For a long time, I have wanted to go on a solo overnight trip into the wilderness. I took advantage of a visit to Wyoming to make it happen.
Originally, I had planned to go out to the Cloud Peak Wilderness in the Bighorn National Forest, but the day before I decided to reconsider options, in part to reduce driving time, given that I was based out of Cody. I also got excited about the possibility of seeing (or hearing) a wolf, and I wanted to consider options in or closer to Yellowstone.
Searching around online, I noticed that while most campgrounds in Yellowstone were closed due to the pandemic, camping was still allowed at backcountry sites. In order to camp in the backcountry in Yellowstone, you need to register and get a permit within 2 days in advance. I knew I wanted to aim for the Lamar Valley, preferably along Slough Creek or Pebble Creek for the best chances of spotting a wolf, but I hadn’t done much research. When I saw that the permitting office closed at 4:30pm and it was 4:27, I quickly called up.
The woman who answered was extremely helpful and patient while I asked questions about distances while simultaneously juggling a second phone with a map of the backcountry camping locations. While permits were full for all spots along Slough Creek, she helped me find a good location up Pebble Creek. After detailed cautions about how to handle bear encounters and warnings about the high water crossings, I was overwhelmed with excitement!
I spent the evening putting together my gear for the one-night trip, which included my 50L pack, tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, base layer pants and shirt (to serve as extra layers if it got cold as well as spare clothing in case of an incident – neither of which I used), fleece pullover, quick-drying camping towel, fuel canister, stove, cooking pot, bowl, spoon, water purification tablets, collapsable water filtration bottle, two 32 oz ounce water bottles, electrolyte tablets, hiking poles, hat, compass, bear spray, lightweight tomahawk, sunblock (which I didn’t use), bug spray, headlamp (which I didn’t use), matches, light rope, a few tissues and napkins, folding knife, and food, including a freeze-dried dinner, peanut butter & jelly sandwich, and assorted bars, fruit, and trail mix.
I set out early the following morning, driving along the Chief Joseph Byway to the Beartooth Highway, and into Yellowstone through the Northeast Entrance. This is an absolutely stunning drive, winding through the mountains.
A short way into the Lamar Valley, I said good morning to some bison, and parked in the Pebble Creek Campground lot.
It was late June, and the river water levels were very high. I immediately realized that in order to even get started, I need to cross a raging Pebble Creek. It is important to note that while it is called a “creek,” this waterway is by no means what I think of as a “creek,” but in June it certainly meets the definition of a river.
Although I knew I would have to ford the river multiple times on the journey, I didn’t want to deal with it right at the outset, so I walked down to the road, crossed the bridge, and bushwhacked back along the river to find where the trail resumes (I didn’t realize at the time, but if I walked a little ways up the road, there is a trail that goes directly from the road and links up with the trail from where I parked).
My camping spot was about 7 miles from the trailhead, near the Montana border.
I was on my way into grizzly bear country! So they warn you that it is not a good idea to travel alone in bear country because you are quieter and more likely to catch a bear off-guard and cause it to be defensive. In particular, coming upon a mother bear with young is about the worst case scenario. Since I was alone, I endeavored to make noise on occasion, especially when coming around a corner, over a hill, or going in and out of wooded areas. To make noise, I would bang my hiking poles together every once in a while and whistle a little.
After hiking for a few miles, I hadn’t seen any other people. While I hadn’t seen any bears either, it was clear they were around, as there was scat on the trail and an increasing number of recent tracks in the mud.
At this point, my level of bear vigilance increased. I upped my occasional pole-banging; clanking and whistling through the woods like I was on parade. I also relocated my bear spray canister from the side of my pack to my cargo pocket for quick access.
At around mile 4.5, I came to the first river crossing. The route called for crossing to the west side of Pebble Creek for only about a mile and then crossing back over before getting to the campsite. I didn’t bring any footwear other than my boots, and I planned to just cross the river barefoot. However, when I saw the river conditions, it was clear this wasn’t the run of the mill barefoot ford.
While the shortest route across the river was straight across, the water was running deep and fast in the most narrow sections. I climbed down the riverbank and shimmied along the edge until I got to what appeared to be the best crossing spot I was going to find. I took off my shoes and socks and stepped into the cold rocky mountain water. It immediately became clear why it was called Pebble Creek. The riverbed was covered with baseball-sized rocks, and while mostly smooth, they were extremely uncomfortable on the bottoms of my feet. Some were fairly sharp and others slimy and slippery.
Because the river bank on the opposite side was not ideal for exiting the river, being covered with thick brush, I took a long diagonal route upriver. At one point I got to a trough where the water reached my knees (of my 6’9″ frame). The current was surprisingly strong, and if I didn’t have my poles securely in the river bottom to brace myself, I would have been pushed over for sure. I finally got to a sandy section near the shore where I could re-boot. I sat in the midst of the river and took a much-needed rest.
I hopped over the remaining water and bushwhacked through the brush to find the trail on the other bank. My clanking parade resumed, through prime moose territory.
I soon reached the point where the trail crossed back across the river. This crossing was not looking any better. I decided that since I brought an extra pair of socks, that I would put them to use. Instead of going barefoot, I walked through the river with socks on, again taking a very long-angled route across the river to the other side, fighting the current. Wearing socks was better than nothing, but it barely helped. The bottoms of my feet were sore from the rocks.
Once on the other side, happy to be done with river-crossings for the day, I changed into fresh socks, put on my boots and resumed the trek. It wasn’t too long before I passed the trail for the Bliss Pass and found the sign for the P3P campsite.
The “campsite” is really just an area with a small stone fire ring, a couple of logs on the ground as benches, and a wooden pole fixed across two trees about 10 feet high to hang bear bags. Campers are supposed to do all of their cooking and store all food at this central location, and then pitch a tent 100 yards away wherever a good spot can be found in the woods.
I was the only person there, and I found a great place to set up my tent. It was nestled in some trees on the edge of a steep bank down to the river. One tent entrance faced away from the river, and the other could be used as an escape route down the embankment in case of bear attack.
Once I was all set up, I took a walk back to the Bliss Pass trail down to the river, bear spray and tomahawk close at hand. It was a simply stunning place to camp. I spent the rest of the afternoon taking short walks around, up to the Montana border, and back and forth to the river looking for wildlife.
I stared out over the river valley and scoured the edge of the forest with binoculars for hours, and the only animals I saw, other than birds, were two fellow human beings, headed up to Bliss Pass.
I thought about starting a fire, but it didn’t seem to have much point being by myself and having a stove to cook with. I finished the last of my water, so I filled up both of my bottles from the river, boiled it, and redistributed it into the bottles. I cooked up some freeze-dried chicken fried rice, which wasn’t bad. I put all my food and trash in a stuff sack and tied it up to the bear pole. I settled down and fell asleep before 9pm while the sun was still out.
The night was uneventful. No bear attacks. The following morning I woke up early, and decided to just head back to have some afternoon time to hang out with the family.
As I went to pull down my bear bag, I spotted a large, young male deer looking right at me a short distance away. I watched him as he routed well around me and proceeded to walk down the trail out of sight.
The hike out was really just the opposite of the hike in. More pole clanking. More whistling. Still no bear sitings. I approached the river crossings the same way, wearing socks. The last crossing was by far the toughest. Because on the way out I had been able to walk along the steep riverbank in boots before taking them off and crossing, I was unable to accomplish the same strategy in reverse. When I reached the far side of the river, the bank was too narrow to change socks and put my boots on, so I had to walk in socks in the mud and rocky water for 100 feet or so before I reached a point where I could pull myself up the bank to a dry spot. The bottoms of my feet were very sore (and later bruised up pretty good). I was grateful to put my dry socks and boots on for the last time.
I never saw any bears. In fact, I didn’t see much wildlife at all, which was surely attributable to my anti-bear noise strategy.
When I got back, I took the trail as a direct route to the road, and walked down the road aways back to my car. Arriving out of the wilderness to the banks of the Lamar River and being greeted by wandering bison is quite an experience. I sat alongside Pebble Creek near where it meets the Lamar River, hanging out with a large bison for a while, enjoying the view.
I was glad to be back safely, and on to my next great adventure: finding some good coffee in Cooke City! (I did find an excellent place – Pilot’s Perk)
Demand a Horizon 