In the Shadows of the Plateau

The last week of October had been unusually warm, with temperatures in the high 60s. After a Friday happy hour with new coworkers, I went home and packed up some backpack hunting gear. It's also fun to think back to a simpler time when I owned one fly rod. This setup still sits at the bottom of the Yellowstone River in Yankee Jim Canyon, but that is a story for another day. 

At that time, similar to most hunters my age, my gear list was much rougher around they edges than it is now. A simple load hauler with stuff sacks full of camping equipment, ​a pump shotgun I had scored for $75 at a pawn shop, a box of shells, and the minimal fishing equipment were along for the ride. 

Early in the summer, I had arrived in Billings from Boston, after a month or so road trip cross country. Six of my first eight weekends in Montana had been spent hiking and fishing in the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness. This was spurred by a hiking trip with my new friend and coworker Shawn on the second weekend. 

Camp [Night 2] on the First Weekend in the Wilderness

We took Val up and over a prominent peak with two nights of camping, a little bit of fishing, and a lot of off trail bushwhacking to wrap it up. Since that trip, I had been obsessed with exploring this area. Unfortunately, the 9th week in Montana, I found out I had testicular cancer. After two surgeries and some restless recovery time, it was the end of October and temperatures were perfect for fall hiking and camping.

I decided to go further up the trail that Shawn and I started on for our summit day, having seen multiple blue grouse on the plateau during that adventure. 

The load hauler had a handful of trips so far, but this load for colder weather and multiple activities was more than was comfortable for that system. Straps were digging into my shoulders on the hike in, and it felt great to finally get to a spot to setup camp. We had hiked off trail on the way in, catching some elevation to look for grouse, but arrived empty handed. 

I unloaded my single person backpacking tent that I had bought in 2010 for an attempt at Pennsylvania's Mid State Trail. That trip ended after 3 days when I sprained my knee on a rocky descent. Val and I found an island in the middle of an alpine creek, with a gravel beach, which seemed perfect to get away from the trail and have a fire for the evening. 

Our Island Campsite with Waders Drying in the Trees

Upon unloading and setting up camp, I put on waders and went upstream to a deep wide run unique for this stream system. A purple haze and 4x tippet drew strikes from a couple dozen brook trout. Having dinner already packed, it seemed unnecessary on this trip to keep fish and pack more food out, so they were released. A decade later as I write this, I keep almost all brook trout I catch in native Yellowstone cutthroat habitat.

After freeze dried pad Thai and a quick wash of the dishes, we got into the tent to get to sleep. I stopped at a sporting goods store that day to purchase a new headlamp. The batteries had been pre-installed, and I didn't realize it was a display model. When I started cleaning up from dinner, I realized the batteries were dead. I often get eye rolls now for over-preparedness, or packing for any trip days in advance, but will never be without spare batteries in the backcountry. After the cook pot was clean, the view of the canyon walls overhead framed an unbelievable light show of stars over a small fire.

Sometime in the night, which I guess must've been just after midnight, I woke up to a noise I had never heard before. Wolves were howling in the distance. Likely a mile or more away, I listened for a bit and went back to sleep. An unknown time later, I jerked awake to the howling now very close to the tent, probably under 100 yards. Val was shaking at my feet, and shortly thereafter a moose crashed across the stream at the top of the island. It was reasonable to expect that the wolves were chasing the moose and they would be following that path soon. 

I sat up, loaded twelve rounds into the shotgun, and realized again that the headlamp was dead. My plan was to get out of the tent to scare off anything that might come close with a light and a warning shot. Knowing that the headlamp was dead, I sat in the tent and waited. Sure enough, minutes after the moose crashed across the stream, I could hear foot prints in the water opposite our tent. A little bit of rustling around on the bank could be heard, and then silence. 

It must've been two hours later before I finally decided to unload the shotgun and go back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning and got out of the tent to do my business, the sky was foggy and my brain seemed the same. Almost as if the experience had been a dream. While I recounted the series of events over coffee and a freeze dried egg scramble, I finally realized how fascinating it was to experience such an event.

Val Gets Some Leftover Breakfast in the Morning

Checking out the Exit Plan

Val and I hiked along the canyon walls that morning, looking for grouse again. After a few hours with no success, we arrived at the truck. I knew a good spot for a burger and some great spots to stop and cast a line on the way home.