Marvel at the cathedral of the sky in Montana
Scenic Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness is a treasure of solitude and splendour
RED LODGE, MONT. Crawl from your warm sleeping bag out the tent door, into the darkness and predawn wind whipping across the plateau. Look up at the cathedral of the sky. Watch the whirlpool of constellations spin overhead. Hold your breath.
It’s hard not to feel vertigo in the majesty of Montana’s wilderness. Whether you seek the rocky heights of a 10,000-foot (3,000-metre) peak or an endless chain of lakes, pastels in a mountain meadow or the endless catch of trout, trek into the one of the state’s most magnificent ranges — the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness — to find solitude and grandeur.
Don’t be put off by the name of the best way to get in there: the Beaten Path, a 26-mile (42-kilometre) trail that climbs up and over the Gallatin National Forest watershed divide, wending its way past pond after lake, peak after cliff, meadow after plateau. The trail has a reputation for high foot and horse traffic, but in the five days we backpacked through last summer, my hiking partner and I saw just a handful of others and embraced the solitude.
The trailhead sits at the southeastern edge of East Rosebud Lake. Accessible by car from the north via a 14-mile (22-kilometre) road from Roscoe, the lake’s shores are dotted with cottages and cabins, and make it an easy jumping-off point for the wilderness.
We decided, however, to access the path via Red Lodge, a tourist town east of the wilderness that is best known as the beginning of the Beartooth Highway, the breathtaking drive that climbs to 11,000 feet (3,352 metres) while winding along the border with Wyoming.
After spotting a car just west of Red Lodge, we hitchhiked twothirds of the way up West Fork Road, until we got to a trailhead to climb north — and up — out of the river valley and onto the Red Lodge Creek plateau. Much of the valley and surrounding ridgeline is a moonscape of charred timber and ash on the forest floor, the result of a 2008 fire. Our boots and legs were grey and dusty by the time we reached tree line, and the parched vales and stream beds on the way up made us glad we packed extra water.
Up to 9,800 feet (3,000 metres) then down off the ridge, we camped on the marshy shores of Crow Lake, hemmed in by a seam of serrated peaks that turned crimson at sunset. The following day, we climbed out of the valley and descended a dusty switchback to arrive at East Rosebud Lake.
The next day we climbed, alternating between switchbacks and scree fields perched over the creek scouring the valley walls. When the trail widened again, along Rainbow Lake, the sun had turned the waters into a sea of floating jewels. We took a couple of cliff dives from the overlooking ledges into the frigid alpine water, then apologized to the guy patiently casting flies just around the corner.
One of the beauties of the Montana alpine terrain is how easy it is to wander. That night, we bushwhacked off trail, upstream to Echo Lake. Pika Peak, named for the small rodent we saw occasionally darting along the trail, was bathed in a tangerine sunset. We were astounded that we pulled in brook trout well over a foot long: Pan-fried trout for dinner and breakfast.
We reached the headwaters of East Rosebud Creek the next day, after a gradual climb up and across meadow after meadow, past Impasse Falls, the highest cascade along the path.
We topped out at the divide, at 10,200 feet (3,100 metres), at Fossil Lake. We bundled up and descended.
At Fulcrum Lake, we ate dinner perched on a rock at water’s edge. Below us, mountains stretched to the horizon. And when the winds quieted at dusk, the lake’s surface swallowed the port sky. Pinprick starlight bounced back into the heavens from where it came.
On the final climb down, we passed so many lakes, we had to resist trying to fish every one of them. The lake names themselves are things to behold: Anvil, Sourdough, Stardust, Courthouse, Fossil, Fizzle, Froze to Death, No Bones, Dude.
The riot of wildflower reds, oranges and yellows beneath our feet took the edge off our wilderness farewell and re-entry to civilization.