Weekend Adventure Series: Spire Rock Flats

The sun woke us up this warm Saturday morning and we headed over to the Emerson Center to peruse the local Farmers Market. We stocked up on local-raised sausage and those delicious ginger molasses cookies to accompany us on our weekend journey. Back at the house we began the ritual of grabbing anything deemed necessary for an early season camp-out in Montana: tent & sleeping bags, headlamps & long-johns, food supplies  to include fresh ground PB & Morna's raspberry jam, a block of extra sharp Tillamook, apples, tangerine & pistachios. Yum!
An hour later after a protein-packed breakfast of sausage, egg & potato hash we hit the road and headed west on Interstate 90 through the sunny Gallatin Valley towards the Continental Divide Pass where we hoped to find some good climbing. We did not have a specific destination other than "the rocks at the pass in the Beaverhead- Deerlodge National Forest" but I have been through the area on the interstate so often and noticed the really epic landscape and I looked at some maps before hand so we were sure we would find something entertaining. About 75 miles outside of Bozeman we took Exit 241 for "Pipestone" and followed a road for "Delmoe Lake" because it was clad in that iconic Forest Service brown.

The landscape we passed through was a maze of narrow dirt roads and an old rail-bed zigzagging in and out of the main gravel road. We saw several trailheads but noticed that everything but cars were allowed, meaning off-highway vehicles (OHVs) and that is a big red flag for Reuben and I. Nothing ruins a hike more than getting clouds of dirt and dust blown up into your face every ten minutes. Down that road at the "Four Corners" we acquired a map of the "OHV Pipestone" area we were traveling through, a section of BLM land bordering the forest service and we could see from the map that Delmoe Lake Road meandered 11 miles into the mountains before reaching the lake, which we determined would probably be inaccessible this time of year due to snow. We looked up from the map and from the parking area we could see a small mountain of rocks directly in front of us. We referred to our map and found out that we were looking at Spire Rock Flats- this was exactly what we had been looking for!

We jumped back in the Equinox and drove about a mile over to the base of Spire Rocks, pulled off on a dirt road labeled with a large brown and white arrow and bolted towards the rugged playground ahead of us. It was a beginner climbers paradise, mostly riddled with Class 3 climbing, which is defined as:
"Scrambling or un-roped climbing. You must use your hands most of the time to hold the terrain or find your route.  This may be caused by a combination of steepness and extreme terrain (large rocks or steep snow). Some Class 3 routes are better done with rope." Copyright © 2013 14ers.com^®, 14ers Inc.


We spent hours bounding on boulders, crawling up cracks, thrusting our way into crevices & pulling ourselves up and over every rock in our path. We surged forth with a limitless energy and desire for more technical spots and were continually rewarded with pitch after pitch of prime granite to hone our developing climbing skills. I could feel muscles that I had been newly acquainted with pulsing from use and every time I crested a pitch or a boulder I felt like a beast- strong & wild, able to tackle anything in my path. Nearest the top that we were able to reach, we saw a silver box perched high on a ledge, accessible only to those who dared to anchor ropes to the shiny silver bolts lining the Class 4 & 5 walls of granite. From the ledge we saw dozens of birds with a white underbelly that resembled doves or pigeons and made a loud "coo-coo" sound so we figured the box was for research purposes and had been placed by the Fish, Wildlife & Parks crew. The birds above us probably had an even better view than us but nonetheless, as we turned and looked to the south and east we were overwhelmed by the beauty of the Tobacco  Root Mountain capped in snow being reflected on by the sun behind those lofty big sky clouds.

That evening Reuben built a small fire that reminded me of the little fires my dad used to make. We hardly ever build fires anymore, they lose their excitement after years of working at camps and on trail crews, but the temperature was dropping and the warmth and comforting glow added to the authenticity of the moment. We munched on our sausage, cheese, fruit and those delicious ginger cookies then crawled into our cozy Half Dome where my brand new Mojave down sleeping bag kept me nice and toasty through the snowy night. 

~Mary Lane~
Bozeman, MT 3.16.13