt than anything disgusting. And it does a great job of supplementing the sleeping quilts and keeping body heat in. And to think, Ambrose wanted to throw it away at one point! 

I made dinner for us, putting too much water in the rice, but it worked out okay. I keep forgetting that Minute Rice has a 1 to 1 ratio of rice to water, so I did 1 cup rice to 2 cups water. But having a bit more water in one’s food is not a bad thing when out in the woods. Staying hydrated is important. 

We watched some download episodes of Unsolved Mysteries during dinner. Once we retreated to the tents, we played some games while waiting for it to get dark outside, since it’s easier for her to sleep when it’s dark. We played some drawing games, singing games, hand clap games and cell phone games (those that didn’t require internet since there was definitely no service where we were staying). I did communicate to Ambrose and to her dad via a satellite communicator, but it was limited to text. 

When it got dark at long last, we talked some, and eventually dropped off to sleep. In the night, both of us took turns stealing Stinky. . . 

Willow Creek Transfer Camp got a new pit toilet, fancy!

What a view from the tent.

Weekend Warrior - Virginia Gulch

Ambrose managed to injure his thumb with a pretty deep cut. We didn't want to expose that cut to the dirt of the woods without giving it more time to heal, so it was agreed that he couldn't go out that weekend. But I could. 

And so, I did something different. Something Ambrose used to do when he lived in California. 

After work, and a quick shopping trip, I drove out to the Willow Creek Transfer Camp, with no tent and no intention of using a tent. No, I was there explicitly to cowboy camp. If possible, on a picnic table. 

The drive out was uneventful. There are more miles to cover on this trip than the one to the Queens River Trailhead, but the drive takes about the same amount of time thanks to long stretches of paved road with a speed limit over 60mph. I hadn't driven this route for a couple years, but it came back to me as I drove. The curvy section descending to the reservoir and Pine. The winding pavement between Pine and Featherville. And finally, the turn off to Willow Creek. 

The main campsite was pretty full; I didn't attempt to go and look for a spot there, because I didn't want to have to pay. Instead, I drove on to the Transfer Camp. I hoped it would be empty or nearly empty, but as I drove along the road it seemed that every possible dispersed campsite was occupied. 

The Transfer Camp was occupied, but not fully occupied. I was able to snag a spot with a picnic table and the other campers were not loud, though they did have a fire. 

Then I set up my bed for the night: 

One picnic table. Add tarp. Add bucket.

Then sleeping pad, quilt, overquilt and pillow. Ta da! Bed!

I was a little nervous about the possibility of rolling off the table at night. So much so that I actually dreamed that I had decided the risk was too great and that I pulled the whole assembly onto the ground. Thus, when I woke up later and had to go pee, I was quite surprised to find that I was still on the table. 

Luckily, I didn't fall. I do think that I should put a blanket down between the tarp and the sleeping pad next time to help keep the pad from sliding on the table. 

There were clouds when I arrived, but by the time I went to sleep the sky was clear enough for stars to start shining. Unusually, for me, I didn't put my glasses on when I got up in the night to pee. I had put them in the bucket, and it just seemed like more trouble than it was worth to dig them out just for that. 

I set an alarm on my phone, and put the phone in the bucket in case it rained, but I really ought not have bothered. The birds got me up before the alarm went off. I'd set it for 6, so I let myself have some time to read before getting ready. Oh, and I ate the hard boiled eggs I'd packed for breakfast. The other part of breakfast would be a cookie on the trail. 

Breaking camp was super easy, especially with the trunk so nice and empty. I got changed into my hiking clothes and stuffed everything in the trunk. Then, as rain drops started sprinkling down, I got in and drove to the trailhead of Virginia Gulch. 

The trail starts just across the Middle Fork of the Boise River.

There was already a truck parked at the trailhead, and I wondered if I would see the people it belonged to on the trail. I wore my raincoat, both because it was chilly and because it was supposed to rain. And also kind of actually already raining, a little. But it didn't really start raining when I left the car. 

Kind of flat to start, but that changes fast.

I wasn't feeling very well, but I wanted to get this done. I was tempted to drive home without the hike. I missed Ambrose and I didn't feel like hiking. But that's a really good feeling for me to have when I'm on a training hike. Because when you're backpacking, there are days when you don't want to hike, but you absolutely have to. I'm training myself to hike when I don't feel like it so I know I can do it when I need to. 

I got warm quickly, opened my pit zips, and then took the whole jacket off. Just too hot for it. I did leave it wrapped around my shoulders and draped over my pack like a cape, either to keep my pack dry if it rained or, more likely, because I was being lazy and didn't want to stop and put the jacket up. 

I didn't think my pace was very fast, but it wasn't long before I saw people ahead of me. Then I caught them! Two young men! And I caught them. They had a dog with them, a large dog that took an instant dislike to me. I guess dogs don't like being passed on trails, but the guys didn't seem to upset about it. 

I never saw them again, so I don't know how far they made it, but I like to think that they turned back soon after I passed. Because soon after I passed, the rain began to fall in earnest. A real shower, not just Idaho sprinkles. I kept going with my jacket cloak-style, because I was climbing, and it kept me quite warm. I just couldn't stop until the sun came out or until I dried off. Or until I got back to the car. 

It just keeps going up.

And up.

And the chipmunks have no fear.

Virginia Gulch is a great place for a training hike. There's a lot of elevation in a very short distance. It's brutal. So it's great! I had thought about going all the way up to Grouse Butte, which would have been about 11 miles round trip, but by the time I made my way up to the top of the gulch, I was done for the day. My legs were aching, and I didn't want to push myself so hard that I couldn't drive home. 

The storm moved on.

I'm not sure what this post is for.

A very faded ICT sign.

I'm not sure what these flowers are, other than pretty.

I love the Sawtooths.

I decided to turn back here, rather than push for Grouse Butte.

I did a slightly different route on the way down, taking the road around rather than turning to go back the way I came. I think that was a wise decision, both because it slightly increased my distance traveled and because as I approached the trail I could hear a motorcycle coming up. If I'd gone back the way I'd came, I would have run into the motorcycle (hopefully not literally). 

But I did take the road back to where it intersects with 039. 

Functional gate.

Not a functional gate.

Back to 039.

Yeah, it gets a little steep.

The down was a lot faster than the up. I used my trekking poles to help keep my balance, but this trail was easier to go down than 6125. The trail doesn't have as much "ball-bearings" type rocks, so I didn't actually slide or fall on the way down. 

I'm not sure how motorcycles get up this part.

I did have a good laugh, though. A large family group of hikers was just at the bottom of the switchbacks, where it starts to get hard. They were taking a break. Did they ask me how the trail was? Nope. They didn't ask me anything, and I laughed after I had passed them, because I really didn't think they were going to make it to the top. But maybe they did. 

When I got back to the car, the truck that had been there was gone. I don't think they made it to the top. 

Next time, I'm going all the way to Grouse Butte. 

As long as Ambrose is driving ;)