A time to explore

Walking the walk up the ridgte

Paul Haffeman does some real climbling

Mark Hertenstein in a field of alpine flowers

View from the top

An alpine lake below the peak

Last week was the time for exploration.
I headed up into the Little Belts to look over the head of Jefferson Creek for winter use and to climb Tepee Butte (elevation: 8,240 feet) while I was there.
Then, five days later we tried a new route on Red Mountain, the highest mountain in the Scapegoat Wilderness and Bob Marshall complex at 9,411 feet.
We picked up the Jefferson Creek Road off the Belt Creek Scenic Byway, a couple of miles south of the mining camp of Neihart. The road is rough, but passable. There are lots of pleasant, undesignated campgrounds along the 4 mile drive to the upper Jefferson Creek trailhead No. 740.

Katie below Teepee Butte

While we were expecting a thin Forest Service trail up to Tepee Butte, unfortunately we found a rather wide ATV track. Parts of the upper trail have been rebuilt to widen switchbacks.
The trail gains more than 1,000 feet to the Dry Wolf Creek Road No. 251 over 2-1/2 miles. Then it is another 500 feet or so to the top of Tepee Butte, a small mountain that looks directly at some of the highest mountains in the Little Belts. There’s Yogo Peak (elevation: 8,801 feet) to the east, and the highest peak, Big Baldy (elevation: 9, 177 feet) to the north.
There are also splendid views of the Big Belt, Bridger, Crazy and Gallatin ranges far to the south.
There are gorgeous parks at the top of Jefferson Creek covered this year with wildflowers, a bonus from our extra-wet spring.

Red Mountain
This was my third climb of Scapegoat’s highest peak. I had done a route from Ringeye Creek 32 years ago, and about 8 years ago had climbed it from Copper Creek from a south spur, gaining it on an east-west ridgeline from there.
We looked the mountain over on Sunday and decided a southwest ridge route from Copper Creek would be interesting.
I had forgotten about the similarity between Red Mountain geology and Glacier National Park. The red, green and brown rocks are all set up about the same in both locations.
We climbed 3,000 feet in elevation over about three miles of ridgeline to the top.
The red, blue and yellow alpine flowers were in heavy carpet along this ridge.
There’s still plenty of snow in the Scapegoat high country, but Red Mountain’s summit was bare.

Wildflowers on Red Mountain climb

Mountains for 'tenderfeet'

One of the many, tough Tenderfoot crossings

On the upper reaches of Tenderfoot Creek

Nearing the top of Mount Wood

We really weren’t looking for a tough workout when we set out to climb a couple of remote mountains (Wood, elevation: 7,525 feet) and Reynolds (7,175 feet) south of Tenderfoot Creek Saturday, but we got that workout nonetheless.
We were foolish enough to think these Little Belt peaks were easily gotten from this wild creek on the west side of the range. So, we didn’t carry topo maps, but relied on the rough Jefferson Division map from the Lewis and Clark National Forest.
This area has been discussed off and on as a wilderness candidate. The creek is a main feeder stream into Smith River. The access is tricky and tough any way you approach it. I’ve usually come into the Tenderfoot by way of the Taylor Hills Trail off Divide Road not far from Pilgrim Mountain. Last year I discovered it was more than a 2,000 foot drop into the creek with the attendant 2,000 foot return in very steep country.
This is ranching country and there’s been some mining here. In spots the ATVers and motorcyclists “own” it. Fishing is great from top to bottom. So’s the hunting if you can get permission to enter this land to retrieve your elk. If you’re lucky enough not to encounter one of the motorheads you will have as wild an experience as you can get.
That’s what we had last weekend.
We entered this country by way of the Sheep Creek Road south of Kings Hill Pass and at Eagle Park picked up a single track to a gate at Reynolds Park, where camas was in full bloom in the wetlands. We easily found the public land along Urvi Creek, skirted the private land and found a great game trail that dropped us steeply (600 feet) into Tenderfoot Creek where Balsinger Creek comes in.
We knew that the main Tenderfoot Creek Trail No. 342 was across the creek. I thought we had it made if we could get across the creek to that trail because I hadn’t carefully studied the map, which shows multiple creek crossings along our route.

Lots of debris on this trail, like this dead motorcycle

Because of the abundant rain the creek was swollen. We stripped off our boots and put on sandals and clogs for the frozen wade. The force of the rushing water made the crossing somewhat treacherous. We steadied ourselves with our hiking sticks.
I still tingle when I think of that first crossing.
To make a long story short we found ourselves crossing the creek 10 times between Balsinger and just beyond the Taylor Hills trail junction (about 3 miles) where we began our climb. I gave up on the clogs and left on my leather boots because their support lent some safety to our task.
This was exhilarating.
The Tenderfoot winds its way through a steep volcanic canyon here. It is also heavily forested. The scenery as well as the cold creek was breathtaking.
The trail hasn’t been cleared in some time and it added to the wild nature of this hike.
While we enjoyed this experience, it wasn’t what we had come for --- we were after a couple of high mountains.
The crossings took the spring out of steps and gobbled lots of time. We made less than a mile an hour along this stretch of Tenderfoot. Along the way we passed some unexplainable heavy mining equipment on the trail, an old miners shack and a dead motorcycle, testament to this area’s ruggedness.
About a half mile beyond the Taylor Hills junction we recrossed the Tenderfoot and head up the flank of Wood peak, some 2,500 feet above us. We traveled through a forest of pencil-thin and densely spaced lodgepoles with lots of tree debris at foot.
We found our ridgeline and two hours later were atop the tree-covered Woods anticipating Reynolds.
Reynolds is a long, narrow pile volcanic talus.
Getting off Reynolds and back to our car would be tricky because most ridgelines dump you back down into the Tenderfoot. We knew we had to stay on the ridgeline back to the one-track road or sidehill across Reynolds to reach it.
After a small false start down toward the Tenderfoot we found a good packers trail that eventually led us through a large clearcut and then down to Reynolds Park.
When the trees cleared we could see this magnificent country clearly on this bright day.
There were the Crazy, Castle, Big Belt (Edith and Baldy peaks), Bridgers, Gallatins, and Absaroka ranges on the horizon.
We figured we had gained more than 4,000 feet going up and down ridgelines, a respectable day for any mountain range.
We had also gained a deep respect for this Tenderfoot country, more convinced than ever that its wild character merits wilderness protection.

A peak named Guthrie?

Mark Hertenstein at the base of Guthrie Peak

I'm on top!

Stunning views on the way down

Why not name a prominent peak in the Rocky Mountain Front after noted Montana author A.B. “Bud” Guthrie?
Guthrie, who grew up in the Front community of Choteau, left and returned late in life, is the author of such western classics as “The Big Sky” and “The Way West.” He lived in the shadow of the splendid reefs that abut the prairie. Before he died he became a voice for the preservation of the wild character of this land.
There’s an unnamed mountain in the Teton country that should bear his name.
It is the prominent sharp peaked mountain (elevation: 8,413 feet) just north of Choteau Mountain (the Sleeping Giant) that sits above the Blindhorse Canyon.
What better symbolism than having a peak named for Bud Guthrie watching over one of the spots on the Front most threatened by oil and gas development?
The idea was hatched in a conversation with Bob Decker, former director of the Montana Wilderness Association, about a dozen years ago. We were discussing all the unnamed peaks along the Front and I told him I thought that particular one was my favorite.
I think it was Decker who suggested Guthrie as a name, but my memory is a bit foggy.
Anyway, I grabbed the idea and wrote a letter to Guthrie’s widow, Carol, who sent me a letter of endorsement for the concept.
I followed up with a call to the National Commission on Geographic Place Names, the U.S. agency that formally names geographic places. I was told the various steps needed to get the name changed.
Among them is a resolution from the (Teton) county commission.
I became busy with other things and the idea is in limbo.
However, I’ve actively promoted calling this peak Guthrie, even to the extent of sponsoring a Glacier Mountaineering Society climb of the peak three years ago.
I’ve gone out of my way to refer to the peak as “Guthrie” every chance I get. I managed to slip it into several of “Trip of the Week” columns I did for the Great Falls Tribune.
Ralph Thornton of Choteau has a spiffy Web site, earmountain.com, has promoted the name as well.
I even climbed the mountain 11 years ago and left a film canister declaring it “Guthrie Peak” on the mountain top.
So why do I bring it up now?
On Sunday, despite our torrential spring rains, I went to the top again.
My first climb I used a route that went from the saddle between Choteau and Guthrie from Clary Coulee. I located a route on the mountain’s south side.
Our most recent climb was up Clary Coulee and up the east face from the far north end of the mountain.
We came down by way of that southern route.
I’m convinced the easiest way up is from Jones Creek up one of the west facing ridgelines. However, that wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as the route we took Sunday.
We were faced with considerable mist and cloud cover, that surprisingly broke when we hit the ridgeline.
We could see the BLM’s Blindhorse Outstanding Natural Area some 3,000 feet below us.
Because there has been so much rain and snowmelt the streams were full and numerous waterfalls gushing.
There was every conceivable wildflower in bloom and the entire hike was bathed in vivid spring greenery.
Next time you drive up the Teton Canyon Road look to the north and follow your eye along the skyline beyond Choteau Mountain.
That’s Guthrie Peak you see.
Don’t you agree?

The green season

Tough going on a wind-exposed ridge line

More a nipple than a peak

Most of the year Montana is a brown, dry landscape.
Now is the exception.
Places like the Highwood Mountains call Ireland to mind for a small window at the beginning of June.
This is the time to see Montana at its most spectacular best. There is still a bit of snow in the high country while the hillsides are a lush, eye-startling green.
While I normally like the exposed, bare ridgelines for climbing, I couldn’t resist heading into the Highwood Mountains for some verdant backcountry last week.
I did one of my favorite early season hikes, the nine-mile loop starting up Thain Creek near the Forest Service campground that takes the hiker to the base of Windy Peak (elevation: 6,009 feet), a long ridgeline to the head of Briggs Creek and then down through the Thain Creek Campground.
In addition to the green vegetation the black hawthorne tree is in full white blossom bloom, and the yellow arrow leaf balsamroot covers hillsides.

H. Wayne Phillips enjoys the greenery of the Highwoods

My recommendation is to do this hike before July 1 when local ranchers let their cattle onto grazing allotments.
Highwood Baldy Mountain to the south dominates the horizon on most of the hike.
If you decide to take the short off-trail climb to the top of Windy Mountain you’ll be treated to views of many of the island mountain ranges such as the Bear’s Paw, Little Rockies, Little Belts, Sweetgrass Hills, and Snowies. Off in the distance is the Rocky Mountain Front.

‘Lion” in wait
A day earlier I was thwarted in an attempt to climb Castle Reef in the Front near Gibson Reservoir in the Sun River Canyon by an unusual encounter.
As I began to crest the mountain’s ridgeline after gaining about 2,000 feet from Wagner Basin the underbrush rustled and a couple of animals I originally mistook for deer jumped out in front of me, only about 15 feet away.
As they scampered off I was startled to see their long tails.
These were no deer, but two mountain lions.
I had seen and heard mountain lions in the backcountry before, but never this up close and personal.
Lucky for me they took off and didn’t return.
I retreated quickly to a high place, tried to look large and waved my poles and hollered.
When I settled down I noticed that on the other side of the ridge was a large grouping of bighorn sheep and their new babies.
The lions had been lying in wait, drawing a bead on these creatures.
I had been up wind from the cats whose attentions were focused on that meal, not me.
I was still cautious and thought it the better idea to retreat rather than proceed to the mountain top.
There is always another day.