Wilderness
& Civilization
Fall
Trek 2015
Entry
1: Gunnar & Lauren
Photo courtesy of The Hiker Formerly
Known as Chance
Dinner
time was the coziest time. One of my favorite things about being in the
wilderness is living each day by the minute and relying solely on yourself and
your immediate community, including all aspects of the landscape, to keep you
jiving. For me, balanced meals and sustenance are an exciting part of all of
this. Since we were assigned the very first evening’s meal, we decided to pack
in about 4 pounds of vegetables-each- so as to best revitalize and prepare our
lovely backcountry family. We were both very pleased to have dropped those
pounds and satisfy our peers early on!
-Lauren
Photo courtesy of The Hiker Formerly
Known as Chance
“Those two out there are Pilot and
Index, and just to the right is The Thunderer in the Lamar Valley. Then if you
look out way over that way…”
“…That is Electric Peak!”
“Yep”
“ **** yes!”
I was very stoked to recognize my
summer playground from the top of our layover-day adventure, Chalice Peak.
Sitting at 11,153 feet on this bluebird day, my body and mind struck by altitude
giddiness, I was reassured by our guide, Tim, that the mountains which I was
gazing upon were those that are a part of me in the sense that I had grown in
their presence just a few weeks earlier. We saw The Thunderer, the Tetons, and
Electric Peak. We spent four hours up on top of Chalice. I had never before
hiked to a summit so high. It was the perfect way to bask in the glory of our
landscape and take time to soak in the first 36 hours of our trek.
-La
Entry 2: Tessa Leake and Ryan Morgan
The fall trek into the Beartooth
Wilderness largely revolved around water. Not only was it a place to refill our water
bottles and take in a nice view, but it
also served as a hub for the alpine wildlife and a place of serenity for all of us to soak in the
experience. This photograph features
Diaphanous Lake on Lakes Plateau in the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness. The crystal clear waters reflected the scene above
it perfectly so it appeared as if we were seeing
two the landscape that spread out before. Water was an integral part of our
trek into the Beartooth Wilderness.
Reaching this lake in particular was a momentous
occasion for us as it signified the top of Lakes
Plateau, which we had taken the whole day
to climb up. The waters of the lake renewed everyone¹s energy and replaced weariness with a sense of excitement.
>
This lake is Lake Dreary; a lake that several of
us hiked to on our lay-over day. We were
not the only ones drawn to the water; Clark¹s Nutcrackers could be seen frantically but gracefully searching for food
over the water, while a flock of ducks paddled
around the lake as a safe haven from
predators. and Yellowstone Cutthroat prowled the shore line, occasionally rising to the surface to gulp down a fly.
>This photograph gives a little sneak peak as
to why we backpack, for the serenity that
only an alpine lake can provide. We reached Jordan Lake on the fifth day and were graced with this incredible
sunset. As the sun sank over the
mountains, the sky turned fantastic shades of pink and blue. Every minute brought about a different scene as
the lighting changed and the sun slowly
disappeared. It was hard to believe that this was the beginning of our school year, and exciting to know that the
semester would be laced with even more time in
the backcountry.
>
This
stream illustrates all the life that the bodies of water we experienced housed. We saw a trout that had braved the
swim all the way up this stream from the
lake to reside in a little alcove underneath the bank of the creek. While walking along it, we also got to see a muskrat
swimming around in the water and quickly dart
into its shelter when our shadows
surprised it. Even the smallest areas of water such as a creek or a stream are teeming with life, and these two
creatures were just a few that we got to
observe.
>
This photograph was taken at the end of the trek
near Woodbine trailhead. We hiked in
silence down the trail next to the river, hearing nothing but the rushing water. The path of the river is unchanged;
the incessant current goes where it needs
to go, as did we that morning. It was time for
us to return to civilization, though we would have been happy to permanently reside in the woods. The river carried us
downstream and took us where we needed to
go at the time, but the current of the water is hard to resist, and we will be drawn back eventually.
Entry
3: Carly Stinson, Camille Kintzele
Cycles
The season of fall is a time for reflection. It is the end of a
cycle, but also the beginning of a new one. For our fall trek to the Absaroka
Beartooth Wilderness we did a loop that took us up onto the Beartooth Plateau.
Since we were disconnected from our lives in the city, the simplicity of our
days allowed us time to observe the changes around us. Since this area was so
untouched, we were able to see the natural cycles that have been occurring over
and over before our time.
Often summer is the season when we get out and hike, when
everything is obviously full of life. The meadows are full of colorful flowers.
Glacier lilies popping up right after the snow melts or mountain shooting-star
flowers blooming. Venturing out in the fall made identifying plants often more
difficult because they couldn’t be identified by their flowers. As colder
weather approaches, we were able to see the plants begin to decompose. This was
rewarding because it allowed us to observe and appreciate the less distinctive
features of plants. As we increase our knowledge of the plants and animals, we
increase our understanding of how the ecology of the area works.
By experiencing some of the cycles in nature, we were able to
understand some of the cycles in our own lives. On night five of the trek, the
sun went down over the stillness of Pinchot Lake. The sun had already set on
us, but we could still watch by the water’s edge as the mountains lit up and
the clouds with color. The sunset reminded us that each day the sun will rise
and set, just like it has for millions of years. It is a reminder that
sometimes we look too far in the future and do not take time to enjoy the
moment that we are in. Being in the Wilderness allows us to slow down and focus
on the things that are really important in life. Suddenly our cellphones and
hot showers don’t seem as important as we remember them.
Each time we go into the Wilderness, we get a deeper connection to
the landscape, ourselves, and the people around us. We return to civilization
refreshed. As we grow, the Wilderness often remains the same, but we are able
to understand and appreciate it differently. Going into the Wilderness is an
opportunity to drop the baggage we carry around and hit reset in our own lives.
We remember to focus on what is important to us. Like Wilderness, each time a
cycle restarts we become rejuvenated and more full of life.
We
are excited to observe the changes from the cycles both in nature and our lives
A
ndrew Thomas
and Lizzie Dahler watch the sun set at Pinchot Lake
Pinedrops would be recognizeable by its yellow
bells, but they had turned reddish brown in preparation for fall.
Tiny in comparison, Jackson Holte looks out on the mountains
Wounded Man Lake
All of Group 1 in a meadow near the top of Jordan pass
Entry
4: Zoë Leake and Andrew C.
Plugging In
I am looking out across this lake
at a peak with two small glaciers and the oldest exposed rock in North America.
The Absaroka Beartooths are supposedly one of the wildest places in Montana,
and have been my home for the last five days. As I look out at the water and
the peaks and the most beautifully rich blue sky dusted with white clouds, I
consider myself privileged to be in this place in this moment.
Fresh cold mountain air fills my
lungs and I know what it feels like to breathe. Unpolluted by man and society,
my lungs are no longer struggling for air, no longer constricted by emissions.
Yes, I can actually breathe. With each breath I can hear the loud sounds of the
city dying; the city lights no longer giving light to the night, with no
polluted clouds to block the stars. With this “death” of societal morns comes
new life.
All I hear is the singing of
birds as they wake in the morning, the squirrels squeaking as they chase one
another. This loud noise is happening everyday, all around us, and I have been
a witness to it. The night is lit up with the stars of the universe, a true
light in the dark. With the night comes a new sound – a quiet sound with the
nocturnal animals waking to fill the night with life.
As I wander through the
mountains, I feel the cool breeze, the earth between my toes. I begin to understand
that this is how life has been since before man ruled the earth, and I begin to
resent the static-like sounds of the city. It is not the sound of the Earth,
spoken through the wind rustling the leaves or a tree falling and a sapling
taking its place. or the sound the water makes at alpine lakes as the wind
billows tiny waves into boulders.
I realize I am just like the dirt beneath my
feet. Out here I am not a man. I am not a woman. We are of the earth. Our
entire being rests on the shoulders of breathable air, clean water, and
sustenance. I am humbled by Pink Mountain Heather, which seems to grow
effortlessly in a rugged and unforgiving environment while I have spent my
whole life struggling to grow in an environment where everything is at my greatest
convenience.
“How near to good
is what is WILD!” says Thoreau. Let us be good and let us be wild.
Entry
5: Andrew and Lizzie
The
following events have been dramatized to heighten emotions and make Andrew look
good.
Andrew
I stood staring up at the great
cylindrical tubes of rice, grains, and crushed beans towering over me. My mouth
went dry. My hands started to shake. My right knee itched. I snatched at the
plastic bags and started to fill them with random amounts of bean powder,
vegetable soup mix, and white rice. My heart stopped pounding and I relaxed, I
had the food, the people would be fed. Just as I was about to head to the
register a friendly but tired looking good food store employee stopped me and
said "sir, you have to put the product number on the bag so we know how to
price your dry goods. " I mumbled something and turned back to the silos.
It was only then that I realized each one had a label with calories by weight.
Oops. It was okay. I had the food, the people would be fed. I quickly scribbled
down the product numbers, paid, and fled the good food store.
 |
A group of unsuspecting scholars two days away from
doom.
|
Lizzie
I hope Andrew got the right food,
I want the people to be fed.
Andrew
I had carried the bag of rice and vegetable
soup and bean mix for four long days, hoping every step of that way that it
wouldn't tear and desperately waiting for my chance to prove I was the greatest
backpacking chef to ever honor the wilderness and civilization program with my
presence. The night had come, Lizzie and I squatted by the twin whisper lights
as they whispered lightly at the pots of water placed atop them. As the
stronger stove brought its contents to a roiling boil I poured the bag of mixed
ingredients into the pot. It almost overflowed with dried food and I still had
a third of a bag left. My stomach dropped. The calculations were wrong. I could
feel my aspirations turning to dust as the muck in the pot bubbled occasionally
 |
The so called “Crunch Wrap Supreme” and a beautiful
fresh fish.
|
Lizzie
Andrew I think you brought too
much food.
 |
There was so much diversity in the species around us
and so little in our diet.
|
Andrew
Twenty long minutes had passed.
At this point the rest of students had gathered around the stoves, their eyes
trained greedily on the brown mush. They resembled a pack of wolves, ragged and
anxious. Occasionally someone would offer a comment like “ you should stir it”
as I was stirring it. Everything started to burn. They rice just wouldn’t
soften up. Evan, our guide and guiding light, pointed out that the rice would
probably never soften up. What had I done? Had I failed all my new friends? The
shame was unbearable.
Lizzie
This is Andrew’s fault.
Andrew
She had done it, she had
mutinied, defected, washed her hands of me, and her betrayal was complete. The
pot of rice and beans bubbled and burned as I gazed into it, hoping desperately
to find some deeper meaning to all of this. If I couldn’t cook rice and beans
in the backcountry what could I do?
Lizzie
We should just eat it.
 |
We spent the trek surrounded by gorgeous scenery.
|
Andrew
Just eat it? Could she really be suggesting
such a thing? Fine, let them come, let them devour the poison I created with my
arrogance and my ill planning. They descended and attacked the pot with spoons,
sporks, and forks. They hungrily shoveled the hot brown mess into their mouths
and to my amazement some of them smiled. What was happening? They came for
seconds and thirds. They had their fill. It was almost as if they didn’t need a
five star meal in the backcountry. I heard someone say heartily that they
thought it was a 5 out of 10. Maybe a 5 out of 10 is the best kind of backcountry
meal. Maybe it matters more who you share a meal with, than what you actually
share with them. I looked upon them, no longer wolves, but my friends, happy
and healthy, and I smiled. Lizzie looked down at the burnt layer of beans at
the bottom of the pot, and then she glanced up at me.
Lizzie
…
…
...
At least we don’t have dish duty tonight.
 |
Amazing chefs Andrew Thomas and Lizzie Dahler both
thoroughly enjoyed their time in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness. They hope
for a future where there is enough wild spaces for everyone to enjoy
“delicious” backcountry meals.
|
Entry 6: Gabriel Adler and Lauren O’Laughlin
After spending so much time
anticipating the fall trek, it seems surreal that it is already behind us. The
weeks leading up to the trek were full of fire belly. Missoula’s sky was
clogged with smoke, and it initiated the fear we would be unable to escape it
for our fall trek. In all the chaos, it
became obvious that once we finally set out on the trail head our lives
wouldn’t slow down for the entirety of the semester.
One
of the best and most sought after parts of going into the wilderness is the
ability to escape from society. It is
not always easy to be present in the wildness of the landscapes we traveled
through. At times, you just zone out at the heel of the person hiking in front
of you. Fish stalked lakes, man made and maintained trails, horse tracks and
shoes, and the occasional abandoned trench coat are all reminders of human
influence. However, there were many
times we were able to fully appreciate a moment. As a group, we marveled over the pink skies
of the sunset, the clear waters that carved through grassy meadows, the full
night sky with subtle streaks of milky way, and the peaks rising up on either
side of the valleys we moved through. The lakes seem clearer, the air seems
fresher, the fish taste better but everything is relative. Up on the plateau
the low hanging lenticular clouds were a reminder of how high we were.
The
days of the week quickly melted away at the foot of the trailhead and all that
mattered was where the sun was at in the sky. There was no need for a watch, no
appointments, no obligations. The thought of life back home occasionally popped
in for a visit but was easily shewed away. With all this static and weight
lifted from the mind it was easier to stand comfortably in awe at the world
around. On our fall trek it became something of a custom to welcome a new view,
or new landscape in with a list of loving appreciation:
“I love the way the rocks pile
at the base of the mountain.”
“I love the way the river
bends.”
“I
love the way the water polishes rocks along the creeks.”
We
learned about ourselves and our landscapes, but also each other. We spent most
hours of this trip in our group, from the groggy good morning greetings to
evenings spent huddled around a campfire.
We played games, we told stories, and we cooked delicious backcountry
meals for each other. Some of us caught their first fish and a few more
received their first ‘fish slap’. In the
beginning, we all varied in backpacking experience and had different expectations
for what would come of the week. But in
the end, we all came out of this trip closer to each other and with a better
personal definition of wilderness.
Entry 7:
Kaitlin Martin and J. Chance
We
participated in the Wilderness and Civilization Fall Trek of 2015 in the
Absorka-Beartooth Wilderness with ten other students and two trip leaders. We started our journey at the West Fork of
the Stillwater Trailhead and hiked forty five miles through the wilderness,
ending at the Woodbine trailhead. Over
the forty five miles, we spent a day journaling in the golden grasses of
Breakneck Meadows, hiked up thousands of feet to the Lakes Plateau, summited
Chalice Peak, saw a porcupine, sang around the campfire, yelled about Clark’s
Nutcrackers, watched the sky light up at Jordan Lake, slapped each other with
fish, and made memories that are bound to last.
Anticipation for a wilderness experience was
shared by all and formed the foundation of our bonds. A five hour car ride
enabled new friendships to spark, and older ones to strengthen. By the time our
feet hit the trail, we could easily say we were entering a new place together.
Conversations waxed and waned as we shared silent admiration for the place we
wandered through. Every night became a ritual, as we made camp and set up an
epicenter of friendships and conversations around a warm and welcoming camp fire.
Social bonds began weaving a web between individuals to make for a strong
connection to the entire group.
During downtime and a
layover day, individuals sauntered off into their own personal oblivion. What
began as an assignment, quickly changed into a personal journey of
observations. Forcing our attention to sit, observe, and translate what we were
experiencing into our field journals enabled a beauty to radiate through the
seemingly simple structures of nature itself. Ink spread across pages
attempting to capture these moments of an experience. The act of field
journaling directs our attention into deliberate thought and expression with
the intent of understanding the natural world. It is a skill that we hope we
all continue to exercise and develop.
On the Trek, we took our time to
appreciate what was around us and reflect on our lives. But, we also had time to have fun. As we hiked for hours and hours through the
trees and up switchbacks, singing, jokes, and strange dance moves helped us get
through the day. We came up with silly
trail names, played pranks, and even slapped each other in the face with
fish. The humor that carried throughout
the trip helped our group keep positive even when it got cold and hot, when our
feet hurt, and when we didn’t get enough sleep.
It helped us discover each other’s personalities, made us stay in the
present, and made our time in the backcountry thoroughly enjoyable.
On the fourth day, one of our field leaders,
Tim, decided to lead a group to the summit of Chalice Peak. There were five who decided to go including
us, Tim, Lauren, and Lindsay. We started
off the day by hiking across the plateau, walking over the rolling hills,
passing by whitebark pine and little lakes and ponds. As we gained elevation,
the vegetation became sparse and the rocks became bigger. We all wandered up, breathing hard with the
thin air, but still in good spirits. We
took our time to pick up small fragment of glittering rocks and look back to
appreciate the view sprawling in the distance.
Finally, we scrambled to the top, all in breathless awe. At 11,200 feet above sea level, we could see
our camp below at Woundedman Lake. We
could also see several other lakes that dotted the plateau including the
pristine cirque that contained Chalice Lake one thousand feet directly below
us. We gazed upon the immense bulk of
Montana’s high point, Granite Peak, and stared into the distance at the faint
outline of the Tetons in Wyoming.
Spending four hours at the summit, basking in the sun, all of us sat and
looked, reflected and appreciated all of what lay before us.
Our final descent through the Stillwater
Gorge was carried by bittersweet waters. A welcomed rest lay down-valley at the
trailhead, but also the end our experience together. The sound of school, work,
and relationships crept up to us, invading the wilderness. But, only with the
realization that more adventures, both in wild and civil places, await this
pack of wildfolk.
