If all went as planned, we’d get to our Wind River Range campsite by late afternoon, which would leave us with plenty of daylight for setting up the tents, organizing gear, and even resting a bit before cooking supper. Our backpacks were heavy, but being mostly young and fit, by lunch we’d already covered 10 of the 15 miles planned for the day. At just a little after 1 o’clock, we crossed Roaring Fork Creek and stopped on the other side to change out of our river shoes and eat our midday meal of tuna, Bolton Biscuits, and gorp. Among other things, the stop also provided a nice break from the uphill grind we’d been on for the past several hours.
Thankfully, we only got a few miles up the Wind River Range’s Middle Fork Trail, before we stopped and set up our first night’s camp. As it turned out, the whole treble hook situation would’ve been way more complicated had we gone further into the backcountry on that first day.
Rico, or “Tarzan” as he preferred to be called, hadn’t felt very strong since lunch. His backpack seemed exceedingly heavy, and the big uphill into Pinto Park was yet to come. He’d never been a complainer before and was intent on not becoming one right then. The feeling was new to him, and he wanted to figure out what was going on, so he could keep moving ahead in his accustomed dominant and carefree fashion. Perhaps, he reasoned, his weakness problem had something to do with the creek water he drank at lunch.
He recalled the Strep he had back during the winter and began to wonder if maybe this wasn’t that. But since there was no sore throat, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. “No, this is something different,” he decided.
Rumbling rivers, creeks, and streams.
Water left pure,
From the moment it falls
On the Continental Divide, as rain or snow,
And begins its journey
Down to the oceans.
Some of it goes into the ground.
Some fills my cup.
Some provides the Brook Trout a place to live.
Some gives the Spruces a drink.
Some makes wallows for the elk.
Some creates glaciers.
And some goes back into the sky and falls again.
Up here, the water is guarded for a while,
By the Winds,
The Wind River Mountains that is.
The range of mountains is inhospitable to some,
But beckoning to others.
The place is too rough for roads,
But covered with paths.
People go there,
To hike, fish, climb, camp,
Meander, sit, ponder, and dream.
But few remain–
There are other places
Better suited to
Building, driving, using, living,
And staying.
Besides,
Protecting the water
Is a full time job.
The mountains, forest,
Creeks, and meadows,
Are left free to do
What they do best.
And they do it well.
The water will move on
And nourish the flatlands.
It’ll irrigate corn, bathe babies,
Water lawns, and get purified
For drinking.
One way or another, the water will change
Once it flows beyond
The protection of the Winds–
For better or worse.
But up in this neck of the woods,
All is well for a time.
And the water is clear
Thanks to Pingora, Gannett, and Fremont.
Dinwoody, Lizard Head,
Desolation, and The Sphinx.
Washakie Pass, Titcomb Basin,
Dickinson Park, and The Cirque of the Towers.
Popo Agie River, Deep Creek Lakes,
Mitchell Peak, and Wolf’s Head.
Stough Creek, Three Fork’s Park, Wind River Peak,
And so many more…
A group of OWA vets return to the Wind River Range for a backpacking trip.
The Group at the Popo Agie Wilderness Boundary
The seven of us met up in Lander, Wyoming on Sunday, Sept 22, 2019, for a backpacking trip into the Wind River Range. For many years, the town had served as the base of operations for a multitude of Outpost Wilderness Adventure trips in the area, so we all felt like we knew it well. It was the logical choice for our meet-up spot, and so that’s how we used it. At some point in the past, each of us had been involved with Outpost (or OWA). Now, some years later and as OWA veterans, this was our third return into the wild outdoors. The group consisted of David and Brian Barrow, Chris Brown, David Guillory, Barry Hunt, Patrick Cone, and David Appleton. The ages ranged from Brian’s early ’30s to Barrow and Appleton’s mid-’60s. Most everyone had ventured into the “Winds” previously, but none in the past 15 years. While some change had crept into the town, once we got on the trail the following day, it was nice to see that the backcountry was as wild and spectacular as ever.
Deep in the heart of Wyoming’s Wind River Range, there’s a place that we call Golden Lake. No marked or named trails go there, and if you look at a map or search a guidebook for information about it, you’ll find nothing. But, while there is a lake, it has another name. It sits in a glacial cirque, along with two other small lakes, at the head of an obscure drainage that descends from the Continental Divide to the North Fork of the Popo Agie River. The main lake of the three is full of Golden Trout. Thus, the name.
The various names that are attached to places are intriguing. Some are obvious since they either reflect a physical characteristic or commemorate an individual of importance. But, others not quite so. Many place names tell a story in a few short words—some less straightforward than others, but each worthy of knowing. Here’s a few such stories that I’ve heard. Listen, and maybe you will, too………………..
Adventurers weather a violent storm near the Continental Divide in the Wind River Range.
The Ruth Glacier, Alaska
It’d been a long day. But by mid-afternoon, our group of teenagers was finally up on the spine of Wyoming’s Wind River Range and walking along the Continental Divide. The “Divide” is an imaginary line along the crest of the continent that, in North America, separates the Pacific and Atlantic watersheds. When a drop of rain or snow falls anywhere along it, the water inevitably ends up in one of the other oceans. On multiple occasions, I’d straddled the line while it was raining, watching raindrops roll down my raingear onto the ground and envisioning their long journey to the ocean.
A group of backpackers attempts to climb Lizard Head and learns the true meaning of climbing.
Pingora, Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range, Wyoming
Lizard Head is a prominent peak just north and east of the breathtakingly majestic line of mountains, ridges, and spires in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, known as the Cirque of the Towers. On one particular Outpost Wilderness Adventure trip, we backpacked with two groups of 7 via different routes up to Bear Lake. The lake is on the east side of Lizard Head and served as our backcountry base camp. Once there, we set up two close but separate campsites, each located between the lake and the mountain. The plan was to use each as a base for exploring and adventuring in the area. Since it was during the Fourth of July holiday, we figured there’d be a lot of people in the general area, but few would venture into that particular neck of the woods. And, as a special Fourth of July treat, we brought along freeze-dried hamburger patties to eat, a cutting-edge item back in the ’80s.
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