Peaks For Freaks: YURL

Warning: This purely theoretical route passes through private property. If you are uncomfortable with this, please do not proceed to attempt it. This report is for informational purposes only.

JUL 2023

The YURL links up two P1Ks (Pioneer Mtn and Cedar Mtn West) and two P2Ks (Fan Mtn and Lone Peak) west of Big Sky, along with a few extraneous peaks on the ridge connecting to and from Cedar Mtn West. I had first spotted this unusual concentration of prominence a year prior, and set about mapping a traverse connecting all four peaks. What resulted was one of my proudest dayhikes to date, complete with rough terrain, big elevation changes, and splendid Montana backcountry that is seen by few.

I had hoped to train for a little longer before my attempt, but upon seeing perfect forecasted conditions on an upcoming day I decided to just go for it. The nighttime low was set to be in the mid 40s, and daytime high in the 60s, complete with a waning gibbous moon. I knew I was physically pushing it a little due to my slight under preparedness in training, but these conditions were too good to pass up.

I woke up at 1:15am in Bozeman and made the groggy 1hr drive to Big Sky in the wee hours of the morning, parking in a giant lot below the ski lifts. Later I found out that this lot was for paid/VIP customers only and I should've used a dirt lot further north (I didn't get ticketed so this is either not enforced or I got lucky). I finally set out on foot not long before 3am. Having never been here before, I spent a few minutes wandering through the maze of resort buildings before arriving at the dirt road that I wished to follow SW for a couple miles. The sky was completely devoid of clouds, with a large waning gibbous shining beautifully. It was a bright, magical night, with tall trees that weren't thick enough to blot out the moonlight, and my footsteps crunching softly on gravel. Everything was still and silent.

The road roughly followed a section of Big Sky's southern boundary, gradually getting closer to the YC further south. 2 miles in, I hopped a fence and was walking through the YC. My guard would be up for the next 6 miles, but I saw no one. Fortunately, summer is the dead season here. The miles ticked away as I walked a network of roads, culverts, and drainage tunnels, passing by several mansions which looked like unfriendly gothic monsters in the moonlight. Due to the ease of terrain here, I knew that these were by far going to be my fastest miles of the day. Things would slow down significantly once I hit full cross country terrain for the majority of the route.

The eastern horizon was barely starting to glow as I reached the start of my first significant elevation gain of the day: the north ridge of Pioneer Mountain. As I rounded the toe of the ridge, a frantic rustling and banging startled me, and I stared straight ahead to see a large pen full of large dark figures. I guess this was where they kept the horses that were used for joy rides through the mountains by the club's rich occupants.

I started up Pioneer by utilizing a barren ski run which brought me up to the ridge proper after a few hundred feet. From there, a network of faint talusy roads led me to the summit, which I crested just before sunrise. I spent roughly 15 minutes at the summit, snacking on some salty crackers and watching the sun rise over the YC. This had been my first significant break since starting out, and I was thankful to finally be able to see the terrain more clearly with light.

With the day fast approaching, it was time to boogie. After following a dirt road west for about 1.5 miles, I crossed into public land, breathing a sigh of relief that the YC was behind me. After this point, it would only be my own physical inability which could prevent me from completing the route. The sun shone beautifully as I ascended the east ridge of Headwater Peak. The ridge was characterized by grassy meadows full of wildflowers. Everything was so green. It was only a few hundred feet below the peak that the grass was replaced by loose rocks. A carpet of yellow flowers adorned the summit of Headwater Peak, and I caught my first view of the impressive Cedar Lake Cirque.

The next four peaks were easily linked via their main connecting ridge. The ridge between Headwater Peak and Cedar Mtn West contained small sections of class 3-4 on chossy but solid-enough-to-feel-safe rock. Sections of it gave off "sidewalk in the sky" vibes. This ridge wrapped around the entire southern half of Cedar Lake Cirque before fishtailing northwest and away from it.

I reached Shell Peak just before noon, and looked north at the massive gaping Cedar Creek Canyon that I would have to cross. This would involve dropping 3,000 ft to the canyon floor before immediately ascending 3,200 ft up one of the ridges that made up Fan Mountain's south face.

Descending Shell Peak's north ridge started out straightforward, but shortly after came a short nasty class 4 downclimb to get through a cliff band around 9,500 ft. I dropped west off the ridge for this, utilizing a series of terraced rotten gullies before veering back onto the ridge. After this, I found myself thrashing through ever increasing krummholz as I descended below treeline. At 8,600 ft, the ridge forked. I took the eastern (right) fork, thrashing though ever thickening forest with increased deadfall. Eventually the deadfall was so bad that I was constantly climbing over it and barely even touching the ground. A few hundred feet above the valley floor, I reached one of the tributaries to Cedar Creek, and filled up on water for the first time.

It was oppressively hot and I was covered in sweat and leaves as I finally reached the valley floor, taking off my shoes to wade across Cedar Creek. After a short food break, I turned my attention north to Fan Mountain. Even though most of the mountain was not yet visible, I knew this one was going to be tough.

From the valley floor (7,000 ft) to 8,200 ft, I had a choice of either bushwhacking through shrubs on slippery dirt, or ascending unpleasant open scree fields. I mostly chose the shrubs because the scree was annoyingly loose. Between 8,200 and 9,500 ft, the slope angle lessened significantly, ascending through open old growth forest before abruptly rising above treeline. From 9,500 ft to the summit, the terrain switched to horribly loose scree which clinked like dinner plates. I had to take numerous breaks through this section as fatigue was finally beginning to kick in.

I plopped onto the summit of Fan Mountain, staring at the mass of Lone Mtn to the west. "That is gonna suck," I thought to myself, looking at the 2,600 ft descent off the SE ridge of Fan Mtn followed immediately by a 3,600 ft gain up the west ridge of Lone Peak. It was from this position that the sheer prominence of the mountains was conveyed. Fan Mountain stood by itself, surrounded by several 3,000 ft deep canyons that were only a few miles across. Almost the entire traverse and all its peaks were visible from here.

Getting off Fan Mountain was not quite as tedious as ascending it, but still contained its fair share of unpleasantries. For the first 1,500 ft of descent, a light goat trail could be followed down the ridge, consisting of mainly loose talus. Around 9,200 ft, I had to downclimb a brief section of decaying class 4 rock. Below 9,000 ft, travel grew more pleasant as the talus was replaced with more solid rock and eventually grassy meadows. There was some deadfall through sections of forest, but it was not bad.

Dark clouds were starting to build to the southwest as I crossed the lowpoint between Fan and Lone. This area was characterized by lush forest and a decent sized creek flowing south to north. This was the last reliable water source on the route, and I topped off my bottles. Just before reaching the creek, I passed through an unoccupied camp with several (>10) game cameras tied to various trees, facing all directions. The need for so many of these was lost to me, and I quickly hurried through this unsettling display.

From this creek to the summit of Lone Peak lay about 3,600 ft of net elevation gain. This entire gain was mercifully way less steep than any side of Fan Mountain. The first 2k of gain ascended through lush forests with some deadfall that wasn't as bad as what I had encountered previously in the day, but still required a great deal of climbing over things. By now the fatigue was really kicking in, and I had to sit down every 5-10 minutes. Low rumbles of thunder had begun to sound, followed by a light rain that came and went over the next hour. The brunt of this small concentrated storm ended up missing me, and the sprinkles weren't even enough to make my top layer wet for more than a few minutes at a time.

At 9,500 ft, I finally burst above treeline to bright glorious sunshine and the summit visible further east. A large 100 ft crane could be seen plopped right on the summit. I had learned later that Big Sky was building a new gondola to the summit, and the east side was technically off-limits for the whole summer. On and on I trudged upwards at a snails pace, having to sit down every 5 minutes or so. The top of the mountain took forever to get closer, even though it was not very far away. The sun bathed the rock in a brilliant orange hue.

I reached the summit right at sunset, fighting back some light nausea that had developed shortly before. The summit was strewn with all sorts of construction materials and debris, with a 5 by 5 ft area of orange hot glowing coals that the construction workers had probably left not long ago. I was physically miserable, but mentally elated. All the elevation gain was done, and the traverse was in the bag.

I rested on the summit for about 10 minutes before starting down the east ridge (also known as "The Rut"). I had hoped to descend as much as possible before usable daylight ran out. Unfortunately due to my physical state I couldn't move very fast, and gingerly descended the first half of the ridge on loose scree while fighting bouts of nausea. A faint trail appeared, getting more defined the lower I went. It now became apparent that this side of the mountain was off limits, as I passed through several fences and other barriers placed over the trail. Upon reaching treeline, it finally got too dark to see without a light (the moon wouldnt rise until way later), and I crumpled to the ground and took an uncomfortable nap for about 40 minutes. It helped a little, at least relieving the nausea somewhat. I turned my headlamp on and wandered through the trees on a series of mountain bike trails, heading in a general easterly direction. The terrain was less steep here and I could move faster downhill now. At last, I could see the buildings of the resort area where I was parked. I switched off my headlamp for the last quarter mile for good measure and tripped and fumbled my way through the dark and eventually onto a walkway leading through the condos.

A few curious faces peered out from windows as I gingerly and shakily made my way down some stairs and back to my car waiting in the near-empty lot. It was just before midnight. I didn't dilly dally at all before starting the drive back to Bozeman. I would end up pulling over to sleep in multiple pullouts on the way back as the sleep deprivation finally began catching up in earnest.

Total Stats: 25 miles 14,300 ft gain/loss

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