Fairyland Expedition II

Our second attempt on Fairyland got off to a rough start. Our party of six dwindled to three before we left. Three hikers are much more likely to have a run in with a grizzly. And if someone were injured one person would have to go alone for help. Steven had the day off, but they made him work anyway and gave him extra lists of rooms to clean. We all pitched in cleaning the rooms after which Steven had to pack and I had to check out of the dorms. By the time we hit the trail it was 4 pm. Once again we crossed Hayden Valley, followed the trail through the forest to 4M2 and left the trail to hike through trackless forest under a quickly darkening sky. We reached Joseph's Coat just as night fell. Steven spent the night shivering under a thin blanket. His sleeping bag hadn't fit in his pack. He was cold and slow in the morning and we didn't start hiking until midmorning. This time we stuck to the plan, following Broad Creek to Coffee Pot's drainage, then climbing 1000 ft. up to Coffee Pot Hot Spring on the ridge. We ate lunch on a log and set course to the Northeast. A hiker who'd made it to Fairyland told us to descend from the ridge downstream of Golden Fleece Falls. We reached the rim of and heard the roar of a waterfall comming from upstream. Elated, I led the way into the canyon, thinking we were hearing Golden Fleece. We spotted a small waterfall upstream and snapped a few photos before continuing on. Had I read Yellowstone Waterfalls, I would have known we were in the wrong place.We continued on downstream, spotting cougar tracks, climbing around another waterfall, crossing rockslides and passing some of the strangest thermals I've ever seen. All the while, the canyon walls grew steeper and our footing more difficult. Soon Steven was calling for a turn around time and we decided I would go ahead to scout while the guys took a break. I left them at a point where several rockslide chutes converged from 1000 ft above and hiked another quarter mile downstream. Rounding a bend in the canyon, I expected that long-awaited view of Fairyland only to find myself at the brink of Golden Fleece Falls. I stared down the 100 ft. twisting torrent and my heart sank as I realized that Fairyland had once again slipped through my fingers. When I made it back to the guys they were sterilizing water from the creek. I hardly finished telling them about Golden Fleece when Jeff shouted for us to close our eyes. A wall of dust filled wind barreled down on us from up the canyon. High on the ridge above a sound like gunfire rang out as lodgepole pines were snapped from the ground and hurled into the canyon. The falling trees disloged boulders. As rocks and trees bounced down the chutes toward us we realized what a terrible place we'd chosen to rest. We snapped up our packs, crashed across the stream and scrambled up the canyon wall. Halfway to the ridge we paused to look down on the disaster we'd narrowly escaped from. We made our way back to camp exhausted and shaken. The next day we hiked out of the backcountry in the rain.