Wind Rivers, Deep Lake

Published on 2026-08-07 by Michael Stanton

Day One, August 7

After a night sleeping near the trailhead, we hiked in with good weather. The packs were heavy, but as I think about the trip later, I'm amazed at how easy this made things for many days to follow. A single base camp creates an almost "European Alps" situation with short approaches and reasonable days.

We found a camp about 10 minutes walk below Deep Lake after 5 hours of walking. We set things up, took a short rest, then hiked up to do the Grade II "Railroad Tracks" route on Haystack Mountain just above us. With a grade of 5.8, it should be reasonable for a first day. It would also let us get familiar with the descent, called the "Grassy Goat Trail."

Robert under Haystack Mountain

Michael walking up to the Railroad Tracks (5.8)

Robert a couple of pitches up on the Railroad Tracks

Robert at the belay starting pitch 4

I led the initial pitch, combining with the next for a full 90 meter lead to a tied-off bush. Robert got the next pitch, with tricky but enjoyable moves. However, there was a point with 2 cracks above a vertical section. The crack on the left is protectable, but the one on the right is full of grass. He ended up on the right, and made sketchy face moves to go left. I was following in the same place and I just asked Robert to hold the rope so I could tension over to the left. I grow cagey in my advanced age!

I led a short pitch above this, no special difficulties. Then Robert led a crux pitch up to and beyond a "prominent detached block." Really great climbing! However, it was a lot longer than the guidebook indicated. Rather than being 4 pitches, it was more like 7.

Anyway, I got us up to terrain where we could unrope and bag the summit. Then we hiked down and intersected with the Grassy Goat Trail at a cairn. The trail really begins more from the north.

It was an interesting descent...very exposed, but reasonable. With ordinary tennis shoes, I chose to rappel at the one anchor we found while Robert downclimbed.

Michael on this localized Haystack Mountain summit

Robert on Haystack

We had dinner and began a tradition of a dram of whiskey every night which Robert rationed with discipline!

Day Two, August 8

Today we decided on Steeple Peak. The description enticed us with this interesting chimney. We hiked easily enough up to the start. I just forgot to drop my poles at the lake, so I left them where we turned left up a ramp to gain the ridge just north of the route proper.

We often discussed a mix of politics and economics. Robert has a strong background in economics, and knows the principles by which prosperity occurs perfectly. My thought about that is something like "let him cook," that is, ideally, those principals could and should be followed by governments and everyone wins. My fear is that schools have done their job so poorly in educating the young, and our media have never told us about the horror of communism, while they fill the airways with the "perfidy" of Donald Trump making a ballroom in the whitehouse or whatever the outrage of the day is. So we can't convince the young to vote for the old Republican recipie of lower taxes and balanced budgets.

Robert at the first pitch of Steeple Peak's North Ridge

Michael coming up the first pitch

The chimney section of the route

Maybe the ones who were raised in something of the old way will vote for patriotism, pride, love of country. And maybe then we can have lower taxes and balanced budgets!

From the first belay, Robert started up a neat twin crack system, ultimately preferring the left side. It had a tough vertical section at the start, then eased off. He continued to the ridge crest and built a belay on a ledge. I followed up, and the way continued with a traverse on the right side of the crest, kind of a leaning crack. There was one tough move in here where I couldn't decide whether to go right or up. Finally I went up. That was solid 5.8, I think.

In fact, I found the climbing rather intimidating! The lack of rock climbing since early June had affected me, so I just let Robert lead all pitches for the rest of the trip. I'd be in "follow mode," and that was fine. I was only a bit disappointed to miss doing some leads I know would be deeply memorable. The climbing was memorable, anyway though, so that was good.

We have to go right up this slot to the overhanging boulder

Robert climbs the surprisingly reasonable chimney

Michael, kind of surprised at the strangeness of the pitch!

Now we scrambled along the ridge and set a belay right below the cave entrance. Robert went around the corner, touched the cave, then did some neat moves traversing up a ramp on the outside to gain a higher floor in the cavern. Then he went straight up with chimney technique: back on one wall, feet on the other, and built a belay on a pile of rocks. I came up, enjoying the pitch very much. I attached the backpack to a sling on my harness so it hung a couple feet below me for the chimney.

Now we moved across a mezzanine level to stand right below a boulder overhanging the obvious exit from the chimney above us. This looked intimidating! But it went quite nicely. Getting some gear in a crack, Robert began the chimney technique again, then wedged himself into a wide crack, rewarded by a difficult-to-place piece of gear, then he could traverse right and up to reach the boulder and build a belay on a nice ledge. So in the end, the pitch protected well. There were some funny situations, like leaning on one wall with feet delicately tip-toeing on a toe ledge on the other wall.

From here, with the black hole of the cave and chimney behind us, we could have taken an easier route around a corner, but Robert chose the spectacular 5.9 corner crack exit. I could see him for the first 30 feet of this lead, then track his progress by rope movement. Following, this was probably the best pitch of the trip for the position right below the summit, and the great clean and protectable climbing. Great job, Robert!

The beautiful corner crack to the summit (5.9)

Michael in the corner

Emerging on the summit!

Robert, well-pleased on top

Michael with Temple Peak behind

We hung out on top for a while, then scrambled down a bit and started a mix of rappelling and scrambling down the ridge towards Lost Temple Spire. Eventually, we stood on ledges below the col between that peak and Steeple, then pieced our way down.

Occasional tracks and cairns marked the way. We lost it eventually, then contemplated a move back to the right (north), but it gave me the heebie-jeebies and I convinced Robert to come back and continue questing left (south). We eventually split up on loose, easy terrain, though marked with occasional big slabby cliffs. I went directly down to the lake, while Robert traversed over right again to more easily pick up the backpack we'd left where we started up the ramps for the North Ridge.

Sometimes a hero-shot writes itself!

The first abseil, about 30 feet below the summit on the ridge

A similar shot, with Lost Temple Spire behind

Michael on the exposed but reasonable descent ridge

I chatted with some big wallers at their boulder/lake camp. They seemed to be doing heroic things on the huge wall above, but today was a rest day for them.

We met again and found our way back around the lake, where we sat for a drink and a snack. Back to camp for a dram of whiskey and a toast to the great peaks!

Climbing down

The marks show our climb and descent of Steeple Peak, as well as the hike up East Temple Peak the next day

Note the swimmer walking to the shore in Deep Lake

Day Three, August 9

Today we gamely hiked up for the Minor Dihedral, but saw another party starting out. Realizing it would take some time if we followed them, we marched back to camp and settled on a non-technical scramble objective: the ridge over Deep Lake Dome to East Temple.

Two climbers on the first technical pitch of the Minor Dihedral (5.9).

This was great fun. I really enjoy the route-finding process...neither too cautious nor too aggressive, we had some use of hands to get on top of Deep Lake Dome, then a reasonable descent, then a long climb on or near the ridge crest to the high plateau.

On top of East Temple Peak, I missed the obvious and stark white "Diving Board," and went down to get a look at the notch separating that peak from Lost Temple Spire. Invigorating! Robert bade me come back up to play on the Diving Board. Wow...extreme exposure crawling up to that edge and looking down! We took some pictures, then headed down to the pass. I told Robert about Corey and I passing through this point on our CDT hike 3 years before. Later, we met a couple going up to the pass and making a loop down the south side and back to the west to reach (presumably) the Big Sandy trailhead.

Robert hiking on the ridge...

Steeple, Lost Temple Spire and East Temple Peak

Mostly hiking with a bit of scrambling in the lower parts...

Deep Lake with Haystack Mountain on the right

We had just one more objective...if we could get up early enough, we'd finally climb the Minor Dihedral. We hoped no one would be on it because it would be Monday.

Alpine views dominate...

Michael, out of his wits on the diving board!

Robert, standing proud

Temple Lake, coming down from Temple Pass

Michael with Temple Lake behind

Approaching camp

The markings show our 2 climbs on Haystack, 1 on Steeple and the hike up East Temple Peak

Day Four, August 10

The Minor Dihedral route

Pitch One: Robert just walked across the ledge to set a belay for the pitch. I couldn’t cross it!

I felt the slabs beneath pulling at me. I needed the psychological aid of the rope.

This was upsetting. I suddenly felt useless and in the wrong place in more ways than one.

Robert walked back and gave me a belay to cross, and I did so easily. How ridiculous I am, I thought.

I realized what I’d been doing in the last days. I’d decided the climbing was too hard for me, but I knew I could carry on as long as the essential wound did not have to be exposed. I could follow pitches, but if I was too exposed, then the wound became too large, it in fact defined me.

Robert said something useful about that, as we walked out of our camp when the climb was over. He said that we make an error by drawing a line through our lives, an ever-rising line, and feel terrible when we failed to live up to it. The line was fiction, an abstraction. But we accept the rule of the line over us, and die continuously when we haven’t met it. He said that a better way to see it is that you are where you are in each moment, and in some moments you are the master and in others you are a passenger. Moments of mastery are born in the times you are a passenger. You must be patient with the human material you have built. It is imperfect. Have the patience to improve the material, and to accept help. He called that the brotherhood of the rope.

Michael, likely coming up the second pitch

Robert has traversed into the "Scoop"

Michael prepares to cross the Scoop

He is right. I hope to learn it. Sometimes the material of what I am covers things I may have once known but forgotten. We saw a tree with a wound on the way out. The tree grew a bulb over the wound, so it could live on. I have grown a bulb over a wound, and it took something from me. Or so I came to believe.

The way through this is to throw away all definitions. All justifications. To really enter the present moment. If I can remember that, then there is hope.

Pitch Two: Robert led up the right-facing corner, very well done! It was a beautiful pitch. Jamming and stemming. At the end, you have to climb 10-15 feet of slab. That would have been too much for me on lead, on this day or perhaps any day! But a ledge is reached, where small cams under an overlap provide a belay.

Pitch Three: Easily crossing a low angle slab, then up an easy ramp that steepens again into another right-facing corner. This one shorter, but with a hard move near the end where the rock bulges out with feet on slabs. A great ledge belay with a slung block. As I came up, Robert was looking at the next pitch. We needed to traverse a slabby face into a feature called the “scoop.” I’d read about it and was worried that I’d find the traverse hard, even though it should only be 5.6 — apparently you had to cross at the right place.

Robert in his element!

The stellar first pitch of the Dihedral

Michael enjoys the suddenly good features on the left

A similar shot

Pitch Four: Right at the belay it was possible to cross the slab…there was a good chalked-up handhold. But the feet were rather blank, and you’d be tempted to lunge for the edge of the scoop. Once in the scoop you can place a cam in an overlap. Robert made an even better choice, however. By climbing down about 10 feet, the slab was crossable without real handholds, but a slight lessening in angle for the feet. He did this, then got some gear at that level in the scoop. He then climbed up to the level of the belay and placed a cam in the overlap, such that I could cross high without facing a big pendulum swing. The rest of the pitch was simple — simply climb out of the scoop on the right side up a left-facing corner to a ledge. Robert chose the highest ledge where he could still watch me cross.

I did this, though I was glad he chose the more conservative crossing on the lead. I think we both enjoyed the safety engineering involved here. The scoop had been defanged! That was a real load off, and the way up to the dihedral was now clear.

Pitch Five: Another pitch with a nice 5.8 hand crack got to a big ledge at the bottom of the dihedral. Glorious!

Pitch Six: As Robert climbed, we saw rain to the west, currently behind Temple Peak, but coming towards us. We weren’t that worried because the clouds tended to dissolve right over us. However, as he tackled the 5.9 crux of the pitch, a few raindrops landed around us. The right wall of the dihedral became a smooth diorite wall at that point, however, the protection was good in hand and finger cracks. Also, the left wall became more featured, offering good holds for the left hand. Robert set a belay on a mid-point ledge. This was a great pitch! Really fun climbing. The sun reappeared, though the gray, cloudy intervals seemed to be coming more rapidly.

Pitch Seven: The second half of the dihedral was mostly easier, however the final 20 meters were “workman-like” as Robert said. Indeed, the crux here wasn’t as sharp as the pitch before, but the crack had widened so the jams were a bit less secure. Finally, Robert got his whole body inside the crack, and dispatched the pitch with a few more awkward moves. Another great ledge, and the dihedral was dispatched!

Looking down the Dihedral from the middle

The interesting second Dihedral pitch

Self-portrait in a wild place

Looking down the second Dihedral pitch

Pitch Eight: Then a 50 meter pitch with twin cracks, which felt like a continuation of the dihedral, and offered stellar climbing.

Pitch Nine: We joked about unroping here, as other parties had taken the guidebook description of “4th class to the summit” too literally. An intimidating roof lay about 15 meters above us. In fact, this was the most strenuous part of the climb! Robert nearly used his knee on the first overhang, but then deftly got his foot high and mantled above. On the second overhang he wasn’t so lucky! Happily he had a good piece of gear at head level to make the hard move, but it was certainly very awkward. Robert ran the rope out above on mostly easier terrain. The rope came tight and I climbed. I knew he’d be looking for a belay. Indeed, the rope stopped moving as I was about to climb the first overhang. I was able to place a cam and wait the few minutes for those reassuring rope movements that indicate a good belay. “Nice!” I said, and entered the overhangs. The second one was quite tough. In fact, I started up, but couldn’t find a place for my right foot, and I had all my weight on a left hand jam. I think I even grabbed my wrist with the right hand. I just couldn’t do it, and lowered myself back down. For the second try, I saw a left foothold far out left at the level of my ears. I punched my foot up there, got the jam again, and simulated a plank of wood by levering myself off the far-out foot and smearing my right hand on a minor bump. Whew! I was wheezing the rest of the pitch with the exertion! Maybe I didn’t do it the easiest way, but one thing for sure (we joked): it was not yet time to unrope!

I believe this is at the end of the "Twin Cracks" pitch

Yay, it's not raining!

Pitch Ten: Happily, easy ground lay above. I went up into it, placing two pieces until coming to a little alcove on a tower we’d have to climb down the opposite side of. The wind here was screaming, and I’d had to climb down 10 feet to retrieve the rope from a constriction. Robert arrived, and we climbed down to easy ground where we put on regular shoes and ate some food. We scrambled to the vague summit, then traversed over then down to the Grassy Goat Trail, helpfully on a way marked by cairns.

We were keen to get down because the sky was cloudy again. Although we’d descended this way before, we didn’t want to be in a storm up here!

We got down without event, making one rappel where Robert generously left a locking carabiner around the slings. A nice Australian couple was coming up and we chatted a while. Soon we were back at camp, enjoying a last dram of whiskey and deciding to hike out. But first, the rain came. Worrying a bit about the Austrailians (hoping they were hunkered down or had decided not to go up the ramp), we sat a while with our packs inside the Megamid tarp while the storm passed.

We hiked quickly out, dreaming of a party of food and beer at the truck. I had the song "Brand New Key" stuck in my head. It was interesting to read what Melanie said about it later:

"Brand New Key", I wrote in about fifteen minutes one night. I thought it was cute; a kind of old thirties tune. I guess a key and a lock have always been Freudian symbols, and pretty obvious ones at that. There was no deep serious expression behind the song, but people read things into it. They made up incredible stories as to what the lyrics said and what the song meant. In some places, it was even banned from the radio. My idea about songs is that once you write them, you have very little say in their life afterward. It's a lot like having a baby. You conceive a song, deliver it, and then give it as good a start as you can. After that, it's on its own. People will take it any way they want to take it.

We drove down to our car camp of the first night and had a great time listening to music, cooking some great food and enjoying some excellent smoked white cheddar and a very spicy peppered sausage. Awesome!

Making the single rappel on the Grassy Goat Trail

Goodbye Deep Lake Country!

Clouds are building to storm as we leave...