TR: Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness

Continued from above post . . .

Stuffed from an oversized dinner of burritos and still awe-struck from the sunset, we digested and decompressed beside a small campfire. Although not a frequent part of my backpacking repertoire, the fact that the wood was conveniently stacked beside the fire ring and a desire to remain reasonably well-practiced in this art of woodcraft compelled me to go through the motions and put match to tinder. While not as mesmerizing as the sunset, the campfire proved — as always — to be a relaxing way to wind down the evening.

A sunny and nearly cloud-free sky greeted us in the morning and we packed up at an efficient pace, despite a reluctance to leave. This day would be our longest hike of the trip (approximately 12 miles) and featured a significant descent, followed by a long climb to Cutaway Pass, a few miles of above treeline hiking, then a seemingly endless descent to Black Bear Meadows, where we would pitch camp. The section of trail descending from Warren Lake was a delightful way to start a gorgeous and unseasonably warm October day. Some sections of trail were indescribably lovely under the conditions in which we hiked them. We navigated tight switchbacks carpeted with golden larch needles before reaching straight, gently graded, narrow sections of trail which passed beneath towering lodgepole pines. The climb up to Cutaway Pass was less visually charming, at least until we were high enough to catch glimpses of the mountains and get our first taste of the middle portion of the day’s journey. It wasn’t early and it wasn’t late when we reached Cutaway Pass and took a break to snack, soak up the view, and rest for the next section of hiking.







While I don’t have a breadth of experience when it comes to high-country hiking, I feel comfortable stating that the next section of trail (from Cutaway Pass to an unnamed pass) was indeed a fine example of northern Rocky Mountain alpine scenery. We enjoyed unobstructed views of various mountains ranges near and far, glimpses into glacial cirques (some with lakes and some without) and the thrill of being on a treeless ridgecrest. Perhaps the grandest vista was the one we took in right before we began our descent — a sweeping panorama which included an unnamed lake, Warren Peak, and most enticingly, a view down into the meadow where we would be camping that evening.

To say the descent took forever would verge on being an understatement. The majority of our afternoon seemed to be spent on endless switchbacks, some long and some short, but it sure beat sitting in traffic or doing laundry. We didn’t have too much time to spare time once we finally reached Black Bear Meadows, which was just as idyllic up close as it looked from 9,700 feet. Black Bear Meadows was an easy place to camp in as virtually the entire acreage was flat and every spot to pitch a tent had a backdrop worthy of a magazine cover. We pitched our tents in what we thought was a fine spot, but it was subsequently upstaged upon our early evening “discovery” of the Bonus Meadow.

Separated by a small creek shaded by trees, this adjacent meadow offered spectacular views and included a feature designed for comfort — a large perfectly shaped and slanted rock slab that could accommodate two humans in supreme comfort and provide them with a breathtaking view of Warren Peak and adjacent mountain slopes. Needless to say, we had dinner at this too-good-to-be-true spot after some Frisbee throwing in an attempt to stay loose and stretch our muscles before settling down.

The stargazing from this spot was as incredible as the sunset had been the previous evening. The silhouette of the mountains with the stars above made for a truly remarkable view. A shooting star streaked across the sky a mere split-second after I commented to John that we would be seeing some shooting-star action once the skies darkened enough. Coincidence or synchronicity? I’ll opt for the latter. With stars above and perfect seats we stayed up considerably later than on the other nights of the trip. We sipped just enough bourbon to enjoy a warm fuzzy feeling of accomplishment and camaraderie without having to pay a penalty the next morning.



We awoke not long after sunrise to a beautiful morning and warm temperatures. As was the routine, we enjoyed a quick but not rushed breakfast while packing up our gear. We had a relatively easy day of hiking ahead of us, especially when compared with the previous day’s effort, and started up the trail with a spring in our steps. We reached Warren Pass in 90 minutes, a modest accomplishment for two non-competitive hikers such as ourselves. On the way to the pass, we strolled through several spectacular meadows as well as a stunning tarn tucked into the woods.

Descending from Warren Pass, we passed Upper Carpp Lake before following the trail as it wound between Carpp Lake and Lower Carpp Lake. A few tents were scattered along the lakeshore and we encountered the first other hiker we had seen on the trip. We had decided the night before that our campsite for the final night of our trip would be at Tamarack Lake, requiring a three-mile roundtrip hike from the main trail we had been following to this absolute gem of a high mountain lake. Although we made good time to the lake, I found myself more tired from the effort than I expected and set my tent up at the first spot that looked decent. It wasn’t a bad spot by any means, but while walking around the lake later in the day I stumbled upon a much more appealing spot, which I will definitely put to use in the future.





Tamarack Lake was an enchanting mix of blues that varied with depth and light conditions and possessed an almost psychedelic shimmer under the mid-afternoon sun. Mountainsides and Warren Peak towered above the far shore, and just to top things off, a small and rugged island sat in the middle of the lake. Piles of eroded rock and gravel on the mountain slope resembled the bottom halves of hourglasses, making the whole scene seem just a bit more existential than might be expected. This observation brought to mind a verse from the song “Trains Across the Seas” by poet and musician David Berman:

Half-hours on Earth, what are they worth?
I don’t know.
In twenty-seven years, I’ve drunk fifty-thousand beers
And they just wash against me, like the sea into a pier.

I don’t know either, but I do know for certain that all too few of my half-hours on Earth have been spent in places as beautiful as Tamarack Lake.

Our dining spot for the evening provided a great view of the lake and was well-protected from the wind, which had picked up over the course of the day. We headed into our tents not long after darkness settled and endured a night of sustained and at times strong winds (some gusts likely exceeding 35 m.p.h.) that also brought with it a few inches of snow. Fortunately, ear plugs allowed me to sleep relatively uninterrupted; lacking such equipment John’s night was a bit less restful.

Continued in the next post . . .

Thanks for your report.  Enjoyed the photos!

Gorgeous! I'm enjoying reading TRs now, knowing it is months before I can get into the mountains.