Cirque of the Towers 2020
It’s my sixth time in this mountain range but it still feels just like the first. Granted, this is a first of sorts: the first time I’ve come here on a trip with guests. Walking up the gradual slope of the trail never gets old. The river, peaking in and out, guides our way up into the valley, by pristine alpine lakes, over several passes disguised as one, until we reach the precipice and gaze into the belly of granite with mouths and eyes wide open. This is the Cirque of the Towers.
At the top of Jackass Pass looking into the Cirque - Photo by Mike Pafford
The Cirque, located only a half-hundred long miles from Lander, Wyoming, is a semi-circular crown of granite peaks soaring up dramatically 2,000 feet above its base. These peaks, ironically, are some of the youngest in North America, as mountains start craggy and over time and erosion become more rounded and stout. These are the craggiest of all craggy peaks, drawing the eye in like a campfire does. I find myself staring at them all throughout the day, never losing a sense of awe and amazement.
The Continental Divide runs through this section of the Wind River Range, providing an objective that all want to experience, summiting the ridge of Wolf’s Head where you can see straight down 1,500 feet on either side.
The Cirque is home to a handful of crystal clear blue lakes, teaming with wildflowers in July and August, a moose who lives near Lonesome Lake, rodents of all sizes including Marmots, Squirrels, Pika, Chipmunk and Mice, foxes, stream and lake trout, and a deafening sound of silence that pursues you wherever you are.
This most recent trip, I had the pleasure of bringing a previous guest, Mark, and his medical school compatriot and rock climbing partner, Mike, to the Cirque to attempt to realize a 13 year-long dream: to climb the Wolf’s Head Traverse. In 2007, when I had just entered basic training for the Army, Mark and Mike took a trip to the Tetons in the westernmost part of Wyoming and climbed The Grand. After completing their objective, they dreamed up their next big mission, the Cirque of the Towers. Cut to 13 years later where we were going to do our best to make that dream come true.
Mark and Mike weren’t able to line up their schedules until the middle of September, both busy doctors of their own specializations. I was slightly skeptical, being that alpine season typical ends after Labor Day each year, undoubtedly with an early season snow storm, increased precipitation, and less-than-ideal climbing conditions. This year was no different and I watched in horror as a storm approached the week before our trip, calling for over 16 inches of snow in the Cirque.
In the week leading up to our trip, I observed footage from highway cameras, checked the upcoming weather forecasts incessantly, and called the local gear shops in Lander to gather information about the results of said storm. The main concern here being that I am a rock guide, intending to guide clients up rock climbs, and snow could really throw a wrench in those plans.
Even up to the night before the trip, browsing for last-minute needs at Wild Iris Mountaineering in Lander, I was told that there were up to 18 inches of slush to wade through in certain places, and I’d be wise to bring gaiters, boots, and yaktraks (spiky little shoe add-ons to provide traction on ice and snow) to be properly prepared. My partner and designated camp cook for the trip, Stephanie, panicked slightly as she looked down at her newly purchased La Sportiva approach shoes, the mesh model she’d selected for breathability, and resigned to pack a few extra pairs of socks, instead of purchasing yet another pair of new, but waterproof, shoes.
The next morning, Sunday, we met bright and early at my favorite breakfast spot, The Middle Fork, to meet all the members of the party and go over final details before packing up and heading out to the trailhead. At Lander City Park, I edited down our overstuffed and luxury-laden backpacks and managed to get everyone’s packs to an average weight of 50 measly pounds. We each attempted to reckon with this weight, lugged over 10 miles and up 11,000 feet above sea level, on our shoulders, backs and hips, each idealizing the moment when the packs came off, camp was set up, and our first night was underway in the infamous Cirque of the Towers.
We’d made it to camp in a little over 7 hours, with ample pitstops for trail fuel and foot rests. We were pleasantly surprised to find no snow (AT ALL) on the trail, and only had to contend with an absurd amount of downed trees from the previous week’s storm. The bugs had completely deserted the alpine for the season, and we now had the place, in peace, to ourselves. To my amazement, we were only 1 of 4 parties camped in the Cirque, a number that dwindled early in the week. Maybe, I thought, this is my new favorite time of the year to visit the Winds.
Over dinner the first night, we talked about our visions for an ideal trip and planned out a tentative schedule to achieve these objectives including climbing Pingora Peak and Wolf’s Head, as well as a rest day to catch and cook trout and so on. Our plan for the first climbing day: the South Buttress of Pingora, which goes at 5.6; four solid pitches of slab and crack climbing to warm up our bodies and minds for the larger granite routes later in the week.
We decided to get a non-alpine start on Day 2, waking up casually for coffee at 7:30am with the definitive decision to start hiking at 10am. We were camped only a half mile from the base of the climb, and were grateful to have a later start after the grueling and heavy march of the previous day. Our bellies filled with egg and sausage burritos and superfluous amounts of caffeine-rich bitter liquid, we tromped off, eager to reach a summit and truly take in all the sights of the Cirque.
On this day, we were the only climbing party on Pingora, which is unheard of. These climbs are usually teaming with parties from around the world ready to take on the formidable and classic routes on Pingora and Wolf’s Head. From the top, I was even able to lower Mark down to the bottom of the crack system called K cracks for a bonus pitch of a splitter 5.8 finger crack. We sat at the top and made some phone calls to friends and family, took in the 360 degree views of the Wind River Range, and had a proper snack before considering our descent. After two double rope rappels to the 3rd class scramble, we were on our way back to camp by 5pm for a delicious adult-version of cheeseburger macaroni and chocolate pudding for dessert.
The week continued in similar fashion, having the Cirque basically to ourselves. We had the most ideal weather possible, with highs in the 60’s and lows in the 30’s, not a cloud to be seen until Thursday evening, and a 3pm daily wind that ripped through the Cirque and cooled us off when we couldn’t find a comfortable shady spot in camp. As the week went on, a peaceful aura enveloped our group as we left worldly concerns behind. We chitchatted over delectable warm meals, shared our experiences from the day and from our lives, and formed palpably long-lasting bonds that are the eminent result of adventure-filled days, sleepless nights and daily reports on bowel movements.
Our trip culminated in a nail-biting crescendo as we planned for the ultimate objective of summiting the Wolf’s Head traverse on Thursday, one of the 50 classics of North America. Again, we took stock of the local climbers in the Cirque, and decided that unless an unexpected party showed up in the middle of the night, we’d most likely have Wolf’s Head to ourselves. Two amazing peaks to ourselves in the same week is something I have never experience in this Range before. Strangely, Mike and Mark had a similar experience 13 years ago on the Grand Teton.
I decided we’d need to leave camp by 7am the next morning. That meant waking up in the dark at 5:30am for another hearty cup o Joe and hefty breakfast burrito. We had already packed the night before, but went through our daypacks once more, making sure we were as prepared as possible; harness, check; helmet, check; sticky rubber, check; carbs, protein and sugar contained in tiny wrappers, check; headlamp, check; extra layer, check; and the list goes on, but not for much longer.
We set off at 7:15am (impressive), all a little giddy and nervous for the huge undertaking we had ahead of us, 1,500 feet of climbing, not to mention the approach pitches, listed as a grade IV or full-day endeavor. The route is approached differently depending on preference. After stopping to fill our water from the fresh flowing snow melt in the talus beneath the route, we chose to approach up the grassy ledges, a wandering and in some places, wet, 3-pitch ascent that takes you to the true beginning of Wolf’s Head.
From there you get to stand on a granite ridge the width of a sidewalk, with the ground dropping dramatically away from you as you climb. It is an easy 5.4 sidewalk, that could probably be climbed with eyes closed in any other circumstance. But in this one, your eyes are peeled, wide and bulging, heavily breathing as you walk up this slab with sweaty palms, and begin the 1,500 feet of climbing that is known as the Wolf’s Head Traverse.
Mike and Mark knew this was an experience and challenge of a lifetime, and were prepared to undertake any obstacle, physical, mental, or otherwise, to achieve their decade and a half-long dream. I pitched out the climb, since most of it after the first 500 feet is traversing. This means we go shorter distances for the sake of communication and mostly to eliminate tremendous rope drag. We winded and wounded and meandered our way around blind bulges, hand traverses on smearing feet, foot traverses with hands only to balance with, up chimneys and down into caves and crevices. This climb truly tests all of your skills never ceasing to present you with another challenge of strength and agility of body and mind.
We began at the base of the grassy ledges at 9am, got to the ridge and true start of the climb by 10am, and reached the summit of Wolf’s Head by 4pm. The weather was still splitter blue skies at the summit. We ate our neatly packaged nutrition bombs, called friends and family again, sent photos, celebrated our victory, and snapped an absurd amount of large-grinned pictures from the top. From up there, you feel a dizzying sense of being tremendously small and grandiose all at once.
In many cases, when you summit you feel as if you’ve reached your objective and the day is complete, but in most of those cases, if the objective is large enough, then you’re actually only halfway finished. After proper indulging in the summit I located the rappel route off the Brass Monkey Line up the face of Wolf’s Head, and endured the 8 short but arduous rappels back to the ground. By the time we were back to Cirque Lake, it was already 7pm and our muscles, joints, and nerves were fried. We trudged back to camp, feeling equally accomplished and wrecked, ready for our final dinner of the trip and a cozy feathered sack to crawl into.
We ate in the dark that night, under a blanket of stars, twinkling and shooting this way and that. Mark and Mike stayed up late talking, presumably still high on adrenaline. I quickly fell asleep with the satisfaction of knowing that this is the reason why I became a rock guide, for I had also realized a dream that day: a dream of sharing incredible climbing experiences in the Cirque of the Towers and other mind-numbingly beautiful places in the world with fellow adventure-enthusiasts and climbers.
Stephanie prepared chocolate chip pancake bites the next morning, fueling us up with carbs and sugar for the walk home. We packed up our tents and camping accoutrements in preparation for the hike out knowing this time it would be easier, as we’d eaten most of the food we’d packed in, securing a solidly lighter pack weight, and burgers and beds were awaiting us on the other side.
We concluded the trip not so differently from the way we began, at one of my favorite restaurants in Lander, the Lander Bar, consuming copious amounts of bread, beef and cheese. We recapped the trip, exchanged photos and, eventually, reluctant goodbyes. Mark and Mike retired to their hotel and I to my home on wheels.
It was so special to offer this backcountry experience to some incredibly motivated people. This, I am certain, was the first of many backcountry climbing trips that I will offer in my guiding career. I look forward to more adventures with these two men, as well as many other clients-turned-friends to come.
If you have any questions about booking a trip in the Wind River Range for 2021 and beyond, as well as any other climbing/backpacking trips I offer, feel free reach out here for more details.
Cheers,
TG
*Thank you to Mark, Mike and Stephanie for contributing some of their photos and videos from trip to this blog post.