This is how you access the crapper at the Hyalite Trailhead parking lot.
How do a couple of Forest Service outhouses come to resemble shelled-out buildings in Kosovo, you ask? Close range shotguns, that's how! Montana kids don't mess around when it comes to vandalism. The funny thing is, this one is the better of the two. I walked into the other one several weeks ago only to find the windows and vents blasted out, the walls charred black from smoke, and burned chunks of wood, ashes, and used quarts of motor oil littering the floor.
And while someone was nice enough to add fresh branches as a make-shift vent cover, the back window has been gunned down in cold blood, so your cheeks will still be subject to a frosty morning wake up. However, the tantalizing reward of freshly stocked t.p. awaits those willing to crawl for it. Laugh now, but this bit of info may save your shorts if your morning coffee/gas station breakfast won't wait, and you're not the type of person to leave a Cleveland Steamer on the hood of your buddy's car (not that I would ever consider or suggest doing that...).
Anyways, here are some more photos of recent climbing and backcountry adventures:
Like a monkey ready to be shot into space - Blaine on his first ice lead at the left side of Genesis I.
Not a cloud in the sky. Just another bluebird day up Hyalite Canyon.In a slight change of pace from the usual day trips up Hyalite, last weekend saw myself and new friend Pete Dronkers on a fairly brutal 10 mile slog into the rugged backcountry of the Beartooth Mountains. Our goal was a winter summit of the impressive 12,346 ft. Beartooth Mountain. Sounds good, right?
Well, never really being into doing things the easy way, I decided to spice up the adventure by leaving all of my food for the weekend at home in Belgrade, 4 hours away. Realizing my error just after midnight on Friday, I drove the ten miles from the trailhead back into the nearest civilization - Red Lodge, MT. Cruising through town, I noticed a suspicious lack of open food markets and gas stations. The nice lady working at the casino I stopped into kindly informed me that it was more or less physically impossible to purchase food at that hour - anywhere.
Pete trudging through a tough boulder field before Black Canyon Lake.
While she was giving me the bad news, I spotted a vending machine over her shoulder that was beginning to look like my only option for sustenance that weekend. I started feeding the machine dollar bills, and it returned the favor by tossing me copious amounts of Snickers bars. Apparently impressed by my tenacity to aquire food (or more likely floored by my stupidity), she took pity on me, unlocked the machine, and gave me several packages of Reeses and Twizzlers.
Leaving the casino with my precious booty (6 Snickers, 3 Reeses, and 2 Twizzlers), I went on a semi-desperate hunt for bar food in Red Lodge's finest establishments. I struck out several times, but I finally lucked out when I got the drunk bartender at the Blue Ribbon to cook me a frozen pizza. After watching her slam several shots and 2 beers while the pie was cooking, I paid her for the 'za and a flask of Canadian Mist, and was off into the wilderness.
Home sweet home - camped out beneath the massive Beartooth Mountain. The peak is just barely disguised by clouds, and the impressive spire on the right is the aptly named Bear's Tooth.
Pete had been kind enough to lend me his snowshoes, and I followed his ski tracks up the Lake Fork of Rock Creek in the 'Tooths. After having my ass handed to me by ten miles and a couple thousand feet of elevation gain, we made camp on the glacial moraine below the peak. That evening I ate a dinner that would have made the average hippie in line at the Good Food Store in Missoula vomit, and we drank some whiskey as our clear skies finally vanished while daylight faded and snowfall moved in.
With temps at or below 0 degrees F, we woke up the next day to about a foot of fresh snow. Pete and I both agreed to leave the final push up the peak for another day with friendlier avalanche conditions, and packed up and headed out. We were definitely a little bummed not to have bagged the peak, but also stoked to have made it that far back into an unbelievable area. With so many massive rock walls, big peaks, and a few big ice-climbing objectives, this area is chock full of unreal climbing opportunities. I'll be headed back as soon as I get the chance, hopefully with a little more food next time.
Well, never really being into doing things the easy way, I decided to spice up the adventure by leaving all of my food for the weekend at home in Belgrade, 4 hours away. Realizing my error just after midnight on Friday, I drove the ten miles from the trailhead back into the nearest civilization - Red Lodge, MT. Cruising through town, I noticed a suspicious lack of open food markets and gas stations. The nice lady working at the casino I stopped into kindly informed me that it was more or less physically impossible to purchase food at that hour - anywhere.
Pete trudging through a tough boulder field before Black Canyon Lake.While she was giving me the bad news, I spotted a vending machine over her shoulder that was beginning to look like my only option for sustenance that weekend. I started feeding the machine dollar bills, and it returned the favor by tossing me copious amounts of Snickers bars. Apparently impressed by my tenacity to aquire food (or more likely floored by my stupidity), she took pity on me, unlocked the machine, and gave me several packages of Reeses and Twizzlers.
Leaving the casino with my precious booty (6 Snickers, 3 Reeses, and 2 Twizzlers), I went on a semi-desperate hunt for bar food in Red Lodge's finest establishments. I struck out several times, but I finally lucked out when I got the drunk bartender at the Blue Ribbon to cook me a frozen pizza. After watching her slam several shots and 2 beers while the pie was cooking, I paid her for the 'za and a flask of Canadian Mist, and was off into the wilderness.
Home sweet home - camped out beneath the massive Beartooth Mountain. The peak is just barely disguised by clouds, and the impressive spire on the right is the aptly named Bear's Tooth.
Pete had been kind enough to lend me his snowshoes, and I followed his ski tracks up the Lake Fork of Rock Creek in the 'Tooths. After having my ass handed to me by ten miles and a couple thousand feet of elevation gain, we made camp on the glacial moraine below the peak. That evening I ate a dinner that would have made the average hippie in line at the Good Food Store in Missoula vomit, and we drank some whiskey as our clear skies finally vanished while daylight faded and snowfall moved in.
With temps at or below 0 degrees F, we woke up the next day to about a foot of fresh snow. Pete and I both agreed to leave the final push up the peak for another day with friendlier avalanche conditions, and packed up and headed out. We were definitely a little bummed not to have bagged the peak, but also stoked to have made it that far back into an unbelievable area. With so many massive rock walls, big peaks, and a few big ice-climbing objectives, this area is chock full of unreal climbing opportunities. I'll be headed back as soon as I get the chance, hopefully with a little more food next time.
Frozen Black Canyon Lake and a few of its surrounding behemoths. I'm pretty sure this place would even make Andre the Giant feel small and insignificant.
Pete beneath a 1000+ ft. high sheer granite wall.
Another one of many big spires and rock faces in the Beartooths.
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