Teton Pass

Ever since finishing up my fall semester and some ski patrol duties I have been afflicted with a serious case of obsession. It has all revolved around the skiing mecca that is Teton Pass, and for the last couple weeks I have been harvesting the goods brought forth from the winter solstice driven tropical instability wave that so often plasters the southern end of the Teton range around Christmas time. Prior to 1/8/2017 temperatures have been cold enough to bless the pass with snow densities that are a bit below average, and the procession of storms hasn't really stopped since the very end of November. Snow depths in the Rendezvous Bowl plot were the 2nd deepest ever at the end of December, only to the winter of ninety sick ninety heaven. After an abysmal November this winter has really turned the corner in a huge way.

Woodpecker has been going HAM

Since December 20 I have logged 15 days on the pass, all of them on the west side. Besides an ascent of Taylor and a few of Oliver I have pretty much been sticking to my guns and playing in the Mail Cabin drainage.

My Daddy coming up moose brush

I have definitely noticed an increase in skier traffic on the pass in my short lifetime, and some have gone as far as to compare it to a ski area of sorts. The ease of access is almost unmatched at any other backcountry center in the Northern Rockies, and there is also the allure of "skier compacted" slopes and preset skin tracks to alleviate the threat of avalanches and tired quads. However, there is just no denying that the pass acts as a natural funnel for snowfall, and some of the best powder skiing in the Northern Rockies is to be found in its protected glades and low elevation bowls.

Playing picaboo with mama moose. It's too bad we are sort of running these creatures out of their preferred habitat to go skiing. 

While it wasn't my very first backcountry experience (that one goes to the Taos backcountry) , the pass has made up the bulk of backcountry skiing in my life as far as days spent ski touring. The terrain of the Tetons and Snake River ranges were tailor made for skiing, and the south side may be the best meadow skipping in the known universe, despite the crowds.

Getting above the inversion on Oliver

One thing I have noticed for sure this year is that skiers are dispersing a little better to the lower elevation areas of the pass and I have to think that part of this is due to the series of guide books that Tom Turiano is putting out. 5 years ago almost no one parked at the weigh station, and now during a busy week this access point is seeing some use. I also think that I am seeing more out of state vehicles parked in the Coal Creek lot than there used to be. All in all I think this expanded use is a good thing, and in the future I wouldn't mind seeing a voluntary (or mandatory) parking fee for vehicles similar to the system in place at many boat ramps on the Snake River (But maybe not as restrictive as Rogers Pass). The money can go towards avalanche forecasting, parking lot plowing, and just general maintenance and education. 3 dollars a day with a 50 dollar season pass option seems trivial in the face of 150 dollar lift tickets at nearby ski areas. 

Weston gets trenched in Mail Cabin

This winter is really shaping up to be a good one for the Tetons, and right now the GFS and other models are not signalling any real signs of it slowing down for the month of January. It could be two thousdand sickteen two thousand heaventeen.

Weston going across the log ride

With the Tetons, the Snake Rivers, the Gros Ventre, the Big Holes, and a multitude of other snowy ranges within a 2 hour radius, the winters in Teton Valley are pretty hard to beat. We will just ignore Canada and their mountains for now.

Sun on the shoulder of the diving board

As I usually do around Christmas time, I have been playing around with my go-pro trying to capture some of the pow skiing that has been taking place. Below is a poorly edited sampling of some of my favorite runs of the season so far.

  

Hatchet jack from Jackson Knoll on Vimeo.

The Miracle Mile

Yesterday was one of those fishing days that will live on in infamy in my mind. Especially because I was alone, and I only have my own thoughts and a handful of photos to confirm what transpired.

First fish of the trip, 2nd or 3rd cast. Everything else would be gravy, or so I thought

The plan was to drive to the Miracle Mile and fish through Thursday, then camp and fish a little in the morning Friday and then check out below Pathfinder. When I finally got to the Mile around 130 pm I did some glassing and spotted some fish from the road before I chose to rig up. The first fish I caught was a beautiful male brown, the reason I drove out to the middle of nowhere. I have fished the Mile a handful of times and this was the nicest fish I had gotten so far, so the trip was made. I caught a handful of cookie cutter 16 inchers and then got a rainbow for dinner. The fishing made me think that I would stay the next day instead of going over to Fremont Canyon. I had no idea what I was in store for.

Camp meat. Hatchet Jack

The next morning I awoke to frigid temps in the teens and about an inch or two of snow. I tracked a cottontail from the tent and wished I had a small game license for Wyoming. I then walked up from camp and spotted a big brown, maybe 2 feet long. I ran back to camp and grabbed my rod but didn't put waders on. Just as I got back to the spot, 3 dudes piled out of a rig towing a raft. It was 7 a.m. at the latest and fucking cold out, so these guys were hard core. They seemed to be about my age and I talked to them to make sure it was cool that I go after the fish I saw. They were very polite, said no problem, and we all fished the run together. They were hooking up left and right, and I had to keep my focus on the single fish I was after, staged above a redd in the tail out. I hooked him, but iced guides and frigid fingers failed me on the set, and he was off in seconds.I knew it was maybe the biggest fish I would see that day, but I had to walk away, get waders on and go check out a spot I was dying to get back to (I had a bit of a misadventure to this spot in the spring). Boy did I make the right choice.

Tank of a bow. Some of the rainbows in the system are of the eagle lake strain and spawn in the fall

The grass was so much greener on the other side, and not many thoughts entered my head as I fished a pegged worm and a white sex dungeon to a multitude of large fish that rarely see an anglers pressure. I almost broke my ankle at least 4 times running after big fish as they peeled into my backing.

One of the coolest gill plates I've seen.

I probably ended the day with 15 or more fish over 20 inches, with 2 in the 26-27 range and a handful of two footers. Little to no moon, a cold front, and a shaded aspect all likely played a role in the spectacle. That and pure focus on catching fish for 6 hours with no thought of food or drink, only iced guides, broken off tippet and flies, and frozen reels.

The somewhat ugly face of an old warrior that's been caught a few times in her life. Thickness

An absolute beast, eye of the tiger.

It's too bad my lens was foggy for this guy, one of the cleanest and most jaw-dropping browns I've ever fooled

Shaka Bra! So many studs

I was blown away by the condition of the fish that I was catching. Some were spawned out, but I also caught some females that had not dropped a single egg yet. It is interesting to note in the systems that have fall/winter spawning rainbows that many of the browns spawn late as well. I watched a redd where a male rainbow and a male brown competed over a single female brown the day earlier.

The pink spots on this beast seamed to glow. Shoulders!

My shit got pretty frozen

The auto-focus sort of fucked up this selfy. Pretty nuts to watch this guys and others go airborne after getting hooked

I love this country, if it were't for the vibes I would never come back enough to dial in the fishing

When I close my eyes all I see are brown trout.

Thanksgiving Recap

Anticipation was high for this year's Thanksgiving Break. Fall chose to pass over the front range, and a few days before departing for Idahome I was climbing in Eldorado canyon complaining of the 80 degree temperatures that were trying to grease me off of the wall. However, a change was coming to the front range, and a winter storm was dropping out of the NW the night I decided to gun it to Driggs. I left my house in Boulder around 5 p.m. and arrived home around 2:30 a.m. It was full on wintertime conditions once I got past Pinedale, but other than that the drive was uneventful. Time was passed listening to a JRE with Graham Hancock and Randall Carlson where they talked about ancient civilizations and the meteor strike  hypothesis explaining the Younger Dryas period. I had pre-brewed an intense pot of joe before the drive and while I was tweaking on energy drinks and coffee I could not help but think that a gawd damn meteor was going to ruin my Thanksgiving Break before I was able to fish my beloved South Fork.

Luckily I awoke late Thursday morning to a cloudy sky and some lingering snow showers, and by 2 p.m. I was heading over pine creek pass on a recon mission. My plan was to fish the damn, but I stopped at huskies to check the water level and clarity. Everything seemed good to go, maybe a tad low for what I like this time of year. As I crossed the new bridge below the damn (possibly hurt the fishing there but that's a story for another time), I spotted a contingency of mallards soliciting downstream. I parked on the south side of the bridge, applied waters, donned the ol' 12 gauge and crept through the willows on the NW bank. All of the ducks spooked immediately before I got within range, reminding me that migratory birds can be more weary than big game some times. As the flock went north a small group peeled off and headed back my way, flying directly overhead. As the words "I don't think that's too far" escaped my mouth a bang occurred, followed by silence and the soft thud of the crumpled drake hitting the ground. 1 for 1.

After I collected the duck I waded up to the damn to do some fishing. I didn't see much in the way of brown spawning activity (maybe once the water hits 1000 cfs they head for deeper parts), but did manage a few cutties on a nymph rig. Before coming up to Idaho I had made a goal to try and capture or kill dinner everyday I was up there, something that is more difficult for me to do in the heavily populated front range.  I didn't get any keeper rainbows, so I would have to settle for a solitary duck for dinner.

On Friday I met up with my good buddy Eric to do some grouse hunting. Once again I found myself going over Pine Creek pass to meet up with him in Swan Valley. Some dude was in his favorite spot (not hunting, just walking his huge dogs, surely with the intent of sabotaging our plans), so we headed out from a different trail, mostly catching up and shooting the shit. We gained some pretty good vert, but we didn't see any birds or grouse sign, just a bunch of elk and moose tracks in the fresh snow. We decided to abort our original plan and headed back down towards the South Fork. We spotted a drainage with a closed jeep trail, and on a whim we decided that this would be the starting point of our next grouse conquest. After about an hour Eric located the partially decomposed body of a fawn whitetail, and about 20 minute after that we both spotted what we were looking for. A ruffed grouse about 7 feet off the ground in a deciduous shrub, head bobbing and weaving like somebody trying to see whats going on from the back of the line. I alerted Eric, he informed me he saw it too, and instructed me to kill the bird. I walked up until I was about 25 yards from the bird, and just when it looked like he might spook I raised my 28 gauge and fired. Feathers flew, but the bird remained perched, so I shot a little higher, and he dropped out of the tree. 2 for 2.

At that point Eric was underneath the bush, closing in on the kill like a freakin bird dog. I muttered something about "how you rarely see just one 1 year old bird by itself" and I that point I spotted my bird's likely kin. He was about 7 feet to right of the one I just killed, same height in the same bush. How we missed him I have no idea. As I reloaded my gun my instinct told me to shoot immediately, but then I pondered the future condition of Eric's eardrums after the potential ordeal (since he was below and between me and the bird). I told Eric to quit looking for my bird and look up to his right. In less that 2 seconds that bird was dead and we walked out of the woods with a pair of ruffies. Dinner would be ruffed grouse, some of my favorite table fare.

Friday night my sister rolled into town and our plan was to float from Irwin to the bridge, our favorite float to do this time of year for spawning browns and pre-spawn rainbows. We rolled out of the house by 6:30 and we were getting set up at Irwin well before 8. No new snow meant I had to back the boat all the way down the slide as opposed to letting it race down on its own, but the slide was in better shape than I've ever seen it. After putting in the boat I noticed a bunch of no parking signs around the traditional parking on the side of the road, but I was convinced the rules did not apply to me. I waited until after we hit the back yard barbecue run to call in the shuttle. The day was moderately sunny, the fishing fantastic, and there was no one on the water yet. After a handful (or more) of merry go round drifts in the BYBBQ I decided to call Julie to set up the shuttle. She informed that the no parking signs were for real and they were trying to phase out the Irwin launch. She said she would run my shuttle (all the way to Conant) as fast as possible but more than likely I would have a 75 dollar ticket waiting for me on my sister's vehicle.

This information soured my mood slightly but the fishing was too good for any unhappy musings to last long. Someone was on one of our favorite holes by fall creek, but luckily Darby wrangled a handsomely built 20 incher right upstream. After a quick grip and grin we fished a spot river left of where I wanted to be, and probably 150 yards down stream. We tore it up in that spot as well, and we proceeded down to Conant, with surprisingly little activity between the bridge and the takeout. Above the ramp I filleted the four rainbows we decided to keep (dinner again!) and we recovered the shuttled vehicle, sans ticket! It was a good day; however, I am deeply saddened that they are phasing out the use of Irwin. Someone is conspiring against me to prevent easy access to the BYBBQ. I am sure it is the work of the two houses on the river there, and as soon as I finish school I am going to run for mayor of Irwin and make that shitty-ass boat ramp great again.

Saturday evening is when the rents showed up and our plan was to go grouse hunting with Dad the next day and try and hit the BYBBQ on Monday. We hit a few spots close to home in the Big Holes, but we only turned up one bird with no shooting opportunities. We then went over the pass (again) and hunted the zone Eric and I went a few days prior. Right near where Eric and I got our birds my sister informed me that she saw a squirrel. I had my 22 pistol and was keen to get dinner, feeling as though we were running out of time with the grouse. As I worked my way over to her we heard a shot behind us, and then we could hear my Dad praising Butterball for retrieving the bird. Meanwhile my focus was on the pine squirrel who had corkscrewed to the top of a rather large Doug fir. What transpired next will surely be chronicled in Knoll family lore until the meteor hits. I set my 28 gauge down and drew my pistol. I could see the head of the squirrel and nothing else, probably about 70 feet up in the tree. I was about 10 yards away from the base and on the uphill side. I drew up on his head and fired, watching in disbelief as the critter tumbled out of the tree. My sister started busting up laughing in complete disbelief, and I soon joined in. 3 for 3. In the past I have missed grouse at less than 10 yards with this pistol, so I'm a pretty crappy shot with one. But I had done it, secured another meal.

After walking out we realized we still had 2.5 hours of light left, and we went to a spot closer to the reservoir, near where Eric and I initially went. My Dad said he remembered a spot he used to see birds, but sometimes he doesn't remember a whole lot so I wasn't too confident. When we found the spot there was a closed road for gravel and snow berries every where, so I knew we would see something with 3 people and the 2 dogs. Sure enough, an hour later we were head back to the trail head with 4 more grouse and echos of my father rambling about his "secret" spot. We should have had at least 2 more, and I missed 2 shots, ruining the perfect streak. Dinner that night was awesome as squirrel and grouse are some of the finest small game you can eat. As my buddy Kevin Murphy once said on a MeatEater podcast "Squirrel is the most mildest meat you can eat." And as my good buddy Eric likes to say "Blam Blam we eaten' ham."

The following day we went Huskies (not Irwin) to the bridge with my father, who has not had the opportunity to do that float this time of year since the BYBBQ really came to fruition (last 3 years or so). It was about 36 degrees and rainy the whole day, so great fishing weather but our hands didn't work too good. Nonetheless it was great fishing, with my father getting near the 30 fish mark by 230 pm and plenty of rainbows for dinner. I think we ended the day with 6 doubles between my dad and sister, so you know it was good. Super glad he was able to experience that level of rainbow fishing before people catch on.

My sister's last fish of the day, if you look closely you can see my father's in the net below.

On Tuesday we had a late start and just me and dad went up the southfork road out of Heise to check out an old duck haunt and maybe catch a few fish. School was out for Thanksgiving and there were people up and down the river in the most likely spots but somehow no one was at the Cottonwood redds. We jumped out of the truck and started casting and before long we had 4 rainbows for dinner in less than an hour, with a handful of browns thrown in. There were as many fish as I've ever seen in that spot, so pressure doesn't seem to effect the quantity of fish there, but maybe the size as we didn't touch a 20 incher and I didn't spot any.

After the quick fish we took Butterball across the river in the canoe to hunt a "secret" side slough. When we pulled up the channel was full of ducks, and after sky blasting at a few that spooked (to no avail) we set up our decoys and waited. Nothing. Dead calm. A few came by but no shots were fired. Thankfully we had taken preventive measures with the fish or else we would have gone hungry that night.

The duck spot

On Wednesday we did some stuff around the house and then went out for a family grouse walk in the Palisades range with the whole family. We spooked one adult ruffy, but it did not provide any shots. We would have to eat some more fish, along with some pheasants that my father had got on a recent trip to North Dakota. The next day was Thanksgiving and as I packed up to head back to boulder I reminisced about the times had. It was the first Thanksgiving I had not skied in probably 10 years, but I didn't miss it. I knew this winter would provide endless opportunities for joy like she always does, and I was just happy to get back to my roots and do some meat gathering.

Lenticular on the drive home, outside of Rawlins

Unsuccessful Elk Hunting and South Platte Gold Rush 10/28-11/1

After a brief interlude of school responsibilities in the middle of the second rifle season for elk in Colorado I headed back to unit 14 on Thursday night. On the drive to Clark I listened to a JRE podcast with Wim Hof, dude is a BEAST and maybe slightly insane.

Cool lenticulars over Cameron pass again

The next day was spent hunting some thick timber and blow down around a certain butte with a lake on top. No elk were spotted, but I did see some sign and found what was likely the site of an archery kill earlier in the season. That evening I did some glassing from the top of the butte and I found 9 moose in the valley below, 4 of which were decent bulls. Definitely the highest concentration of Shiras moose I have ever seen.

Location of a previous kill. Either they boned out the meat or found the animal dead and just took the antlers. Sort of  odd. 

On the second day I chose to change things up and head to the south end of the unit and hunt off of Rabbit Ears pass. I ran into a few guys at the trail head who had seen some elk in the area so my spirits were high since they both had bull tags and I had a cow tag. The day was mostly light fog with some drizzle until 3 or so. I found plenty of sign, spooked a mule deer doe and even found some grouse (left my 22 pistol in the car though), but no elk. I covered a fair amount of ground from 7 to 230 or so, then decided to have lunch and check out the Hahn's Peak area. The village of Hahn's peak seemed like a perfect Utopian paradise with log cabins, backyard fires, and dogs everywhere. 

Hahns Peak

After driving some rather rugged roads past private property I decided to call it a day and head back to base camp up Seedhouse creek. I had only one more day to hunt, so I just hunted around the swamp park trail head for the morning on Sunday. After not seeing any sign or animals for a couple of hours I decided to call it and start the 5 hour drive back to Boulder. It turns out that I don't know shit about elk hunting, and after spending 5 days hunting and 4 more scouting I never saw an elk. I think I have held 4 or 5 elk tags in my life and have yet to fill one. In the moment it was hard to stay motivated by myself. My father was supposed to be with me the last weekend of the hunt but he ended up getting sick and wasn't able to make it. I definitely missed his company and his knowledge of elk and their habits.

Sometimes being alone is one of the most empowering experiences because you can make intuitive decisions with out having to worry about other people. If you see a track that leads to an area you want to check out you go there. If you want to cover ground all day you can. If you want to stop and glass for a while you do it. The inner dialogue is simple. But when the going gets tough it can be hard to stay motivated as well. I never suffered during the hunt, but after not seeing an animal for 3 or 4 days in a row I started to question everything I thought I knew about public land elk hunting. I've never killed an elk so I don't know what I am going to miss by not succeeding, but I think I will be more motivated to prepare more wholesomely in the future. 

After the hunt I came back to Boulder. I had class on Monday as well as teaching obligations, but the schedule of Tuesday was wide open. I decided I would go back to the South Platte and give it another crack before the temps really start to fall. Before coming to Boulder I had made it a goal of mine to catch one of the fabled lake run browns out of Elevenmile Reservoir, but in my 10 or so days fishing the dream stream I had yet to crack the 21" (or so) mark on a brown. I had caught a couple nice cuttbows, but the large browns had eluded me. I had either spooked all of the true giants or I was too late in the spawn and they were all on redds, beat up and not wanting anything to do with a fly in their face.

Well on Tuesday I cracked the code, or got lucky or both. The weather was clear, so not ideal but there was a slight cold front sweeping in from the NW, so I figured the fish might be more active after the mild October that was had. By this time last year the spawn was pretty much over for the lake run fish and spotting a fish over 20 was very difficult. This year it happened a little later (I think) and I was able to connect with some really nice fish using a variety of tactics. The best setups were red midges and beads behind redds (both kokanee and brown spawning grounds) and a white sex dungeon trailed with a red and white clouser minnow in the slower and deeper pools. Behold the fish porn.

Perfect pre-spawn female

The largest brown I've gotten so far

Salmo Trutta perfection

Another stud

Proportions were a little off on this fish. The bass brown

Elk Hunting, Not Shooting 10/21-10/23

Went out for the first weekend of my cow elk hunt, did not have any success. Along the way to Steamboat I stopped to do some fishing around Walden on Thursday night and Friday morning. I only caught one small fish around midnight on North Delaney, and it was probably the smallest rainbow I have ever caught there. I did find some Browns spawning in a mud line on the north end of the lake, but they seemed very disinterested in the large crayfish pattern I was using, so I decided to let them do their thing. The next morning I fished the Michigan river to no avail, but did spot a couple of nice fish as well as had some chases on a sex dungeon from some smaller trout. The Michigan is a very slow, slough-like creek with heavy irrigation and grazing damage, but I have seen pictures of large browns taken from the deep undercut banks.

Looking at some lenticulars over the Cameron pass region.

I arrived at the Hinman Campground on Friday afternoon and was a little disappointed to see all of the hunting traffic in the unit for which I had drawn a cow tag, but I guess I forgot that there was an OTC hunt for bulls going on at the same time. It was cool to see some of the hunting compounds that people had set up for the coming week and I couldn't help but think that these camps would more than qualify for homes in many parts of the world. 

The makings of a great dinner

The first day I decided to hike about 4 miles into 3 island lake where I assumed there would be little pressure. There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground back by the lakes and I followed a set of elk tracks for about a half a mile, but never caught up to the animals. The tracks were maybe 8-12 hrs old and appeared to be a cow and a calf, but I also found some human tracks to the east of lake (and I have no idea how they got there since they didn't take the same trail as me).

A partially frozen 3 island lake at sunrise

After about 2-3 hours of working around the area I decided to head back to camp and hunt a little closer to the trail head since I didn't want to pack something out that far later in the day. After some glassing and still hunting back towards the trail head I decided to call it a day and head back for dinner, undecided as to what to do next. 

Hybrid tepee-cabin. This thing lit up like a fucking champ. Re-inventing the game out here.

That evening I saw some cool clouds and decided to drive to an area to the north of where I was and check out the hunting opportunities in a more heavily roaded section of the unit. All I found were more hunters and no sign of elk, but it was nice country to do a lot of glassing. 

Too many to count doesn't seem like a valid excuse 

Next weekend I will be joined by my father and hopefully we can make some magic happen, but as of yet I have yet to actually see an elk in my combined 6 days of hunting/scouting the area. I might need to get farther off the beaten path, but with temperatures in the 60's I'm not sure I can reasonably expect to pack out an elk by myself that is over 4 miles from a trail head. Maybe I'm making excuses. Hopefully there is still some snow on the ground in a week!

Categorize this cloud

Cynical Pinnacle, South Platte

Yesterday I went out and climbed the Center Route on the Cynical Pinnacle with my new buddy Mitchell. Mitchell and I had never climbed together except for the gym and we met via the Eldora Ski Patrol. Usually I don’t like climbing multi-pitch routes with brand new partners, but I was feeling fairly confident after Devils Tower last weekend and I really wanted to tick this one of the list before ski season comes around.

Approaching the route, the center route is in the center of the formation

The route itself was a real doozy, and every pitch provided some quality entertainment. I took some pictures with my phone but everything seemed to be over-exposed so I might have had some chalk on the lens of the phone case.

Looking down the first pitch, my phone was really taking some crappy pics

After I set up the first belay I was feeling pretty good, but the sustained 30 mph winds with gusts in the 50's had blown all of the chalk out of my worthless chalk bag and given me a rather severe case of cottonmouth. As I was nearing the top of the second pitch I was beginning to feel pretty worked physically, and I had to hang out about 10 ft below the belay to let a party rap down (the only other people on the rock yesterday). When I was finally able to build a belay I started to feel pretty shitty. It was at this moment that I remembered the breakfast burrito I had gotten at Safeway that morning was definitely not fully cooked, but I ate it with tenacity anyways. As I was putting 2 and 2 together I suddenly had the urge to vomit and tried to direct the spray into the back of a chimney near the hanging belay. However, due to the power of the wind my spray flew up into my face and coated the adjacent wall of the belay. At least I didn’t puke on Mitch or the party that was rappelling. 

Chilling at the top, getting ready to rappel

After I belayed Mitch up I took the rack and switched positions with him so he didn’t have to sit in the puke pile. As I worked my way up the third and final pitch I started to feel better but I was thirstier than ever and actually thought the wind might blow me off if I wasn’t wedged in the knee sized crack. The rappels back to the ground went smoothly and we didn’t get the ropes stuck despite the wind blowing them all the way over to Wunsch’s Dihedral (did I mention how fucking windy it was?). All in all it was a good day.

Looking back at the Cyn Pin on the descent, taken with a real functional camera