Home > Trip Reports > May 26, 2018, Freeman Cr headwaters (Idaho)

May 26, 2018, Freeman Cr headwaters (Idaho)

5/26/18
US elsewhere
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Posted by Micah on 6/1/18 2:05am
Freeman Peak stands over the redneck hamlet of Salmon where I spent my childhood as the weird kid with hippy parents. The peak's namesake creek runs off the continental divide through stunning country that Europeans developed for mining as soon as they arrived. About the only easily recognizable relic left from mineral extraction is the road up Freeman Cr. which is used by foot and ATV traffic to access the high country. Back in the day, my family would backpack up the road, and conversation often turned to conflict (in recreation, politics, and culture) between the motorized and non motorized crowds. I'm sure this dichotomy is familiar to everybody connected to the intermountain west. Recently I have been feeling more and more estranged from my childhood home: the cultural gulf that stands between me and 'them' saddens me, and it seems increasing unbridgeable.

On May 26th, I get up early, drive my economy rental car up to the mouth of Freeman Canyon where the road narrows. I shoulder my skis and start hiking in the predawn past foothills repleat with uncountable blooms of balsamroot and lupine. The narrow track is often muddy, and there is water running down it in this unusually intense runoff. I pass a goat carcass, picked clean except for a little remaining white fur on its back legs which are splayed akimbo. After two hours of hiking I come to the first snow. I follow the ATV tracks in the snow around two corners before I decide to start skinning, even though I know it is too soon: there will be long dry patches ahead. I see a pull tab from an old beer can in the road bed, remembering how pleased my father had been when cans were changed to the pop top design that did not produce small pieces of litter -- a small victory in what felt like enemy territory.

I'm surprised when I'm able go get most of the way around Freeman Peak with only two portages long enough to remove my skis. I have never visited the summit, despite being a lifelong mountain enthusiast and living less than 10 miles away as the crow flies for 18 years. When the trail to the summit comes into view, I'm dismayed by how much of it is melted out. Still, I start up. I skin for a bit, but it's steep and the snow is very soft from the intense sun.  I switch to booting. I switch back and forth several more times, growing weary of the ritual. I go too far to the right, finding myself at a spot where I will have to descend or climb steep rock, still 1000' or more below the summit. I stomp out a platform at the edge of the moat. The high amphitheater of snow and rock is a sublime setting. I drink the beer I had brought for the summit while fatigue makes up my mind: I'll ski down from here. The snow is overripe corn featuring several narrow spots that will surely melt out today. I have to weave back and forth to find a way down, and the run is short. But for those few turns everything seems right with the universe: the high mountain air conspires with the late spring sun and the surrounding peaklets to create an ambiance that I feel privileged to experience. After the first two awkward jump turns, my skis find their rhythm, and my body is buzzing with what feels like electricity but is probably just endorphins.  My desire to stay in that moment is profound. But Freeman peak doesn't indulge me, and, at the bottom, I put my skins back on. I tour up to the continental divide for a quick peak into Montana and another beer.

By now the snow is very sticky, and ski down is fun but not exceptional or long. In contrast, the slog out is long and tiring, but the satisfaction of the climb, and especially the 20 perfect turns, stays with me as I contemplate my relationship to Freeman peak, to Salmon, and to the human inhabitants of the area. Mining dominates my thoughts: the locals are hoping a new mine will invigorate the town's economic prospects. I'm hoping the mine never opens. As I finish the hike, I don't have any more answers than when I started. Along the way, though, I have realized that Freeman Peak has been watching over me my whole life. I know she watches over me still, even though I no longer live near her. And I know that the snowmelt from those magical snowfields flows down toward me in my drab workaday existence in the desert. And that might be enough.


Postscript
To access this trip, I had driven a low-clearance car as far as I dared up the narrow road. During the day, the vigorous melt had made the road wet. When driving out, I managed to get the rental car hopelessly stuck in the mud. I'm able to get a ride out to cell phone coverage where I try to call a tow truck.  The only service in town is not answering, so the nice folks take me all the way into to town. When the tow truck eventually calls, the driver is a grizzled old local. He was friends with my wife's (deceased) uncle in school.  He knows my family, too. "I don't always agree with your dad's politics, but I like the way he speaks his mind. We'd be better off if more people did that." He knows all the peaks along the Beaverhead front. He's proud to have ridden his trail bike all the way to the divide back in the day. He gives me beta on the peak just to the north of Freeman: "You gotta do that one! It's got a little box where you can sign your name!" It's dark by the time he's able to winch me out.
Wonderfully written, thank you!

I really enjoy the TR that provides the feeling of the day. We all have feelings but few can express it in words.

Thank you. ;)

This is a wonderful trip report. We go to the mountains in part to search for deeper understandings: of ourselves, our families and communities, of the world itself. Thanks for sharing this portion of your own search here with us--and the bits of wisdom with which you returned.

Mark

Thanks for the nice, thoughtful trip report, and beautiful pictures, too.

Excellent...speaks to many of us.  ..good stuff

I really enjoyed this.  There is a lot going on in this tr and I'll think on it a while.  Thank you.

Thanks for the kind comments; I was feeling kind of sappy and thought some of you might relate. MW88888888: I've really enjoyed your trip reports and was emulating them (poorly) here.

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Micah
2018-06-01 09:05:32