I lost my ice axe on Mt. Borah, Idaho

Well, I didn't exactly lose my ice axe. I stashed it under a bush at timberline on my way up, after hearing a report of the snow field crossing from another hiker--I knew I wouldn't need it--and when I came back down, it was gone.

Last August I climbed the highest peak in Idaho. It was the day before the total solar eclipse, and the mountain was in the path of totality. It would be a zoo on any summer weekend, but it was extra busy that weekend--the rangers I spoke to were expecting three times the normal crowds. 150 people instead of the usual 50.

I got to the Borah Trailhead at 5:15 a.m. after seeing three rabbits, two coyotes, one rat, and one owl in the road since leaving Challis. The parking lot was essentially full but I found a spot where I managed to fit my car. I started hiking at dawn through curl-leaf mountain mahogany and Douglas fir.

By 7:15 a.m. I had passed several people and heard that the snowfield crossing was doable without an ice axe. So I stashed it under a bush as I neared treeline. 

At 8:40 a.m. I reached Chickenout Ridge, passed more people, including some college-age guys who seemed like they weren't entirely comfortable with the difficulty of the climbing situation. I met a tree-climbing worker from Boston and Truckee--I'll call him Truckee Trees. He and I climbed at the same pace for a while.

Mt. Borah eclipsing the sun, shadowing the Big Lost River Valley

The snowfield is visible just below the ridge

The sun rising on Chickenout Ridge

At 9 a.m. I reached the snowfield, but had climbed higher than the lower easier path across it. Downclimbing here was the hardest climbing of the day. Someone else crossed at the crest of the ridge... neither crossing looked very difficult.

The lower snowfield crossing

On the other side of the snowfield, I climbed to the ridge. The rocks were very cool. I descended quickly to a saddle and was on the main peak by 9:30 am. I didn't see Truckee Trees any more that day--I'm not sure if he turned around or went somewhere else. Near the top, I left the loose steep trail and climbed the slabs to the right. That was a lot more fun. I was on top at 10 a.m., and was the 5th person up that day. Several more arrived right after me. 

 What a party--of eclipse watchers and peak climbers. A fun, jovial bunch. One guy pointed out the peaks near Ketchum, including one that was formerly thought of as the tallest in Idaho. Hyndman Peak, at 12,009 feet near Ketchum, was thought to be the highest peak in Idaho fifty years ago.

I was standing on a peak 12,662 feet above sea level, an altitude increasing during earthquakes but otherwise slowly declining as the sea rises. In 1983 a 6.9 magnitude earthquake caused the peak to rise one foot and the Lost River Valley to drop eight feet.

At 10:30 a.m. I left the top, and at 11:30 stopped below Chickenout Ridge. There were quite a few people heading up. Someone had left their dog with a complete stranger while they bagged the peak. Such is the community of peak climbers. My feet were killing me. I took my boots off for 20 minutes.

When I got just below treeline, I looked for my landmarks and scrutinized the bush where I hid my ice axe three hours earlier. I looked several times, coming at it from several different directions to make sure it was the same bush. It was. My long-handled purple slightly rusty Black Diamond ice axe with a black webbing strap was gone. After over twenty years of adventures, from over 12,000 feet on Mt. Shasta to wintertime stream flow gaging in the Mono Basin to numerous snowfields in the Sierra, for the first time since April 1996 I no longer was the owner of a $54 ice axe.

There were people everywhere. The people closer to the trailhead, who got later starts, looked less and less prepared, and more hot and tired. I tried to remember to look for it as I passed each person heading down, but few people were heading down. I spoke to the rangers just below treeline, and I filed a report with the rangers at the trailhead at 1 p.m. I ran down the trail whenever I could--some other guys I met at the top ran past me--but my hurting toes and the steepness slowed me down. I was hot, and jumped in an irrigation ditch where people were camping on the drive out. I explored potential eclipse viewing locations in the Chilly Buttes for the next day's total solar eclipse. I returned to the motel in Challis for a shower, nap, and dinner.

I never got a call from the Forest Service. My axe was gone. But the peaks were amazing, the views were beautiful, and the rocks were cool. It was a good trade. 

But if you have my ice axe, I'd like it back.