Eighteenmile Peak - Montana Mountain Project

Approaching Eighteenmile (left) and Cottonwood (right) on the CDT

The day after Sara cut off the upper part of her pinky fingernail, we journeyed south of Dillon to a little explored corner of Montana. Eighteenmile Peak, the high point of the Montana portion of the Beaverhead Mountains, often gets overlooked as drivers merely glance in its direction on their way to Butte or Idaho Falls. At 11,125' it is the highest mountain on the Continental Divide in Montana and is quite deserving of the long drive from anywhere to reach its base.

The area around Eighteenmile Peak, tucked in the most southern portion of the state, is still a heavy ranching area with roaming cattle and narrow roads typical in the surround valleys. The gently rolling ranch lands quickly give way to steep, high mountains, however, and the tame valleys turn to wild, high alpine environments within a few hundred feet.

The shoulder to the top of Eighteenmile Peak

As we negotiated the irrigation ditches that occasionally crossed the ranch roads it was hard not to notice the looming presence of Eighteenmile Peak and its twin, Cottonwood Peak. They dominated the skyline to the west. I still haven't learned what the peak is 18 miles from, but it may be that the summit seems like it's 18 miles above the valley floor (if you know how Eighteenmile Peak got its name, or have a slightly educated guess please let me know).

We parked at the junction of two ranch roads that would give us the option to loop our route if we desired and began walking up towards the eastern flank of the mountain. We had walked this way in 2014 while hiking the Continental Divide Trail and memories quickly flooded back. At this point in our thru-hike we were putting in 25-30 miles a day and were increasingly fatigued. That morning we took an "officially" suggested alternate that ascended Cottonwood Peak before reconnecting with the CDT on the Idaho/Montana border and continuing north.

Refueling before the final push to the ridge.

That morning Sara was struggling. The climb up Cottonwood Peak was steep, but she was feeling the miles of the previous weeks and simply moving forward became a laborious endeavor. We made it to the top and on the descent she started regaining energy. That afternoon it was my turn. Sitting down always seemed like the best option and hiking like a lethargic death march. Fortunately, Sara and I rarely synced our struggle-fest moments and the other person was always there to pull us through when the hiking got tough.

Hiking towards the continental divide this time was a much more positive experience, probably because we had only done half the mileage the day before, and were carrying packs that, maybe, weighed 10 pounds. It's amazing how much more enjoyable hiking is with a light pack.

Looking at Eighteenmile Peak from Cottonwood in 2014

We left the CDT and pushed straight up the eastern shoulder of the Eighteenmile Peak hugging the fenceline of a local ranch. High altitude cows briefly interrupted their masticating to glance warily in our direction, but showed little other reaction as we continued climbing.

Sara SUPER happy to reach the summit of Cottonwood in 2014

Another half mile uphill we moved onto public land and reached the first knob. Hiding behind this knob was a herd of a hundred or so elk contentedly basking in the sun. Despite the edge of the herd being 30 yards away, they didn't see or smell us and we could watch them at our leisure. Eventually we accidentally spooked them and continued on our way up.

As the grade got steeper the terrain shifted from ungulate chewed foliage to loose talus and scree. Here we were able to follow rough sheep and goat trails and somewhat switchback our way up. Even with the "trails" the hiking was very hard on our calves. I was feeling the lingering effects of our adventure the day before and had a solid burn going by the time we reached the ridge.

On top of Eighteenmile Peak

On the ridge the rocks switched to dinner plate size and we quickly covered the last couple hundred yards to the top. From the summit of Eighteen Mile Peak we could see mountains surrounding us in all directions. The Beaverheads themselves stretched as far as we could see to the North and South. We could see Mount Borah, the high point in Idaho, off to the West, and the Tendoys, Pioneers, and Pioneers to the East.

Lewis and Clark crossed over the Continental Divide for the first time only a few miles north of Eighteenmile Peak, and as we sat on the summit it was not hard to imagine how intimidating the view had to be. They hoped to see plains stretching below them with a hopefully a large waterway that could transport them easily to the Pacific. Endless mountains on the horizon had to be demoralizing. What Sara and I were viewing as future adventures had to be completely disheartening to the travel weary explorers looking beyond the edge of the United States for the first time.

Looking North towards Cottonwood Peak and Lemhi Pass
where Lewis and Clark first crossed the Divide.

Our enjoyment of the view was curtailed by a quickly building cloud bank that moved over Mount Borah and continued our way. We decided to get back to lower elevations before it crossed the valley and reluctantly turned back to the car.

We reached the car just as a light sprinkle turned to legitimate rain. The one irrigation ditch crossing we were worried about on the return trip was a non-issue, but the crazy hail storm we encountered in Big Sheep Creek Canyon was intense. We drove on the heels of a short, intense storm that was causing the creek to flash flood. Mud pored across the road from every little drainage in the canyon. Knowing how quickly a canyon can turn dangerous in a storm, I kept us moving to try to get out of the narrow portions before part of the road washed out (the construction occurring on previously washed out road was not helping our confidence). Fortunately we made it out of the canyon with nothing more than some mud on the windshield only to find that the canyon on either side of us sunny and completely dry. Once again we were reminded of how quickly, and crazily weather systems can strike.

Entering the hail infested canyon, flood water is already building
on the side of the road.