Virgin Powder
From here we headed up Bear Creek, carving through the virgin powder while trying not to lose site of the fact that we were on a mission to see as much as possible today. About two-thirds of the way up this valley we stopped just above the site of Bear Town, an abandoned mining town that boasted of nearly 3,000 people in the late 1800s.
All of our sleds had fallen off of peak rpm so Kenny insisted that we squeeze the last little bit of high-altitude tuning out of our rides, which did help. I knew I brought him along for something more than just a good time.
We fired up, then jumped the creek and climbed on up to timberline at Kite Lake and from there slabbed up a long sidehill bench to the Continental Divide near Hunchback Pass, sitting at an elevation of just less than 12,500 feet. The view from up here is awe-inspiring-with long distance vistas to the north, east and south and 13,000-foot-plus peaks to the west.
It was necessary for us to backtrack out of Bear Creek to get to Stony Pass without getting into a small triangle of the Weminuche Wilderness between the two. This was the only time today that we would look at our own tracks, let alone anyone else's, till we were back within five miles of the ranch. Once out of Bear Creek we were back on the basic route of the wagon/stage trail to Stony Pass. Once we climbed out of the canyon of lower Deep Creek and past the foot of Sheep Mountain, it was wall-to-wall white stuff. All of us played indirect lines of roller and knob busting on up to Stony Pass and then rode through the pass and over the Divide, finally looking down country in the general direction of Howardsville and Silverton.
After Kenny put some tracks on the west face of Canby Mountain, we left Stony Pass and headed east toward the West Fork of Pole Creek. We had a steep, high ridge between us and the West Fork that dealt us some grief getting everybody over it. Thankfully, we were able to continue on without a wreck as a big bird of prey was already circling above, waiting for some fresh meat.
About halfway down the West Fork we stopped in a little pocket against the trees to take a lunch break out of a stiff breeze. Here were acre upon acre of high mountain meadows just begging for some tracks, so after lunch we obliged on our way to the bottom of the West Fork.