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Frontier Life

Climbing Finis Mitchell’s Mountain

June 26, 2012 by Shelli

Howdy.

Last Thursday, my husband, Jerry, and I left Lander at (gasp) 3:45 am. It was a two-hour drive to the Big Sandy Opening trailhead, and our plans for the day were ambitious: to climb Mitchell Peak and get back to Lander in time for our middle son’s 5:30 pm baseball game.

We made the drive under a star-filled sky, which meant we had picked a stellar day. As we entered the Big Sandy Opening area we noticed our “outside temperature” gauge reporting 21 degrees. OMG. We didn’t plan for below-freezing temperatures. It would be a frigid start. Even with all of our layers on and walking at a brisk pace, we were shivering for the first five miles before the trail left the forest and we could finally feel the warmth of the sun.

We had hiked the route many times before, at least once a year for several years. On this day, we would hike from Big Sandy Opening to Big Sandy Lake, up over the first part of Jackass Pass, to North Lake, where we’d take a hard right and head up Mitchell Peak’s southern slopes before gaining its northwest “walk up” ridge.

Mitchell Peak is part of the famous Cirque of the Towers, one of the most spectacular sights you will ever see. The sight of the Cirque takes my breath away every time I see it. This is partially due to the effort it takes to get there, but mostly due to its sheer and unspeakable beauty. The sight of the Cirque can move you to tears, and it inspires you for days, weeks and months after.

You can access the Cirque via Big Sandy Opening and Jackass Pass (which straddles the Continental Divide and gets its name because it’s so rugged a donkey can’t pass over it — and a stupid person can – LOL) or via Dickinson Park and the North Fork Trail. The former is a harder hike, but shorter in distance — about 15 miles roundtrip. It is truly an epic hike given the jaw-dropping scenery and the rugged terrain. The latter is easier — with only 900′ of gain over the course of about 15 miles (30 roundtrip), but with 5 river crossings.

My husband, Jerry, at Big Sandy Lake, about six miles into our hike.

Jerry and I have wanted to climb Mitchell Peak since at least 1997, the year we first camped near the Cirque of the Towers. (Prior to Thursday, we had climbed Lizard Head, Wind River Peak and other peaks in the southern Wind River Range.)

Mitchell Peak is named for the late Finis Mitchell, who remains a hero to our family. During The Depression, Mitchell, and his wife, stocked 2.5 million trout in many of the high country lakes in the Wind River Range by carrying the fish in milk jugs on their horses. A true mountaineer, Mitchell knew the Winds like the back of his hand. He climbed all but 20 of the 300 peaks in the range. Mitchell remained an advocate of the Wind River Range until his death in 1995.

We named our youngest son, Finis, after Finis Mitchell. (By the way, many are unaware of this, but Finis’s name was pronounced in a way that rhymes with “highness.”) Anyhow, Finis Mitchell is pretty special to us, and this was another reason we wanted to stand on top of Mitchell Peak.

The hike from the trailhead to Big Sandy Lake is a walk in the park. It’s a pretty flat 6 miles, mostly through forest and sometimes running parallel to Big Sandy River. Big Sandy Lake is beautiful, surrounded by Big Sandy Mountain, Haystack Mountain, East Temple and Mt. Scheistler. In our experience, sunlight is almost always dancing on the lake’s surface. The lake looks like it has “dancing diamonds” on top of it.

Walk past the lake and you’ll see a sign directing you up toward Jackass Pass. Think of this next section as a lung-buster — or as I like to say, an opportunity to snack on a little humble pie. excuse my language, but we often call Jackass Pass “kick your ass pass.” It’s that good. 🙂

We hiked uphill for a bit. The views, looking back, are impressive. We could see Schiestler Peak, East Temple and Temple peaks behind us. To our left was Warbonnet. Up ahead we were getting teased by Pingora, and the Cirque of the Towers, which were starting to jut out of the pass ahead of us. Also about this time, we were able to get a glimpse of Mitchell Peak.

Mitchell Peak, along with Dogtooth Mountain and Big Sandy Mountain, form a high northwest-southeast ridge on the Continental Divide.

I get excited when I am hiking along the Continental Divide. This means that precipitation that falls on the Big Sandy side eventually makes its way to the Gulf of California and the Pacific Ocean, by way of the Big Sandy, Green and Colorado rivers. Precipitation that falls to the other side eventually flows 4,000 miles to the Gulf of Mexico, by way of the Popo Agie, Bighorn, Yellowstone, Missouri and Mississippi rivers. It’s pretty cool to be walking along the backbone that splits these two realities.

North Lake.

We would descend to North Lake and then take a hard right and start our scramble up the mountain’s southern slopes. In reading about Mitchell Peak, we came across a report where Finis had indicated “even a 10-year-old could walk up.” It sounded like the route for us. (Disclaimer, a very fit 10-year-old could definitely summit Mitchell Peak, but would probably be best advised to do it during an extended camping trip in the area, rather than as a day hike from Big Sandy Opening.)

Pointing to our destination: Mitchell Peak's summit.

Beautiful flowers and Mitchell Peak in the same frame.

At just under seven miles, we reached the end of North Lake and left the trail for Mitchell. My GPS indicated we were at 10,500′, so we had about 2,000′ of vertical to go to claim Mitchell’s summit. Alrighty then. (Access to information is not always a good thing, right?) We paused and considered which route we would take. We could go to the left and follow a spring up. It looked most direct, but more treacherous than our option to the right. The route at right appeared to be more gentle so we headed that way.

This shows the terrain of our ascent.

It wasn’t long and we got past the big rocky outcrop and could start heading more directly toward Mitchell’s top. I didn’t need to check my GPS to learn we had arrived at 11,500′. I knew from past experience that, at least for me, once above 11,000,’ it’s like breathing with only part of a lung, or like someone knocked the wind out of me. So our going got slower but we could taste the summit. I mean, it was right there.

The scenery behind us and before us, was astounding. Silver granite towers jutted out of seemingly fragile alpine tundra, which was littered with boulders and delicate wildflowers.

Jerry, catching his breath.
Resting midway up Mitchell. That's the Cirque of the Towers in the background.

Finally we made it to the top. The views were even grander than we expected. We looked down upon the Cirque of the Towers, and because we were above the towers, we could see the depth of the Cirque. In all directions we had views of granite mountains, rivers and lakes tucked under cirques, some still with “blue ice” on them. Except for the summit’s high point, Mitchell’s top is pretty flat and broad. I was especially awe-struck after we ventured over to take in the views from directly above Mitchell’s 1,000-foot-tall and sheer north face. Wow.

Finis Mitchell, in his Wind River Trails book, said: “…Seldom does man ponder his own insignificance. He thinks he is master of all things. He thinks the world is his without bonds. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Only when he tramps the mountains alone, communing with nature, observing other insignificant creatures about him, to come and go as he will, does he awaken to his own short-lived presence on Earth.”

Indeed. As I sat on Mitchell’s summit taking in views of my beloved Wind River mountains, which are composed mostly of granite rock formed deep under the surface of the Earth over 1 billion years ago, I was humbled, and grateful.

By the way, when I’m not hiking — and sometimes when I am — I am a life and leadership coach and consultant. Check out EPIC LIFE, my coaching business. Epic Life provides coaching, with an option for a guided epic adventure. I also have a blog there.

Here are some photos, as well as a video blog of the day (compressed to 7 minutes).

Top of Mitchell, not quite to the high point.

Evidence that we were there.

This is what I call a peak experience.

As the saying goes: the summit is only the half-way point. To finish our epic hike, we had to turn around and return to our start. Here, Jerry starts down.
Cheers to an epic hike.

VIDEO BLOG OF THE HIKE:

Filed Under: Family, Fitness, Frontier Life, Life and Leadership Tagged With: cirque of the towers, finis mitchell, hiking, mitchell peak, wind river range, wyoming

Frontier Girl Eats Oysters For First Time

February 24, 2012 by Shelli

I just returned from Boston. It was my first visit. What a city! Among other things, I toured the Freedom Trail, ate oysters and New England clam chowder, quaffed a Sam Adams beer in the famous Cheers bar, and ate pastries from the North End. Lots of pastries.
A highlight was meeting up with Christine Perkett, of PerkettPR. She, too, has Wyoming roots, and I had not seen her in years. She joined me at America’s oldest restaurant, Union Oyster House, to provide “how to” and moral support for my first-ever eating of oysters. It was awesome. Scratch that. It. Was. Epic. 🙂
CHECK IT OUT:

Filed Under: Frontier Life, Travel & Tourism Tagged With: boston, epic, freedom trail, oysters

Epic Adventure – and Longing

November 10, 2011 by Shelli

Hi. My name is Shelli. I’m 43 years old. I have been married to Jerry for almost 20 years and we have three young sons, Wolf, 11, Hayden, 9, and Finis, 4.

Sending a message to my husband and sons from Alaska's Brooks Range.

This is a post about a wife and mother’s longing. It is also a post about a once-in-a-lifetime “epic” experience that I will never forget. It is also a post about gratitude. To be a wife and mother who was supported and encouraged to have an experience like the one recalled in this post is a gift for which I’ll be forever grateful. (With Thanksgiving approaching, now is a good time for me to thank most of all my husband, Jerry, who is my biggest champion, and who encouraged me to embark on this adventure while “holding down the fort.” Also, a big thank you to my parents, who helped with the boys while I was away, and to all who provide friendship and support to me.)

It was taking seemingly forever to get our expedition started. I was in The Last Frontier, headed to The Far North, to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, in Alaska’s Brooks Range. I had looked forward to this adventure for months and was ready to get the party started. But as I was finding out, it takes a long time to get away from civilization.

After a night in a Fairbanks campground, we boarded a small airplane and spent a couple of hours flying to Coldfoot. After landing, we loaded into a van and spent three more hours traveling north before, finally, we were dropped off along the side of the road.

I was on my way to spending 12 days backpacking and exploring, while learning wilderness travel, outdoor skills and leadership from the world’s premier teacher, the National Outdoor Leadership School.

The experience I was about to embark upon was a dream come true. Actually it was two dreams come true.

Up until my departure for this trip, I had just one regret in my life, and that was that I had never taken a NOLS course. I was raised in Lander, Wyoming, where NOLS is headquartered. During my formative years, my parents would have supported my enrollment in a NOLS course and had offered as much. Unfortunately, I was more interested in my social life and basketball. But that was then. Now, I am an outdoor enthusiast. I love everything NOLS stands for, and I take pride in the fact that my town is home to the organization.

In recent years, when my regret for having never enrolled in a NOLS course would surface, friends who work at NOLS would tell me, “You know, it’s never too late.” But I wasn’t quick to agree. After all, I am a mother of young children. It felt selfish to think of embarking on a 2-week adventure. So, enrolling in a NOLS course was no small deal for me. It was a dream that had been hard for me to “justify.”

The other reason the NOLS course would be a dream come true for me is because of its location. I travel the country in search of the most epic scenery. In my mind, no place embodied epic better than Alaska’s Brooks Range. It would be a dream come true for me to get to intimately explore such an epic place.

Alaska is huge. Situated in the northwest extremity of the North America, with Canada to the east, the Arctic Ocean to the north and the Pacific Ocean to the west and south, Alaska has a larger coastline that all U. S. states combined. Occupying 586,000 square miles, it is the largest U. S. state. And yet, it is the least populated. To put it in perspective, there is one person per square mile.

It’s vast, unpopulated and extremely wild, complete with grizzly bears. For all of these reasons, the NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course was perfect. Like I said, the things dreams are made of.

Except for one problem. It would come with some longing –– some serious longing.

Here is a clip of photos I captured and printed to be included in letters and cards a neighbor mailed to Jerry and boys for me every day while I was away:

Due to one of NOLS’ policies, which I understand, appreciate and support, I would have no communication with anyone outside of our course. That’s right, two weeks of no communication with my family.

The farther north we traveled on the Dalton Highway, the more excited I became. And yet at the same time, the farther north we traveled, the more heart sick I became as I realized the scale of this region and its distance from my family.

I should mention that traveling and being away from my family is not unusual for me. I travel frequently. When I am away, I miss them very much and, as a result I limit and select travel with great care. Typically I’m away for no longer than 1-3 days, and I can start and end each day in conversation with all of my sons. In a way, I can be there for them even though I’m geographically not there.

During my NOLS course, I would not be there for them. And, they would not be there for me.

I have many friends who are terrific role models as parents, who travel much more than I do. In the weeks leading up to my NOLS course, I looked to them for support. Their input was helpful. They told me things like, “This is good modeling for your sons. You want them to choose girls/women who are adventurous and brave.” And: “Think of the special gift you’re providing by leaving them to have these two weeks of special time with their father.” And: “Think of the country you will see and the tales of adventure you will get to share with your family upon your return.” And: “This is a dream of yours. It’s not a vacation, but an expedition. It will grow you. The knowledge and experience you gain from it will enable you to have a greater impact on the lives of your children, and future clients.” It all made perfect sense.

But. Still.

“Video Love Notes” I captured for Jerry and our sons during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course:

I worried aloud about not being here for my boys for two whole weeks. To this, some of closest friends reminded me that children are resilient and that although my sons love me, they probably wouldn’t miss me as much as I think they would, or as much as I would miss them. While hearing this was not exactly comforting, it was honest, and therefore helpful as I prepared to long for my boys.

Being away from my boys, with no ability to hear their voices and know how their lives and days were going, would – hands down – be the most difficult part of my NOLS experience. This much I knew.

The rain and intermittent snow, hiking through spongy tundra, and tussocks and through alders and across rivers and up steep, loose, exposed mountain ridges with a heavy pack on my back was easy compared to enduring the longing I had for my boys. The longing for my boys was at its worst at the end of each day when we all retreated to our tents. I would lie there and yearn to hear their voices, to smell their hair, to hold their hands, to “dog-pile” with them, and just to be in their presence. I was emotionally tender during these times. I literally had a heart ache.

Letter from our 4-year-old son, Fin.
Letter from our 9-year-old son, Hayden.
Letter from our 11-year-old son, Wolf.
The boys often roll their eyes at me, the only girl in our home. Here is a photo they included with their notes to me where there are glued on plastic rolling eyes glued onto their eyes.

When I sign up for something that is hard, I grow. My NOLS Brooks Range course was hard, all right. But, it was also, truly, an experience of a lifetime.

Despite the longing, I made life-long friends with my eight course-mates and our two wonderful instructors. I was blown away and inspired to new levels by the sights and scale of Alaska’s Brooks Range. I experienced the best leadership training, ever. I grew. I returned more, and better, than I was before. Part of this is due to the longing I experienced. Because my NOLS course meant sacrificing time and contact with my family, I participated in the course and experienced the Alaska tundra to the absolute fullest. As a result of all of these things, I cannot imagine a richer experience. And, I am quite certain that I returned a better mother and wife.

Photos I captured during my NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course for Jerry and our sons:

For all of you considering a NOLS course, I cannot recommend it enough. Please feel free to contact me to ask more personal or extensive questions about my experience.

This “self interview” captured on my final day in the Brooks Range says it better than my written words:

In closing, here are some things I did before my departure to ensure my boys would be touched, and reminded of my love, on a daily basis, despite no real-time communication with them, as well as some things I did for them during my absence.

  • 1.) I snapped photos of me holding an “I Love You” poster from various points around Lander where my family I often frequent. I had prints made of each of these photos and then included them in a letter or card I wrote (in advance) for Jerry and our sons. I arranged for our neighbors, Terry and Gene, to drop one in the mail each day I was away. This way the boys received mail from me every day while I was hiking in the Alaska tundra. (In some of the mail I included gift certificates to the local ice cream shop, or pizza gift cards, or for my husband, coffee gift certificates.) It made for a lot of work in the days leading up to my NOLS course, but it was well worth it because I took comfort in the ability to “touch” my boys while I was out of communication.
  • 2.) I recorded a video message for them. It is too personal for me to post here, but suffice it to say it was hard for me to do, but important for me to do. I loaded it onto Jerry’s laptop the morning I departed and instructed them to open and view it once I was officially out of touch.
  • 3.) The first night in the tent in the Alaska tundra, when I dug my journal out to record the events of the day, I discovered an envelope of items from Jerry and the boys. They had each written me a letter and included some photos. I was so moved and touched to read letters from my boys. Instead of dwelling on missing me, their words cheered me and told me how much they loved me. (With my sons’ permission, I’ve included photos of their notes to me in this post. I didn’t include a photo of the one from Jerry, which will forever remain very special to me.)
  • 4.) At home, I’m quite outnumbered, the only girl in a house of four males, plus a male puppy. For various reasons, the boys are always rolling their eyes at me. One of the things included in the envelope from them was a photo of the three boys with plastic googly-rolling eyes glued to them. (See photo).
  • 5.) Before I departed for Alaska, it was decided the boys would have their own expedition — a project we termed, “Expedition Basement.” Basically, while their mommy was away they would have full rein in creating a “Boy Cave” downstairs. This gave them something exciting to look forward to, while facilitating a project for them to focus their creative energies on without my interference. 🙂 You should see it. Paint thrown on the walls, a big screen television, skull and cross bone flags, and even a mini-fridge (for their juice pops I guess?) It’s a riot.
  • 6.) While I was away, backpacking in Alaska’s Brooks Range, I enlisted my course-mates to capture photos of me holding an “I Love You” note. (By the way, my course-mates were a terrific family-away-from-family.)
  • 7.) I also captured a few “video love notes” for Jerry and the boys from various points during the NOLS course.
  • RELATED LINKS:
    NOLS Brooks Range Hiking course — Not a Vacation
    My Brooks Range People Made Me Better

    I am a life/leadership coach. Services include on-demand coaching and consulting, with an option that includes an epic outdoor adventure. I also provide nutrition and personal branding consulting. Please email me if you’re interested in learning more about this.

    Filed Under: Family, Frontier Life, Life and Leadership, National Parks, Travel & Tourism Tagged With: adventure, longing, motherhood, NOLS, parenthood

    Life is Full of Micro & Macro Route Decisions

    October 11, 2011 by Shelli

    (Note: Here’s a 4-minute video blog of the same)

    Most of us have an idea about what we want our life and future to be. Call it our destination. It’s where we’re headed. It’s the life that we’re trying to create. It’s what every day we’re working toward.

    If given a choice, I will always choose the high route.

    There are many ways we can get there. And I suspect most of us would agree that there is value in the journey.

    So we “route find” our way through our lives. At times we follow paved roads, complete with signs and navigation. Other times we follow trails. And still other times we bushwhack, creating our own path. Life is a series of macro and micro route finding decisions. For example, a macro decision for me is deciding that I want to be a life and leadership coach. A micro decision might be determining what coaching program to enroll in.

    In August, I embarked on a NOLS Backpacking course in the Brooks Range of Alaska. For two weeks we backpacked north of the Arctic Circle. There are no trails in the 700-mile-wide Brooks Range. So our course involved a lot of map reading and route-finding.

    About halfway through the course, we had to make a decision about which route we’d follow to hike to the Dalton Highway to meet our pick up at the end of the course. We had two choices: Follow the Chandalar River bottom all the way out, or, take an alternative route, which we dubbed “the high route,” which would mean ascending at least two mountain passes.

    Ascending a steep mountain pass in falling snow.

    Thankfully we voted and it was decided, unanimously, to take the high route.
    Now, don’t get me wrong. There are far worse ways to spend six days than hiking along the Chandalar River. However, it would be about six days of the same spectacular scenery and experience. It would lack adventure due to the unvaried aspect of the route and the predictability of the terrain.

    The high route, on the other hand, would provide a variety of vantages from which to view the Brooks Range. It would also be more physically demanding, mentally challenging, while almost certainly providing more uncertainty. It would be the more interesting route, and there would be far more learning to come out of it. For all of these reasons I, and I think my course-mates, found it to be more compelling.

    I think we chose well.

    I remember one day my hiking group ascended a mountain pass. A light snow was falling on us, making the terrain, which was loose rock on top of loose rock on a steep slope, wet and slippery.

    It took tremendous focus and determination for each of us to ascend the pass. Each foot had to be deliberately placed. It was not fun. It was hard work and extremely taxing on the body and the mind.

    For which we were significantly rewarded. Standing at the top of the pass, we were elated about our accomplishment, as we took in views of mountains in all directions and a labyrinth of canyons. And, to top it off, one side of the pass had a complete, bright rainbow arching over its abyss, and the other side had intermittent sun shining through lightly falling snow. It was surreal, and it was unforgettable.

    Gold at the end of the rainbow. Indeed.

    We would have missed this amazing experience had we chosen the easier, safer route.

    Life is like this. We get choose our route(s), and factors that will influence our decisions often include amount of effort required, degree of difficulty, level of uncertainty, and so on.

    Following a well-traveled path is easier. The heavy lifting has been done. There are maps, textbooks, signage, experiences and wisdom shared from others who have gone before us. There is not a lot of new learning required. It’s predictable, and as a result pretty “safe.” There are few unknowns, if any.

    Charting your own path is harder. It’s baptism by fire, trial and error. It’s bushwhacking. It’s climbing uphill, and over loose terrain. You’re more exposed. There are many unknowns, because it’s possible that no other person has gone before you, or where you intend to go. You might hike all day before arriving at a cliff, which will mean backtracking, re-routing, or possibly having to start over. There are no maps. It’s mostly work, and a lot of learning.

    It’s a great question to ask yourself: In your life, are you following a trail, or are you charting your own course? And how’s it working out for you?

    I am a life/leadership coach who provides on-demand coaching, combined with an epic adventure. Please email me if you’re interested in learning more about this.

    RELATED POSTS:
    NOLS Brooks Range Backpacking course — Not a Guided Tour
    My Brooks Range People Made Me Better
    Other Life and Leadership-related Posts

    Filed Under: Frontier Life, Life and Leadership, Travel & Tourism Tagged With: charting, dreams, goals, leadership, life coaching, route finding

    Route Finding in Life

    October 10, 2011 by Shelli

    In your life, are you following a well-traveled trail or charting your own course?

    Filed Under: Frontier Life, Life and Leadership, Travel & Tourism Tagged With: leadership, life path, navigation, route finding

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    About Shelli

    Hi. My name is Shelli Johnson. I live on the frontier in Lander, Wyoming. I’m a wife, a mother, an entrepreneur, certified life/leadership coach, wellness coach, keynote presenter and inspired speaker, leadership development facilitator, personal development strategist, writer and adventure guide. This blog mostly includes stories about adventures and travel, but other passions are reading/books, technology, fitness, nutrition, and national parks, so you’ll find a wide range of articles here. I am founder of Yellowstone Journal and YellowstonePark.com, and NationalParkTrips.com, which was my first business. My current company, Epic Life Inc., is in its 7th year, and going gangbusters. If you’re interested in learning more about my current work, I hope you’ll jump over there and learn more about that. I have a more personal blog, more directly related to life and living and leadership, at YourEpicLife.com/blog. I’d love it if you’d also check out that collection of my writings. Thank you for stopping by! Finally, if you’d like to connect with me directly, please email me if you’d like to connect.

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