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A slice of the Bob. Photos courtesy of Jared Oyler and Geno Bassett. |
The
240,000-sq. mile swath of wild country, known affectionately as “the Bob,” actually
includes three separate wilderness areas—the Bob Marshall, Scapegoat, and Great
Bear. Mr. Bob was the spirited conservationist and cofounder of the Wilderness
Society. He spent several years in Missoula while working for the Forest
Service. I’m not sure how much time this giant among conservationists spent in
what later became his namesake, but I can imagine he was familiar with it. Legend
has it that Bob was fond of forging multi-day expeditions into the backcountry,
covering long distances with few provisions. That’s kind of what we were
planning to do. Ultrarunners would be pleased to know that he set the record
for the most Adirondack peaks bagged in one day.
Tim Mosbacher
and Andy Tucknott, scouting a portion of our route, were told that it could not
be done in one day. Period. Traversing on foot sixty miles east to west as the
crow flies, the aviator told them, was impossible in one day. Even if his
mileage was off, the spirit of his sentiment was clear: if by airplane or map
the country appeared big, just try to imagine negotiating it close up.
Of course
when someone says something can’t be done, human nature (or folly) itches to
prove that wrong. Steve Brown, who bore the original vision and persistence, insisted
it could be done, and in his soft-spoken way convinced the rest of us to
believe him. Steve generated some real, lasting interest: of those originally
invited to join the expedition, only two declined due to other commitments, and
even a few others—myself included—were invited to join in the venture after the
date had already been set. If this bus has wheels, how could we not climb
aboard? The prospects and company were too alluring.
Admittedly, the
plan posed logistical challenges. How to drop off sixteen people and their gear
at the eastern edge of the Bob Marshall at a random point thirty miles down a
dirt road, and then arrange to pick them up (how many hours later?) at Holland
Lake where—if they made it—they would be fed, nursed, and transported home. For
us, this meant a real community effort. Andy Tucknott, a motivating force
behind this crazy idea but struggling with an injury, shuttled some of us and
our gear to the campground at Benchmark. So did JB Yonce, a rock in the
Missoula running community still recovering from a health scare at the Boston
Marathon. Andy and JB, along with John Hart and Kate Oyler, drove us to the
campsite and stayed with us till morning.
Around 4:30am
I heard the first whispers outside my tent. Headlights moved about the dark sky
like phantoms. It was time to rise. Under a bright moon, folks huddled around a
picnic table sipping coffee and munching oatmeal. John Hart, who had just finished
the Western States 100 (in under 24 hours I might add), said it reminded him of
an aid station at hour 21 of a 100-mile race.
The group
mood brimmed with excitement and anticipation as we loaded our gear into JB’s
boat, bade farewell to our good shuttlers, and started along the trail single
file, the light from our headlamps bouncing up and down like fireflies. Everyone
looked forward to the morning portion—from Benchmark campground we faced flat
miles shadowing the South and West Forks of the Sun River. Within a few miles
we emerged into the burned-zone, stripped-bare trees reminders of mighty fires
that had swept through in 1988 and recently. Signs alerted us to keep our eye’s
peeled for bears. Of the 1000+ grizzlies populating the West, many make the Bob
and the adjoining Glacier National Park their home. At about Mile 5 we crossed the
bridge spanning the South Fork and enjoyed the single-track paralleling the
river closely from a bench line through shaded undergrowth. The running here
was a delight. The sun lit the high mountain rocks towering over Sun River,
creating a reflection of deep red and orange hues. Those first miles we made
good time: 10 miles in a little more than two hours.
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The South Fork of the Flathead River at dawn. |
Around Mile
12 we faced our first major river crossing; some removed shoes, most waded
through. After fording the west fork, we followed Indian Creek along a single-track
trail to White River Pass. Along this section the paced slowed considerably as
the group settled into the rhythmic cadence of speed walking. With the sun now
lighting up the sky, we gladly stopped at a small stream gushing from the north
to refill our bottles and regroup. We spotted two black bears on the slope
above us several hundred feet away. At Mile 16.25, now 4:15 in, we reached the
pass (the Continental Divide and the boundary between Lewis & Clark County
and Powell County), which offered our first real view of the country with the
Swans in the distance. Most impressive was Fault Peak, the imposing rock
formation, presenting what Cody called a “geologist’s orgy.”
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Ascending White River Pass. |
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Speeding down the pass. |
We snaked our
way down the pass at a good clip and reached the South Fork of the White River.
A short distance on we forded the main river and followed the trail for about 5
miles to White River Park and the confluence of the White River and the South
Fork of the Flathead River. This was mostly a flat trail, but with the day’s
heat bearing down upon us we made slow progress. At the section’s end, where we
faced another crossing of the White, many paused to soak in the river. I noticed
that smiles still adorned most faces, but they seemed a bit forced considering
what immediately confronted us still: the long slog along the north bank of
Holbrook Creek and into the Big Salmon Creek drainage.
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Wishcamper soaking it up. |
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River crossing near the confluence of the White River and the South Fork of the Flathead River. |
I reveled in
the shade cast by ponderosa trees near the confluence of the White and the
Flathead. The ponderosas that had escaped the burn towered over the budding
undergrowth of Douglas firs and Lodgepole pines that were locked in a Darwinian
survival struggle. Once we hit the trail up Holbrook, (take caution in locating
this trail, it’s not easy to find) we faced a dry, gradual ascent. I was
running out of water having opted not to drink unfiltered from the White. Although
the trail paralleled Holbrook Creek, the water was still a distance off the trail.
But when we reached a point where Holbrook Creek was merely a trickle, we stepped
off the trail to spend several blissful moments drinking to our hearts content.
By the time
we reached Big Salmon Creek drainage on the other side of Holbrook and within
striking distance of the Forest Service’s Pendant cabin, the strain of the
previous 40 miles was beginning to manifest. The food thing is sometimes
difficult to get right on long runs. Each runner has to figure it out for
herself, but there can be no surefire way to prevent nausea, diarrhea, or vomiting.
Puking on the trail makes for a long day, and that is what at least two of our
crew faced, but they eventually came through beautifully. Stomach issues are
common to ultra running, though perhaps a few in our group may blame this day’s
manifestations on the Omni Bar, a new product featuring a curious blend of
sweet potato, apricot, raisins, nuts, beef, and god knows what else. Tim M. jokingly
remarked (twice, just to be understood) it would be impossible to know whether one’s
diarrhea derived from the Omni or from unfiltered, mule-tainted water. Someone
should volunteer for a controlled experiment someday.
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Pendant Pass Party |
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Becky and Dave with Holland Lake -- and the finish -- looming. |
Seeing the Bob on a
map is not seeing it at all. The Bob is best experienced by venturing deep
within, maybe even traversed, over one day or seven. But having now crisscrossed
a portion of it I still find it hard to wrap my mind around the scale of it
all. Perhaps that’s just as well. Wilderness—some places with the official
designation, many others not officially “protected” but just as “wild” and
“untrammeled,” at least for now—perhaps best remain the vast, untouched, mysterious
places that we time and again return to for renewal.
List of Epic RatBob 2013 Finishers:
- Dana Bandy
- Geno Bassette
- Tim Brooker
- Steve Brown
- Ken Ellis
- Lance Fisher
- Dean McGovern
- Tim Mosbacher
- Jared Oyler
- Tyson O’Connell
- James Pyke
- Becky Riley
- Jed Rogers
- Cody Stekly
- Kevin Twidwell
- Rick Wishcamper
Great recap of our adventure, Jed. I think you really captured the day.
ReplyDeleteYou had me at bouncing firefly headlamps, Jed! Thanks for the multifaceted, inside view into your wild journey. I can't help but wonder, though, what you all did when you encountered great gobs of huckleberries hanging from trailside bushes...
ReplyDeleteReally fun, and great video, too.
Thanks for the great write-up! Here are the GPS tracks: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/349935630
ReplyDelete