Taken on our first night in the park near our campsite along Pebble Creek.
I have been here twice before, the first time when I was quite young and I have no memory of it. My family had come up to this impossibly remote city as a side trip to see wolf packs roam and hunt in the nearby valley. The road that is Main Street is the only way in or out of this frontier town that was erected before the turn of the last century. This tiny strip of buildings with 144 permanent residents gets even more isolated once winter moves in as one direction of Main Street gets cut off by heavy snows in the Beartooth Mountain Range to the east. In fact it gets so intense during winters here and it is so far from anything else that the only reason the government even plows the road one direction is to get school buses in. Welcome to Cooke City, Montana.
I was up as soon as a hint of light reached our camp in a dense set of woods. We had gotten into town a little too late to make a hotel room cost effective for our tight budgets. The campground nearby was for exclusively camper vehicles so we decided to try and wing it off a technicality. In a patch of woods on the other side of Soda Butte Creek from Main Street was a small sign on a tree marking a National Forest boundary so we decided that was close enough.
It was a good thing I had woken up as early as I did. Cheese Beard and I had agreed the night before to do some more hitchhiking this morning. Today was actually a zero (mile) day for everyone so I tried to be as quiet as possible while moving to go wake up Cheese Beard. Though probably not necessary I had set up my Hyperlite tarp again and after getting Cheese Beard to stir I quickly started pulling stakes and breaking down camp. In a matter of minutes we are packed and moving.
The night before we had written a simple message in Sharpie on a piece of cardboard cut from a empty box of PBR. “Free Entry To Yellowstone” was inscribed on it. For us to hike through and sleep in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park, one of the busiest parks in the country, we needed to get permits, and the only way to get permits is to get to the nearest Backcountry Office, some 35 miles in to the park. So we needed a ride, which meant a few of us had to hitchhike for a second day in a row. During my travels from the previous year I had purchased a National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass, which grants myself and four others access to all National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands for free for a year. We had planned to use that to sweeten the pot for anyone thinking of picking up two dirty hitchhikers. Cheese Beard was elected to come as well since he had probably the most intimate knowledge of this section of trail at the time, after all he helped plot the entire traverse.
Soon after leaving our urban campsite we came stumbling in to a gas station to buy coffee, still half asleep. In contrast the lady behind the counter was wide awake, like I’m imagining she always is during the brief tourist season. I am usually smiling during the mornings, this one included, but I find it almost a dumb smile. A smile showing that I like what is going on, I think, but the brain just hasn’t quite caught up to speed. Yet I am able to muster up a warm hello as we come in and even start up a halfway coherent conversation as I check out with my piping hot extra-large black coffee. She asks us about our backpacks and we explain our ambitions of creating a long distance backpacking trail through the area. Eventually she inquired about where I was from, and she cocked an eyebrow when I told her a suburb north of Atlanta. It turns out she had lived in the same town I had attended college at for a few years. She would move to Cooke City, Montana, of all places, and she hasn’t looked back.
It is still bloody early, not even 6:30 am yet. It’s the weekend before the Fourth of July and that means the hoards are soon to descend on this part of the world. The snow is all but gone, even in most of the highlands, which means that tourists and adventures from around the world will populate this area in the hundreds of thousands over the next few months, until the winter cold drives them away again. But this morning is still pretty slow, not a soul is moving in the town. As Cheese Beard and I exited the gas station, a cup of warm salvation in our hands, the first car of the morning rolls past, but we’re not in much rush and we know many more will soon follow.
We sat at a small outdoor dining set next to the gas station. The air was frigid, probably not much above freezing, yet full of energy. We watch as our breaths cling to the cold with every exhale, how the moisture gets picked up off the tops of our coffees and wisped away in an instant. The atmosphere is dry enough to allow fairly large temperature swings, almost 40 degrees in the day. There is plenty of light in the sky but the sun is an hour away from rising over the peaks that encircle this tiny mountain town, yet things are warming up, and people are beginning to move.
There is no cell service in Cooke City, the mountains around it are impenetrable for half the year and the only other way out is through Yellowstone National Park, so the free WiFi at the gas station was a bit of a God send. We took a little bit of time to update social media, contact family members and loved ones, and more importantly, figure out some logistics. We finish our technology binge and quickly get to the curb, thumbs up high, cardboard sign for the world to see.
@cheesebeard_hikes took this image of me with our makeshift sign as we set off to hitchhike a second day in a row. Cooke City, Montana.
The morning was still young and the action was slow but we got picked up soon enough. Just a couple miles down the road is the North East Entrance to Yellowstone National Park, and as if it had been staged, a bison is standing on the side of the road not 30 feet in to the park. Cheese Beard just about loses his mind. This is his first time ever seeing a bison in person and the reaction was priceless. “Look at the size of its head! It’s bigger than my whole body!” And he was right. These animals can grow to well over two thousand pounds and they have a massive set of horns to match.
The gentleman who picked us up had only enough time to get us to Lamar Valley, many miles shy of the Ranger Station at Tower Junction. We thanked him for getting us that far and immediately put our thumbs back out again. Several minutes go by and several dozen cars as well before we get a hitch. We are in the park now and as a general rule, tourists don’t pick up hitchhikers. True to this notion the next ride we got was from a local, the bartender at the bar we were in the night before. He was headed down to Salt Lake City where the closest major airport is located. If you live in Cooke City then it’s a seven hour drive just to catch a plane.
“What’s the dumbest question a tourist has ever asked you?” said Cheese Beard. The guy chuckled to himself, probably going over a whole slew of ridiculous bits he’s over the years. “What time do they let the animals out?” he said. Cheese Beard and I nearly go slack jawed, then burst out laughing. Having a local pick you up while hitching is always, in my opinion, preferred. While you’re speeding through the countryside they can trade interesting anecdotes and stories with you as well as point out to you what is going on, things that you would have otherwise have missed. He quickly points out an osprey nest on the side of the road, my eyes focus, and then it’s gone.
Cheese Beard talking to Kevin, the ranger in charge of backcountry permits at Tower Junction, Yellowstone National Park.
“How can I help you?” asked Kevin, the ranger in charge of permits at the Tower Junction Ranger Station, as we walked into the Backcountry Office. He had opened the office only minutes before and Cheese Beard and I had slid in to the first spot with no one else waiting, exactly what we wanted. We get to the process of explaining our goals for the trail and what our plan was for the next several nights. We get information that many of the high passes we were planning to cross had good amounts of snow on them just two weeks prior, but we explain that we are all experienced and equipped to handle it. Kevin helped us out for nearly three hours as we plan out the most effective route through the northern half of the park, and by the end of it I think he was so excited for us that he might have picked up a pack himself.
It’s nearly noon by the time we get our permits in order and walk out of the Backcountry Office and the sun is directly overhead. In a matter of hours the temperature went from hovering around freezing to the high 70s. A park employee who had the weekend off was also getting permits while we were in there and offered to give us a ride up the road until where his trail head was.
This image was taken in October of 2017 in Yellowstone National Park. It is one of my favorite shots from Yellowstone and I thought it would be fitting to feature now. We did also see many pronghorn on our hike through the park.
Yellowstone National Park is often times referred to as America’s Serengeti and our window down ride back up the Lamar Valley was magical feeling. As we drive along the road that pours through the wide open, treeless, spaces of the valleys I notice Cheese Beard is a bit less enthusiastic about the bison. Yellowstone is the only place in the contiguous United States that Bison have live continually since before Columbus came to the New World and they were often even poached inside the park boundaries. Now the success of the Bison is apparent in the relatively dense population within Yellowstone. The entirety of the landscape is speckled with brown dots, each the size of a Jeep. I’ve found the bison less exciting myself, as this is my second time here in less than a year. Yet I also think there is something amazing about the presence of this animal on the landscape. Nothing would be the same without them, and we almost lost the species as a whole.
We arrive back in Cooke City and run in to some of the crew as they were roaming the one street. They lead us back to our hotel room for the night. The door opens and we are met by a wall of odor. Seven people who had been living untamed in the woods for the last four days make quite foul smell. Cheese Beard and I empty our packs in to the mess of a room and begin the zero day activities. Showers, clean clothes, and hot food are all desperately needed.
The rest of the day is spent lazily drinking Rainier beer and watching Impractical Jokers and surfing the internet. A hot tub soak is even made (don’t worry it was after our showers!). Sleep comes easy for us all that night.
The following morning no one is really up early. Nine A.M. rolls around and nothing has been packed. Instead we call for a late check out and stumble to the other end of the short strip of town to enjoy a real breakfast. It’s a little pricey so we order just the breakfast basics, which were underwhelming. After a disparagingly bland meal we head over to the Post Office to grab our resupply boxes. The town is so small that there is not even a good place to get groceries so we had to mail ourselves boxes of food.
It takes many hours to get the room packed away in to our bags, but soon enough we start to trickle out the door towards the trail. The route that was chosen took us down the valley on the South East side of Soda Butte Creek, opposite of the road that enters the park. This is marked as a snowmobile and cross country ski route in to the park during the winter, but it clearly serves as a jeep route during the summer months. Not more than a mile down this mud track a group of us come up behind Jet Fighter as she quietly peers down trail.
Jet Fighter was alone when she came up upon this road block and waited for the rest of us.
A 2,500 pound roadblock made of muscle, fur, hooves, and horns was in our way. Bison, just like us, prefer the easier walking on trails, rather than plowing through the woods. He decided that this was is section of trail and that we could go around or get charged, so we made a wide arch around him as we moved through the woods.
Cheese Beard lining up a shot of the bison that blocked our path.
Even smaller than Cooke City, I would hardly call Silver Gate, Montana a town even. It is so small it hardly exists. Yet between Cooke City and Yellowstone is this spec on the map that contains a handful of small buildings and maybe two streets that come off of Main Street. Down our muddy jeep track a little further we came to a bridge over the creek that would lead us into Silver Gate, so Pebbles, Rusty, and I all went to check it out. What was supposed to be a quick inventory check to see what amenities, few that they are, were offered in town. Then I saw a sign for ice cream and soon we were basking in the intense pockets of sunshine breaking through the low hanging clouds eating a pint of ridiculously overpriced Ben and Jerry’s.
This chocolate lab tried to tag along with us as we left the town of Silver Gate, Montana, and having him watch us walk off was heart breaking.
As it turn out we had made a bond with one of the locals during our ice cream break, a chocolate lab that hangs out outside of the small store. We all loved his friendliness and used the time to get some of the homesickness out of us. Once we were packed and ready to catch up with the others we said our goodbye to the new friend and started to hike out. He followed with. It seems this old lab wanted to run with us and join us on the adventure. Telling him to stay as we walked off was one of the most heartbreaking moments in my entire experience of traveling.
The landscape has changed almost completely. A small sign marking the border of Yellowstone National Park had been the sight for a quick photo op just moments before, and there it felt different, in Cooke City it felt different. We seemed to have walked out of the mountains and into the valleys in a matter of minutes. The collapsing walls of massive pinnacles of rock no longer felt so imposing, but rather distant, further apart. The green grass of the valley floor was unbelievably vivid when matched against the bright blue bird sky.
Pebbles as he crosses in to Yellowstone National Park.
After crossing Soda Butte Creek we met up with the rest of the crew and took a little break at the base of our only climb for the day. After a quick cat nap we marched up the climb to a pass that was supposed to be snowed in rather heavily. As we get closer to the top of the climb some views begin to open up and we can see all the way down Soda Butte Creek Valley and right in to the Lamar River Valley. Finally we start finding patches of snow on the trail, but then the trail begins to flatten out, then goes downhill. Without really even realizing it we had crossed the “heavily snowed in” pass and popped out the other side.
The climb was over 1,000 feet while the descent was maybe 100 meaning Pebble Creek Valley sat much higher up. This would be our home for the night. It was quite clear just how recently the snow had melted here, all of the grass was young, short and lush, and a few flowers were just producing their buds. In some places the ground was even still wet, evidence of puddles that formed due to snow melt.
The creek flowed on the south east side of the valley and in a small stand of trees along its banks was our camp. A few beers had been packed out and were immediately put on the patches of snow hiding in the dark woods. It got cold rather quickly in our camp, but it offered us protection from the steady wind that had formed during the day. Closer to sunset most of us moved across the valley to get a higher vantage point in hopes of spotting wildlife, with no success. It isn’t long before we are all tucked in and counting sheep.
The GYT as it travels through the Pebble Creek Valley in the very North East corner of the park.