Have you ever eaten lunch in July sitting next to a snowfield above an alpine lake while curious mountain goats wander within a few feet of you? Or, scrambled up steep switchbacks at 10,000 feet, then balanced your way across a boulder field before standing on a windswept ridge to admire the trees and sparkling lakes far below? Can you imagine walking through a pristine mountain meadow strewn with brilliant red, yellow, periwinkle, white, purple, orange, and blue wild flowers flaunting themselves next to cascading rivulets of melting snow?

Those are only a few of the experiences I had during a recent hiking adventure in the spectacular Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness in south-central Montana. Twelve women from across the United States and one woman from England signed up for this adventure vacation with AdventureWomen, Inc., a Montana-based company that has specialized in active vacations for women over 30 since 1982.

Our journey to the Absaroka-Beartooth wilderness – an area covering nearly a million acres within two national forests – began in Bozeman, Montana. After checking into our hotel, we met with our guide, Barbara, for a group orientation. Barbara was a tall, slender, 40-something woman with three feet of blonde hair cascading down her straight back. Amiable and self-assured, she answered every silly question we asked with the well-honed poise of an expert. Her two decades of experience as a wilderness guide was reassuring to women who were about to tromp through grizzly bear country.

After leaving Bozeman, we took a two-and-a-half-hour ride through picture-postcard scenery to the town of Red Lodge, Montana. We dropped our luggage off at beautiful and rustic Rock Creek Lodge, picked up our packed lunches, and then headed out to our first hiking trail: just outside the northeast boundary of Yellowstone National Park, the massive Absaroka and Beartooth ranges reign – austere and untamed.

The Precambrian rock foundation upon which this wild country rests is recognized as some of the oldest rock in the world. This wilderness – designated by the U.S. Congress in 1978 – is crossed by only a handful of roads. But, more than 700 miles of hiking trails provide access to the area, making it a hiker’s dream come true.

Our first destination was a lake by the name of Gertrude. During the next three days, we not only saw Lake Gertrude, but Timberline Lake, Beartooth Lake, Lady of the Lake, Claw Lake, and Lower Aero Lake, to name only a few. And, we crossed numerous crystal clear creeks and gaped at mountains the word “grandeur” can barely begin to describe.

One woman in our group, Paulette Gergen Lane from Florida, was moved to poetry by her first visit to Montana. After one of our lakeside adventures, she wrote these touching lines: 

Water Lilies 

• Butterflies abounding, twinkling in the air,

• Lichen just astounding, ah, nature is so fair.

• What to make of nature’s best?

• Only that it’s heaven’s rest,

• Softly soothing, ever blooming,

• Pink, white, blue, and red…

• Lilies of the soul. 

Among the highest places

Hiking the Absaroka-Beartooth plateau brings rewards that far outweigh the challenges of negotiating the trails winding across this majestic wilderness at more than two miles above sea level. The air is crystal clear, and there isn’t a motor spewing exhaust or noise for miles in all directions. This rugged, remote alpine area boasts the largest single expanse of land above 10,000 feet in all the lower 48 states. There are 28 peaks in the Beartooth range that rise above 12,000 feet.  

Absaroka is what the local Native Americans, known more commonly as the Crow Indians, called themselves. The reason for the name of the Beartooth Mountain Range became blatantly obvious when we saw the rows of slightly tilted, jagged granite peaks from the top of the Beartooth Highway – an amazing feat of road engineering that dropped us briefly down into Wyoming from the giddy height of 10,947 feet. Charles Kuralt once called the Beartooth Highway, “the most beautiful roadway in America.”  

Each day we spent in the splendor of this wilderness was spectacular. But the highlight of our adventure occurred halfway through the fourth day. That morning we hiked up to Lower Aero Lake from the trailhead just outside Cooke City, Montana. For the first four and a half miles, the trail climbed gradually along Lady of the Lake Creek and Zimmer Creek, past several small lakes, and through lush green meadows sprinkled with colorful wild flowers. The Indian Paintbrush, sporting flashy red flowers at lower elevations, was a muted salmon color by the time we had climbed up to 10,000 feet. 

The last mile and a half of the trail was a series of steep switchbacks. We all got to the top, but several of the women barely made it. Only Barbara, our cheerful guide, still seemed fresh and energetic after that climb. As we straggled up the last bit of trail, she chirped, “Congratulations! You made it!” from her perch on one of the huge granite boulders next to a snowfield. We sat down, groaning with pleasure as we freed our tired feet from their hiking boot prisons, then relaxed against warm boulders to eat our lunches. Suddenly, five mountain goats – a kid, three males, and a female – walked into our view and we forgot we were tired. 

It was surreal. Their movements looked effortless, especially when compared to our own inelegant, gasping ascent. They seemed to float up to the steep rock ledges above us. Then, for reasons known only to goats, three of them – the kid, the doe, and one buck – descended to circle around us while we gawked and fumbled for our cameras.  

Barbara, who has been a naturalist and a hiking guide for more than 20 years, kept repeating, “I’ve never seen them get this close to people.” Before wandering off, each of the goats took up separate positions and stood watching us for a few minutes. The buck stood about five feet from where I sat holding my half-eaten sandwich. Maybe he liked the smell of the sourdough bread, provolone and chopped veggies.

As an experienced Montana hiker, I’ve seen mountain goats in the distance many times, but I’ve never been able to almost touch one. I’m just sure I could have stretched across to the curious goat standing near me and brushed my fingertips across the stiff white hairs on his shoulder. It was partly my leave-it-as-it-is eco-consciousness, and partly my astonishment that stopped me.  

And, the sensual show of muscled athletics we witnessed between sandwich and cookie that day is never captured in mountain goat photographs, or seen through a set of binoculars. Later, as we maneuvered our way back down the steep switchbacks, we got another show: Two bucks fiercely and repeatedly butted heads while the doe and her kid calmly grazed nearby. 

That night we gleefully told goat stories to every hapless person we encountered in Cooke City. The staff at the Alpine Hotel was probably tired of hearing about mountain goats by the time our group rolled out of town the next morning.

Our last hike was in Yellowstone National Park: a three-mile walk to the top of Mount Washburn for breathtaking, panoramic views of the park from 10,243 feet. The grand finale of our wildlife sightings was a black bear. We watched him – from the safety of a roadside pullout – ambling through the verdant meadow below. Luck was with us: mountain goats up close, and a bear from afar. Perfect.

By the time we climbed into the van for the short drive to our last destination, Chico Hot Springs Resort, we were saturated with grand scenery and new experiences. It was time to relax and pamper our trail-weary feet. The final events of our adventure were a fabulous gourmet meal, complete with flaming desserts, and a late-night soak in the outdoor mineral hot springs pool. Enveloped in soothing warm water and steam, we gazed fondly at a mountain we weren’t scheduled to ascend.

Photo Susan L. Eckert AdventureWomen, Inc.