Hike-and-Bike Wind River High Route Loop

If you haven’t heard, we started a YouTube channel! Our first video was from this trip. Check it out here!

Overview

The Wind River High Route is a backpacking route through Wyoming’s Wind River Range created by Andrew Skurka. The route is about 100 miles long (two-thirds of which are off trail) and challenging—Skurka recommends the route for ambitious intermediate and advanced backpackers. Siyang gets credit for finding the route and convincing me it was a good idea, and then we both contributed to planning the itinerary.

We followed Andrew Skurka’s guide and maps and hiked northbound for 7 days. We completed about 80% of the primary route before skipping the last section due to bad weather and, in my case, a lack of desire to continue. That said, we reached the ending trailhead so it was a successful thru-hike as far as I’m concerned! Skurka says the section that we missed is the best part of the route and that you simply must plan to return if you skip it… maybe some day.

This was my first significant off-trail hike, and the first high route for both of us. We quickly learned some hard truths about high routes:

• High routes are hard. Even on the sections that look flat and easy on the map are slow. Take your typical pace on trail and cut it in half. We hiked sunrise to sunset most days.
• The main challenge is mental. You’re always navigating so you can’t zone out and go on cruise control like you would on trail.

I personally struggled with the mental aspect a lot. The constant need to be “on” mentally really detracted from my enjoyment of the hike. Your mileage may vary. Some people find the self-dependence and route finding aspect extremely rewarding—those are the people who would enjoy the Wind River High Route (I think Siyang is one of those people). However, I found it to be more burdensome than fulfilling. I’ll be following a trail on my next trip and I suspect it will be a long time before I attempt another high route.

We made one major addition to the typical WRHR itinerary. Rather than drive or hitchhike back to our car at the starting point, we rode our bikes 90 miles, thus completing a “self-propelled” loop. We planned to finish the bike ride in one full day, and under normal circumstances that would be reasonable. Unfortunately, heavy rain delayed us for several hours so we had to split the ride into two days. Despite the rain, the bike ride was an absolute blast! I’m looking forward to planning more bike touring and bikepacking trips in the future.

Gear list: https://lighterpack.com/r/a7zov6

• Strava
• Start: Bruce’s Bridge trailhead
• End: unnamed lake at 10,515
• Distance: 15.97 miles
• Elevation gain: 3,932 feet

The first day of the hike was mostly unremarkable. It’s on trail the entire way with a few good viewpoints, but you’re mostly walking through trees. Is was hot and dry. The highlight was the lunch that we packed in—grocery store sandwiches and fresh blueberries. It’ll be our last good lunch for a while.

Our day ended at a really nice lake. We found a good krummholz thicket and spent the better part of an hour setting up our tent. (Ok, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I prefer the convenience of a freestanding tent compared to the ultralight tent we used.) We actually spent the better part of an hour filtering water. Both of our filters were very slow, nearly to the point of being unusable. I tried backflushing mine without much success. Don’t be like us—test your filters before you leave for a trip.

We arrived at camp with plenty of daylight and had a leisurely evening. I napped for a bit and then took some golden hour photos around camp before going to bed.

• Strava
• Start: unnamed lake at 10,515
• End: Big Sandy Lake
• Distance: 12.7 miles
• Elevation gain: 3,484 feet

This was the day we started the Wind River High Route in earnest. We immediately ventured off trail, took a compass bearing, and started ascending Wind River Peak (elevation 13,197′). The climb was moderately difficult with a lot of rock hopping, but footing was good and navigation was easy. It was a fairly long but straightforward grind to the summit.

The summit of Wind River Peak is an early highlight of the route with great views in all directions, particularly to the north. Some of the nearby peaks have massive granite walls that would look at home in Yosemite, and in the distance you can see the rest of the Wind River Range along the Continental Divide. We had a bit of haze but could just barely make out Gannett Peak, the highest point in Wyoming, in the distance.

Other than the haze the weather was perfect—sunny, warm, no wind—so we spent some time lounging around at the summit. We also had cell service so we checked in with the real world. We wouldn’t get cell service again until Europe Peak on Day 4, and I wouldn’t experience joy again until we finished the hike.

The fun ended almost immediately. The standard route takes you down the horrifically steep West Gully. Skurka’s guide and many trip reports warned us about this section, and for good reason—it was the nastiest section of the route by a pretty wide margin. The gully is filled with unstable scree and talus and we both lost our footing several times. We had to spread out in order to avoid kicking rocks down onto each other. The really gnarly part was probably only half a mile long but it took us over an hour to get through it. Fortunately, we made it down without any injuries but the same cannot be said for Siyang’s trekking poles, which both snapped when we (unsuccessfully) attempted to go down a steep snowfield rather than loose talus.

To be fair, we didn’t exactly follow the recommended line of travel down the gully, which Skurka annotates on the map. We accidentally veered a bit south (and we were not the only ones to do so judging by some footprints that we saw). Would it have made a difference? I don’t know. Maybe a little—that Skurka guy usually knows what he’s talking about. But I don’t think it would have drastically lowered the difficulty.

[Note: I recommend avoiding the West Gully unless you are very experienced with off-trail high route travel. I would avoid it if I did the WRHR again. It’s steep and dangerous, verging on reckless in my opinion. Take the Coon Lake Bypass, which Andrew Skurka includes as an alternate route in his guide. It adds 7 miles, but it’s mostly on trail so it won’t cost you as much time as you might think.]

The stretch immediately following the West Gully is no bargain either. Travel remains slow for a while as you rock hop over a couple miles of talus. Then the route around Black Joe Lake involves a few steep and unpleasant climbs to avoid cliffs along the lakeshore.

In hindsight, this stretch encapsulates the typical off-trail experience on the route. The terrain forces you to travel much slower than you would on trail. High sections tend to be rocky and unstable; low sections wet and overgrown. It’s mentally draining in addition to the physical challenges—you’re frequently checking your map, compass, or GPS, always reevaluating whether you’re on the most efficient path.

I found the mental aspect particularly exhausting and not very rewarding. This trip was my first significant off-trail experience and I was beginning to have a bad time.

We needed something to lift our spirits, and Mother Nature delivered. We were on our way towards Black Joe Lake and—boom!—there was a moose! It was pretty terrifying at first. We stumbled upon it as we rounded a corner and the moose immediately took off running. It stopped a little ways off and went back to happily munching on the vegetation. We admired it for a few minutes before we and the moose mutually agreed to part ways.

We finally—finally—reached Big Sandy Lake and found a nice campsite as the sun was going down. This is a popular spot among backpackers so we had plenty of neighbors. All in all, it was a pretty confidence crushing day. We didn’t complete as many miles as we had planned and we began worrying that we would not be able to complete the route.

• Strava
• Start: Big Sandy Lake
• End: Bonneville Lake
• Distance: 16.76 miles
• Elevation gain: 4,284 feet

The day started out easy. We got up and over Jackass Pass first thing in the morning with no trouble—on trail the whole way and not too steep. There were some marmots running around at the top but unfortunately they were camera shy.

We descended from Jackass Pass towards Lonesome Lake, which is right in the middle of the Cirque of the Towers, an area that we were excited to see. It’s arguably the best known spot in the Wind River Range and it’s popular among backpackers, rock climbers, and CDT thru-hikers. We saw a decent number of groups in the area, but I wouldn’t describe it as “overcrowded” like I’ve seen in other trail reports. Granted, that could have something to do with the weather forecast.

Rain started falling right as we reached Lonesome Lake. I’m glad we got there when we did because we got some views of the granite towers before the clouds rolled in. By the time we were done filtering water (which was a long time with our busted filters) visibility was almost nil. We donned our rain gear and trudged onward.

We took our first alternate route of the trip here. The standard route goes over New York Pass, which is off trail and involves some Class 3 climbing. The alternate option is Texas Pass, which technically is also off trail but it’s so well traveled that there is a de facto trail the whole way. The rain was getting worse as we climbed so we opted for Texas Pass because it seemed like a safer option given the weather conditions (and partly because of our PTSD from the Class 3 descent of the West Gully the previous day).

Texas Pass was easy and then we cruised through a lot of flat miles. The valley in this section had nice views, mostly looking back in the direction we came from. Rain came and went for a few hours, sometimes heavy, so we were soaked. We finally ventured off trail again in the middle of the afternoon, forging through the woods towards the East Fork River and Raid Peak Pass.

The bank of the East Fork River is about as pleasant as off-trail travel gets. Lucky for us, the rain had stopped and the sun came out. The views are awesome as you follow the river up the valley towards the pass. We saw about a half dozen people camping along the river—apparently it’s a popular fishing spot.

Raid Peak Pass is a tough but straightforward climb once you get to the base. There is a lot of large talus so it can be slow and tiring at times, but fortunately the rocks are pretty stable. Make sure you glance behind you every so often for spectacular views down the valley.

The descent was tough and not straightforward. It’s really steep with plenty of Class 3 terrain. The rock is fortunately very stable most of the time, but we used our hands a lot and pulled some sketchy maneuvers to get down some sections. To make matters worse, it was starting to get dark and the rain started picking up again—not a good place for that to happen. Once we finished the steep descent we hurriedly set up our tent at the first suitable campsite. We heard a single roll of thunder as we were setting up camp.

I was not a happy camper. I was wet and exhausted and feeling a little bit sick. I didn’t have much of an appetite and the rain was getting heavier, so we skipped cooking dinner and just ate some snacks in the tent instead. Morale was really low at this point. Before falling asleep I spent some time reading about alternate routes for the upcoming sections, convinced that I wouldn’t be capable of continuing on the primary route. I got a terrible night’s sleep.

• Strava
• Start: Bonneville Lake
• End: before Golden Lakes
• Distance: 17.43 miles
• Elevation gain: 5,302 feet

I woke up as miserable as I’d been the night before. Everything was still wet from the rain and we immediately had to climb over Sentry Peak Pass. The climb wasn’t terrible but it was a little slower and more difficult than it looked on the map.

On the way down from the pass we had a decision to make: stay on the primary route, or take the Halls Lake low route alternate (the routes converge about 15 miles later). When we started down the pass I was absolutely convinced that we would take the low route. I loved the idea of skipping the upcoming climbs on the primary route and giving ourselves a relatively easy day to rebuild our confidence. We just had to walk a few easy miles around Middle Fork Lake and turn onto the alternate route.

We soon learned the unpleasant realities of low route off-trail travel in the Wind River Range. Those few “easy” miles turned out to be miserable. The whole area is overgrown with thick willow shrubs. We followed game trails as much as possible, but those were narrow and tended to end abruptly so it frequently devolved into full-on bushwhacking. Willow clings to water really effectively so our feet got soaking wet. We knew this terrain would continue on the low route for many miles, and by the time we reached the turnoff point at Middle Fork Lake we couldn’t bear that idea. We decided that the primary route was the better (i.e., less miserable) option after all.

The climb out from Middle Fork Lake is brutally steep but thankfully not too long. From there, it’s a beautiful and easy walk to the top of Photo Pass. These few miles are some of the most beautiful on the entire route with great views ahead and behind you. It’s technically off trail but there is a fairly well established trail to the top of the pass.

After Photo Pass we once again plunged into some unpleasant terrain. We walked through willow and forest for miles, checking the map frequently as navigation became more challenging. I would say that our feet got soaked again, but I don’t think they had ever really dried out from earlier. After several unpleasant miles we finally reached the base of Europe Peak and began another long climb.

I had been dreading the climb up Europe Peak all day, but it ended up being easier than I expected. It’s a long climb but not terribly steep, and I found it easier than some earlier parts of the route (e.g., Wind River Peak, Raid Peak Pass). The peak looks really dramatic on the approach and the views from the summit are excellent. By this point I was definitely glad we had stuck to the primary route. We even had cell service at the top.

We passed a father and teenage son just before we reached the summit of Europe Peak. They were doing the Wind River High Route in the opposite direction—the first people we encountered doing the same route as us.

We continued until we ran out of sunlight. We had hoped to reach Golden Lakes but ended up stopping a couple miles short, completely exhausted. Still, we were very happy to be almost back on schedule.

• Strava
• Start: Before Golden Lakes
• End: unnamed river crossing near 10,800
• Distance: 14.65 miles
• Elevation gain: 4,692 feet

The first note in my journal entry for this day is simply “Not fun.” There was suffering and unpleasantness. (There was also some good stuff mixed in.)

The day started out easy. We cruised down to and through the Golden Lakes area in the morning (nice, but actually not as pretty as we expected). We had already knocked out five or six miles by 9 AM, at which point we reached the base of Douglas Peak Pass.

Douglas Peak Pass is affectionately referred to by some as “Ass Pass”, presumably because it sucks ass. I can’t believe someone (i.e., Andrew Skurka) looked at that pass and thought it was a good idea to send the route that way. From the bottom, it looks outrageously steep and rocky—the path of most resistance.

It’s actually not as bad as it looks, as long as you’re smart about it. The trickiest part is actually getting around the lake at the base of the pass to begin the climb. Siyang pulled off a ludicrously risky maneuver to get over some cliffs by the lakeshore, at one point inching along flat on his chest. I opted for a more roundabout and safer approach.

While climbing you should cling to the cliff face to the east (your right side if you’re climbing up). There is a strip of grass there where the footing is far better than in the middle of the talus and scree field. It’s still very steep and there are a few dicey sections with loose footing, particularly near the top, but it’s manageable. In my opinion, it is very important to follow this line of travel. Skurka calls this out in his field notes but I want to reiterate it here. Going right up the middle would likely be similarly difficult (and dangerous) to the west gully on Wind River Peak.

[Note: There is an option to bypass Douglas Peak Pass using the Camp Lake alternate route. We strongly considered that option—in fact, I probably would have done it if Siyang hadn’t been there to talk me out of it. It might be a slightly easier and safer option but it adds some distance and probably some time.]

The next five-ish miles from Douglas Peak Pass to Alpine Lakes Pass looked like easy walking on the map. That was emphatically not the case. It’s mostly flat but there’s talus as far as the eye can see, and that means constant rock hopping and slow travel. Fortunately, the landscape is very pretty and extremely quiet (though also extremely buggy). We took a nice lunch break at one of the lakes.

Dark clouds started rolling in as we climbed Alpine Lakes Pass and it started raining when we reached the top, so we immediately continued down the other side. The rain was pretty heavy for about half an hour, and we even had light hail for a few minutes. We got down from the pass as quickly as possible, which was not quick at all—the only terrain slower than talus is wet talus.

To make matters worse, my knee started bothering me around this point. I don’t typically have knee problems while hiking, but I sure was having them here. It wasn’t completely debilitating, but I had to walk slowly and gingerly and rely a lot on my trekking poles for support. [I think it was just an overuse injury with no lasting damage, although I did have lingering pain for about a week after the hike.]

Eventually the sun came out and it actually turned into a beautiful evening. But just as we had nearly dried out, we had a ford a river. A big, mean river. The water level was over our waists and the current was swift. Fortunately we made it across safely and then set up camp at the first suitable spot. In hindsight it would have been much safer to cross the river the following morning—the river had swelled due to glacial melt and rain throughout the day. We just didn’t like the idea of starting out the next day with wet feet.

We only saw one person today. As we got to the top of Alpine Lakes Pass a guy came down from one of the nearby summits. He’s trying to climb all of the Wyoming 13ers. We were surprised to see each other in such a remote part of the wilderness.

• Strava
• Start: unnamed river crossing near 10,800
• End: unnamed lake at 10,272
• Distance: 19.83 miles
• Elevation gain: 3,672 feet

The first few miles of the day had some of the best views of the entire route. Skurka has a waypoint labeled “Sound of Music setting” on the map, which is an apt description, right near the base of Blaurock Pass. We hung out for a bit before starting up the pass.

Blaurock Pass is the steepest climb of the route (which, you may recall, already included several steep climbs). It’s also one of the largest climbs measured by vertical gain from base to top. Fortunately it’s all Class 2, so it’s just a long, unrelenting grind to the top. We were relieved to find several large snowfields—walking on snow was much faster than hopping across giant boulders.

Once again, the weather turned on us at the top of the pass. We heard a distant roll of thunder when we were most of the way to the top, so we kicked into high gear and got up and over quickly as possible. The way down was long and full of rocks (go figure) and the rain got steadily heavier as we descended. By the time we reached the bottom it was pouring, which was a shame because it’s a beautiful area—Gannett Peak, the highest point in Wyoming, towers above.

It was here that we bailed. The primary route immediately climbs back up over a pass, then across the Gannett Glacier, and then along the Continental Divide for many miles. It’s high, exposed, and difficult. Or, you can take the Glacier Trail, an easy 17-mile trail to the parking lot. In his guide, Skurka lists four reasons you might choose the easy option:

• Unfavorable weather conditions. It was pouring rain. Check.
• Short on time. We were just about on schedule, so this one didn’t apply.
• Physical injuries. My knee was getting worse. Check.
• Mental fatigue. That’s an understatement. Double check.

It was a no-brainer: we had to bail and take the Glacier Trail. The weather forced our hand—it would be reckless to go up into high, exposed terrain with thunderstorms looming—but I think I would have bailed even in perfect weather conditions. I was mentally worn down and I had been daydreaming about taking the easy way out for several days. It would have been up to Siyang to talk me out of it, and that would have been a tall task.

If you ask a person about the happiest moments in their life you’ll get some common answers: their wedding day, the birth of their first child, when they first set foot on trail after days of rugged off-trail hiking. I can’t speak to the first two, but that third one is absolutely true. Words cannot describe how happy we were to start following a dirt path. We were cruising along, moving faster than we had in days.

The rain didn’t even bother us at all at this point, nor did the half dozen river crossings over the next few miles. Once you’re already soaked to the bone you can’t get any more wet, so we just trudged on through. Siyang joyously “yee-haw’ed” straight through one of the crossings.

We wanted to keep hiking until it was too dark to continue, but we were forced to stop around 6 PM when we got thunder and lightning directly overhead. At least that further validated our decision to bail on the last high route section—it would have been seriously dangerous up there in a thunderstorm. We quickly scrambled to set up our tent in the rain, cooked dinner, and settled in for an early night.

• Strava
• Start: unnamed lake at 10,272
• End: Dinwoody Trail intersection
• Distance: 2.65 miles
• Elevation gain: 448 feet

But wait, there’s more! The storms cleared shortly after we ate dinner and there was still a tiny bit of daylight left. We wanted to leave a short last day tomorrow, so we made the questionable decision to pack up and hike by headlamp into the night for a few hours. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Predictably, the rain picked up shortly into our night hiking session. First a drizzle, then a downpour. Before too long we were forced to stop because I was freezing. My rain jacket had soaked through and the wind picked up as we lost tree cover. Meanwhile, Siyang was comfortably dry in his poncho. (I will be bringing a poncho on my next trip.) We set up our tent in the pouring rain for the second time in a span of a few hours, this time in total darkness. We did about 2.5 extra miles… not worth it.

• Strava
• Start: Dinwoody Trail intersection
• End: Glacier Trail trailhead
• Distance: 9.51 miles
• Elevation gain: 404 feet

Not too much to say about this one. An easy 9.5-mile hike out to the trailhead. Rainy and miserable the whole way. Windy and cold for a while (for me anyway—Siyang once again stayed warm and dry in his poncho). Not very much fun but at least we were able to move fast.

We saw about a half dozen people, including an older guy who was also finishing up the Wind River High Route. He did it in 17 days(!) with no resupplies. Very impressive.

Other than some quick chats with other hikers, we kept on cruising until we reached the trailhead. It’s always satisfying to reach the ending trailhead, but this one felt even better considering the difficulty of the hike and the tough weather conditions. And just like that, we were done! Well, almost…

Point-to-point hikes are logistically challenging. The Wind River High Route trailheads are 90 miles apart by road. Most people either leave a car at each end, hire a shuttle service, or hitchhike, but we decided to bike instead. Neither of us had ever biked that far in a day but it sounded like a fun challenge. Conveniently, almost the entire route overlaps with the classic TransAmerica Bicycle Trail.

We had decided to hike first, then bike back to the start. On Day 0, we stashed our bikes behind some trees and under a tarp at the Glacier Trail trailhead, and then drove south to the Bruce’s Bridge trailhead to begin hiking. We chose the direction of our hike based on the bike ride, opting bike from north to south because it would give us more downhill riding. The net elevation change is not that large (down 400 feet), but this way the first 80 miles would be mostly downhill. The downside is that all of our elevation gain would be concentrated in one giant 10-mile hill at the end, but that sounded better than going the other direction and grinding up gradual hills all day. I think we made the right decision but I’m not experienced enough as a cyclist to know for sure.

We retrieved our bikes when we finished our hike around 10 AM. Fortunately they had stayed mostly dry under the tarp and porcupines hadn’t eaten our tires. We loaded our gear onto our bikes and got ready to go. Barring any setbacks, we expected to complete the ride and get back to our car by the end of the day.

The setbacks started immediately. It started raining again just a few minutes after leaving the parking lot. The first nine miles are on a dirt and gravel road, which turned into muddy gravel in the wet conditions. In the first hour we only made it 7 miles, at which point we took respite under a small lean-to. I was so cold that I couldn’t stop shivering (Siyang was fine in his poncho—noticing a trend?) and we thought we were going to have to give up and hitchhike. It looked bleak.

Then, miraculously, the sun came out. Not permanently, but at least long enough for us to make it to the main road, and soon we reached the first sign of civilization: the National Museum of Military Vehicles. We were absolutely disgusting so we went inside to wash up in the restroom (to the displeasure of the museum visitors who had to see and smell us). We also used the WiFi to check the weather forecast, which was not great but not the worst case scenario. More thunderstorms for the next couple hours, then mostly clear the rest of the day.

It wasn’t the worst news because it meant we got to check out the museum, and the museum was awesome. A hidden gem in the middle of nowhere. It’s absolutely massive and has amazing exhibits on US military history. We spent about two hours in the museum and had to rush through several exhibits at the end. If you ever find yourself near Dubois, WY you should visit the National Museum of Military Vehicles.

Finally the rain stopped and we got back to biking. Our luck was improving but time was against us—it was already the middle of the afternoon and we had 75 miles to go. We didn’t stop until we reached the Crowheart Store (it’s just a little gas station store) where we ate some of the most satisfying microwave burritos of our lives and had a nice conversation with Harold, who runs the shop. (I also bought an emergency poncho.) From there we only stopped to refill water bottles so it was just hours of constant biking, which was actually really pleasant.

We thought there was still a chance we’d be able to finish the ride in a day, but once again we ran into bad weather. Heavy rain started shortly before sunset, forcing us to stop. Fortunately we were close to the first hotel on the bike route, the Shoshone Rose casino, so we pulled over and booked a room for the night. We made it about 76 miles on day one. It was a little disappointing to stop short, but that disappointment was easily washed away by a hot shower and a real bed.

Day two of biking was short and sweet. Well, maybe not sweet. We coasted a few miles into Lander and then had to climb a grueling 10-mile hill. That’s a brutal climb under normal conditions, and even worse with 35 pounds of gear on your bike. I did fine for a while, but really struggled up the second half of the hill. Siyang left me in the dust.

Then, with about half a mile to go, my bike broke. The pedals completely stopped driving the back wheel so it was impossible to continue (the precise issue was a broken freewheel). Siyang offered to continue to the car and pick me up, but I was pettily determined to finish under my own power so I walked the last half mile with my bike. It wasn’t the triumphant conclusion I was hoping for, but it sure was satisfying to reach the end!

Coincidentally, in the parking lot we ran into the same WRHR hiker we saw on the last day of our hike (the one who completed it in 17 days). He had strung together three hitchhiking rides and got back to his car at the same time as us. When we told him about our bike ride he called us badasses, which might be an overstatement but I’ll take it!