Fox Creek, Near Ketchum, ID -- Sept 26, 2008

Our last full day in Idaho and we had planned to revisit the legendary Pioneer Cabin hike. But this late in the season, the sheep were migrating back toward the valley and were currently grazing on a section of the trail we'd be traversing. Herds of sheep don't bother me, but they were accompanied by some very loyal sheep dogs that weren't big fans of strangers and had recently been harassing hikers. The fine folks at the Ranger's Station advised that if we had any doubts we should choose another trail.

Our helper at the Ranger's Station recommended the Fox Creek hike, which wasn't a terribly strenuous hike, but had the unique attribute of running through a portion of the Castle Rock fire of 2007. This had been a large, devastating forest fire north and west of Ketchum the previous summer. I'd been curious about seeing the results, and the chance to hike through an area now regenerating itself was too unique to pass up.

We drove to the Lake Creek trail head. I have to say -- I love trail heads in the US. They are well-marked, and have these very informative bulletins nearby. We have these is Canada, but it's often hit and miss. Often if there is some sort of information station, it likely hasn't been updated in 2 or 3 years.



Big Wood River in the fall. I could sit and stare forever. That's a hint of Baldy in the distance.



It doesn't take long to get to the sagebrush and desert part of the hike.



But the sage just makes the colours stand out more:





Beautiful. Something about these mountains always makes me stop and stare:



This wasn't part of the burn area, but the whole field was littered with black, twisted roots.



The trail cut back along the river and into the side of the mountain. There were lots of bikers along this rocky ledge, which surprised me.



Big Wood River in the fall:




We started to see some evidence of the fire.... we thought this was it, but this was "only" the edge:



Already some regrowth:



Fox Creek is actually a part of a series of loops and trails in the area. I love how well signed everything is, and of course for me seeing distances in terms of quarter miles is a reminder I'm not at home ;-):



Couldn't get enough of the colours:



Flower! I'm not even going to try to attempt the naming on this one:



The actual burn area. Nothing but black and tan... and then this incredibly lush green undergrowth as the forest starts to recover:





Buds from one of the green plants... I still hadn't clued in....



RASPBERRIES!! The first plant taking root in a burned out forest.... raspberry bushes.



It was amazingly green and lush among the dry tinder:









Some of the burned bark was peeling right off the trees to reveal new wood underneath:









Back out into the sage. There weren't many signs of burn here, but sometimes it was tough to tell.





Midway through the sage, we found an area on the edge of the forest that had burned in a horseshoe, leaving a central area completely untouched. Fire is amazing:



We almost missed it, but this tree is not really planted... it's actually sitting on top of the ground, resting against the other tree:



The base is completely hollowed out:



They aren't the Rockies of Alberta... but they're so beautiful in their own right...



Fascinating to see how the forest regrows after such devastation. It'll be a place worth visiting next time we're in Idaho.

Book Review: Summit Tales - Early Adventures in the Canadian Rockies

I haven't really mentioned many hiking books here, but I've been reading so much outdoors material lately it seems like a crime not to. I alternate between regional, worldwide, current and historical in my reading, so I'm somewhat all over the map... literally and figuratively.

While mountain climbing is not something I've done, early exploration of the Canadian Rockies is a big favorite topic for me. How did people manage to climb such rocky peaks in the early 1900s without the benefit of the equipment we have today?How were maps drawn, weather monitored? How did it feel to discover unknown (to the white man anyway) peaks and passes? Did women climb?

Summit Tales - Early Adventures in the Canadian Rockies shines a light on this topic and tells of the amazing people who set out to chart and photograph the Canadian Rockies, and became some of North America's first mountaineers along the way.

Mountains were not originally climbed for pleasure, but for science. They were scaled for sample gathering, early photography, glacier research or for creating maps. The hardy men (and women) who climbed these peaks did so with nothing more than ropes and ice axes for equipment, and boots with nails driven into the soles for hiking boots, often lugging pounds of 1900-era surveying equipment.

Many photos even show the men happily walking along a treacherous ridge while calming smoking a pipe!

In fact when mountaineering began to get "sporty" and there was the inevitable fatality, there was a country-wide outcry to ban mountain climbing outright. There were only 2 deaths attributed to falls in the first 30 years of climbing in the Canadian Rockies, due in large part to the Swiss guides brought in to ensure safe climbing.

Summit Tales introduces us to the people who helped shape the Rockies by discovering and naming the peaks and passes we all love today. There were definitely some characters and personality from all walks of life (largely European, but the Americans made their mark as well), and while not all are models of good behavior -- or even all that likable -- their tales and politics are fascinating to read.

Only a precious few women make the cut, but they are there. As astounding as it is to see photos of men on a peak, perfectly dressed in hats and suits for the camera, it's even more astounding to see the women dressed to the nines as well, wearing boots that I'm sure were intended for anything but hiking.

Most of the history covered here is from about 1890 to 1925, and if there's one complaint about the book is that with each notable climber separated into his own story, it's tough to gauge which climber's story is intertwined with another's. Some climber's groups seemed almost dependent on each other, while others' seemed to exist in their own bubble.

Fans of the backcountry around Lake Louise and the Icefields Parkway will enjoy this for the history of this magnficent area. I liked it purely as a outdoors fan and local history buff, while climber will probably be interested in the roots of the area and the politics and exploits surrounding the the first ascents of many peaks. There's even a little for photographers as there is plenty of description of climbers lugging heavy load of surveying and photography equipment to the top.

Photos of the area over a hundred years ago are alone worth picking up the book.

I believe it's out of print now, but the local library has quite a few copies, and Amazon has used copies for sale.

Stanley and Redfish Lake, ID -- September 24, 2008

This isn't so much about a hiking trail as it is about a woefully unknown area in central Idaho near a small town called Stanley. Stanley isn't even a town in the traditional sense -- it's more of a village, a crossroads, but a delightful one.

Though we'd been through Stanley many times (it's about an hour North of Ketchum/Sun Valley), we'd never actually *been* there. We'd never stopped, turned off the highway, checked out the area.

For starters, we turned down Highway 21, and then turned into a campground and day use area called Stanley Lake. It being late September, it was pretty deserted. That's the only possible way this camp site, possibly one of the most amazing ones in the state, could still be open:



The view from that camp site:



Looking down Stanley Lake:



Just north of Stanley Lake, the mountains in fall:



Noooooo, not another Centennial trail!!



Driving back to Stanley..... the sage, the fall colours, and the amazing Sawtooth Mountains in the background (look at the tops of the mountain and the thin, sharp looking ridges.... hence the name Sawtooth):







Approaching Stanley from the north. The buildings are actually officially part of "Lower Stanley":



A look at Stanley from down the Salmon River:



Just down Highway 75 from Stanley is the always amazing Redfish Lake -- a popular recreation area and beach. During the summer, this is one of the most popular lakes around. There are a number of hiking trails in the area, plus quite a few equestrian and mountain biking opportunities. There are camping facilities, plus log cabins that can be rented. There are a number of canoes, boats and other water toys available for rent. In other words, the place is a zoo. In the fall, it's a little calmer (and colder):



End of season sale at the General Store. Note half-empty parking lot in background.



The Redfish Lake Lodge:



What a lonely looking beach:



There was no one working the rental counter, but the boats were still out. A summertime resort takes on such a different feel when fall hits:



Driving south on Highway 75, all alone in the world:



If you looked quickly at the sage-covered hills, it almost looked like they were on fire. It's not the fall colours of New England, but in a landscape that is generally nothing but shades of brown, the colour stood out:



Sawtooth Mountains:





Looking down over the valley we'd just driven through.





Approaching Ketchum, and seeing our friend Baldy in the distance:

Bald Mountain, Ketchum, Idaho -- September 23, 2008

When the Hip Hiker household decides to seek out peace and quiet away from home, the road usually takes us to a little town in Idaho called Ketchum.... also known the as town right next to Sun Valley. It's a winter playground for most, but Dave and I have only ever been there in the summer. It's our favorite summer getaway.

And the hiking is amazing.

For years we've been wanting to tackle Bald Mountain -- known affectionately as Baldy -- the ski hill that looms over the Ketchum/Sun Valley area. Every year we've turned back. No matter how you approach it, hiking up a ski hill is a formidable task.

This was going to be the year. No matter what.

We approached Baldy from the Warm Springs side. This was excellent strategy, since our condo was only a few blocks away and close enough to limp home to once the hike was over.

From the bottom of the ski hill.... the Warm Spring lodge.. beautiful building:



Looking down at Warm Springs from about 15 minutes up the hill. Those are the snow making guns along the trail. We took a service road up the hill because we thought it would be easier. As you can see, it wasn't.



The upside to climbing straight up a mountain is how quickly you gain height. Looking north east, and down at the maintenance shed about 45 minutes into the hike.



The "more difficult" made me laugh.



Peeking through the trees at Sun Valley Road, north of Sun Valley.



I'm used to the Rockies, but this is pretty amazing to me....



A look at the town of Ketchum, with Sun Valley in the background.



Another look at Ketchum and Sun Valley



Looking east, including Hyndman Peak



Same angle... I just love the softness of the sage covered mountains in the foreground:





In 2007, the area was struck by the Castle Rock fire. The area of Warm Springs was evacuated as the flames reached Baldy and threatened many homes. The trail took us past some of the fire damage on the northwest side





Looking west at more velvety hills.. can't get enough... some of the fire damage can be seen right in front:



Looking northwest.... up high now..



Wow.



We made it to the top! And Dave was really happy about it.



Ski lifts at the top. The sign says elevation 9010 feet.



Ketchum/Sun Valley again:



Another look at the burned area:





More to come from Ketchum....

Coalmine -- September 14, 2008

After the muscle strain that was Centennial Ridge, there was no way I was going on anything more than a gentle stroll this weekend. However, I did find myself drawn back to the same area.

I've mentioned before that I'm a bit of a coal mining history geek. I've had my eye on a trail in the Kananaskis area that leads to a reclaimed mining site, and it just happened to be a turn-off from the same trail as Centennial Ridge. Passing by it the week before just whetted my appetite, so David and I returned to the scene of last week's crime.

Plus I wanted David to see just how bad Centennial was.

How bad? Again, here's the hiking sign, this time with a "normal" hiking sign. The hiking guy that looks like he's stepping up an enormous hill is not exaggerating:



The history I have about this area is brief: Coal was discovered in the early 1900s, but lack of access roads made mining the area less than viable. By the late 40s, an access road had been built and strip mining began in earnest. After a year the operation went underground due a particularly thick seam in the mountain. The mine was in operation for 5 years before freight costs got too high and the demand for coal briquettes lessened.

This trail isn't particularly well marked, but I could tell we were getting close:



When the trail starting to go from dirt under our feet to this, we knew we had to be in the area:



Even the hills around us showed the sign of the "other" black gold:



However, once at the end of this brief hike, there's really nothing left to see, which is great on the reclamation side.... not so interesting on the history side:



I did notice some coal cars sitting near the trailhead for Ribbon Creek (on the other side of the parking lot), so there's still more to discover about this area....