Beartooth Pass has been called the most scenic drive in America, and with every new bend in the road Conor Mulroy and I agreed with that statement. We had left Jackson at 9pm and got held up in Yellowstone construction for hours. Around one in the morning we found the place we had planned on bivouacing at; a church a mile outside of Silver Gate. We parked in front and pulled our sleeping bags around to the back and found a dirtbag's dream sleeping spot; out of sight, with an awning overhead and carpet on the floor, a mountain next to us with Soda Butte Creek a stone's throw away, and unbelievable stars above.
We awoke at 8am when the sun reached our -20 sleeping bags and made them too hot, grabbed breakfast in Cooke City, and hit the road for the pass. There was still a lot of construction to hold us up, but the spectacular setting of the Clark Fork of the Yellowstone where Hemmingway used to fish, held our attention along with the plethora of wildflowers.
The terrain was very Montanan with the heavily forested mountain valleys and perfect fishing streams below. But then we made it up higher to the Beartooth plateau and it was unlike any place I've ever been. Conor said it was a bit like Ireland and Norway. There were green rolling hills all around but they had drop-offs into deep canyons. My guess is that a huge glacier squashed the once jagged peaks here into the rolling hills, not leaving many mountain tops around except for Pilot Peak, seen in this photo.
Every time we dropped in or bootpacked back up, there was a big crowd gathering around to watch the spectacle, thinking we were nuts. I thought about putting a tip jar out on Mulroy's car. We ran into two people biking the pass and learned that they were from Jackson too. I said, "What are the chances that the only active people on top of this pass are from Jackson? Pretty, pretty, pretty good."
One guy got off his motorcycle and said to Cons and I, "You guys must have balls the size of watermelons!" Then he gave us a fierce handshake. I turned to Cons and said my balls were still recovering from swimming in the ice-cold lake at the bottom of the run. Another Floridian biker wanted to have his picture taken with us. It was like we just cured cancer. We were celebrity's up there. Too bad there weren't any hot chicks there to take notice.
A few beers, a few laughs, our problems are over. We did 1,000 vert. laps and kicked off our boots and laid in the sunshine in the meadows between laps. On the last lap up the afternoon thunderstorms were rolling in and we made it back to the car before the rain.
The Bear's Tooth
Ahh, Ireland at last. How I've wanted to see thee for many moons. Next time I'll come mid-June when there's more snow.
We had a late afternoon lunch outside at a cafe in Cooke City. I never anticipated having a gyro in Montana, let alone a good one. There were many different good beers to choose from too, so we took our time and watched the thunderstorm sweeping through the mountainous valley before continuing on our long drive back through Yellowstone. We drove through the Lamar Valley in the northeast corner, a part of the Park I'd never seen yet, and it was stunning. Tons of perfect water for fishing, very green and lots of wildlife. I could spend a long time in this part of the country fishing, floating, skiing, hunting and climbing. It's now one of my favorite parts of the country.
