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Hoofing it in Yellowstone: horseback in Yellowstone National Park
March 12, 2009
Seabring Davis
By SEABRING DAVIS
Yellowstone National Park-- Retracing the footsteps of Native Americans and mountain men who marked these trails two centuries ago, we set out on our 12-mile ride to Soldier's Corral camp in Gardner's Hole. Loaded with our supplies and gear, we-- eight guests, four guides, 12 horses and eight pack mules-- are on our third day of a five-day horsepack trip in the northwestern corner of Yellowstone National Park.
On our way up to 10,000-foot Electric Pass, the narrow trail is steep and rocky. Our sure-footed horses groan and huff as we climb up above tree line, gaining 2,000 feet of elevation in two hours.
"Imagine that you are an Indian, from the Nez Perce tribe in Washington or the Blackfeet from Missoula," says Dick Kendall our guide from Diamond K Outfitters of Big Sky. "You would traverse this same route to get to Obsidian Cliff to gather material for tool-making."
As we crest the pass, we do imagine this. Perched on a saddle between two towering peaks-- 10,999-foot Electric and 10,102-foot Joseph Peaks-- Yellowstone Park unfurls into an ocean-like expanse of land with 150-mile vistas. We see the entire Absaroka-Beartooth Range and the high water marks of its peaks above 12,000-feet. We can see the Spanish Peaks, the Hyalite Mountains, the Gallatins. Yellowstone's western plateau, all the way to Wyoming's east entrance outside of Cody is in front of us. Behind us is the bowl of Sportsman Lake, where we camped last night. And to the northeast we see the massive plume of smoke from what later became known as the Fridley Fire in Paradise Valley.
Looking across part of the most remote region in the lower 48 states, it is overwhelming and redeeming to know there is this much wild country left virtually untouched. We are hushed by the beauty of this place. Only three days ago the group's silence would have felt awkward. But after 20 miles on horseback, three days of sharing meals, going without showers and the open discussion of toileting in the wilderness, we are comfortable with one another.
Half of us are neophytes to horses and to Yellowstone National Park's backcountry. All eight of us hail from hectic lives in bustling towns or cities from California to Montana, from Oklahoma to New York. We've come here to get away from all that. We've come here because of a mutual friend, California winemaker, Jed Steele, who thought five days camping in the wilds of Yellowstone would be a good way to drink wine and catch fish. Steele is our common link, as most of the people on this packtrip either produce, sell or market wine. I just like to drink it.
Our first ride began at the Fawn Pass Trailhead off Hwy. 191 West. Just 20 horse steps onto the trail and the rumbling sound of speeding semi trucks was muted. One mile in and the steady hum of summer traffic was still audible. After two or three miles further down, the swoosh of vehicles was lost to a wash of wind in the pines. But four miles into that 14-mile horseback ride there was only the slow tromp of horse hooves and saddles squeaking, the intermittent chatter of small talk among strangers and the trickle of Fan Creek's midday amble through sage brush and willow.
"This is God's country for riding," said wrangler and camp cook, Kip Saile as we started out.
We traveled along a dusty path and marked time by the change of landscape. We rode through sweeping grasslands into high, dense timber and moose-laden marshland, then into a forest graveyard of burnt trees left from the 1988 fires. Two, then three and four hours passed as we rode quietly, the only people on the trail. For us, it seemed we were the only people in the park.
By that fourth hour I heard quiet grumblings of aching knees from the long ride and private whines of, "How much longer?" But just when we'd reached our greenhorn's limit, our horses broke into a happy trot, carrying us out of the burnt timber into a meadow carpeted with thick, green grass. They knew we had reached our first camp before we did. To the south was tiny Sportsman Lake, a haven for native cutthroat trout. Towering above us was Electric and Joseph Peaks, framing the northwestern edge of this mountain cirque that is barely more than a mile wide.
That evening we pitched our tents and the outfitter crew built a core camp assembled with cookstoves, a picnic table and stools, hot water in a tin bowls for guest to wash up. Kendall and his crew emphasize strict backcountry regulations when it comes to setting up camp. Sleeping tents are at least 100 yards from the food area, precautions are taken for waste and food storage to keep bears away, most of the horses are set out to range freely to prevent overgrazing. Kendall believes in low-impact, "leave no trace" camping. A fifth generation Montanan with 15 years as an outfitter in Yellowstone, he has a unique respect for protected wilderness and wildlife.
"It's my job to make sure people have a good time out here," said Kendall, from the shadow of his well-worn felt cowboy hat. "But I can also help them appreciate why this area is so treasured and show them the importance of preserving wilderness."
At 8,500 feet the Sportsman Lake camp is one of 302 backcountry sites, 104 of which are designated for horses and mules, in Yellowstone. Open only from July to September, the lake is a fisherman's jewel among the 1,200 miles of backcountry trails crowning the park.
"Between outfitters, llama trips and hikers," said Kendall, "less than 100 people visit this lake each year."
Although some sites are more popular, for the most part Yellowstone's sparse backcountry trail system sees a relatively small amount of use. According to the National Park Service's backcountry office, only 12 percent of the 6 million people who visit Yellowstone annually ever go more than one mile off a road. That equates to an average of 45,000 people each year who experience Yellowstone's backcountry. Most of them book a trip with one of the region's 50 outfitters. With 95 percent of the park's 2.2 million acres considered wilderness, there's a lot to see and riding in on horseback is an easy way to cover the miles.
"Look at those horses out there in the field," exclaimed New Yorker Mike DeRobertis, "I'm used to sitting on a porch and looking across a crowded street."
We were far from city streets, but the aromas wafting through camp from the pots and pans in Saile's makeshift kitchen were straight from an upscale gourmet restaurant. Under the light of lanterns he asked us how we liked our steak cooked and then served up perfectly prepared beef tenderloin and lobster tails with drawn butter. Kendall cracked open bottles of Steele Pinot Noir and Zinfandel, a Fess Parker Epiphany Syrah. For dessert we had lemon meringue pie.
As an avid backpacker I vowed to never eat freeze-dried dinners in the backcountry again. We may be sleeping in tents, but it was clear from that first night that we would not be roughing it.
"Cooking out here is easy," said Saile, a robust Italian cowboy with an easy smile, "I basically prepare the things I like to cook and eat."
Now, by the end of our third day's ride, we have come to expect the luxury awaiting us at camp. We are spoiled. Tired and thirsty, we hardly notice the beauty cupped in this honey-spot of a valley called Gardiner's Hole.
Tiny purple asters and Queen Anne's Lace sprout up through lush knee-high grass. The Gardiner River snakes through the center of this historic spot, discovered by the raucous mountain man Johnson Gardner in 1831. Trappers once held rendezvous here, and when the U.S. Army was called to restore order in Yellowstone the soldiers pastured several hundred horses here from 1892 to 1918. Weathered remnants of wood that were once the Soldier's Corral lay in recognizable shapes near our tents.
"I can't wait to wait to wash my face and get into clean clothes," says Emily Goldhan, of California, as she gets off her horse.
"This is starting to wear on me."
But by evening the group gathers at core camp refreshed and laughing like old friends. Conversation rolls from wine to travel to never returning to our "real" lives. People start to reveal private personal quirks: Charlie has a foot fetish, Dick says he sleeps warmer out here if he puts on clean underwear and Mike is worried about bears. We eat another fabulous meal, talk by the lantern light until we run out of words and then retreat through the inky night to our tents.
"The point of fishing here is to catch pretty fish," says Charlie Kears early the next morning with the first fish of the day on his line.
Kears smiles radiantly as he releases a feisty 5-inch brookie back into the stream. Dragon flies buzz along the banks and the horses laze in the meadow. The sun warms Electric Peak's rocky face and spills out into the valley below. Our group is caught in a euphoria of sorts, one borne of complete relaxation and the knowledge that we'll be here for two more days.
"I just counted 100 fish in that hole down there," says Kelly Kulbeck, of Bozeman giddily as he points to a deep pool of the small river.
And this is a slow day in Gardiner's Hole.
On a good day, Kendall and the other wranglers claim this pocket of Yellowstone yields a wildlife display of Discovery Channel proportions. We don't believe them. But within 24 hours we spot two bull moose grazing near camp at dawn and bighorn sheep on the face of Electric Peak; spook a grizzly from his nap on a day-ride; witness the Swan Lake wolf pack chasing a herd of 20 bull elk; hear the haunting call of sandhill cranes as they land near us; watch a hawk hunt as it hovers 8-inches above the grass; see a meteor shower and enough stars in the seamless night sky to make up our own constellations.
"Does anybody know what day it its," asks DeRobertis on our final day in the park. We all know that we ride out tomorrow. We'll ride out to the Glen Creek Trail near Bunsen Peak just 8 miles outside of Mammoth Hot Springs.
But none of us know the day of the week or the exact time of day. What we do know is that for now it's time to crack open some more wine and watch the sunlight fade into night. We know what it's like to have a good day in Gardiner's Hole.
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