South River Peak – 13,148

RT Length: 26.06 miles

Elevation Gain: 4677’

I parked at the Ivy Creek Campground and Trailhead. This campground is for tent camping only, and has 4 spots along Ivy Creek. The drive in is dirt 2WD, and there’s a bathroom there for use. There was only one vehicle there when I arrived, but as I was leaving, all the parking spots were taken.

The trail starts at the Ivy Creek Trailhead, southeast of the campsites. I left at 5:15am.

From there the Ivy Creek Trail heads east, and then curves south. I was headed south for most of this hike, on a class 1 trail that was well defined and easy to follow.

I came across a trail register and checked to see if anyone was ahead of me, and there was only one name. This made sense since there was only one truck at the trailhead. He indicated he was going to Goose Lake, so I expected to see him on my way.

There were a few small creek crossings to navigate, but I didn’t even need to get my shoes wet.

After hiking for about a mile, I came to a more demanding creek crossing. I’d been here two weeks prior, and knew the trail was on the other side of the creek, but it was running fast and cold.

Not wanting to get my feet wet if I could avoid it, instead of crossing the creek there, I hugged the creek to the left for about 100 yards, found a nice tree to cross the creek on, then headed west to pick back up the trail.

Back on the trail, I continued heading south for 3 more miles, keeping the creek to my left, passing marshes and willows, and heading in and out of the trees. There were tons of moose tracks and scat here, which stands to reason because I saw two moose in the area 2 weeks prior. I didn’t see them today however.

Did I mention the downed trees? They were littering the trail most of the way. Some were easy to hop over to craw beneath, but most required me to get creative, leave the trail to go around, then work my way back to the trail.

After hiking for 3 miles I came to another creek crossing. Here I met the man who’d signed the register and stayed the night at Goose Lake. He was heading back out to the trailhead. At this point, I was fairly confident there weren’t any other people on the trail, since there hadn’t been any other vehicles at the trailhead. I crossed the creek again, and picked up the trail on the other side.

I followed the trail southeast as it hugged the mountainside.

At about 5.5 miles the switchbacks began. They brought me east, above treeline.

I was now in a wide, open meadow, following a trail that would slope up and down as it wound it’s way in and out of the trees south towards Goose Lake.

About half a mile before reaching Goose Lake it began to rain. Not a big rain, just sprinkles. It was about 9:30am, and I’d been watching the weather all morning. The storm was coming in from behind me. I’d done my due diligence, and knew weather was coming in. It was supposed to start raining around noon, and it was going to last until 6pm. Wind speeds were forecasted to be 5-7mph, with gusts 10-15mph. I’d planned on starting early, getting to my campsite at Little Goose Lake around 10am, setting up camp, and then waiting out the storm in my tent.

Nature had other plans.

Yes, it was sprinkling lightly, but I was about a mile from my intended campsite. I’d just hike a little faster to get there before the storm came in. It wasn’t supposed to really start raining for at least another 2 hours, so I figured I had plenty of time. I crossed over a stream that was flooding the trail and could see Goose Lake to my right.

This is when the trouble began. The rain unexpectedly picked up and started coming down in sheets. I was well prepared with my gear (rain pants, jacket, hat, gloves, etc.) but I was getting soaked. I was going to have to change my plans. No longer intent on making it to Little Goose Lake, instead I was going to set up camp at the south end of Goose Lake. I hiked another 1/3 of a mile in the rain, willing my hands to warm up and telling myself in another few minutes I’d have my tent set up and I could get warm.

I made it to my intended destination only to find a large group of campers already set up. They had identical tents, backpacks, and gear, and were all huddled under a shelter to keep dry from the rain.

Well, this was unexpected. I left the trail to go and talk to the campers sitting under the canopy. I was shivering, mildly hypothermic at this point, and when I went to speak, found words wouldn’t come out properly. I waved, and said something like: “Rain. Early. Cold.” I pointed to a place away from them on the hill, and clumsily got out “Can I set up there?”

They hadn’t paid attention to me as I’d walked up to them, and now that I’d spoken they all quizzically looked back and forth at one another. Probably thinking I was a lunatic. Either that or they didn’t speak English. I certainly wasn’t doing a very good job at it myself at the moment, but I have Raynaud’s, so I get very cold and lose function of my extremities and speech earlier than other people. All I needed to do was get out of the pelting rain and into a shelter.

One man left the group to come talk to me. He pointed back the way I’d hiked in, towards the incoming storm, and said firmly “There’s a nice campsite about half a mile back the way you came.”

It was obvious he wasn’t going to “allow” me to set up my tent anywhere near his group. I was unable to talk any further, and I knew time was now of the essence, so I gave him one long look, willing him to change his mind, realized that was futile, turned around, and started running back towards the other side of the lake.

Many, many things ran through my head as I was searching for another campsite. Most of them I won’t repeat here, but they were focused on finding a campsite as soon as possible, and wondering how that group could have turned me away, when the weather was obviously bad and quickly turning for the worse. I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, but I couldn’t believe they’d turned someone away from shelter in such conditions.

Then the wind picked up and sleet started coming down in sheets. I was in a full-blown snow/sleet/rain squall, and needed shelter now.

I never made it to the other side of the lake. I could no longer see through the weather clearly, so I found the first patch of open ground I could and started setting up my tent. The wind kept blowing everything around, turning all pieces of my tent into a kite, and my numb and wet fingers weren’t helping things go any faster. The flaps of my tent were open when I unrolled it, and before I could close them the entire inside of my shelter was soaking wet.

I staked my tent and rain fly down, threw in all my gear, took off my shoes, hopped inside, and zipped the flaps closed. I was prepared to wait out the storm. I took off my outer layer and hung it up with a carabiner to the top of my tent to drip dry. Huddling and hugging myself to stay warm, I could hear the wind before it came, and in one big WHOOSH it pulled up my tent stakes and with it my rain fly. Rain now pelted me inside the tent. I cursed to myself, unzipped the tent, put my shoes back on, and clumsily re-secured the rain fly. There was an inch of slush on top of my tent now, which didn’t help my frozen fingers.

I had no dexterity, so even though I tried, I couldn’t undo the Velcro that had attached to itself to secure the rain fly to the tent poles. Instead, I just re-staked the rain fly down and hoped for the best. The wind would blow away my rain fly and I’d repeat the process 3 more times before it finally stopped, my hands warmed up, and I was able to properly secure the rain fly with the Velcro to my tent poles.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t you change your clothes or hop into your sleeping bag to stay warm? Well, I only had one change of clothes and one sleeping bag with me, and seeing as how everything was getting soaked every time the wind blew off my rain fly, I didn’t want the only items I had with me that were dry to become soggy as well. So I sat there in the middle of my tent soaking wet, saving my spare clothes to change into when the weather let up. Which it finally did, 3 hours later.

The wind/snow/sleet/rain stopped, the sun came out, and the birds started chirping. I took off all my wet gear and hung it out to dry on a nearby log, changed into dry clothes, and congratulated myself for not panicking, and making it through the past few hours. Then I went over and over all the mistakes I’d made, and what I’d learned from the experience. I know the dangers of hiking solo, and I was prepared for all kinds of weather. Next time, I’m going to stop as soon as the weather looks like it’s going to turn so I can properly set up my gear before I lose function in my hands. Yes, the weather came earlier than expected, but I should have known better. The mountains make their own weather, and only I can be responsible for what steps I take to keep myself safe. It had been quite the learning experience.

Finally starting to warm up, I set out my sleeping pad inside the wet tent to give me something dry to sleep on, rolled out my sleeping bag, and made it an early night.

It was probably the best night’s sleep I’d had backpacking in my entire life. I was warm and dry inside my sleeping bag, and besides the howling and yipping I heard back and forth in the middle of the night from what I’m hoping were coyotes, I slept all the way through. The next morning was warm and clear. Goose Lake was as still as glass. I was on the trail again at 5:30am. I passed by the campers I’d seen earlier as the sun started to rise. Two of them were awake and kept their backs to me as I passed, but the others were still asleep.

I continued following the trail south as it headed towards Little Goose Lake. There were a few snowfields along the trail, but it was still easy to follow, as I could always see where the trail dried out up ahead.

I followed the trail to the saddle to my left. Here’s the overall route I took:

There were snow fields to cross, but they were solid from the freeze the night before. I put on my microspikes and followed the trail south towards Little Goose Lake.

Little Goose Lake was beautiful in the morning light.

From there, I needed to make it to the saddle. There’s a constant trail that takes you to the saddle and beyond, but with the snow I had to get a little creative. This is the route I took:

I crossed over a small stream coming out from Little Goose Lake, and headed up the slope, taking the trail where I could find it.

Once on the saddle, I could see the summit of South River Peak to the southwest

I continued following the well-defined Ivy Creek Trail.

I now had a good view of South River Peak.

This would normally be a class 1 and easy class 2 trail to the summit, but today the trail was covered in a layer of ice I didn’t want to deal with without my ice axe. Here is the easy way to summit South River Peak:

But that’s not the way I summited. Trying to avoid the snow, I decided to continue gaining the ridge, and summit instead that way. This is the route I took:

First, to gain the ridge

Then I followed it to the base of a rocky drainage, and climbed a short class 3 section

This was choose your own adventure, but there were a lot of options to the right, all easy class 3. It’s easier than it looks.

I topped out, and it was a short class 2 hike to the summit.

I summited South River Peak at 7:10am

South River Peak:

I was making this an out and back hike, so now to head back down. I turned around and followed the ridge north to the rocky section

Back down the rock drainage

And then down the slope, back to the Ivy Creek Trail.

Back on the trail, I followed it back to Little Goose Lake

Here’s the route I took back to Goose Lake

Once back at Goose Lake, I noticed the group I had encountered the day before had packed up and left. I made it to my campsite, packed up all my gear, and headed back down to the trailhead.

I quickly passed the group of campers I’d encountered earlier, and learned they were part of a Backpacking Ministry from Del Norte, which explained all the identical gear and lack of vehicles at the trailhead: they’d been dropped off and were being picked up at the end of their trip.

I continued on down the switchbacks, over the many creek crossings, around the downed trees littering the trail, and back to the trailhead.

I made it back to the trailhead at 12:20pm. I did this hike as an overnight, carrying a full pack, so my time isn’t as relevant, but Strava gave me 10 hours, 20 minutes of hiking time.

On to the next trailhead!