Featured Image: High in the Northern Wind River Range, two days from the nearest maintained trail. August 2026
Standing alone on a 12,000 foot pass above Baker Lake it is decision time. Clouds shroud the high peaks of the Northern Wind River Range in Wyoming. It’s August 2026 and the air is heavy with the smell of rain. The North American Monsoon is pulling moisture northward from the Gulf of California and the eastern Pacific. For five days in a row, the mountains have been hammered by multiple rounds of severe thunderstorms. I have three choices: continue my planned route over 13,000 foot Downs Mountain, return the way I came, or descend the infamous Pixley Creek to the Green River. Taking a sip of water and a deep breath, I shoulder my pack and set off.
I went on this trip seeking adventure and serenity in the wilderness. In everyday life, adventure is sporadic, serenity fleeting, and mindfulness elusive. Traveling solo and off-trail in the Bridger Wilderness requires moving in the present. Difficult situations are unavoidable and frequent. They are opportunities to grow.
The Northern Wind River Range
Photo: Fresh out of the truck at the Green River Lakes trailhead. August 2026
Pulling into the parking lot at Green Rivers Lakes, the usual busy lot is less than half-full. Grey clouds cling to slopes of the iconic Squaretop Mountain and my truck is covered in mud from driving 17 miles on a gravel road in a thunderstorm.
Wind River Range trends northwest to southeast in Western Wyoming for approximately 100 mi. The Continental Divide follows the crest of the range which is composed of massive Precambrian granitic rock. 60 million years ago, this mass of rock was uplifted 6 vertical miles shoving the overlying sedimentary rock to the flanks of the range. Beginning roughly 500,000 years ago, intense alpine glaciation carved the jagged peaks, deep canyons, and dramatic cirques we see today. The northern range, home to the highest peak in Wyoming, contains the largest active glacier network in the U.S. Rocky Mountains. Sadly, a shrinking network, the victim of global warming.
My intended route, a 60 mile loop, is a largely above timberline and only the first 5 miles are maintained trail. I love off-trail hiking. It is a mix of backpacking and mountaineering. I also enjoy going solo; travelling at my own pace and taking responsibility for my own decisions and safety. The combination creates a prescription for adventure. The Winds of Change: Fifty Years Hiking and Climbing in the Wind River Range of Wyoming Lock up the truck and let’s go.
Serenity: The Calm before the Storm
Photo: Incoming. August 2026
The tent fly is wet from the night’s thunderstorm. The morning sun breaks over the mountain and bathes the 10,000 foot alpine tundra in soft light. The air is fresh with the fragrance of Moss Campion and Dwarf Willows. Off to the west, dark clouds are building. The next storm is an hour away, but right now is silence and peace. Basking in the morning sun, my mind is focused on the present. This spot is teeming with life. Iridescent ground beetles climb blades of grass, tip over and waddle away. Curious pika and marmots wander close to check me out. Yellow dotted alpine butterflies flutter here and there. An American Pipit walks bobbing its tail. Brown-capped Rosy-Finches dart through the air.
I have camped in this cirque before. No people, ever, but I have shared it with elk, porcupine, mountain goats; and listened to coyotes howling at the full moon. Clouds overhead bring the first drops of rain, thunder booms in the distance. Climbing into my tent to wait out the rain, I spy a lone eagle soaring high ahead of the approaching storm. This is our precious wilderness.
Pixley Creek
From the outflow of the Klondike Glacier at an altitude of 12,500 feet, Pixley Creek descends 4000 vertical feet in 4 miles to the Green River at Beaver Park. It is a narrow V-shaped canyon with granite walls rising 2000 feet above the creek. In places, those walls have collapsed into talus fields 100 feet high and 400 yards long. Between talus fields are pristine meadows bearing no signs of human scars. Seldom travelled, it is wild and stunning beautiful.
My memory of descending Pixley Creek is 52 years old. Three companions and I left Green River Lakes carrying 60 pound packs filled with Goldline ropes, crampons, ice axes, and heavy 1970s gear. Our goal was to summit Gannet Peak, the highest point in Wyoming. Early season snow, bad weather and inexperience forced us to abandon our attempt. With nothing but a 1:48,000 USGS topo map, we exited the continental divide at Baker Lake and dropped into Pixley Creek. We had no clue. Descending with heavy packs through boxcar sized boulders—hour after hour—pushed us to exhaustion. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine returning.
Pushed to the Limit
Photo: Unsettled weather at Baker Lake. Decision time. August 2026
The weather is too sketchy to hike over 13,000 feet and there is little adventure in returning the way I came. Using my paper map and GPS, It takes three hours to descend the Pixley Creek headwall; no trail or even climber’s track.
The late afternoon sun brightens a flat grassy meadow set with granite rocks and decorated with blue Alpine Forget-Me-Nots, clusters of purple Sky Pilot, and red Indian Paintbrush. No sign of human passing marks ground. Granite walls tower above, a small side creek wanders through the tundra, and a gentle breeze blows down canyon. A tranquil place to spend the night.
Up at first light and on the move before 8 am, reality hits at the first big talus field. Carefully I wind my way over and around boulders ranging in size from footballs to cars. Talus fields are labyrinths. You think multiple moves ahead searching for the easiest way, but at the same time, mindful of each step. It’s unnerving when you weight a five ton block and it moves. It can take 15 minutes to cover 100 feet. Faced with difficulty, I have a ritual: take a sip of water, kiss my gold wedding ring, grab my gold cross necklace, and raise my eyes saying, “Watch me dad.”
Exit the talus and hike through another meadow. Up ahead is the next talus field. The boulders are now the size of freight cars. I’m forced down to the creek. A large 20 foot vertical granite boulder with smooth face blocks the way. No go to the left. To the right are the foaming waters of Pixley Creek. There is a small ledge six inches wide at the base above the creek disappearing around the corner. Does she go?
I tell myself, “You can do this, take your time and be safe.” Serenity comes from mindfulness.
Stepping onto the ledge, heels above the rushing water, I balance on the balls of my feet to keep my pack from pulling me over backwards. The side of my face and outstretched hands are pressed against the rock. I inch my way along the ledge. Slowly reaching out my right hand, I grab the jagged edge, and peer around the corner. She goes! Another, 20 feet of scrambling and I drop into a verdant meadow. I can’t contain the animal spirits and scream, “Yah baby!”
Photo: Typical Pixley Creek talas field. August 2026
I’ve been on the go for six hours. According to my map, one final obstacle before exiting the canyon. Up ahead the walls narrow to a choke; the constriction filled with large talus. But first, it’s time for second lunch. Feet outstretched on green grass, back against a granite boulder, the afternoon suns warms my body and soul. This is solitude. This is serenity. I feel the spirits of all that love me. Even though I am by myself, I’m not alone.
Adventure ahead, let’s get her done.
The Exit
It is after 3 pm when I begin side-hilling out of the canyon. It’s no picnic: steep walls, talus, and loose soil littered with deadfall conspire to block my way. After rounding the corner, I spy the Green River making lazy bends through Beaver Park a thousand feet below. I had visions of hiking down open slopes of Lodgepole pine, the floor carpeted with Alpine Milkvetch. Instead, I am hiking down a precipitous hillside in an old burn with thick stands of two inch pine trees and aspen carpeted with dead trees stacked like pickup sticks.
I perform the ritual and begin the descent. Each step on deadfall requires a test. A loose or rotten tree can collapse pitching you down the steep slope into the spines of the next dead tree. The descent is slow and painful.
I step onto the flat valley floor at 5 pm, 9 hours after leaving camp. The first campsite has my name. Struggling over more deadfall, I enter a clearing: patches of green grass for pitching a tent, logs to sit on, and a perfect fire ring. It is immaculate; only 10 yards from the trail, but completely hidden. I fill water containers from the Green, pitch my tent, heat up freeze dried beef stroganoff, and head to bed. It’s a fitful sleep dreaming of climbing massive boulders and struggling over giant deadfall.
Up before dawn and hiking at 7. It is cold in the canyon shadows, but I am fully in the moment. Morning alpenglow touches the high rock walls. I walk to the accompanying sound of the Green River and smell of fragrant pine. After several hours I see a hiker approaching: the first human in seven days. Eager to hear the sound of a voice I say, “Where you headed?”
The solo hiker says, “I’m heading to Gannet Peak. I’m climbing the highest point in all fifty states and this in number 46.”
I thought to myself, oh that’s your deal. I said, “What is your approach route?”
He said, “Tourist Creek. I hope to climb Gannett tomorrow and hike out on Saturday.”
Tourist Creek drains into the Green River upstream of Pixley. While the shortest route to access Gannett, the difficult trailess terrain has defeated many strong parties. It would take a very fit and experienced alpinist to roundtrip Gannett in three days. I looked the man in the eyes and took his measure. He looked to be fifty something, somewhat over weight and fresh out of the office. My instinct told me this guy is not going to make plan. I debated saying something. Instead, I said, “Good luck and be safe.”
He said, “Thanks. Have a great hike out.”
We both turned and walked our separate ways. I thought to myself, “That guy is going to get his ass kicked.”
After a total of five hours and ten miles of relaxed hiking, I reached the trailhead. It has been a magnificent trip. I found adventure and didn’t get hurt. I found serenity. The difficult conditions and terrain helped me grow.
Photo: Morning fog lifting. August 2026
Afterword
A week later I am reading the national news. A headline captures my attention and I read the article: https://cowboystatedaily.com/2026/08/26/missing-missouri-hiker-found-disoriented-but-alive-after-summiting-gannett-peak/. The story is about Shawn Mackelprang age 55, the Assistant Attorney General for the State of Missouri. He was in the Wind River Range to climb Gannett Peak as part of his quest to climb the highest point in all 50 states. He went in from Green River Lakes on Thursday August 20th … the same day and trail which I hiked out. I looked at the picture. It was the guy I met.
According to the story, he had told his family he would be out Saturday August 22nd. His family notified the Sublette County Sherriff when he failed to make contact. A ground and air rescue effort was organized. The team found he had signed the Gannett summit register on Friday August 21st. With information gleaned from other climbers and hikers they found his tent, but not him. Finally, on Wednesday August 26th they found him some distance from his camp dehydrated and confused, but alive. The article stated he did not carry a GPS or emergency locating beacon.
I have climbed Gannett Peak twice. I have come close to dying in the mountains. Genesis on The Grand: Rock & Ice Magazine I have learned the hard way: “Good judgement is the result of experience and experience the result of bad judgement.” Mark Twain. What follows is not criticism of Mr. Mackelprang, but my thoughts on lessons I have learned and what his experience teaches us.
Here are my takeaways:
- If you are going to high altitude from sea level, take time to acclimatize. Going too high too fast puts you at risk for high altitude sickness and exhaustion. This increases in importance as you get older. My first three days were, by design, at a leisurely pace.
- Set realistic goals. Most parties allow five days to round trip Gannett. Doing it in three days or less requires a high level of fitness and climbing experience. My climb in 2024, with a longer approach, took seven days. There and Back Again: Gannett Peak, WY Fifty Year Anniversary Climb
- Keep a reserve and don’t drive yourself to exhaustion. If you push yourself over the edge physically and mentally, it’s tough to get it back. While I admire Mackelprang’s ability to survive five days alone in the wilderness, he is lucky to be alive. Even though he wasn’t injured, he couldn’t hike out—he had to be found and rescued.
- If travelling off-trail by yourself, in mountains like the Winds, carry a GPS with an emergency beacon. If something bad happens, you are risking your life and the lives of those who come looking for you. My Garmin InReach GPS connects to Earthmate on my phone showing my track, current location, and planned route on USGS topo maps. I carry paper maps and a battery charger as backup. The Garmin has an emergency SOS button alerting the local sheriff’s office of your location and that help is required.
Mountains like the Winds deserve respect; something that is sorely lacking in this day of digital influencers. Social media is long on “cool stuff” and short on judgement. Are page views and “Likes” worth dying for? As we climbers say, “The summit is optional, coming home is required.”
Photo: Pixley Creek. August 2026