7/23/11
Sunrise Roulette
Most photographers love to get a good sunrise, and sunrises are basically a crapshoot. I headed down to Swiftcurrent Lake (too late) and ran into a photography class. I shot a few photos and tried a panoramic stitch. It looks like I left the camera on auto exposure (so the exposures don’t match), but here it is anyway.
Pano mode. (Stitch with a 70-200)
One shot (21mm)
Back to work. (70-200mm)
I got to talking with a couple photographers, and then remembered I better get my butt back to camp because Todd would be waiting for me. I flew through repacking the backpack from photography to hiking and met up with Todd about 5 minutes late.
It’s hard not to admire Todd. He’s up at 5 am, out there, and gittin’ ‘er done. Most people would look at his vacation schedule as work, or maybe a training camp for hikers, but he loves the mountains, and loves Glacier. He’s a man with a mission. (“And baby you know that’s you,” as Henley would say.)
Altyn Peak
So the hike du jour was Altyn, but instead of humping straight up the scree field as seen from Swiftcurrent parking lot, we were meandering our way up Apikuni Falls and into the valley in a counterclockwise direction, an indirect circling of the mountain. Todd had picked the hike and relayed the idea over email. St. Grizzly describes this hike at summitpost.
http://www.summitpost.org/altyn-peak/557113
“There is nothing difficult or dramatic in the climbing of Altyn Peak (well, on a nice day, anyway—which just coincidentally was presented to us in abundance), and the summit itself is mostly a geologically unimpressive rounded dome. And yet, memories belie there was nothing to this day outside a gentle mountain climbing experience, topped off (naturally) with stunning vistas from the summit. There was indeed drama. Visual drama, the like from which it is difficult to veer, the kind supplied in abundance by a growing nearness of something along the lines of 200 feet of near-vertical carved upthrust. Visual stimulation supplied by the east face of joined-at-the-hip neighbor Mount Henkel. This day’s outing was one of the summer’s more memorable, and I’d recommend Altyn Peak to anyone.”
Even though this sounds like a walk for coffee, Todd and I had both read this, had looked at a topo map, and had guessed that this hike belied the writeup. (Grin.) It was probably a class 1 or 2 scramble, or in other words, doable for the novice, but not a “gentle climbing experience.”
Winter clinging to the rocks. (24-105mm)
Todd had not been up this way, so I was the leader on the first section to the falls, Soon after, Todd took over and did the route finding through the switchbacks and woods.
Apikuni Falls. (24-105mm)
Some more words from St. Grizzly:
“After leaving the trail, both route and climb become relatively and easily intuitive; the cliffs must be surmounted—not difficult—after which the natural lay of the land leads the way up a grassy ridge.”
Interpretation: Find a way through the band of cliffs, and walk to the lake.
As you look at the cliff, there are three ravines that suggest possible routes. On the left is one with a stream supplying water to Apikuni Falls. Scratch that one. In the center and on the right (way up the valley) are two more that look like possible route. Todd had a printout showing a previous hiker’s route, and the center ravine looked like the one, so off we went.
Since I had poles, I kicked some steps across a steep snowfield and that landed us on layered rock leading to the ravine. The problem was the rock was covered with sand and scree. After some very tentative scrambling, my poles (that couldn’t collapse) looked like antennae from my backpack, and were banging the overhead rocks. Todd suggested I take off my pack and peak around the corner and access the route. I saw a shaded ravine (wet rock) with some serious incline. I said to myself, “HE11…no. He11 no.”
“How does it look?”
“I’m not going this way.”
Todd didn’t question me a bit. Then some conversation took place about knowing your limits, not getting hurt, down climbing if it’s the wrong route, and various other things that indicated we’re both not climbers and prefer to live another day. Remember, to a climber this route gets a “the cliffs must be surmounted—not difficult” rating.
A look down the valley. (24-105mm)
We tried the other route further up the valley, and while it looked like a road from the scree field, it had an off-camber pitch that meant you had to pick every step. That and the 30 feet of cornice at the top made this route daunting. Todd pulled out the GPS, spitted out some figures indicating we had already put in a full day of humping, so we bagged it and headed home.
Some dead tree photos for Pete. (24-105mm)
Later I talked with a ranger who said, “You don’t want to climb that one if it looks like rain,” and confirmed that we had taken the two normal routes. Finally, we ran into some climbers from Minnesota that have climbed in Glacier since 1964, Keith and Justin Hollister, and Justin’s girlfriend, Kirsten. Keith said, “Oh, you don’t want to climb that this time of year, it’s full of scree.” And I replied, “Yeah, we found that out.” “Beside, Natahki Lake will be frozen over and I believe they have that area blocked off for habitat rehabilitation.
Todd taking in the waterfall—not posed. (24-105mm)
Bear Jam
Just as we started driving back to camp, a bear jam formed and Todd jumped out of the car saying he hadn’t seen a grizzly yet this trip. I stood on top of rock barrier on a bridge and watched as the grizzly meandered around in the field quite a ways off. I also watched as cars, mobile homes, and park patrol stopped along the road adding to the circus feel. A guy driving by asked out his open window, “What are you seeing out there?” I looked at the distinctive hump on the bear’s back and replied, “A cow,” and then grinned. He smiled too, and started to slowly drive off when I added, “No, no, it’s a grizzly.”
Todd marked this with GPS as 7.5 miles and 2500 ft
Hey Ranger
View from the campsite. (55mm micro)
That night, I was kneeling on a pad, taking some close-up pictures of huckleberries around the campsite, and a ranger parks in front of our site. I couldn’t see the ranger because our car was in the way. After a few minutes, the ranger gets out and says, “94 (our site), are you here?” She wasn’t loud, maybe conversational volume and I replied, “Right here,” which I think kind of scared her. “Oh, oh, I was just checking since you had a cooler out. I don’t want to confiscate paper plates like I did from the Illinois people.” “Yeah, no problem. I’ll clean up in a minute.”
Ok, just kidding on the paper plate part.
Huckleberries. (55mm micro.)
Jay W
Glacier Park Chat
