Newman Peak 2022 Part 2

The next morning, we woke up pretty early. I had been hoping that the vaguely ill feeling that had been plaguing me for the last couple days would be gone after a night’s sleep in the outdoors. Unfortunately, I still felt out of sorts and not really ready for the kind of hike we were planning on doing. Still, I thought maybe if I pushed through the first mile, I’d feel better. 

So I got up and got ready to go. Ambrose got ready as well, and we hopped into the car and drove over to the trailhead. It was close enough, I suppose, that we could have hiked to the trailhead along the road, but we decided against that course of action for this trip. We were going to try and climb a mountain, after all. No need for extra steps! 

The morning air was damp, but smelled strongly of smoke. It almost looked foggy, but it was smoke that had been swept into the valley overnight. I drove us over to the trailhead and parked. There were no other vehicles parked there now; there had been one there yesterday, but it was gone. We would have the trail to ourselves, at least for a while. 

Of course, we then had to make sure we were on the right trail. The trailhead had a sign, but there were a couple of paths that looked like trail coming out from there. We stuck with the one that started by paralleling the road, and that turned out to be the right choice. 

The trail was nothing special in the beginning. The road was still close, so cars were audible. It led us through scattered tree cover and stretches of bushes, angling away from the road and towards the ridge. This hike may start out relatively flat, but it absolutely does NOT stay that way. A light uphill led us to a stream crossing. It was shallow enough for us to ford in boots – even my Softstars, which don’t have sealed seams. I had to be a bit more careful than Ambrose, finding rocks to stand on while he walked right on through. I do hope they come up with some completely waterproofed Softstar Switchback boots, because I love everything else about them. 

Right after the stream crossing, and I mean right after, the trail took a 90 degree left turn and went uphill, angling up along the side of a ridge. Essentially, we were climbing up the side of a wide canyon. The smoke smell was still in the air, but as we climbed higher, it lessened. I was still dragging, but I figured we hadn’t quite gone a mile yet. If I just kept walking, I figured, then eventually I’d feel better about it. Right? 

I looked up at Ambrose, pulling ahead of me again, and saw a deer up above him. I tried to point it out quietly, but he didn’t get it until I yelled “deer” and made a big gesture with my trekking pole. That also alerted the deer, unfortunately, so I wasn’t able to get a good picture of it. I should have taken the picture and then alerted Ambrose, but I wasn’t thinking very clearly. The uphill was making me feel worse, but I kept pushing through. 

We finally stopped for a break, a bit before where Ambrose believed the trail would recross the stream. I was tired, but I figured maybe eating would make me feel better. I had a big snack, including a Built Puff and some candy. I wondered if I had perhaps not eaten enough the prior day. Well before I was ready to keep on hiking, Ambrose called the break over. I dragged myself up and kept on following him like a pack horse. 

We did, in fact, reach the next stream crossing pretty soon after the break, but I think we had a good spot to break. Nearer the stream, it would have been cold and damp. The water was even shallower up here, and I had no trouble rock hopping it. 

I had had some vague hope that the trail would mellow out a bit after the stream crossing. The trail took my hopes and smashed them, proceeding to a series of switchbacks even steeper than the trail we’d just been hiking. 

I tried to focus on moving forward. There have been times on backpacking trips, when I’ve been days out from the trailhead, when I’ve just wanted to sit down and cry and quit. And those times have taught me that I can push further than I think. That knowledge gives me a bit of a reserve to tap into on days like this when I don’t want to hike. And, every time I push, I build up more reserve for next time. 

The trail had a few flat sections. I reveled in those, but they were inevitably followed by another steep climb. And yet, even though I felt pretty bad, I didn’t forget to look around. As we got higher, we rose above the layer of smoke filling the canyons below us. I could almost imagine the smoke as fog, covering up an ocean, and the nearby ridges as islands. 

I made sure to remind Ambrose to look back down, too. When we hiked closer together, he would talk about how the trail used to look. The ridge we were now climbing on was covered in grass and bushes, but the first time he came up the trail was hardly defined, and the grass was trampled to mud by the hooves of deer and elk. We reached a bit of a top out before the next break. The trail was transferring to another ridgeline, and we stopped in the sunshine and looked out over the smoke-filled canyon. 

I made sure to eat heartily again. I was starting to think about where I might suggest turning back, because I was feeling worse the higher we climbed instead of better. I didn’t mind not having shade at this break, because I wasn’t warming up like I should be. I got up with less reluctance after this break, but that was only because the trail was kind of flat, maybe even a bit downhill, in this section. 

We hiked on, crossing another small stream. After that stream, there were some spots that we could camp at in the future. We both knew, at that point, that we might not make the peak on this day, and it would be good to find spots to strike out from for next time. The trail continued to ascend, now through shady forest. Ambrose was looking for a particular spot to start heading off trail towards the peak, based off of his reading of the topo map at home and the GPS now. As the trail broke out of the trees, opening to high meadows, Ambrose found his spot. I was behind him, and still lagging as we neared 8000 feet in elevation. 

I disconnected the camera from my pack and hooked it on to his, telling him to go on without me, because I wasn’t going to hike any farther on this day. I could see him wanting to turn back with me, but I’m glad he forged ahead. It reminded me of when I went ahead when we tried to climb Benedict Peak. I backtracked a bit to the trees so I could wait in the shade. The morning was finally warming up for me. 

I first took a seat on a log, but when I leaned back, I saw the log I had chosen was under another log. Best not to chance that it might fall while I dozed there. So I went to the other side of the trail, where dirt under the trees had clearly been churned by many hooves. I thought the dirt might be comfortable to sit on. 

I was right. I managed to snuggle down into quite a comfortable spot in the dirt. But a few things made me move. First, I thought I might need to dig a hole. Second, the dirt was beginning to leech heat out of me to the point where I was starting to feel cold again. And, lastly, the sun was on the move, as usual, and my spot was about to be no longer in shade. 

I continued hiking down off the trail through the copse of trees. It was almost like a trail. I followed the route down and down, not wanting to go too far since I’d have to climb back up, but also curious. Why did this feel like a trail? 

The answer turned out to be because it is used like a trail. Maybe thirty feet down from the trail, I found a metal post thrust into the ground and a bench made from a large split log. It looked like the perfect place to wait for Ambrose to return. 

After I dug a hole, away from the bench spot, I tried the bench out. It was perfect. I mean, a little lumpy, but no bugs protested my presence. I could almost take a nap! 

But if I were to fall asleep, I needed to make sure Ambrose could find me. I unclipped the carabiner holding my bandana/pee rag from my pack and hung it on a small tree where it would be visible from the direction Ambrose was going to come from. It would move with the wind and, hopefully, alert him to my presence if I were to fall asleep. 

I settled onto the bench and watched as birds started to fly over and investigate – as long as I held still. And not five minutes after I hung up the bandana and settled onto the bench, I saw Ambrose coming down. 

When he got closer, I made some noise and directed him to come down to me. He sat on the bench and marked the spot on the GPS while explaining what had happened. 

He had thought he could take the ridgeline over to the peak, but when he went off trail, he accidentally cut a switchback instead. And as he continued, he realized that this was not an approach that he could safely take by himself. He turned back. 

And then he noticed that there should be water nearby, based on the GPS. I went looking, and there was in fact water, sufficiently deep to filter from, very close to this site. That site would definitely do for an approach camp the next time we try to hike Newman Peak. And there will be a next time. 

Ambrose and I sat and talked for a bit on the bench, letting him get a rest before we headed back down to the car. I realized that I had likely been starting to suffer from altitude sickness, which is why I felt worse the higher we got. I don’t know why, but that kind of thing can be unpredictable. 

The way down was a lot faster than the way up. We probably could have pushed through all the way back to the car without eating lunch, but by now we’ve learned better than that. We stopped for lunch while still fairly high up on the ridge, under the meager shade of a short evergreen. Then on down we went. 

I was hiking faster than Ambrose at this point, in a total reversal of our usual paces. Since I was now hiking faster on the downhill than Ambrose, I figured that was just more evidence that I had been starting to get altitude sickness. I made sure not to hike too far ahead of him, just in case he needed help. But we made it all the way down past the second stream crossing without incident. 

After that, there wasn’t an incident per se, but we did run into some people. They were also hiking down, but they hadn’t gone as far up as us. It was a large family group, more than seven people, plus kids and dogs, and they paused for us to pass just before the last stream crossing. Ambrose heard the kids asking one of the adults why we were so smelly, and he explained that we had been working hard. I thought that was funny when Ambrose told me later, but I didn’t catch it at the time. 

I could hear them pausing at the stream to play in the water a bit. We hiked on the last stretch back to the trailhead and got into the car with relief. 

I almost drove past the campsite; only Ambrose’s reminder got me to turn on time. For the rest of the afternoon, we drank water and chased the shade until it was time for dinner. We listened to an audiobook for a bit, though that was spoiled when some folks decided they had nothing better to do than drive their very loud motor vehicles up and down the little stretch of road we were camped next to. 

Soon after dinner, the sun disappeared behind the ridge and we retreated into the tent for the night. I'd asked Ambrose about the bouncy mattress and he had just expected that I'd finish pumping it. And I would have, if he would have left the pump out instead of putting it away. . . So, I pumped it up to a nice firmness before we settled in for the night. 

The next morning, I got up and made myself some tea for the drive home. Usually, I bug Ambrose to do the cooking, but I decided to let him sleep in a bit. After all, the whole reason I was driving on this trip was to thank him for being my driver for the ICT trip. Why not demonstrate my thankfulness a bit more by getting my own water boiled? 

We had a bit of breakfast, and then headed out. I didn’t want to wait too long. There was traffic to consider, which would probably be worse later in the day. And I wanted to go to the roadside hot spring. I hoped getting there early would mean no one else was using it. Indeed, when we arrived, it was available for us. 

I love that hot spring. It’s so nice to have a “hot bath” after a camping trip. I got my fill of hot soaking, and then I drove us the rest of the way home. We stopped for milkshakes, one last treat for our last outing of the season. 

The sun hadn't crested the eastern ridgeline when we left the tent.

But the morning grew bright before we left the car.

The first stream crossing - notice the sharp turn of the trail on the far side!

The deer was up on the ridge to the right.

It ran far and fast, but I caught its rear.

Sunshine! 

The trail had a little reroute around this fallen giant.

I dragged myself along behind Ambrose.

Smoke filled the valley below.

The second stream crossing of the same stream.

More valley smoke.

I love how these shots turned out.

Ambrose is nearly at the point where I will stop for the day.

He took this picture to illustrate why he was turning back. 

Ambrose's smoky shot of a switchback.

A zoomed in shot of Newman Peak, courtesy of Ambrose.

Metal pole at the bench spot.

Ambrose taking a break on the bench.

The smoke was thinning out a bit.

The descent went faster. Funny how that happens.

The amount of smoke depended on the valley. 

Trail heading down.

People ahead!

Last crossing of the day!

Almost there, the car's just behind the center trees. 

Selfie next to the car.

Newman Peak 2022 Part 1

Ambrose and I had planned on a backpacking trip over Labor Day weekend, but we had to change our plans again. On the Idaho Centennial Trail Hike, Ambrose’s waist belt ended up being too small and wore holes in his hips (yeah, he’s going to have to get a size medium before next season). Luckily, I remind him that his new day pack doesn’t have a hip belt. That meant we could drive out and camp and go on a day hike!

He agreed in principle, and then I suggested we hike Newman Peak. For some reason, I thought he'd done it before. He had shown me the trailhead for the trail he used to take to that way. So I thought revisiting it would be fun for him. He agreed, and thus our journey was set. 

I had a work obligation for that Saturday, but once that was done, we drove out to Mountain Home, then Fairfield, then deep into the woods. There was a fire burning near the area we were going, but I had checked the Incident report, and there were no closures that should affect us. The fire was burning a few valleys over, and we could see and smell smoke in the air. 

Despite the smoke, the campsites we drove by were quite crowded. We had hoped to camp at the same site as the trailhead, but there were groups at the main sites. There were a couple of potential spots near the trailhead, but they were less than ideal. The sun was baking them and little shade was on offer. So we got back in the car and I kept driving. I knew there was another campsite ahead, and this one had pit toilets. 

Unfortunately, that campsite was closed. Kind of. I mean, it was in use, but only by firefighting personnel. So I turned the car around and headed back. There was a spot off the road we could use for dispersed camping that I’d driven by already, but before we sought that out, we tried one other road. Just after a bridge, there were spots available, but also trucks parked, including a fire fighter’s truck. There was a firefighter talking to the driver of a truck, and he came over to speak with us. 

He told us the fire closure area had been expanded and that we needed to cross back over the bridge to get out of the closure zone. He had a map in plastic on a clipboard that displayed the new boundary. I was glad to see Newman Peak was outside, as I figured it would be. The firefighter also said that this expansion was a precaution, and that the fire wasn’t likely to come this way. I didn’t want to have to evacuate, so I hoped he was right. 

I made for the dispersed site that I’d spotted. I’d noted that it was just before the road took a noticeable downhill dive with a slight curve. I drove slowly so I could pay attention right after I climbed back up that hill. I found the spot and pulled just far enough into the grass an dirt to be completely off the road. Then we got out of the car and explored. 

It had clearly been used as a campsite before, but not very recently. There was a fire ring, but it didn’t have the look of one that had had a fire lately. There was also debris lying around, like metal wires and old tin cans. It wasn’t my ideal site, but it would do. There was a flat spot, and a number of trees offered shade. The shade wasn’t huge, and it moved frequently, but it was something we could work with. We decided to stay. 

I went back to the car to pull it farther off the road while Ambrose began to set up the tent. I then got out the chairs and my laptop. My hope was to get some blog writing done on this trip. I made sure to bring my water bottle along before I sat down. I’d been driving for hours, and I knew I hadn’t been drinking enough water during that time. I needed to prepare for the next day’s hike by hydrating. 

And so, instead of writing, I ended up reading for a bit while I worked on drinking water. If I were typing, I wouldn’t be drinking as much. I can hold my kindle with one hand and my water bottle with the other. It was the responsible decision, I swear. Of course, I later regretted not getting more writing done on that trip. 

Ambrose was also a bit of a distraction. He hadn’t put up our big tent in a while, and we had a new footprint that he had never used before. I’d only used it once myself, and it was different than our original, even though it was for the same model tent. We got ours when the model was first released and bought the new one on clearance because the line had been discontinued. The original had six straps, one for each point of contact of the tent poles. The new one only has four, one at each corner. Neither the tent, nor, in my opinion, the footprint was a square (Ambrose begged to differ). The footprint had a label indicating which end was for the doors, but Ambrose didn’t think it mattered, and was setting it up with the label on the wall sides. I got up at one point to offer to help, but he told me to sit back down. Then one of the tent poles escaped its hole and thwapped me square on the foot. I made haste back to my chair. 

I continued to read, and to snack a bit. I tried not to pay too much attention to Ambrose’s struggles. He did get the tent up, and it was fine. He also pumped up the air mattress, though that was a bit looser than normal. I thought it was because of Ambrose’s sore spots, so I didn’t offer to pump it more. He finally got his chance to sit down and start hydrating. We both moved our chairs a few times before dinner. During dinner, the sun disappeared. The sky was a little smoky, and the road was fairly busy, but we were snugged right up against a relatively high ridge. No more burning sun! The air finally began to cool and I reveled in the cool as I finished eating my dinner. Ambrose headed into the tent as soon as the sun had sank enough to leave the tent in shadow. I was outside until I started getting chilly. 

Inside the tent, the temperature was very nice, even though the mattress was kind of bouncy and underinflated. I read a bit more before going to sleep. 

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 ;)