We’d been climbing in the Tetons all summer – it was time to head west. Bell Mountain’s Northwest Face stole the show as an excellent sustained fourth class scramble on a remote and gigantic Idaho Peak, and White Mountain brought a long enduro ridge traverse to the tallest peak in the Salmon River Range.
The Alpine Peanut was turning 31, and to celebrate we switched up the flow – jetting west for a long weekend of peak bagging, backcountry camping and hot springing. Our itinerary was malleable, with the aim of logging ropeless vert by day and geothermal soaking by eve. Why no ropes? Well, the Peanut got twisted up in an awkward jam while climbing the Snaz at the end of August and has since been battling shoulder tightness. My shoulders aren’t exactly spring chickens either – a long and fruitful summer 2024 has taken its toll. Plus, central Idaho is home to perhaps the greatest concentration of natural hot springs in the lower 48. Who doesn’t love a good soak in Mother Nature’s own hot tub? We set sail from Teton Valley on Thursday evening with intentions on simplicity, expansive views and restoration.
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As is often the case with spontaneous vacations, we skipped town late and became quite sleepy while forging across the endless desert sprawl of Southeast Idaho. Our original intentions were to scramble the classic Southwest “Chicken Out” Ridge on Mount Borah Friday morning, but high wind forecasts and heavy eyelids forced an audible to the adjacent, closer and smaller Lehmi mountains. When we awoke to clear skies and little wind we eagerly decided to attack Bell Mountain – the only Lemhi peak boasting any degree of technicality. Unlike the quintessential lush mountains of the Sierra, Pacific Northwest, Tetons or Colorado, the Lemhi is characterized by a high desert landscape of mountain cactus, hardened sagebrush, craggy juniper, decomposing limestone, infrequent water and stretching pale peaks which offer more visions of 1950 wild west films than mountaineering. That said, in this predominantly benign range stretching for 98 linear miles a few notable high-points buck the reputation – Diamond Peak and Bell. Diamond is a 12,202 foot beast that represents one of Idaho’s nine 12,000 foot peaks, but little in the way of technical climbing. Bell, while only 11,617 feet, is Diamond’s wicked little sibling, with a bell-like summit crown offering at least 500 feet of exposed quartzite on every aspect. The traditional route is the third class West Face, but we wanted more. With Tom Lopez’s vague but romantically old-school and comprehensive climbing guide to Idaho we settled on the fourth class Northwest Face for ascent, and West Face for descent.
We approached Bell from the west via Bassinger Canyon and Bell Mountain Creek, ditching the van near 7000 feet at an old rancher’s fence after many miles of fish-tailing through non-descript sage and frosted sand. We hiked approximately three miles up canyon on incipient hunting trails, past two dilapidated cabins and several sanctuaries of booming fall aspen, into the massive and prominent cirque directly underpinning the dramatic Northwest Face. Foot trails, game trails, bushwhacking and crumbly talus hopping led us climber’s right to the top of the cirque and ultimately the West Ridge. From having made a ski attempt on Bell with Drew Grasso many moons ago I wove our team around a maze of crumbling towers to the final summit pyramid with ease. From the fan of the west ridge we contoured left to the central couloir cleaving the Northwest Face. What initially appeared to be a menacing choss wall evolved to an inspiring cape of speckled bullet-hard quartz. Well sheltered from the mounting westerly wind we enjoyed a tandem solo of the face, which offered a few steps of near vertical climbing amidst a steady stream of fourth class difficulties. The rock was unlike anything either of us had climbed – knobby crystals to write a serenade about – pasted high against an inspiring desert backdrop worthy of Ansel Adams himself. We returned to the van via the inconsequential West Face in gale force winds, and took a few precious moments to admire the sunset fall colors upon reaching the belly of Bassinger. In the seldom visited Idaho desert, the Lemhi provides.
We awoke Saturday morning after completing our ultimate pilgrimage to Challis, Idaho, fueled solely by local kombucha and a thirst for geothermal water. The unnassuming Cronk’s (Royal Gorge) Hot Spring provided the magic midnight soak after a bleary voyage on the Little Lost River Highway. Turns out, this “highway” wasn’t much more than a washboarded gravel road – go figure. After a leisurely morning of late wake-ups, birthday gifts and coffee we pointed towards the second objective of our trip – White Mountain, the tallest peak of the Salmon River Mountains. White is what I call an opportunistic objective, something we would have never sought out lest traveling through the area. Our main purpose for landing in Challis was the famous Gold Bug Hot Springs – but what were we going to do, soak in a hot spring all day? The 10,443 foot king of Challis proved to be quite the unexpected bear, offering little in the way of technical climbing, but instead throwing haymakers in the form of a 100% off-trail approach and lengthy ridge traverse involving many pesky sub-summits. Of the two routes on White, the North Ridge and Southwest Ridge, we chose the latter because of sun exposure and overall difficulty. The North Ridge route, while slightly more technical, begins almost cheatingly high – at about 9,800 feet – by way of the well-maintained road to an observatory tower on Twin Peak South. However, after battling up the traumatically rugged Challis Creek Road until the van got stymied by a choss hill at a piddly 7400-ish feet, having to clear one tree with a puny 12 inch hatchet and forging through several swollen creeks, we were left two hours short on time and questioning our motives for extra adventure. It was nearly high noon when we departed the great white box and hiked the final three and a half miles on a washed out and crumbling mountain road to Challis Lakes at 8,980 feet. From this beautiful duo of mountain lakes we bushwhacked northwest up inspiring ski terrain to the Southwest Ridge, which we then followed past three small sub-summits and subsequent saddles to the summit of White by 4:00PM. While the stated grade in the Lopez guidebook was third class, we found only a few short steps of extremely minor four-points-on scrambling, which ended up fortuitous because the exposed rock was extremely loose and unfit for climbing. The value in the Southwest Ridge of White Mountain is presented through an extremely aesthetic and long ridge-walk in a seldom visited nook of the Gem State, with views that stretch over endless rolling peaks in every direction accompanied by top notch wilderness car camping. We didn’t see a single soul for the 24 hours we spent in the Salmon River Range – and for this weekend of reflection, restoration and celebration, that was perfect.
After two days jam packed with 18 hours and 10,000 feet of wilderness romping, bisected by at least six hours of driving, it was time to chill. Sunday was Gold Bug day. This true oasis of a backcountry hot spring is unlike anything I’ve seen before, but is so well documented I’ll let our few dinky pictures and the other 1,000 articles on Google do the talking. Despite surefire crowds this is not one to miss – and that’s coming from someone extremely averse to crowds. Our drive home was painstaking, but a pit stop at Nature’s Pantry in Salmon provided just enough hippy caffeine to make the magic happen. Oh – and on Saturday night we baked a birthday cake in the van. That’s right, we baked a homemade Whole Wheat Vanilla Blueberry Cake in a shoebox sized propane oven, and chowed down with a generous wallop of coconut whipped cream. While eating a second serving of cake on the way home we both vowed to take at least one trip of this character every summer – a trip where the rope stays at home and an equal emphasis is applied to relaxation as activity. Uh oh… maybe I’m getting closer to 30 than I thought.
Resources
IDAHO: A Climbing Guide by Tom Lopez details both Bell Mountain, White Mountain and the routes described in this article. It is an invaluable guidebook to any Idaho climber. The Northwest and West Faces of Bell are on Mountain Project.
Random Stats
Our round trip time on Bell Mountain was approximately 9 hours at a casual pace. Our round trip time on White Mountain was approximately 7 hours at a casual pace.
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DISCLAIMER
Ski mountaineering, rock climbing, ice climbing and all other forms of mountain recreation are inherently dangerous. Should you decide to attempt anything you read about in this article, you are doing so at your own risk! This article is written to the best possible level of accuracy and detail, but I am only human – information could be presented wrong. Furthermore, conditions in the mountains are subject to change at any time. Ten Thousand Too Far and Brandon Wanthal are not liable for any actions or repercussions acted upon or suffered from the result of this article’s reading.
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