Trip Report: Shoshone Lake Wilderness
by Karl Dinkelspiel
We need wilderness, whether or not we ever set foot in it. We need a refuge even though we may not ever need to go there. —Edward Abbey
They say Shoshone Lake, inside Yellowstone National Park, is the largest wilderness lake in the lower 48 states, about six miles at its longest and three at its widest. But it wasn’t really the size that made the deepest impression on me, it was the near complete absence of humanity: no houses, roads or powerlines, no noise even other than the wind and the lapping of the waves. One evening camped on the shore, I stood and marveled at only trees, water and sky; there was nothing else to see or hear.
During our four days and three nights on the lake we ran into Bud, probably the luckiest employee of the Park Service. He’d just secured a permanent appointment as the (a?) ranger for Shoshone Lake. His job, mostly, was to paddle around the lake and check on things. Not too many people, not too much checking. He lived in a log cabin, of course (!), set well back into the trees. The previous night we had seen (gasp) a tent pitched on the beach far across the lake and (really gasp) a campfire. We were aghast – a fire in fire country?! But the next day when we paddled that way, we saw no trace of the fire – Bud had completely erased its traces. He told us the Park Service is serious about the wilderness experience.
The lake has about 20 campsites – we stayed at two during our time, one on the south shore, Moose Creek Point, and on the north, Windy Point. Other than a tiny orange hash mark on a post, there is no obvious evidence of the campsites from the lake. You won’t be surprised to hear, however, that among the “amenities” at the campsites is a bear pole, by far the stoutest I’ve ever seen. Gargantuan horizontal logs, at least 20 feet up, bolted to two equally large standing trees on either end. Expert tip: while throw ropes work just fine for hanging food from bear poles, shorter static line, 40 or 50 feet total, are better – what do you do with the extra 50 feet of rope once all your food is in the air? Each of the campsites are also equipped with an “outhouse,” i.e. a large pit, very far back from everything else, covered by a bomb-proof cover and seat. The Park Service is serious about poop too.
Campsites and the ability to paddle on the lake are doled out by permit. As you would expect, these are competitively awarded. Annie and I were able to go on this adventure thanks to friends of Annie’s brother, Stephen, who live in Bozeman and have done the trip several times before. We tried to go last year and got skunked. This year we got skunked again, but our friends persisted and got an unclaimed permit.
We launched on Sunday August 7. If you’ve done a permitted paddle trip of any kind, you know there is the requisite boat inspection which we subjected ourselves to the afternoon before. No problem there except it was raining, hard, in Wyoming, in the summer! Other nice Park Service people braved the rain and looked at our boats while we stayed dry in our car. Next was the mandatory, try-to-scare-you, back-country video (inside the dry, warm Visitors Center) featuring, you guessed it, bears, both black and brown (grizzlies). Not only did we not see an actual bear on this trip, none of the eight of us saw even a sign of one other than some scratches on some trees. In fact, the only wildlife we saw in the Park as a whole were some sleeping bison - even the crystal waters of Shoshone Lake didn’t reveal any fish.
There are always trip logistics. Putting aside the roughly 900 miles to get there, the biggest paddling issue is the summertime winds, the trip is (nearly) all flat water after all. The winds can be strong in the afternoons and can turn a nice, though arduous paddle, into a life threatening one. So we camped at Grant Village the night before the launch to get an early, pre-wind, start. It’s a 15 minute or so drive from the put in on Lewis Lake. Annie and I didn’t see much of the campground due to the aforementioned rain. We ate our dinner on the amazing, covered deck at the Visitors Center, while we watched the grey sky blend into the grey waters of the lake. And then we slept inside my truck – no wet tents to start this trip! There’s a dock on the east side of Lewis Lake and plenty of parking to leave the car for four days. The first day paddle is roughly three miles from the dock to the north end of Lewis Lake. For all the angst about the previous wet day, it also apparently set us up for a tail wind and dry weather for our crossing. For lake paddling, relatively easy. There were no internal combustion powered boats on Lewis Lake that day, though they are allowed. The wilderness line is just inside Lewis Lake Channel. From there only human powered craft are allowed. The Channel connects Shoshone and Lewis Lakes. Another reason the trip leaders were anxious to start early was the traverse of this channel. At first, it’s just more of the same flat water, but narrowed into a lovely, winding river. After about a mile though, the current increases and a few feet after that you get out of your boat; you’ve got to walk, the current too strong, the water too shallow. But not that shallow. Always up to your knees and often up to your thighs. I don’t know if it was the excitement or what, but even after a mile or so of dragging the boat, the water didn’t feel especially cold. For slogs, this one was a very pleasant.
Finally entering Shoshone Lake and the utter lack of civilization, we paused for lunch at a beach at the mouth of the Channel and then paddled another 2-3 miles to our first campsite. It had already been a long day, so we set up our tents, ate dinner, swatted at the numerous, late-in-the-season mosquitos, and then went off to bed. In the morning we packed up and paddled across “the narrows” to the north side of the lake. The Park Service, and any reasonable person, says this is the best place to cross – the lake is only about ½ mile wide here. After we landed and set up camp, because we hadn’t paddled that much, we all decided to hike on the trail that circles the lake, east this day. Pleasant woods, an easy walk, but nothing of particular note. We were saving ourselves for the next day.
On the west end of Shoshone Lake is the Minuteman Geyser Basin, aside from the wilderness paddling experience, the biggest reason to do this trip. We paddled from our campsite about two miles to Bud’s cabin and beached our boats. From there we walked the same trail as the day before but in the westerly direction. After another pleasant three miles of hiking we arrived at the basin. On the rainy arrival day, Annie and I had done the tourist thing and walked around the Old Faithful Geyser Basin. Having never been there, and loving a good surprise, I expected to see just, well, Old Faithful. For those of you knowingly smirking, the Old Faithful Basin is huge, with dozens if not hundreds of active thermal features, geysers, hot springs, fumaroles and mud puts. It completely lives up to its rightful hype. The Minuteman Basin was not quite as big or diverse, and there were no boardwalks, but it was pretty spectacular in its own right. And, we had it more or less to ourselves. Thanks Park Service permit system! The only other people we saw there were through-hikers on the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) which runs through this basin. Aside from the weirdly transparent blue waters of some of the hot springs, my favorite was that Shoshone Creek runs through this basin. I found the contrast of flowing, clear, cold, stream water and multihued, hot geyser features mesmerizing.
Returning the way we came, we went back to our campsite and had dinner. One of my other favorite moments from this trip: Annie and I took out our, now empty, canoe at sunset. The air and water were completely still. We just sat in our boat in silence, for a long time, and watched the light fade and the full moon rise.
The good part of this plan, camping on the north side of the lake so there’s easier access to the geyser basin, is also, a little bit the bad part of this plan. The way out the next day was super long; oh, and did I mention the flat water? All told about 10 miles, but at least there was Lewis Channel with the current going with us this time. The dreaded wind did catch us by the time we were about ½ way through our Lewis Lake paddle, but we stuck to shore and then paddled like crazy across the crossing and made it back to the dock without incident.
I hesitate to say this, but I would recommend this trip to anyone. The Park Service has got access well controlled through the permit system, and Bud, I’d just hate to have this gem over-loved. I’d never heard of Shoshone Lake before this trip. Have you? I would also go again, to be so swaddled in wilderness and to experience more of America’s first national park. A truly amazing place.
Special thanks to Steve Rentmeester for the loan of his Dagger Venture. The perfect canoe for this voyage.