Kintla Peak - August 17-20, 2017

"Mission Impossible" was the nickname we gave this climb shortly before we embarked on this expedition. Earlier in the year many local climbers tried summiting Kintla Peak, and none were successful. Snowpack and weather played a part, and it's distance and isolation made it even more difficult. With all the early planning on the climb I was confident that all five us (Jason, Britt, Doug, Paul, and I) would make the summit, barring unforeseen circumstances.

The date of the climb was to run from August 12th to the 15th. We were to stay at the Upper Kintla Lake Campground the first night, and then stay at the undesignated campsite at the Peabody Saddle for the next two. It's isolation makes it very difficult to summit from the regular backcountry campsites, so an undesignated site is generally the way most climbers get to the peak.

The day before the climb I headed north out of Kalispell to pick up our backcountry permit. High winds were blowing a storm in from the east and right before I crossed the bridge south of Hungry Horse I witnessed a tree falling into the power lines off the highway. Sparks flew and power went out in the area. A part of me hoped the power outage would hit the backcountry office, just so I wouldn't have to suffer through watching the bear video again. I've seen it many times before, and they require all backcountry campers to watch it. In my opinion It's pretty corny, but serves its purpose in making campers aware of grizzly bears. I've also waited for hours outside the backcountry office on many occasions hoping to to get a walk-in backcountry permit, only to be denied my campsite of choice when I make it to the front. With this in mind I've often daydreamed that they would leave me in charge of making the bear video.

In the current video they have some campers backing up slowly with pepper spray in hand talking to a make believe bear. "Go aware bear!" they would yell. Their efforts are rewarded and the bear would eventually walk away. In my video things would be different. A caption would read "This could happen to you in Glacier's backcountry!" and I'd have a pissed off 1,500 lb grizzly attack a tent at night. The tent and it's manikin campers inside would be shredded, the bear throwing body parts and camp supplies everywhere. The next morning I'd show a video of the campsite after the attack, with piles of scat and bear bells, magpies would be cleaning up what remains. A video like that, playing on the big screens outside the backcountry permit office, would make it much easier to get a permit for us locals.

As I reached the backcountry office in Apgar the power actually was out. No bear video, and they were not issuing permits either. This part I had not thought about. Th night before the park had over 150 lightening strikes and due to possible fire danger they weren't issuing any permits, regardless of the power outage. I pleaded my case, and the ranger at the office said there was a strong probability that they would issue us a permit the next morning - the day of our climb. I went to work informing the others of what happened, and we decided to meet at the backcountry office the next morning in hopes of getting the permit.

The next morning we all met, and were extremely disappointed in the outcome. No permits were being issued. Before we all went our separate ways I assured the others I would keep trying. The day wasn't a complete waste though, both Doug and Britt made a day of it and summited Divide on the east side of Glacier later that day. I went back to work.

In the following days the backcountry office was still reluctant to issue permits. I informed the others it looked hopeless, and set my sites for maybe in the fall, but most likely next year. Paul was probably the most disappointed, Kintla was the last of the 10k footers he needed to climb in order to climb all 6 in the park. He had already successfully summited Siyeh, Jackson, Merritt, Stimson, and Cleveland. He set his sites for the backcountry office to see what he could do.

Later that day he informed me he got the permit, with only a couple changes - we were to camp at the Akokala Lake Campground, and from there bushwack up to the saddle between Kintla and Peabody to reach our undesignated site. The other change was that it would just be Paul and I, the others had prior commitments and could not go.

The date was set - August 17th to the 20th. Paul got the permit on the 16th, suffering through the bear video, and we decided to meet at the Bowman Lake Trailhead the morning of the 17th to get started.

Later in the evening of the 16th I got the call - a fire of a few acres had started at the head of Kintla Lake. Fire crews were being sent in and things looked bleak again for our trip. Looking at the online map and trail closures we found that they hadn't closed any trails, or campgrounds. Paul and I kicked this around, and decided to give it a go, hoping they wouldn't shut everything down the last second.

The fire was a concern, and we changed our plans and diverted from the Akokala Lake Campground and opted to canoe up to the far end of Kintla, and b-line it for the Peabody Saddle. A small deviation, but for safety purposes it made sense. The downfall between Akokala and Kintla was substantial, being caught in it with a fire would not be good.

I borrowed a canoe from a co-worker of mine, tied it to the top of my truck, and went to get Paul. We left early in the morning of the 17th and reached the trailhead at Kintla Lake at first light. As we were untying our canoe we got the attention of those camping at the campground, they asked about our plans, and were somewhat concerned about the fire at the end of the lake. We talked for a bit, and told them we shared the same concerns, but the park had not closed the trail so felt comfortable going forward. Some headed up to perhaps talk to the campsite host about our decision. We couldn't get the canoe in the lake quick enough.

We sighed a deep sigh of relief when we started rowing and the campground of concerned tourists slowly disappeared behind us. Having 19 miles ahead of us we wanted to make good time. With this said I hadn't touched a canoe in years, and we zigzagged all the way to the far end of the lake, probably adding a couple miles of rowing to our already stretched time frame. As we hid the canoe at the head of the lake we could hear the fire crews working the fire just north of the lake. We could see and smell the smoke.

Kintla Peak (to the right of Kinnerly) from the head of Kintla Lake - photo taken earlier in the year

Dawning our packs we made fast tracks through the area to Upper Kintla Lake. As we approached Upper Kintla we saw more trouble coming our way - a park ranger. The odds of getting stopped by a ranger in these remote areas of the park are good. Paul and I expected it, but were hoping to avoid it. Both this area and the area around the Belly River are patrolled daily. If she stopped us and saw that we were suppose to be low crawling through thick alders and devil brush 6 miles to the south, instead of on this nice trail, she might turn us around. We would have to plead our case, and hope it worked.

Sure enough she stopped us. We made quick, friendly conversation with the ranger, and as it turns out we had several mutual friends. With our helmets and ice axes attached to our backpacks it was obvious what we were up to - and she knew several local climbers. She asked about our plans, and we told her we were staying at the Peabody Saddle for two nights. And then she dropped the bomb - "Can I see your permit?" My heart sank and I almost fell over. I dropped my pack to get the permit, thinking in my head how I was going to defend our actions, when all of a sudden she said "That's alright - you guys seem trustworthy - I have your names, and I'll double check the register when I get back to the office - have a good climb" and then she left. She was with another hiker, and they appeared to be in a hurry. Paul and I half expected a phone call from the backcountry office when we got back to civilization, but it never happened. In my mind it was a small deviation, and my thoughts were she checked the register and saw we were staying at the undesignated site - just how we got there was a little different.

"Wow, was that close" both Paul and I said in stereo. I put on my pack and off we went, hoping that the rest of the hike in would be uneventful. Shortly after crossing the bridge over Kintla Creek we started gaining elevation, and continued doing so till we reached the end of the switchback where we started the off trail portion of our hike. As we headed off trail I started to realize this was not what I expected. We weren't real lost, just misplaced. In my mind I had a ridge walk to the saddle with some side traversing in front of the peak before the saddle. Instead I found us weaving through forests and open areas. Thinking this wasn't right we headed through some scree to gain the ridge, which had a lot of gain and loss in elevation, and we eventually cliffed out. We decided to head down and try the forest again. We picked our way though the trees and avoiding some wayward cliffs in doing so. At one point Paul found a game / climbers trail that had some promise. After 18 miles of hiking it was getting late so we threw down in this area before it got dark out. Neither Paul or I talked about it, but we both knew the climb was in danger. We'd have to get an early start in the morning and setup quickly at our undesignated site if we hoped to have a successful summit the next day. It was going to make a very long day tomorrow.

Our fist night's camp spot

The next morning I started up the MSR Windburner Stove to make our instant coffee and breakfast - Mountain House Granola with Milk and Blueberries. Making quick work of breakfast we found our way to Paul's trail. It seemed to disappear into the cliffs and rocky fields ahead of it, so we opted to work our way back through the downfall and forest. We hacked, crawled, and stumbled for around a half mile to an open area and clearing. We slid down and embankment and were checking out a cool little waterfall in a depression when we noticed a couple climbers coming our way. We worked our way towards them, hoping to pick their brains for information on Kintla. As we approached I got my backpack snagged on some downfall and lost my footing, almost taking a header. I jerked myself loose, breaking a branch, and almost fell right in front of them. Paul was side traversing on some wet grass with rocks and slid a short distance down the embankment right in front of us. We must have made quite the impression on them. Gaining our composures we finally asked were they were coming from. Turns out they summited Kintla the day before and where headed out to the Boulder Campground. They gave us good directions to the Peabody Saddle, which is where they stayed the night before, and showed us the climbers trail, and where it went up the embankment we just came down. As it turns out we were a couple hundred yards west of the climbers trail, and it was the same trail Paul and I looked at earlier that morning.

With the climbers trail we made fast tracks to our undesignated site, got the tent setup, and our food hung, and surveyed Kintla Peak which was directly west of us.

View of Kintla Peak from the Pebody Saddle

From here forward everything was as I expected. We worked our way down the embankment in front of our campsite and headed towards the Agassiz Glacier.

Drop down to Agassiz Glacier.

We worked our way across the Agassiz Glacier, filtering water along the way.

We eventually found ourselves at the saddle between Peabody and Kintla. In the distance we could see Akokala Lake. Paul and I stood there for a couple minutes surveying the area and very thankful we came up the way we did. The ridgeline we planned to hike across looked like comb bristles from a torn apart comb. The bushwack below looked only passable from a moose with evolved 12 foot legs.

At the saddle a snowfield butted up against Kintla, We had to work our way around the snow, and through a snow crevice to gain the higher ridge.

The next part was the crux of the climb. We came to the headwall of the glacier, a massive 25 foot tall wall of rock that at a distance looks unclimbable. As we got closer we routed out the area our notes told us we could climb through without ropes. It started out as class 3, and according to our notes had a small class 4 section with some exposure. After this short section I was suppose to go up a small crevice to the top. I missed this part and continued onto the rock face. Dang! was all I could think of as I looked down between my feet at the Agassiz Glacier about 80 feet below me. The glacier had worked it's way from the headwall leaving a massive gap between the two. I couldn't turn around at this point, the only way was up.

After a bit of time I found a couple good hand holds and pulled myself up and over to safety. My thoughts at this point went to Paul. I was going to yell back at him to not go this way, but it was too late, he was on the face and already committed. After a couple good hand holds he too was safely at the top. "Brother Craig, I don't think this is the right route". "Yea" I missed it Paul, that would have been the much better route up - pointing to the crevice to my right. "Yea, that does look much better".

Paul standing on the headwall

After the headwall it was more or less just a class 3 grind for 1,200 feet. I've read climbing reports that grizzly bears like to moth in this area. I was very vocal yelling "Hey Bear!" as we continued our climb. The elevation tapered off and we worked our way to the west side just below the final summit push.

Looking up at the summit of Kintla

One last push and we found ourselves at our destination. The summit of Kintla. Mission Impossible accomplished, or at least the summit part.

View looking southeast from the summit.

You can click on the following pictures for the panorama views.

At the summit I was the first to congratulate Paul on climbing all six of Glacier National Park's largest peaks.

We spent some time taking in the views. I also made a time lapse video.

It was getting close to 2:30 pm when we left the summit. We had to really push to get back to our campsite by dark. We retraced our steps, went down the easier route at the crux, and worked our way across the Agassiz Glacier in the evening.

Late in the evening we made the final push up the embankment to our campsite. I stopped half way to take some photos of Kintla and Kinnerly.

Paul continued on to the tent and campsite. I was a couple minutes behind him, and when I reached the camping area I was in shock, and stopped cold. The tent was gone! And so was Paul! I went for the pepper spray thinking the worst, A bear got in our tent and Paul spooked it, and then the bear grabbed Paul and tore up the hillside with both? About that time I heard Paul cry out behind me "I need help!" I turned and ran his direction. As I reached Paul he had our tent in hand and was dragging it across the grass to where we originally staked it down. The wind had picked it up blew it into the trees just before the drop off into the Agassiz Basin. I grabbed the other side and we replaced the tent where we originally pitched it.

A few weeks after our climb I sent the bent and destroyed poles back to MSR with an explanation about what happened, and they replaced the poles free of charge. The tent itself had just a couple small holes, so I didn't bother sending it back.

Tired and wore out for the days climb we hit the sack, hoping to get a goods nights sleep. It was a long day that started with uncertainty, and ended in success. It was a perfect night in Glacier, the wind died down, the stars were out, and restful sleep awaited. Until we got our visitor. Shortly after the sun went down we heard noises outside our tent. Knowing it was an animal from the footstep sounds I stuck my head out the door of the tent, pepper spray in hand. My headlamp was greeted with a small possessed buck deer standing about 20 feet away, looking right at me.

A couple short videos of our deer buddy

He circled our tent all night long, for the next two nights. The next couple days he stayed close, and became part of the campsite.

The next day was our extra free day to either try again at the summit of Kintla if we did make it the day before, to relax, or to climb another peak. We opted for the latter and decided to climb to the summit of Peabody just behind us. We hiked up to the ridge to take a look at Pocket Lake just on the other side.

Looking back we could see our tent and the area we were camping in.

We worked our way to the first false summit. From here I decided to spend time taking photos and some time lapse. Paul went on to the actual summit.

Time lapse looking west towards Kinta Peak. The mountain to the right is Kinnerly.

Time lapse looking north towards Upper Kintla Lake.

In the next two videos you can see Paul walk the ridge over to the summit of Peabody. In the first video he's low on the ridge and works his way up. In the second video he's coming down from the summit, and it ends when he's above the snow field. Only visible with high resolution.

We made quick work of Peabody, and were back at the campsite by early afternoon. I was nice to relax after 3 days of hiking and climbing. My dinner that night consisted of warm mashed potatoes. They were amazing. Paul cashed in early, and I decided to take in the views of the sunset over Kintla and Kinnerly Peaks.

Looking at the Asters, Indian Paint Brush, Arnica, and Pasque flowers and the valley ahead of me I couldn't help but thinking about creation, and all that God has given us. To me it's unfortunate that today nature is not nearly as relevant as it was to our ancestors. Computers, IPADS, fancy phones, and other man made devices have taken over. Our ancestors (generally speaking - looking in the mirror I'm pretty sure I'm not part of the Blackfeet Tribe) lived on this land for thousands of years, living off it and all it has to offer. Nature and it's hardships, in my opinion, brought our ancestors closer to God. Arguably there lives were harder, but I'd rather live to be 30 and know our Creator, then live to be 80 and not have a clue.

In the morning we said goodbye to our deer buddy and headed back to the trail. The climbers trail was prevalent for most of the way back. At the small waterfall area we spotted the large tree above the embankment that the climbers come out pointed out to us. We picked the trail up again there, went by the area we camped at on the way in, and lost the trail again in the forest. We worked our way through this area, going through trees and openings full of wildflowers, until we were back at the trail. From the trail we headed up and bagged Boulder Peak for kicks and grins. The cairn at the top was a throne made out of scree. What a comfortable spot with a view.

We trudged our way back to Kintla Lake. Paul had his pace, and I had mine which was considerable slower. Paul is a strong, fast hiker. When he was younger he held the record of running rim to rim in the Grand Canyon National Park. As he disappeared ahead of me I understood wanting to hike at your pace, often times going slower takes more effort, and works your body more. Total distance out that day was 26 miles.

Another benefit of being slower was that Paul had the canoe ready for me when I got there. We pushed off and ran into our last obstacle of Mission Impossible. The fire appeared to be out, but the wind was howling across Kintla Lake. Rowing for 10 minutes we found ourselves just a short distance from the head of the lake and at the Kintla Lake backcountry campground. We waited there for probably an hour waiting for the wind to dye down. It never did, and we had a final decision to make - risk rowing back to the foot of the lake five miles away with the wind, or camp at the campsite and row back in the morning. We opted to risk the row back.

The head of Kintla Lake looking towards the foot of the lake - pictures taken earlier in the year, when it was not windy.

At first we rowed vigorously to only go a couple feet. I could see the shore line slowly moving beside us. To gain time we moved away from the shoreline to get to the other side, and found ourselves in the middle of the lake. It was blowing hard and we were hitting white caps. We kept a straight course this time, unlike coming in, because we knew a capsize here would be a disaster. As we rowed on the wind slowly resided, and we finally reached the far end of the lake and found ourselves at the starting point - Kintla Lake Campground. The totals for the trip were 55 miles and over 15,000 feet elevation gain. We were glad to be back at the truck.

Paul and I made a perfect team during this climb and became good friends. My love for the outdoors and trip planning along with Paul's drive to get to the summit, and back out to the trailhead safely made a perfect combination. Some in the local climbing community didn't give us a chance to reach the summit. In our case it was a forgone conclusion once we hit the trailhead.

When we got the canoe attached to the truck it was pitch black and we were off to Polebridge and the Northern Lights Bar and Restaurant. A hamburger and beer sounded amazing. As we walked into the bar, looking and smelling like we were in the backcountry for four days, we were disappointed to find the kitchen was closed. I'm assuming this was the case, but one sniff of us may have made the staff close the kitchen early, and reopen shortly after we left. Regardless we drove our way back to the Super One in Columbia Falls which is where I picked up Paul 4 days ago. Once there we went into Super One and bought chips, cookies, sodas, nuts, and Smart Food Popcorn! We went back to the truck and scarfed our food down, like a couple hyenas feasting on a dead carcass on the Serengeti plains. Food never tasted so good and we successfully completed Mission Impossible.