Category Archives: Idaho

A hike in every state: Mountain West pt 1

Montana | Wyoming | Idaho | Nevada

Welcome to the next installment of “A hike in every state!” Since the Mountain West region of the United States contains 8 states, I’m splitting it up into two separate posts. If you haven’t yet read the purpose and thought process behind this series, please go back and read the first post about the Pacific Coast. I have spent scarcely any time in this region, especially compared to the Pacific Coast States. My recommendations are based only on what I’ve experienced, so these hikes may change once I get a chance to return. But for now, here are some fun places to discover in these four states. Now, let’s get on to the hikes!

Montana

When you think of Montana, what comes to mind? You’re probably picturing mountains. In fact, “montaña” means “mountain” in Spanish. But there are two sides to this vast state: the mountainous side and the flat side. You’ll begin to recognize this theme in several western states. Visitors to the state should definitely get up to Glacier National Park, spend time in one of the four cities with over 50,000 residents and gaze up at their famous “big sky.” But hidden in plain view on the far eastern edge of the state, you’ll find this gem…

Makoshika State Park: We were simply looking for a place to stay along this part of our cross-country drive and decided to pull in here. What we found was peaceful solitude, dazzling dark skies, unique rock formations and excellent hiking. This is Montana’s largest state park; Makoshika roughly translates to “badlands” in Lakota. That’s the star of the show here. Several miles of trails take hikers right up to otherworldly rock formations that you’ve got to see to believe. You won’t think of Montana the same after hiking around this spectacular park.

Wyoming

Wyoming is known for Yellowstone National Park, with its abundant wildlife, dramatic landscapes, extreme seasons and bustling tourist industry. For just that last reason, I’ve never stepped foot in Yellowstone. I’m sure it’s incredible, but there are plenty of amazing places outside of America’s first national park. Wyoming has so much to offer, from its mountains and lakes to vast grasslands and interesting historic sites. You’ve most certainly heard of my recommendation below, but have you taken the time to walk around it? Let’s go!

Devil’s Tower: When I visited back in 2006, it was far less crowded than it was today. But I’ll never forget hiking the 1.8 mile Tower Trail encircling the giant rock formation and pausing several times to look up in awe. Click the link above to learn about other trails that help you explore a larger slice of the park.

If you’re a rock climber, you’ll certainly drool over the possibility of jumping on a route here. Please remember to register at the climbing kiosk and respect the June climbing closure. Click here to learn more about climbing at the monument. I visited before I got into rock climbing, so that thought never crossed my mind!

Though this place can be extremely busy during the summer, it’s worth a visit. I clearly remember my stop here along my first big drive across the country, and I hope to get back there someday. I did this hike so long ago, all my photos are gone, so I had to pull one from the NPS website.

Idaho

View of the high alpine lake below Thompson Peak

A land of rugged mountains, vast wilderness and more opportunities for outdoor activities than you could shake a stick at, Idaho is a hiker’s paradise. Despite being very close to Oregon, I admit I haven’t made too many trips out to the Gem State. But each one is seared into my memory due to big views, exceptional mountain landscapes and a plethora of flora and fauna. Idaho delivers on scenery and quality wilderness experiences. It’s way more than just a place that grows a ton of potatoes. No matter what you like to do in the outdoors, you’ll find a way to scratch that itch in Idaho. Over 70% of Idaho is public land, so there’s more than enough to keep you busy for a lifetime. One trip to Idaho won’t be enough for the outdoor enthusiast. I was drawn to this state for the mountains, so I present to you…

Thompson Peak: This is the highpoint of the Sawtooth Mountains. The hike is not technical, but it’s not easy either. While it can be completed in a day, my friend and I spread this hike out over two days so we could enjoy a night of camping at a high alpine lake beneath its summit. I’m glad we did this because that gave us time to jump in the lake and explore a nearby peak while we were up there (well, one of us added the extra peak!). Standing atop Thompson Peak will get you motivated to climb all the other peaks out there, since there are craggy mountains as far as the eye can see. It is a class three peak with no official trail to the top, so do your research, check the weather and trail conditions and arrive prepared. Start by reading up on SummitPost and Idaho: a Climbing Guide before heading out on this adventure.

Nevada

Aspens at the trailhead for Arc Dome hike

Vegas, baby! While the shimmering lights, raucous casinos and over-the-top commercialism of Las Vegas may be the biggest thing that gets your attention in Nevada, that accounts for just a tiny region of the state. Eighty seven percent of Nevada’s land is public, second only to Alaska. It has over 300 named mountain ranges, more hot springs than any other state and a large number of endemic species. It is a dry and lonely state. If you venture beyond the major cities, you might be without gas or services for hundreds of miles. But within that vastness lies unspeakable beauty and endless opportunities for exploration and learning. Some places you may have heard of include Great Basin National Park, Lake Tahoe and Lake Mead. Nevada also has 27 state parks, 9 National Wildlife Refuges and the 1090 mile long Basin and Range Trail. This featured hike will take you into one of Nevada’s largest wilderness areas and up into a remote mountain range.

Arc Dome: This is a big hike with 5000′ of elevation gain, but it encapsulates so much of what Nevada is all about. It is a harsh, desolate landscape. When I hiked it in May 2022, snow still clung to the north facing slopes in the mountains. It is far from anything. I had to make a concerted effort to get there, since it’s not located near a town of any size. It’s dramatic; the mountains look like lumbering beasts rising up from the broad valleys below. Had I visited a bit later in the season, I would have been treated to all sorts of beautiful plants that are well-adapted to the high elevation, short growing season and lack of rainfall. If you’re into lists, Arc Dome is on the Ultra 57, Las Vegas Mountaineers Club 50 Peaks and the Sierra Club Desert Peaks Section. But despite all that, it’s just a pretty place in the mountains to enjoy some solitude and fresh air, no matter how far you walk or how many peaks you climb.

Have you been to any of these states? Which hikes would you highlight? There are so many great trails to visit in each of these places and there are no right answers as to which ones are the best, most iconic or the most worth doing. The best trail is the one you’re walking on, so just get out and enjoy!

Hiking in Red Rocks outside of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Thompson Peak

Day 1: to camp, the hard way

5 mi. | 2440′ | 3:30 hr.

Since we didn’t have much ground to cover, our day began with a late get-up, breakfast fried rice and time packing up gear for one more overnight. After lugging around a bear canister for four days, I was thrilled to carry only a hang bag and a few items to get me through the night.

We started hiking at a casual 10-something am. After signing in at the trailhead (so cute!) we began hiking on the trail towards our camp. According to my research, much of the distance we’d cover was on trail. I settled into a comfortable walking pace behind LeeAnn.

The trail led up to, then just below, a ridgeline that taunted us with partial views for a good portion of the hike. I eagerly anticipated the big reveal. Which one was Thompson, I wondered. Craggy peaks reached toward the sky ahead of us, but as I was unfamiliar with the area, I couldn’t tell which was which.

As the trail ducked into the forest I obsessively checked the GPS on my phone for the point where we’d need to leave the trail. LeeAnn suggested that we’d find a good climber’s trail to get to the basin below our peak; my experience with climber’s trails taught me never to expect a good one. So, I got more and more anxious as our supposed trail failed to appear.

“I think we should just leave the trail here,” I said. I wasn’t psyched about it, but we’d walked a half a mile past the alleged junction. So, we thrashed headfirst into the woods, climbing over downed trees, traversing steep, grassy slopes and grabbing on to shrubs to help stay upright. We advanced at an agonizingly slow pace as the day wore on and the sun grew hotter.

“This sucks, no wonder more people don’t do this one,” I thought.

Our hairy traverse led us to even steeper slopes above an unnamed puddle and the only way to go was up. I picked a route up a somewhat stable talus slope interspersed with flowers, shrubs, and one heinous patch of alder. I’d occasionally come across a small stretch of trail-like passage that would disappear almost as quickly as it began.

On the other side of the boulders, something magical happened. I hopped onto one of those aforementioned trails, and…it kept going. Yahoo! We continued along the climber’s trail, faint in places, across a flat meadow, to more rock piles and eventually the lake just below Thompson Peak. The rocks dropped steeply into the lake and much of the surrounding terrain was exposed, rugged, and decidedly *not* flat. With a little bit of searching, however, we found a great little spot to pitch our tent among a small cluster of trees. We made it.

These things are basically designed to dry socks.

I hung our food while LeeAnn set up the tent, then we went for a quick dip in the lake. A couple who had just come down from the mountain sat at the lakeside and we chatted a bit. The mountain looked awfully daunting from this side.

That evening, gray clouds passed overhead. We waited for the first sign of a thunderstorm, the security of our tent just steps away. But, the rain never came. Our tent site was solidly sheltered from the wind, and we enjoyed a fantastic time in high camp without another human in sight.

Day 2: the climb

4.3 mi. | 1970′ 5:30 hr.

In the morning, a hazy sunrise quickly gave way to calm, blue skies. A perfect summit day! LeeAnn made pancakes for breakfast and we hit the trail just after 7 am.

Our climber’s trail disappeared almost immediately, so I did my best to read the landscape to choose the best route. I knew we had to spiral all the way around the mountain to end up at a couloir on the south side. According to my conversation with the couple at the lake the day prior, we wouldn’t have to cross any snow on the route, so I avoided snow patches as we walked.

The route took us up and across several alpine benches replete with cascading snowmelt creeks, thick patches of green vegetation and slabs of rock. If you close your eyes and envision an alpine paradise, you’ll picture exactly where we were. I smiled from ear to ear.

Well, the slab looked steeper in person.

Our first obstacle was a tall, yellow-gray rock slab that looked completely impassable from afar. But, as we approached, I found a weakness in the rock that offered up good hand holds and ledges. We put on our helmets and scurried up the slab. Next, we wove our way across a large, shaded bench system with some new obstacles to avoid: steep drops, icy ponds, flowing water, slick snowfields. It was like American Ninja Warrior, mountain series.

As we negotiated a path through these features, I remembered the other advice that couple had given me the day before: you’ll want to go high early, but stay low. We did just that, avoiding any unnecessary elevation gain that we’d need to downclimb later.

The next obstacle was one we’d conquered just a few days ago: a massive boulder field. All that we needed was patience and time. Most of this side of the mountain was shaded and breezy, so an extra layer helped, too. One foot after another, we plodded up and left to continue our spiral path towards Thompson’s south ridge.

I paused at the saddle, taking a moment to look at the new scenery that came into view from our high perch. The higher we climbed, the more peaks we saw. This was truly a mountain-lover’s destination.

Walking along the ridge, I envisioned the route ahead. It was never obvious until I got right to it. We found our couloir and scrambled up to the top; it was easier-going than the slab we surmounted earlier in the day.

At the top of the Sawtooths, we split a Kit Kat bar and read some of the many entries in the summit log. From the top, I pointed out an interesting lake that I wanted to check out on the way back down. I also wanted to tag an adjacent highpoint before returning to camp. So, we made a plan: LeeAnn would hike down to the lake, I’d go on my highpoint shenanigans and then join her at the lake.

We downclimbed to the saddle together, then went our separate ways. My goal was to traverse west, maintaining my elevation across the bouldery slope to the saddle near Mt. Carter. It was just over a quarter mile away. While Mt. Carter didn’t look all that interesting, I couldn’t get this close without tagging the top.

I shuffled across the boulders, making good time to the saddle. From that point, it was an easy walk up a broad ridge to the top. When I got there, tears began to well up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe the panoramic views. That subtle shift in perspective was everything; row after row after row of serrated ridges and peaks lay before me. Even in the haze, I felt a depth of perspective that I don’t get in the Cascades. We get basically one row of well-spaced volcanoes, with a smattering of rounded buttes all around. But there, from that summit, I felt incredibly small surrounded by hundreds of distinct, rocky spires. It was heaven.

While waiting for my InReach to send a check-in, I wandered around the large, open summit, making sure to look closely in all directions. Once I started down, I’d not see views like this for a very long time. I could have sat up there all day, but I knew LeeAnn would be waiting for me at the lake. I collected my things and began the descent.

Scree-skiing down from Carter, I aimed for the blue-green alpine lake that had grabbed my attention earlier that day. Sitting on a rock, writing in her journal, LeeAnn sat contently. I stopped to make a Del’s frozen lemonade with the glacier ice and my packet of dried lemon and sugar, something I had waited the entire trip to do.

Wouldn’t you go off route to check out this beauty?

Since the lake was off our original route, we charted a new course through the maze of obstacles between us and the rock slab.

We found the downclimb easily, then roughly retraced our steps back to camp. I made one wrong turn that brought us to the top of some cliffs near the lake, but otherwise it was pretty smooth sailing.

The hike out

4.8 mi | 15′ ele. gain | 2:30 hr.

Back at camp, we leisurely began breaking down and packing back up for the walk to the car.

“Hey, did you see a group of four people up there?” Hmmm…someone got separated from their friends.

I must have done a double-take when I looked up, seeing an older lady wearing a sun hat and carrying a fanny pack; she did not seem like the mountaineering type. How the hell did she get up here, I thought? Was I being too judgmental?

“No,” we replied, and then got to thinking. If this lady made it to this location, there had got to be a decent climber’s trail that breaks off the main hiking route. I was determined to find it in order to avoid the horrible off-trail route we took the day before.

Lo and behold, I FOUND IT. As we began to descend among the boulders, I caught some faint whispers of a trail. It was clear for a short while, then got a little confused among the rock jumble, then clear again. We had a trail for the whole walk out! I wanted to laugh cry.

All was right in the world again. No more thinking. It was an easy hike out. Along the way, we stopped for several minutes to watch a little family of grouse sauntering across the trail. Unlike every other grouse I’d seen in my life, they didn’t fly off as soon as I came close. Instead, they stopped, watched us for a little bit, then carried on with their business. They were fun to observe up close like that!

The Sawtooths captured my imagination with their lonely trails, endless peaks and pristine lakes. I am already planning a trip back…

White Clouds Loop: Day 4

And then, the real challenges began

I led us up into the first gully that led to the ridge. I asked LeeAnn to stay out of my fall line because of loose rock. It was very difficult to make any progress without sending rocks hurtling down below my feet. My heavy and bulky pack made it difficult to move upward, and breathing heavy smoke didn’t help, either. Instead of focusing on all the things that I hated in that present moment, I kept looking up and searching for markers of progress. Little patches of colorful flowers served as intermediate goals.

Eventually, we abandoned the gully for somewhat more solid terrain on the left side. We clambered over large, stable boulders interspersed with patches of loose soil. It was just as fun as it sounds.

At last, I reached the ridge. Bright, yellow blooms welcomed me to the next chapter of the route-finding debacle. Standing atop a jagged ridge, it was impossible to tell how far we could get without reaching an impassable cliff. We paused here again to check in with each other, get some calories down, and make a plan.

For what felt like an eternity, our travels looked like this: walk along the ridge, reach a barrier, downclimb, traverse scree, bail back up to the ridge, repeat. It was an impossible choice: the rocks on the ridge were much more solid but often led to dead-ends, and the terrain below the ridge was extremely loose, cluttered and difficult to walk on. Every choice was the wrong choice. I regretted coming up too soon.

Nonetheless, we had to make it to Patterson Peak’s summit in order to cross into the Fourth of July Basin and complete the loop. Ultimately we did, but not without an inordinate amount of Type 2 Fun. At this point I wondered if LeeAnn would ever want to go hiking with me again.

The wind blew hard on top of the peak, and we both wanted to get the heck out of there. No time for celebrations, treats and rest, we had to descend. Every way down looked equally heinous. I did a double-take upon looking at the pre-recorded GPS points. “There’s no way we can follow that route!” I thought. Based on what we had just done, I had no intention of trying to follow another impossible ridge. “We’re going down,” I said.

The skies threatened to dump rain again. We moved as quickly as we could atop loose talus and scree. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up. I put on long john bottoms for warmth and gaiters to keep the rocks out of my shoes. Even with the extra protection, I had to dump them out a few times on the way down.

I threw myself down at the un-named lake that indicated we’d reached the trail again. At last! No more thinking, no more wondering, no more agony. We can mindlessly put one foot in front of the other again! With our shoes and packs off, we laid on top of a large boulder to let the stress of the day melt off. The mental energy required to navigate difficult terrain cannot be understated.

My phone battery was nearly dead and would not take a charge from my battery pack, so I stowed it away and didn’t take any more pictures. We chatted the whole way back, enjoying the easy walking. At the trailhead I snapped one last picture and my phone died…for good. Great, I thought, no more pictures for the rest of the trip. No more podcasts or navigation apps or anything. This happened to me on another roadtrip. Such bad luck.

Back at the car, we pulled out cold bubbly water and crunchy snacks to celebrate the completion of the first leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we decided, we’d have to head into town to deal with the phone. Plans always change on trips like these, and between the two of us, I knew we’d figure something out.

Lessons learned

Although I meticulously planned out my food for the 4-day trip, I vastly overestimated how much I would eat. I came back out of the woods with a lot of extra weight that I didn’t need to carry. The bear canister itself took up most of the inside of my pack, too, so I think in the future I’ll only carry one if I absolutely need to.

The solar charger I carried didn’t work as well as I’d hoped, but that was mostly because my phone wasn’t charging well. I should have used it only to charge the battery pack, a strategy I’d employ later on this trip.

I was baffled by how warm it stayed at night. I’m a cold sleeper, so I brought a warm bag, but I never really needed to zip it up. It doesn’t take up that much more space than a lighter bag, so I’m not sure I would have packed differently. I also never needed the hat and gloves I brought, but again I don’t think I would have felt better leaving them behind.

Despite our struggles on Day 4, I don’t think I would have planned the trip any other way. Before leaving home, I gathered just enough information to allow me to navigate the route. I wanted to have just enough mystery to allow me to challenge my skills in a new-to-me area. I never felt like we were in a perilous situation; being uncomfortable, working hard, getting frustrated and solving problems are all essential parts to any adventure (in my humble opinion. I do not like having everything sorted out for me.

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