Yellow Hill, Elbow Peak & Middle Fork Teanaway River — Sunday, Jul. 10, 2022

Have you ever met a trail you hated? I sure hadn't. I'd definitely had subpar hikes, disappointing ones, plenty I'd never repeat. But none I'd had such strong feelings about. Until this hike. Would not recommend. Would not ever choose to do again. Risk of injury is too high.

The loop was Yellow Hill to Elbow Peak to Jolly Mountain and down, all along the Yellow Hill Trail, then lose elevation along Jolly Creek Trail, and finally back to the car via the Middle Fork Teanaway Trail. 21 miles in total. My goal before beginning was to run a bit of it and complete it in 8 hours. Only five miles in or so, I realized I needed to drop the time goal. The focus became, "Complete this trail uninjured." I didn't want to turn around because I hated everything I'd done yet, and I hoped what lay ahead would be better.

Starting the hike and heading up to Jolly Mountain, I kept wondering why the paths went straight up and down the hills rather than using switchbacks to keep elevation changes more manageable and reduce chance of injury. I then realized this trail really wasn't designed for hikers, but rather dirt bikers. And what's good for riding is not necessarily good for hiking. As Don Gerald put it before me, "steep, gouged-out dusty ditch filled with ball-bearing gravel. Not fun hiking up or down." Seriously. Later it changes from gravel to rocks and they're maybe even less fun. No safe footing and you slide and fall many times, especially on the downhills. See picture.

If you plan to do this hike and you're wondering about the one creek on Yellow Hill Trail, it was still flowing in abundance and a good source of water.

In the 21 miles, I didn't encounter a single other hiker. And that's saying something, for a weekend in July. But now knowing the trail conditions, I don't wonder why. I did pass two bikers, who turned around due to snow before the Jolly summit, and indicated I may be a little crazy for wanting to press forward. But I knew if I could get down off the mountain on the other side, the return trip followed the river and would therefore avoid the 5,500 scary, sliding feet I'd already done. Anything seemed better than that.

A little snow left up near the summit, especially on the north side where I opted to sled downhill for a few hundred feet, as it was too firm to create safe footholds. See photo. Jolly Creek trail was constituted much the same, slopes filled with rocks ranging between fist-sized and head-sized. Nowhere secure to put your feet. Definitely no running downhill.

Finally to Middle Fork trail, which had a dirt that would have been more friendly for running or hiking at one point. I wanted to go quickly to get back to the car before sundown, but my body chimed in, "Are you joking? I've just done 8.5 hours of intense leg work, my quads feel like jello, and now you want me to run 9 miles?" But it had a good excuse not to, because between the blowdowns, overgrown forest (Mother Nature has nearly reclaimed this whole trail) and river crossings, there isn't much space to open up.

Let's talk about those river crossings. Because I was picturing stream crossings. There are about 17 of those, and they're fine. There are also three occasions where the trail is a creek for 20-200 feet, and you're submerged up to your ankles or lower calves. Muddy as heck but fine. But most important to know is that there are 16 times where you have to wade through a river, which is currently between knee and thigh deep. Choose the wrong trajectory and you're up to your chest. The river itself is 20-70 feet across. It's running pretty swiftly and the rocks are slippery, but I was able to avoid ever falling in.

After the first few crossings, and realizing the sun was going to set soon, I realized I'd rather pick my way across the water during daylight than after dark. And the faster I went, the more I could do before sunset. Surprise, my legs were suddenly capable of running again! Stupendous, what the mind and body can do when the alternative seems worse. In the end though, I did about 10 crossings after sunset and the physical work wasn't much harder than doing it in the light. The only trick was, a few of the crossings were so wide that my headlamp had a hard time finding where the trail came out on the other side. I had to wade into the river and look around before I found my destination.

Due to the blowdowns, the bikers aren't using this trail anymore, which means it's nearly abandoned now. I found some horse tracks near the proximal end of the trail, but that was it. Nature really has been able to retake much of this trail and it was difficult to pass through. Branches and thorns everywhere, but I didn't want to put on pants because of the constant river crossings. My legs are incredibly torn up.

Final stats: 21 miles in 11.5 hours, 5800 ft elevation gain (almost all of which was in the first 9.5 miles).

Nice things I can say about the trail: beautiful views, abundant wildflowers, the bees and flies were plentiful but no bugs that were interested in me, and in this weather I didn't get cold, even after submerging so many times in water.