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Animas & Tenmile <-- back one page to video

I had dreamed of exploring the remote, rugged,
trailless Tenmile Creek valley for 51 years
before finally accomplishing it this year.

That was the primary goal of this year's trip.

I had also intended to summit Peak Six and Storm King Peak, which are accessed from the isolated Balsam Lake at the top of the valley.

I summited the two just-mentioned peaks in 1975 and 1977 respectively after hiking in from the east via the trailless Trinity Creek valley and high saddle between Storm King Peak and Mount Silex.

Back to this year: I had checked topo maps and Google Earth imagery to determine whether a fording of the Animas River was possible in the area where Tenmile Creek meets up with it. Oddly enough, the Animas is comparatively wide in that area. Since we were into September and the river was wide there, I simply assumed I'd have no trouble -- so never gave any more thought to the matter.

The Animas turned out to be a lot deeper and swifter at that location than I'd expected, but I found a spot that barely worked.

It was only when it began to rain during the night -- after I'd set up camp close to Balsam Lake at the top of Tenmile Creek valley -- that it occurred to me that if there was a lot of rain in the mountains north of me, then the Animas might rise significantly -- preventing me from re-crossing.

I decided right then to abandon my summits and get back down to the Animas the next day. In fact, I found that it had risen a little just from the light rain we'd had. I felt very lucky to have made it out.

I didn't know whether one has a clear path for hiking on the east side of the Animas from Tenmile Creek to Needleton. Google Earth imagery and the topo maps both indicate a few stretches that might block such a route. Same is true for heading towards Silverton from Tenmile Creek.

If I'd been unable to ford the Animas and then got blocked while attempting the east-bank escape route, I'd have had to take a three or four-day hike -- including a high pass -- with essentially no food -- in order to make it back to civilization.

I could have avoided all such concerns by simply bringing a rope with me for the hike from Needleton to Tenmile Creek. I could have "fixed" the rope to assist me on the crux portions of the Animas-crossing and left it so-fixed for my return a few days later.

Just too much to think about when planning an adventure, and some things just get prematurely
checked off.

I'd like to return to the Animas River next year, again unboarding the train at Needleton; then try hiking on the east side of the Animas all the way to my beloved Ten Mile Creek valley. The valley now seems more enchanting to me than ever. I'd like to ascend it again and perhaps get in some summiting before I get too old.

The mountains and valleys mentioned on this page are in the heart of the Grenadier Range. Over the years, I've also gone into the heart of this range from the east via the trail from the Beartown site (1970s), from the south via the Vallecito trail, and from the north via Cunningham trail.

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Finally:

The Tenmile Creek valley is heavily littered with deadfall from giant trees -- often with two or three layers.

There's often no good route around them. I scrambled over the top of dozens of them, getting as high as eight feet off the ground in the process. Those dead tree trunks contain a lot of short dead branches. Getting impaled is an ever-present risk.

The 3D image below also doesn't show just how many harsh gullies criss-cross the valley. Those gullies also force one to take zig-zag routes through the valley.

The foliage itself is often high and dense and obscures hazards on the ground.

Ravines and thickets create unexpected dead-ends when one hikes too close to the creek.

I've developed a good sense of the thrust of complex valleys over the years and thus managed to navigate the valley with just one major back-tracking episode -- which occurred on the way down.

There are sketchy animal trails in the lower half of the valley, which make for faster progress despite the amount of deadfall lying across those trails. Those animal trails disappear with great frequency, and
re-locating them is quite a navigational art.

I spent seven hours hiking up the valley and five hours hiking down the following day.