The sun rises over the Yellowstone River the morning after the Krones’ hard, 13-hour day and the big storm.

 

Yes, with all the development in our country, there still remains a region that’s the most remote place in America. The southeast corner of Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming is in the center of a circle the farthest distance from any road, in any direction, in the continental United States. It’s surrounded by the wilderness of Yellowstone, the Washakie Wilderness Area, and the Teton Wilderness Area. We wanted to experience it.

Last issue, in Part I, we began telling you about our 80-mile, nine-day journey through this region. (We also gave information on how to prepare for such a pack trip.) We explained that we had our two Missouri Fox Trotters (Buddy and Scout) as saddle horses, and a borrowed pack horse, Gator, a 19-year-old Tennessee-Quarter Horse cross.

This journey was a point-to-point pack trip. An outfitter transported us, our gear, and our three horses to the starting trailhead. From there, we’d ride through the wilderness back to our waiting truck, camper, and trailer.

We rode 15 miles to our first camp at Eagle Creek Meadows. From there, we rode 20 miles over Eagle Pass to our second camp on the Yellowstone River located deep in the wilderness. Including packing up, riding, and clearing deadfall from the trail, our ride to this camp took nearly 13 hours.

Our second camp on the Yellowstone River was about four miles short of the actual center of the most remote place in America. We arrived at 7:00 p.m., and hurriedly took care of the horses and set up camp. We flew into our tiny tent as a lightning storm complete with howling winds and pelting rain descended upon us. Wind blew down 50 to 100 foot tree snags (burned tree trunks) left by the 1988 fires like they were matchsticks. Sounds of toppling trees surrounded us.

We were 35 miles from the trailhead in one direction and more than 40 miles in the other. We were alone, except for wolves and grizzlies. As we lay exhausted, I wondered what dawn would bring. Charlene was thinking, This is not fun!

Yellowstone River Camp
The next morning, we peered bleary-eyed out of our tent. The horses were still there. After the previous night’s whopper of a storm, nature gave us a peace offering of incredible artwork. From our tent, we looked across the lazy, meandering Yellowstone River. Layers of fog drifted above the river and continued up mountainsides. Mist danced across the waters. Above all was a pre-dawn sky complete with a full moon.

I gathered wet wood for a fire that magically started right off. Charlene made coffee. We sat by the cozy, crackling fire, hands wrapped around warm cups of coffee. We watched the horses munch grass and marveled at changing light patterns as the sun climbed over a mountain. Slowly, night gave way to dawn.

There we were, the farthest one can be from any road in our country, and we felt so at peace. These are the moments that define what’s most vital in our lives: shelter, food, health, your mate and best friend, horses, and nature. We had it all right there. We relished that time.

While camped on the river, we fished for the legendary Yellowstone cutthroat trout. This pure strain of cutthroat migrates upstream from Yellowstone Lake. They spawn and return to the lake around the first week of August.

In the 1980s, a video, Cowboys And Cutthroats, was filmed in this area. At that time, the fish were so numerous the cowboys were catching them while riding in the stream. Sadly, the fish population has greatly decreased in the last 20 years. This is primarily due to the illegal introduction of carnivorous lake trout in Yellowstone Lake, which feed on the young cutthroats.

While fishing, we noticed a fresh grizzly print in the sand. Nearby were large grizzly scat piles that were almost the size of a manure pile! These were constant reminders of the presence of grizzlies ambling in the brushy opens and forested flats.

Like the lake trout, grizzly numbers have greatly increased in the last few years. They’re now under consideration to be removed from the Endangered Species list. At the same time, Yellowstone’s elk population has dropped. Both grizzlies and wolves prey on elk. We did find one very nice elk rack next to our camp. The rack and partial head weighed close to 75 pounds.

The Thorofare
The next morning, we packed up, turned our horses south, and followed the valley to a point near the confluence of the Thorofare and Yellowstone Rivers. A short ride east is the Thorofare Ranger Station, and about 1.5 miles away is Bridger Lake. The vicinity of the station and lake is considered to be the most remote place in the continental United States. We’d made it!

In this area, the valley is approximately 14 miles long and 3 miles wide. Beautiful scenery enveloped us as we rode along. Through all of this meanders the Yellowstone River, just as wild and free as it was 200 years ago. This region is called the Thorofare because it’s wide and easy to travel. For centuries, Native Americans (and later, fur trappers) used this route. Jim Bridger himself named nearby Bridger Lake. If ol’ Jim were here today, he’d find everything as he left it.

We wish that every American citizen could stand on this spot. It’s our heritage. This place is a supreme example of why we need designated wilderness and roadless areas. We’re fortunate that its protection was established before man pushed his roads this far. Once roads are put into an area the pristine nature is changed forever. You can’t go back.

There are plenty of places Out West where folks can ride motorcycles and four-wheelers — the majority of western forests are developed with logging roads. By comparison, a minority of land is protected as roadless. We’ll never run out of roads, but we could run out of wilderness. For those folks who may never see this place, just knowing it’s there makes it real.

We left the Yellowstone River Valley and turned east, riding up the Thorofare River Valley on Trail #3059. Just before leaving the park, we stopped at the Thorofare Ranger Station. The log station, barn, and corrals are historic structures neatly nestled against a hillside. No one was at the ranger station. We thought the rangers could be on patrol or perhaps visited the area less frequently, due to budget cuts.

The Thorofare River Valley is sublime. Sounds of plopping hooves provided background music as views across beaver ponds, forests, and mountains greeted our eyes. Nature filled our senses.

Kent Krone on Buddy. leading Gator, riding south along the Yellowstone River as they leave their second camp.

We stopped for lunch on a broad bench overlooking the river. This bench would’ve been a good camping place, but we wanted to get farther upriver before nightfall. However, what’s considered a good camping spot now was also one long ago. We found two obsidian arrowhead tips. Native Americans most likely tossed them away, because they were imperfect. We imagined it was probably more than one hundred years ago that they were last touched by human hands. We also found a couple of flaking stones (chips) left behind from the arrowhead-carving process. Removal of antique items is prohibited by the Antiquities Act. We stuck the arrowheads back into the ground.

An inviting side stream looked like just the place to do a little fly fishing. The horses were grazing, and Charlene was finishing lunch. I decided to cast a line into the creek. I was preparing to clip the barb off the hook when my automatic reel caught and pulled the hook into my finger. The barb prevented the hook from backing out of my finger. I was hooked! The only choice was to push the hook through my finger and cut off the hook. Bracing, I took the needle-nose pliers from my Leatherman, grasped the hook, and proceeded to push it through.

A point rose under my skin where the hook was coming to the surface. The scene reminded me of the movie Alien, where the creature burst out of the victim’s body. Pop! The barb appeared! I cut it off and backed the hook out of my finger. The only thing I caught fishing that day was myself!

Pass Creek Camp
Our camp that night was in a broad meadow where Pass Creek flows into the Thorofare River at an elevation of 8,200 feet. This was a good camp, with ample grazing, a protected camp area, and easy access to water. The horses grazed while we put up our tent and kitchen area.

Deciding where to put the tent requires a little planning. It should be away from the kitchen area, in case grizzlies are drawn to food smells at night. Don’t place it near snags that could fall down in a windstorm. (Lightning tends to strike the highest object within 50 feet — make sure your tent isn’t that highest item.) And don’t place a tent at a tree base, because lightning can run down trees and strike any close objects.

It’s also not a good idea to place a tent on natural animal trails. In the past, deer have tangled their antlers in our tent strings. One morning, we were awakened by a mountain goat peering at us through out tent’s window screen. He was just three feet away!

With only one pack horse, we’ve developed methods over the years to streamline and minimize our packing. Our tent is a very small, lightweight backpacker’s model. We use one-inch-thick Therm-a-Rest sleep pads (800/531-9531; www.thermarest.com). Beneath these, we place our saddle pads for extra cushioning.

Our panniers were custom-made from a heavy-duty, waterproof plastic material, eliminating the need for mantys and tarps. The panniers buckle together, so we don’t need ropes and knots. To save weight off the pack horse, we each have a custom-made sleeping-bag holder that goes over our riding horse’s saddle horn. We keep our saddlebags light to protect our horses’ kidneys. We also use a gravity feed system to filter drinking water, which is quick and easy.

We spent one layover day relaxing at our Pass Creek camp. The horses alternated between eating and dozing. Charlene tried her hand at watercolors. Buddy practiced his smiling technique by “laughing” at Charlene’s picture! We knew grizzlies and wolves were around, because we were always seeing sign.

In the afternoon, we went on a one-hour ride up a side trail. On the way back, we saw fresh wolf tracks and grizzly scat where we’d ridden less than two hours earlier! Buddy froze in his tracks. Arched neck, eyes alert, he would not move forward. Although he was used to coyotes and black bears at our home, the wolf-grizzly combination was too much for him! I had to dismount and lead him a short way down the trail. That night, we were serenaded to a haunting melody of wolves howling in the distance.

Over the Absarokas
We awoke to frost on the ground. It was a chilly morning for packing up. Today, we’d cross the Absaroka Mountain Range. To do so, we’d ride up Pass Creek, cross the divide at Ishawooa Pass, and descend on the other side to our camp.

The ride up Pass Creek was one of the most beautiful rides of the trip. The trail was easy going in a sweeping, flower-filled valley, surrounded by craggy mountain peaks. At one point, we came across a partial horse skeleton. The horse must’ve wandered away from someone’s camp and died. We noticed it still had an intact horseshoe. Nearby, a grouse danced, trying to lure us away from her babies.

We reached our trip’s highest elevation, 9,915 feet, crossing Ishawooa Pass. At the pass, we rode another 85 feet up a nearby ridge so we could be at the 10,000-foot mark. To have a photographic record of our high point, Charlene took a picture of Buddy and me riding along the ridge. At that moment, I noticed seven bull elk with full racks running in front of us. I yelled for Charlene to get a shot of the bulls. She quickly swung the camera. We got the photo, but it wasn’t a good close up of the bulls, because to save weight we didn’t have a telephoto lens.

We had roughly four miles to descend from the pass to our next camp at Spruce Meadows. However, we ran into a horrific blow-down. Tornado-like winds must’ve recently passed the area, uprooting and throwing trees everywhere. Many of the trees were too large to saw out. We spent more than an hour working our way up and down the hillside, zigzagging around dead falls.

When we thought we were finally in the clear, we came to a medium-size tree we couldn’t get around. I tied Buddy and crossed to the other side of the tree to check it out. Buddy pulled his knot loose and started to follow me. To my horror, as he crossed the log, a knife-like broken branch dragged across his belly. I envisioned it cutting his skin open and his entrails falling out right in front of me! I yelled and leaped toward him to try to push him back, but he kept coming. He was saved by his broad, tough cinch.

Grizzly Camp
After a harrowing time with blow-downs, we were looking forward to a relaxing evening in our last camp. This camp was at Spruce Meadows, but we termed it “Grizzly Camp” because of the large quantity of fresh grizzly sign. We pitched our tent in the only area available, a small clover-and-grass meadow. The meadow was filled with fresh grizzly bear scat. Later, we discovered clover is a favorite food of grizzlies. Unwittingly, we were camped in their salad bowl!

We went to get water and, to our dismay, found a trashed outfitter’s camp. Outfitters had stored their supplies on a platform high above ground supported by three trees. The trees were wrapped in metal to prevent bears from climbing up and getting the cache of goods. However, bears had somehow gotten into the supply, leaving broken boxes, wrappers, and dishes scattered over the ground. This devastation, plus the numerous grizzly scat piles, was unnerving. We set about to grizzly-proof our camp.

First, we put the tent away from the kitchen area and surrounded the tent in a four-strand electric fence. We learned this technique in the Canadian Rockies where rangers use electric fences. The hope is that when a grizzly gets zapped, it’ll go somewhere less shocking in search of dinner. We made our own electric fence, but now commercial kits are available from Pepper Power, which also makes pepper spray (866/BEAR-911; www.pepperpower.com)

At night, we hang our food in a tree. Since our clothing may have food smells, we put them in a plastic bag and leave them in the kitchen  area. We skedaddle to the tent with nothing but our underwear and pepper spray. Avoid using perfume or deodorant, as these have been shown to attract bears. Buy large-size pepper spray. Check the expiration date, and practice how to use it. After use, clean the nozzle with soap and water, as used pepper spray also attracts bears.

Normally, we’d have our 44 magnum pistol, but didn’t on this trip, because guns are illegal in Yellowstone Park. Even if we did have our gun, we’d first use pepper spray in case of a bear attack. We’d only use a gun as the last resort. A bullet must be precisely placed to kill a large grizzly, and an injured grizzly would simply become more enraged.

The old outfitter rule of thumb is to have six heartbeats (counting all living creatures) for safety from bears. We had five, so we were close. We placed the horses next to our tent; on the other side, we kept a fire going for the first part of the night. After a somewhat-restless night, we emerged at dawn from our tent with only 15 miles left to our waiting camper and pickup.

Our Final Day
The last day’s ride was over good trail, except for one section going through narrow cliffs. We’ve ridden on cliff-side trails many times, but this one was especially narrow; some stretches were only eight inches wide. Below was a 200- to 300-foot plummet to the bottom. Charlene nervously said Hail Marys. In our opinion, the Forest Service should put a sign at the trailhead stating that this trail section isn’t safe for stock. An alternate route would’ve been Deer Creek Pass to the south. Outfitters told us that it’s a much safer trail. There are cliffs, but the trail is several feet wide.

Finally, after a long 15 miles, we came around a bend and saw our camper and pickup. We both thought, Yes, a hot shower! Buddy and Scout thought, Yeah, some grain! After nine days through the heart of the most remote place in our country, we were back to civilization. We’ll never forget the beauty of our nation’s vast wilderness, and we feel fortunate that we were able to experience it.

At the end of our trip, we went to a great bed-and-barn you may enjoy if you visit the Cody, Wyoming, area. At Dick and Cheri Downen’s Beds With A View Lodge (307/587-2017; www.bedswithaview.com), our “room” was the whole first floor of a house! Our horses enjoyed spacious corrals. Dick is an expert on local trails and has written booklets on riding trails in the Shoshone National Forest and Yellowstone Park.