July 14-16, 2021
- Start: Eugene, Oregon
- End: Lander, Wyoming
- Distance: 994 miles (+ an extra 60 miles to help out a CDT thru-hiker)
Calling of this post “Day 0” is arguably a bit misleading. It didn’t take me just a single day of travel to Wyoming for this backpacking trip in the Wind River Range. In reality, it required a nearly 1,000 mile journey from my home in Eugene, Oregon to the NOLS headquarters in Lander, Wyoming. And so, I split up the solo drive over three tiring days.
I probably could have made it all the way to Lander in two really long days if I’d pushed myself hard. But it’s not a proper road trip (in my opinion) unless you find a handful of cool places to stop and enjoy along the way.
My first day of driving took me from Eugene all the way to the border with Idaho – right along the Snake River. It was a pretty unremarkable day, driving over the Cascade Mountains and across the eastern Oregon desert.
I had no sightseeing goals this first day of my trip other than to drive, drive, drive for nearly 400 miles, amid the now brutal mid-July heat. The temperature gauge on my car read 100+ degrees outside. And when I was force to stop for road construction on U.S. 20, I didn’t even want to turn the car off for fear I might roast in the sun without the air conditioning.
IDAHO
The following day, I had several stops planned for my next 325-mile leg of the trip. The two most interesting ones weren’t until the end of the day through. So I made my way east down the interstate, through Boise and its sprawling suburbs, past Mountain Home, Twin Falls, Burley, and into eventually into Pocatello.
For anyone who’s yet to drive through the Idaho, you might be imagining nothing but potato fields waiting to be harvested so the crop can be turned into delicious French fries. That landscape exists, but not until you get to the far southeastern side of the state, where the elevation is closer to 4,500’ to 5,000’ and the summer temperatures become more moderate.
The drive on I-84 wasn’t nearly as scenic as I drove across the wide southern expanse of the state. The majority of my day was simply spent driving along the Columbia Plateau and Snake River plain, both of which are almost entirely flat and covered in sage and the basalt from ancient volcanic eruptions. And it all looked remarkably similar to the deserts and ranches in eastern Oregon.
This lackluster topography all changed when I got near Pocatello though. The Rocky Mountains rose up in front of me along with grassy plateaus and deep valleys. Pocatello is nestled down in one of those valleys, and my reward for a long day of boring driving was a leisurely stop at Off the Rails Brewery – where a flight of beer and a filling meal was calling my name.
With a full belly, I set for the other side trip I’d been waiting for day long. I was heading to Lava Hot Springs, a small town just east of Pocatello that converted its local thermal hot springs into a lovely little tourist destination. And I’d booked myself at the Lava Campground in a cute little retro camper for the night so I could stop enjoy a relaxing evening at the springs.
The springs were a short walk from the campground and consisted of several different temperature pools. The coolest of the pools was 102-105°F, while the hottest one was around 112°F. I would have enjoyed this excursion even more on a wintery day, where the hot springs would have replicated a warm spa juxtaposed against the cold air. But alas, I was visiting in July – where even the evening temperature was still well into the mid-80s.
After soaking as long as I could, I decided to hike a different route back to the campground. So I jumped onto a 2.2-mile trail labeled the Idaho Centennial Trail – not to be confused with the “real” ICT, a 1,300-mile trail that weaves its way through the entire state of Idaho from north to south – for a sunset hike up in the foothills above the hot springs.
Stretching my legs felt great after the long drive, and tomorrow I would get up to drive the final 275 miles into Lander, Wyoming, where I was scheduled to meet up with my NOLS group at our hotel at 5 pm for an inventory of our gear.
WYOMING
My final day of driving was filled with more rural state highways. And it was a good thing I downloaded the directions to Lander, WY before I departed Idaho this morning because the better part of my trip through Wyoming had absolutely no cell service and very few other cars.
I was taking the more direct route to Lander in an effort to avoid the touristy areas near Jackson, Wyoming and the Tetons in favor of towns with names like Cokeville, Kommerer, and Farson.
The most interesting part of my drive occurred barely an hour west of Lander when I passed over the Continental Divide and stopped to take a photo with the roadside sign. I was excited to think that less than a month ago, I was riding my bike over the Eastern Continental Divide on the Great Allegheny Passage, and here I was on the opposite end of the country driving over the Western Continental Divide!
I made it to my destination just after lunchtime, which was far too early to reasonably check in to the hotel. So I toured the tiny outdoorsy town of Lander instead – which was hosting a rock climbing convention that week – and then stopped for lunch at a small Mexican restaurant.
As I was driving back toward the hotel, I spotted someone with a backpack trying to hitch a ride and wondered if it was a CDT thru-hiker. I pulled over, and sure enough, it was a hiker from New Zealand named ‘Becks’ and she needed a ride back to the South Pass trailhead 30 miles back up the road.
With time to kill and a desire to build up my trail karma, I told her to hop in. I’d give her a ride back to the CDT!
NOLS INTRODUCTION
After returning back to Lander, I had just enough time to quickly check into the hotel, and grab my things for the evening meet-up with the rest of the NOLS crew. This climb up Gannett was part of a NOLS alumni trip, which meant that everyone participating had done a NOLS course already (or was a guest of an alumni). That meant we all had some basic wilderness skills, but beyond that, it was an eclectic group of people.
The group slowly tricked out into the hotel parking lot with their gear around 5 pm. And once assembled, a 15-passenger van and a trailer drove us over to the NOLS Rocky Mountain headquarters, which was barely a half mile up the road.
I was hoping our orientation would be quick and easy, but that was not to be the case. After quick introductions around, I discovered that there would be three instructors (Judd, Evan, and Matt) as well as nine students. Then we got to the part of the evening that I’d been dreading…the gear.
My discomfort was rooted into a bit of stubbornness. I really like my style of backpacking. I’ve spent a lot of time and miles dialing in my gear to what works for me with a good ratio of lightweight gear and willingness to forgo comfort items in favor of making my pack as light as possible. I’m not in the UL (ultralight) backpacking category with a sub-8 pound base weight or anything. But I do try to stick to the 10-12 point range.
But, deep down, I knew this expedition was going to require me to emplace some different (and heavier) gear. I wasn’t just backpacking into the Wind River Range. I was planning to attempt to summit the tallest mountain in the state – Gannett Peak!
This meant I’d brought my biggest pack (a 60L ULA Circuit) and I’d also swapped out my trail runners for a pair of hiking boots that would work with crampons. Unfortunately, much more physical discomfort was about to rear its ugly head.
The NOLS instructors broke us into teams of three, and then issued each trio a generous amount of NOLS gear that we needed to collectively pack away. We had tents, bug bivies, crampons, ice axes, ropes, snow pickets, climbing harnesses, cook systems, pots and pans, and enough food to feed out each team 3-4 times over.
And then we got an additional surprise. Just as I we started to load up our packs on the grassy lawn, the sprinklers came on and began to soak everything in front of us! What a mess it was as we all hurriedly scrambled to get our wet gear somewhere dry to finish packing amid the sun starting to set.
Honestly, I don’t know how I fit all the required items into my pack. I had barely any personal items – just my 30°F down quilt, jacket, rain gear, sleep clothes, an extra pair of socks, and some toiletries. But my pack was busting at the seams.
There was a scale hanging from rafters in front of the building and people were busy weighing their packs. My pack was the lightest at 40 pounds – and I still didn’t even have my requisite 2L of water packed yet. Meanwhile most the other participants had packs in the 55-65 pound range simply because they had bigger packs, heavier sleeping bags, and a few more comfort items.
What the heck?!?! Why were we all carrying 40- to 65-pound packs on this trip?? It seemed wholly unnecessary. There was no way around the mountaineering gear, but I could see sooooo many ways to cut weight and make this trip easier.
For starters, why did we have so much damn food?!? Every long-distance hiker knows food is insanely heavy. That’s why we try to maximize our calorie-to-weight ratio and go for foods that pack a lot of “bang for the buck.”
Weight is a major reason why I love dehydrated refried beans so much when I’m hiking a long trail. They’re super light. They have lots of protein. They’re fairly inexpensive. And I can turn them into so many meals… Bean burritos, Frito pie, black bean soup with dehydrated veggies, beans and cheese, etc.
Yet, NOLS seemed to want us to carry both the heaviest and the bulkiest foods possible – including multiple one-pound blocks of cheese, several giant summer sausages, three jars of peanut butter, whole onions, bags of rice, a robust and heavy spice kit, and perhaps the biggest pack of flour tortillas I’ve seen outside of a Costco. And that was just a fraction of the food for a group of three people!
I was not wondering what the heck I’d gotten myself into. We’re only going out backpacking for 9 days. We were eating breakfast here in town before we head out to the trailhead, and we have the van meeting us with breakfast the last morning. That meant we only needed 7 breakfasts, 8 lunches, and 8 dinners. There was no reason to carry enough food to feed an Antarctic expedition and a team of sled dogs!
But, I had to breathe and just remind myself that I wasn’t here on this trip to go as fast as possible. Or as light as possible. Or any of the other things. I’d come out here to learn some new mountaineering skills. And that meant I needed to swallow my critiques and just accept I was going to do this thing the NOLS way.
