Accidentally Halfway to Mount Heinen

When Ambrose and I drove out a few weeks ago along the Middlefork Road, we spotted a trail that seemed to go straight up from the road. We agreed that it would be our training hike to start the season, and when we got back from that trip, I tried to find the trail. The only clue I had was that it was near Irish Creek. We both looked over Google maps to trace the trail pretty far back, and neither of us really knew where it went, though Ambrose noticed a peak it might approach. 

This last weekend we made good on our plans, left the house around 5:30 and arrived at the trail before 7 in the morning. As we started hiking up, the sun hadn't yet risen above the high surrounding ridges, though it was bright enough that we had no need of headlamps. I was wearing my new Softstar Switchbacks for the first time on a hike, and it would prove to be a trial by fire, er, elevation. 

The trail that looked so steep from the road? Yeah, it was even steeper than I thought it would be. While it did start off relatively nicely, it soon became a series of hill climbs. They were practically staircases (Ambrose later calculated the average grade of the hike at 19%!). I found myself trying different gaits just to deal with the steepness. Whoever designed this trail clearly had something against switchbacks. 

Ambrose spotted some deer high overhead. I wished for their fleetness of foot as I trudged up the steep, switchbackless trail. I know I complain about switchbacks sometimes, but there's a balance to be found between super long switchbacks and none. 

I sometimes just used my forefoot, and other times I did a sideways crossover step. The crossover step felt a lot better than going straight up, but I didn't have a lot of stamina doing that. I'll probably build that up as we continue to hike this trail (of course we're going back, it was HARD). I called a break less than a mile in, because I was not prepared for this much uphill. The boots were doing okay. I was noticing the lack of gusseting on the tongue, because little rocks kept sneaking inside and poking my toes. It wasn't awful, but I did take them off to get rocks out and retied them at the break. 

The retie helped keep rocks out, but next time I take these boots up this trail I'm going to wear gaiters and see if that improves the experience. We took another break for a call of nature, and then made our final push to what looked like the high point of the ridgeline. I was so happy to get there, where the trail transitioned from motorbike eaten dirt piles to grassy walking trail. And I didn't see any uphill in the direction I was facing. 

Alas, the trail took a right angle turn and led me to gape at yet another steep stretch of trail ahead. Okay, I said to myself. This trail is just going to keep climbing. No matter what I hope or want, it's going up, and I'm going along for the ride. I did, however, call for a break before we started the next big uphill. 

The trail did indeed keep climbing. Up, and up, and up. Always turning and weaving to find the absolute highest points along the ridge to follow. The higher we got, the more we could see across the reservoir. Grassy plateaus and low meadows shone green under the white, snowy peaks that I'd never seen from the road. We came across patches of snow hiding in a gully, but none on the trail. 

I finally saw what looked like a genuine top-out. And when I reached it, it was a top-out! The trail continued on down, and then climbed right back up again!  How dare it? I was dismayed at the prospect of losing so much elevation only to go up again. My body said, no, not today. And I agreed. 

When Ambrose caught up with me, I showed him the GPS; we had gone nearly 2 miles and up about 2100 feet. I also asked how he would feel about turning back. I was so glad when he had no issues about it at all, agreeing to my tentative suggestion readily. Probably because he would get to show off his downhill hiking skills, which are superior to mine. 

We were just starting to get going when a guy hiked up the trail. He asked if we'd made it to the peak, and we said no. He hiked on. The peak? Hmm... 

Next time I start an intense downhill like this in the Switchback boots, I'm going to make sure to tighten and retie before starting. But I'm not sure that would have been all that much help, because of the angles that the trail forced my feet to take. It wasn't long before I needed to take a break to dump little rocks and retie the boots, and as I was finishing up voices floating up from below became a pair of women, accompanied by a teeny, tiny dog. 

They, too, asked about the peak. As did the next group, and the next, and the next. We just kept running into people as we went down, and I finally asked one pair, "What peak is it that everyone keeps talking about?" 

I think she was surprised that someone would be hiking a trail without knowing where it went, and she replied, "Heinen." Pronounced Hay-nen. I resolved to look it up when I got home. 

When we got back down to the motorbike widened section, the trail was wide enough that I could kind of trot beside Ambrose and figure out how he was moving faster by mimicking him. But I didn't do that for too long, because the trail was too rocky to be side by side. I took the "switchlets" aka not really switchbacks, but little curves around the parts of the trail that resembled a rockslide. 

The Switchback boots were not doing great on the steep downhills. My toes were sliding down into the front of the boot a bit, and the big toes were both getting a bit sore from it. I was regretting making this my first hike with these boots, because I think they'd do fine on a normal trail. 

I was trying to keep my legs and body more relaxed than I usually am on a steep downhill hike. I get nervous about falling, and I tense up and it makes the hike much harder on me than it needs to be. I managed to avoid making my muscles go into tremble mode by focusing on that. Definitely need to remember to relax on those downhills! 

One group, near the bottom, asked if we'd seen the sunrise on the trail. The question gave me pause, because I had just spent a couple hours exerting myself and now I was being asked a weird question, to me. Seen it? Well, not technically. I wasn't watching the sunrise. But I was here when the sun rose, so I said that. I could have said yes, but my answer to his actual question wasn't yes, because I didn't "see" the sun rise. I may be too pedantic at times. . . 

Ambrose and I passed one more pair of hikers just leaving the road, and then we had to carefully avoid a few vehicles on the short road walk to the car. At this point, we were both feeling our leg muscles protesting the use we had just put them to. I took advantage of the pit toilet, and then Ambrose drove us home, grateful that we no longer drove a manual. 

Once we got home, I figured out that the Mount Heinen trail is a total of 5 miles out, approximately 3200 feet of gain. The drop we had been facing was "only" 150 feet down before the climbing resumed, which meant we would have had roughly 1250 feet more uphill before we hit the peak. Both of us were pleased to have done over 2000 feet for the first trip. And I'm not alone in being eager to go back and try myself against that tough trail. I need to get in shape for the Idaho Centennial Trail in August, and I believe the Mount Heinen trail is just what I'm looking for. 

Two celestial bodies in the dawn light, but I'm not sure which ones. 

Yes, the trail is steep. 

The trail also rolls past a memorial.

Blurry deer.

Ambrose's new day pack looking good.

Ambrose making his way up.

Oh, yes, it keeps climbing.

More uphill, and we're getting higher.

I say to myself, does the trail really go all the way up there? And I answer, yes. Yes, it does. Keep climbing.

Yay snow!

View from our top-out spot.

View of our top-out spot.

Looks like we can see all the way to 20 from here. 

The views coming down were rewarding.

I don't normally like downhill, but this one was a relief.

April Exploration

My husband and I took an exploratory drive down the Middlefork Road a couple weeks ago. Typically, in the early season, we'll go out to Sheep Creek to do some training hikes to an unnamed peak that we call by its elevation, 6125. But this is the first year that we've had a vehicle we feel comfortable taking out that way in early April. 

Now, we know the route we typically take to the Queen's River trailhead will still be closed. Even with the early warm weather we've been getting, roads like Swanholm are likely to be snowy, icy, muddy or all three. I still wouldn't anticipate going down those roads much before Memorial Day. But the Middlefork Road is kept open through the winter for the town of Atlanta, so we figured the Subaru could make it. 

And we could always turn back. 

That morning, I had a few chores to take care of before we headed out. A disappointing dentist appointment, and a very quick and easy blood donation. Now, I had thought that I might hike after this, but then the Red Cross folks reminded me that I shouldn't be exerting myself too heavily after donating blood, so when I got home from the donation, I made sure to grab a towel and my bikini in case I could convince Ambrose to stop at a hot springs. 

He was in a VERY big hurry so I ended up leaving the house with neither my phone nor my camera. Therefore, we saw a lot of cool stuff that we usually don't see, and I have no photographic evidence to offer! 

For starters, the water levels around Discovery Park were abysmally low. There were a ton of sandbars showing, and where folks usually paddleboard there looked like hardly enough water to keep someone afloat. Sand Point had absolutely no water in it, with the spout totally dry. Then, we saw a helicopter taking off from the Lucky Peak Helibase as we were driving along 21. I always see the sign for the Helibase, but this was the first time I'd actually seen a copter taking to the air from it. 

As we drove around the Lucky Peak reservoir, I was disappointed to see the low water levels were also on display here. Low water levels will only exacerbate the fire season, and we had a pretty bad one last year. Only a few boats plied the shallow waters on this day, and the floating docks that sprinkle the banks were flat on dirt, well above the water line. 

I was hoping that the Arrowrock reservoir would be mostly full. Last year, we never saw any water coming down the spillway next to the dam. This year, I saw a trickle flowing out and sighed with relief. Indeed, when we got to the top of the dam, it was clear that this reservoir was nearly full. Oh, and we finally got caught with another car coming at us driving that very narrow part of road above the dam. I'm always nervous about a car popping up, but it actually went fine. They backed up because they were closer to their end than we were to ours and we got around them on the wider part of the road. 

It lifted my heart to see the water levels at Arrowrock higher than I'd seen them in a few years. There were several boats out on the water, and not a whole lot of traffic on the road. As we drove along, we kept an eye out for trails to try. Near one of the pit toilets, we found one that we'll be trying this weekend. It has no shade and looks like it's just straight up a ridgeline, perfect for training! 

But on this day we drove on. Now that we have a Crosstrek, I no longer dread the speed bumps in Twin Springs. I mean, I get that they need to be fairly aggressive to stop people from driving fast through the resort, but I was always nervous driving the Focus over them, let alone the old Civic. The Crosstrek handles the speed bumps just fine. 

Soon after Twin Springs, we drove by a car sitting at the side of the road, looking abandoned. One of the windows was open and there looked to be some damage. So that's another unusual thing we saw. 

The Sheep Creek trail looked like it would be doable, if not that particular day, then quite soon. There was some snow way up on the ridgeline above Twin Springs, but most of the trail we'd take wouldn't be right on the ridge. So that one should be ready for a mid-May hike, even with the snow we got last week. 

As we drove on, because I had indeed convinced Ambrose that a visit to Loftus Hot Spring was in order, we came across yet another abandoned vehicle. But this one was a bit more spectacular. It had clearly rolled based on the damage, and it had also clearly been there a while, judging by the numerous bullet holes in the side facing the road. The license plate was no more, either fallen off or removed. 

We arrived at Loftus just as another couple was leaving so the timing was just right. I got to enjoy a nice little hot soak, and Ambrose tested out his InReach Mini. I really ought to get mine better set up, but I keep putting it off. Then we headed back. 

Ambrose turned in to get a closer look at the rollover wreck, but I warned him against taking my car tires too close to the piles of broken metal and glass around it. We did get a little closer to it, but not too much. 

On the drive back, a large bird of prey caught my eye. It was practically posing for me atop a large, leafless tree. Of course, of course, that's only going to happen when I don't have a camera! Based on the side and coloration, I think it was a golden eagle. But it sure would have been nice to have a picture to confirm that guess. 

We had a good drive overall. It always makes me feel better to be in the woods, if only for a brief afternoon. 

Wilson Creek Hike April 2022

I recently got the chance to explore a whole new area of hiking trails with a friend. We hadn't hung out in a while, and the weather was perfect for a hike in the high desert, so she suggested Wilson Creek, which is south of Nampa. I hadn't been there before, so we met up at her place and then she drove us out.

I enjoyed the views on the way; I always forget how many mountains you can see south of Nampa. The drive itself seemed to pass quickly as we caught up with what's been going on in each other's lives since we'd last had a chance to hang out. 

The one thing she warned me about was the trails were situated in an open range, so we might run into some cows. We pulled up by the main trailhead, but decided to keep going to a secondary one to avoid any crowds. We were the only vehicle in the parking lot that we chose, and I picked a direction and we hiked south along the road. 

Well, we thought it was along trail, as there seemed to be a trail along the side of the road. But it turned out to be more of a sandy ditch, so we stepped back up onto the road. After a while, the road offered us a trail and we took that, curving around in a big loop, following trails kind of at random. 

It's not often that I go on a hike without extensive pre-planning, especially in a new an unfamiliar area. I liked it. Not something I'll do all the time, but something I'd like to do more often. Of course, it helped that my friend was familiar with the area, and when we wanted to get back to the car, she knew which trails would get us in that general direction. 

We took some challenging uphill routes, but overall the hike wasn't strenuous, or too long. Just a few hours hiking in the spring high desert, with birds of prey circling overhead and cattle flocking down below. We didn't run into any cows while hiking, but on the road one almost followed us as we were heading out. 

Oof that was a steep climb!

A calf frolicking next to the road. 

Training

On Sunday when I was running, I was not in the mood to be running. I didn't want to do it at all, but I got myself out the door with stubbornness and I kept myself going with dogged willpower. I was absolutely determined to run 6 miles, even though I was feeling a bit under the weather and I had this nasty lump in my throat that tasted kind of yucky. Pretty much, I was sick and not willing to admit it. 

At one point when I was running, it was as if the world had narrowed to the sidewalk in front of me. My eyes were heavy lidded and I wasn't hearing much of the world around me. It's lucky I didn't run into anyone or anything. 

I was trying to slow my heart rate, because I can feel it pounding in my ears, TUMP TUMP TUMP and I want it to stop hurting my ears so much. So I focused on slowing my pace and breathing and letting my heart slow down. But it just keeps coming back TUMP TUMP TUMP and I just keep pushing myself, wondering if I'm doing the right thing, but determined not to stop. 

Then I felt a sting of pain, like a frisson of electricity in my chest, near my heart, and though the stinging sensation lingered, what took more of my attention was the feeling of coming up from underwater, or waking up from a light sleep. The world around me came into focus, the whole thing, not just what was in front of me. I was hearing better, and the pounding of my heart was no longer painful in my ears. 

I don't know what the heck happened, but it was quite an interesting phase shift. Maybe the pain did it. Like stubbing one's toe on the way to or from the bathroom at night. From half asleep to wide awake in a split second. 

The feeling faded a bit, but helped get me through that last mile of running, after which I sat down on some grass near the sidewalk to eat and try and catch my breath. My legs were rubbery and didn't want to move anymore, and I couldn't blame them. But I wasn't really training my running that day. I was training my willpower. Training my ability to keep going even when my body didn't really want to. Because that's the reserve I need when I'm out in the wilderness, two days from a road in any direction. To doggedly push on, because my body can do more than my mind thinks.