Gold Fever- a measure of success

What's amazing is how perfectly this trip happened, in action and reflection. It's been a couple weeks since the troop returned from the Cloud Peak Wilderness in Wyoming, and we had originally made plans to go this weekend- but the near west and surrounding Black Hills has recently been receiving snow and cold temperatures. Not saying that snow is bad, its just that when you're camped in the shadow of a 13000' peak, weather can be extreme...

No, the trip was perfect in its spontaneous ways! We started the four hour drive to the Big Horns at 9:00 pm, and arrived at the trail head somewhere a little after 1:00am. We then hiked a mile or two, without a detailed map, in awe of a full moon and silhouettes of peaks around us. We made a quick camp in a frozen mossy bog just into the wilderness boundary and settled in our bags with a cold nip down our backs and enthusiasm in our laughs. We woke up early, had a few bags of oat meal, and hiked for "four squares" or probably four/five miles (because the map we did have of the area was grossly lacking of detail and measurements) to the shore of Mistymoon Lake and the embrace of Cloud, Black Tooth, and Bomber Mountains. From the trail head we gained almost 2000' of elevation with the hike.

Mistymoon Lake is a cool spot, and if your lucky to get the rocky outcropping like we did, the views are to die for. We set up camp in the direct line of fire of the full moon and rising sun over the peaks and lake. We spent the second night reclined on the granite slabs gazing at the moon's puppet show of clouds and watching the lake go from black to ripples of molten silver. Then a front moved in and blacked everything out but the whisper of wind and we went to bed.

As the expeditions of old, we all came to the mountains for our own reasons- Joe, Dennis, Bear, and I- but found ourselves closer together in the common pursuit of simply being there in the wilderness. Some of us wanted to summit the 13000' Cloud Peak, others wanted to simply do whatever we wished and enjoy the awesome grandeur of the place, and I- I was the mad prospector. Like the old days, I heard through the generosity of a friend that there was in fact real life gold below Cloud Peak. With whimsical stories and alluring propositions, I had to stake my own claim in those mountains. Its been one of many life ambitions since I was very young to find this type of extremely rare and elusive gold that can only be found at or around 10000' above sea level. The kind that's made strong men go mad, made city dwellers elope with mountains, and- to many- surpasses any other fine metal there is. Oncorhynchus aguabonita- Google it, or learn Latin, and maybe you'll understand what I mean. 

There's a very small lake in the wilderness area that is one of the last strongholds for this amazing piece of nature, and as soon as we made it to Mistymoon, I was hot on the trail again to find it somewhere in between the mountains. On the hike up, anxiety mounted, "What if they're not in there?" "What fly should I use?" "How far is the lake, what if the weather turns for the worst?" " How should I fish the lake when I get there?" The trail climbed up steeply into a pass and there, nestled along the mountain walls was the lake. I followed a small stream over boggy ground to the stream's mouth and tail end of the lake. I knelt and slowly took position on the bank and scanned the murky, green water. Right away I saw one dart from the mouth of the stream into the depths. "Good," I thought, "they're in here." I rigged up and put on a big bushy dry fly to entice the most ADHD of the fish to strike. But it took a long time and many blind casts, and even took to the point of deliberately planning on looking away from the water. 

There was stage-fright for both of us...but sure enough, as soon I put the idea in my head of setting my rod down to run and get my rain gear a few yards away, I heard a distinct and loud "PLOP" from the water. I whipped my gaze back to the lake and was dumbstruck for a second to see the ripples on the surface of the water! I remembered then to set the hook and a few seconds later, I saw one of the most beautiful things of my life. From the green depths came blood-red flashes and the jutting through the rod of a thrashing head. I knelt down and simply couldn't believe it, I did it- I struck gold, in my hand was communion with true and natural beauty. 

Golden trout can truly make strong men go mad...

I caught upwards of ten fish or more that day. 

The next morning was cold, the sun shone over the mountains and lake in a clear blue sky. We were all tired, facing exhaustion from high altitude and hard hiking. We rounded up on the precipice our camp was set up on and bathed in the sun huddling inside winter layers as the first hints of a breeze licked at our backs. "Well," Joe said quickly, "how are we all feeling?" We were all beaten and battered, Joe had a huge open sore on his heal, Bear was tired and sore, Dennis' heart would start beating extremely fast and get light headed when he exerted himself, and I was tired and my feet were sore. The proposition of climbing a mountain was looking slim.  Despite it all though, Bear was the one who rallied the crew to gear up and try the climb. We hiked a half mile from camp around the bend and over a hill to see the start of the climb across a small stream in the bottom of the valley from a few hundred feet above on a steep hillside. To our surprise Joe reluctantly had to turn back to camp because both of his feet then had open sores and the it wasn't worth climbing the mountain and hiking out on two bum feet in one day. So the three of us carried on, without a map but strong will, to the summit of cloud peak. It was a grueling climb, climbing over boulders and loose rocks, constantly scanning the bland moonscape for cairns- stacks of rocks- loosely mapping a trail to the top. We started late, left camp around 9:00am- which doesn't sound bad, right? In terms of mountaineering, that only gave us four hours to hike around 2 miles or more vertically and back again. Why four hours, that doesn't seem impossible? Storms- they roll in on peaks around 1:00-3:00pm and a mountain peak is not where you want to get stuck for a rain/snowstorm. Not to mention we had to hike out of the back country that same day! It was a tall order but we were determined. We toiled for two and a half, maybe three hours to try and get to the top, or what we thought it was.

Cloud peak is relatively easy to climb as there's a ramp or a gradual incline to the top, and is more dome shaped before the last push of 1000'. As we came to the top of the dome the actual peak was hidden on the other side, so we were somewhat confused- I remember we all asked, "Is this really the top?" "Did we do it?" A few tired steps further and we saw it- dark blue, cold, and dusted with snow. The sight was honestly not an inspiring one. The will was there but time was against us at that point, dark clouds were gathering along the slope, our turnaround time was in twenty minutes. We sat on a some boulders and looked back behind from where we came, we could see the small blue ribbon of the stream we crossed at the beginning, we could even see the lakes we passed on the hike to Mistymoon (which were probably five or six miles from the peak.) To see the world from such a grand position, to see your accomplishment and hard work, makes a person feel small when cradling the side of a mountain. We sat in silence for a quite a while up there, the wind had really picked up, the temperature dropped.

"Well guys, what time is it?" "We have twenty minutes til turn-around." "We can make it guys!" "I don't know man, that's further than we think." "Those clouds don't look good. And we still have to hike down and out." "Yeah but we're so close, I'm gonna be disappointed if we don't make it!" "Don't make it an ego trip, that's how people die man!" "We have twenty minutes, how about we hike as far as we can and be proud of what we did accomplish with our bull**** planning!" "Lets do it!" "Sounds good."

We made it to the ridge just below the peak, it would have taken another half an hour maybe but nothing was in our favor. We sat in awe, exhaustion, and defeat as the peak stood solemn and menacing above us. We took it all in: the snowy ridge across the valley, the sun soaked landscape below us, the crisp air, it was a amazing. Reluctantly our time was up, so we so started back down, aspirations set high to one day return again.

We made it down the mountain in an hour and back to camp before two hours. Ate a hardy lunch, packed up camp, and hiked out. On the way we stopped at twilight to listen to some bull elk bugle from only a few hundred yards away- close enough that after a few seconds after their eerie cries we could here the crackling thunder of antlers and an intense battle for power. We hiked like robots into the night, our feet numb, backs and shoulders stinging, yet we were blissfully content. Around 9:00pm we made it to the trail head and made it home a little after 1:00am.

The magic of mountains is that they put you in your place. They are the extreme examples of power, strength, and determination- those are also the characteristics that they invoke in you when in their footsteps. Just as the old cliche goes, "Rome wasn't built in a day," many mountains aren't climbed on the first try. In many cases its a life's endeavor. I went to the wilderness for golden trout and I found them, climbing a mountain was just a bonus. I honestly doubted myself the morning of the climb, but I couldn't be happier of how far I got. The sores and stiffness were badges of my determination. Measuring success is futile and pointless! The true joy of an experience is from what changed in yourself. Don't go to the mountains wanting to conquer them, because they'll crush your ego without trying. Don't go fishing planning to catch fifty fish, they'll skunk you with delight. Be humble, push as hard as you can, learn from everything around you, be thankful for what you have and what you've done, enjoy your surroundings, be happy and share your happiness: That is Success, anything else is waste.

Cloud Peak- I'll see you in spring.   

(All but two photos courtesy of Joe Nagle)