15 FEB 2001
By Forrest McCarthy
They are not the most visited, photographed, or talked about mountains in
the Rockies, however the Wind River Range is unquestionably one of the most
spectacular and historical.
Explorers, such as Fremont, considered them the
highest peaks in the Rockies, becoming landmarks along the Oregon Trail.
Although the Winds do play host to the highest point in Wyoming, Gannett
Peak, the Tetons overshadow them for their accessibility and their proximity
to Yellowstone National Park.
The Winds are remote, deep, and wild. Bordered on
the south by the historic South Pass and on the north by the rugged Absaroka
Pass, the Winds harbor massive granite walls and hidden alpine lakes.
Climbers, hikers, horse packers, and anglers converge upon many of the more
popular regions of this orographic spectacle throughout the short
summer—especially at Green River Lakes, Titcomb Basin, and the Cirque of the
Towers. However, the long winter months deter visitors, returning these
mountains to a pristine state—blanketed in a thick crystal covering and
protected from fair-weather travelers. It is a land of pure solitude.
I write this because I have had the fortune of experiencing the solace of
early spring in the Winds; the glow of the low sun as it reflects off the
dense, white blanket of snow; and the rare and spiritual silence of being
alone in the wilderness.
These sensations were a result of a 21-day solo ski
traverse from Lander, Wyoming, to Jackson, Wyoming. Thus, it is with a degree of envy
and a sense of reminiscence that I look to Win and Joe's journey this
winter. It brings me back to a time when I had few constraints and much
freedom. I was young, ambitious, and partially naive. I believed in the
words of Joan Baez that, "freedom is just another word for nothing left to
lose."
Eight years ago, after months of staring endlessly at the Wind River and
Gros Ventre maps that adorned my walls, and intensely referencing an
original edition of Joe Kelsey's Climbers' Guide to the Wind Rivers,
devouring route information and pass descriptions, my mind operated
singularly and I embarked on an adventure that I studied by day and dreamt
about by night.
By the time I left for my journey, I had little need for
maps or the guidebook, as I had it all memorized. This proved to be one of
my greatest assets, for the borrowed copy of Kelsey's guidebook, which was
loosely stuffed in the top of my pack, disappeared following a sizable
tumble and a desperate battle with my sled in a tree well. My only struggle
was repacking my sled, for the guidebook was not really lost, it was just
stored deep within my mind.
Roaming throughout the Winds was an empowering, yet humbling experience. I
savored the feeling of accomplishment when the miles began adding up, when a
pass was crossed or a peak climbed, and when a crafty solution to mending
broken gear was utilized. The massive basins framed by granite buttresses
and domes gave me perspective. I was a small presence in a land of
giants, immersed in a landscape that appeared as it had every winter for
millenia. It was not until my seventeenth day, while bivouacked on Downs
Mountain (the northernmost thirteener in the Range), that I saw the first
signs of human existence, since I had left the scantily clad climbers at
Sinks Canyon a couple of weeks before. They were nothing more than a
speckling of lights on the horizon from the small towns of Riverton to the
east and Pinedale to the west.
Win and Joe have embarked on a journey that John Colter and Jim Bridger
would have admired. Their gear is simple; they bring only what they are
willing to carry themselves. Their means of travel, though relatively new to
North America, is ancient. Skis have provided an efficient means of movement
for adventurers, trappers, and hunters to traverse through mountainous lands
for thousands of years. Their purpose, in some respects, maybe selfish. But,
who is to blame them? Is this not why we have wilderness— natural spaces
where we can experience adventure and solitude? Does it not benefit each of
us to know that, in our backyard of Wyoming, we can still engage in excursions
of this sort? I know it does mine.
Furthermore, their journey focuses essential attention on this region, we
define as the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem (GYE), and the issues it must
face: pollution, island populations, bison, wolves, grizzlies,
reintroductions, mining, overgrazing, snowmobiling, development, and
subdivisions. The GYE is both an example and symbol of wilderness in
America. The intricate web of geologic processes and biological evolution
are dependent on these protected landscapes as the foundation for watersheds
and the sustenance of genetic diversity. The protection of immense natural
spaces is critical for maintaining strong links in the ecological chain and
for revitalizing our spirits.
My Wind River journey was a physical, emotional, spiritual, and intellectual
test. Win and Joe are now on one of their own. My hat's off to you two!
Enjoy your adventure!
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