Backpacking in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho - Toxaway Loop
Quick View Itinerary
Distance: 19.1 mile loop
Time: 3 days, 3 nights
Difficulty: Moderate (3.5/5)
Highest Elevation: 9,416 ft
Ascent: 2,985 ft
Descent: 2,985 ft
Day 1: Lake Pettit trailhead to Toxaway Lake ~ 8.5 miles
Day 2: Toxaway Lake to Lake Alice ~ 5.5 miles
Day 3: Lake Alice to Pettit Lake trailhead ~ 6 miles
Good to Know
Dispersed camping is allowed in the Sawtooths. Camp at least 100 feet away from any source of water, and be sure to follow all Leave No Trace protocols when cooking and going to the bathroom.
Black bears can be found in the Sawtooths. Be sure to hang your food with a bear bag, or use a bear canister.
Try not to have a fire if possible. Fire rings can damage camping areas and the burning of wood can harm the surrounding environment.
Heading into the Sawtooths
As we drove into Stanley, Idaho the Sawtooth Mountain range loomed up in stark contrast to the level valley plains. In front of us and behind us, wooden ranch buildings, barbed wire, and grazing cattle cover the landscape. The buildings in Stanley also look like they come from another era, one of stirrups, tumbleweeds, and shootouts. I look over at my friend and say with excitement, “Tomorrow we will be in those mountains.”
A sign above the road to Stanley reads “The Gateway to the Sawtooths”. We came prepared for stunning mountain ranges and pristine alpine lakes during our hikes, but the scenery started long before we set foot onto the trail. We drove in from Oregon; coming from any other direction would provide an equally stunning backdrop. By the time we arrived to Stanley we were thoroughly excited to up the ante.
After our supply run in Stanley we drove the short distance to Petit Lake, where we would start the Toxaway Lake Loop. We arrived around 1600 and spent the afternoon exploring Pettit Lake and casting our lines in the water (to no avail). The waters in Lake Pettit were crystal clear; the mountains towered around the lake like sentinels preparing for the night watch. Our cell phones were useless at this point so they remained in our packs. There was no sound in the air minus the occasional rustle of trees caused by a fleeing chipmunk or the chirp of a bird.
When you begin a trip to the wilderness you enter with the burden of society. Like an overloaded bag you carry your texts, your emails, your work responsibilities, current events that you are expected to keep up with. As you enter the undisturbed natural world these burdens begin to fall away. Bit by bit, step by step, you walk off your worries, the things that make you think about the past and future, and begin to live entirely in the present moment, focusing only on what you are doing in that time, in that place.
Day 1 - Pettit Lake to Toxaway Lake - Strong Beginnings
~8.5 miles, 6 hours, moderate difficulty
We started our hike at the beginning of September in the prime of the shoulder season. It was too early for the winter snows to begin, but not too early for the morning frosts. We awoke with a thin layer of ice covering the surroundings and our breath clear and crisp in the air.
Once everyone had wolfed down a quick breakfast and packed up their gear we walked over to the trailhead and started our journey. The trail began with a sharp incline, and within the first thirty minutes we had all stopped to strip off our wool under layers, remove our down jackets, and swap our pants for shirts. We had a good laugh at how long our first hiking session had lasted without a break, then promptly resumed our trek.
As we walked we slowly began to be absorbed into slightly surreal walking twilight zone that comes with hiking. There were no sounds around us but the rustling leaves, the gurgling stream, and the chattering birds. We went long stretches of the trail without saying a word, simply enjoying the sounds of nothingness - at least that’s what it seemed to be at first, nothing. But as we listened closer we could hear that it was actually everything, that every sound that mattered in the world could be heard in these pristine, secluded mountains, that we could remain here forever and our moments would be filled with life and all of the things that we would need to be happy.
Our destination for the day was Toxaway Lake, about eight miles to the west of Petit Lake. Our route for the first day took us up some moderate switchbacks, and across scree fields covered in boulders the size of small cars. We peered down into picture perfect meadows that were divided by small streams bubbling over rocks, flowers blooming on either side of the water. It seemed that at any moment a bear or a moose or any other critter would pop out of the trees to quench their thirst, peer up at us casually, and return to their lives while we excited ourselves over the encounter.
Halfway to Toxaway Lake is Farley Lake, a relatively small body of water. We approached from the eastern end of the lake and dropped our bags on an overlook that gave us a vantage point of the entire lake; we were not sure how deep the lake was, but the water was so crystal clear that we could see straight to the bottom. We told ourselves that we could see trout swimming around, but looking back I think we were giddy with excitement and stimulated by the extreme beauty of our environment.
We were in no rush, so we took our time and had second breakfast at Farley Lake. We had only intended to eat a quick snack, but after working our way through the switchbacks we were hungrier and more ready for a break than we had expected. The astounding scenery and atmosphere also lent itself to a moment of relaxation and simply enjoying where we were at, right now.
Second breakfasts finished we shouldered our packs and resumed our ruck. The trail remained volatile with many ups and downs, but we soon entered a thick forest of Lodgepole Pine, Ponderosa Pine, Douglas Fir, and Quaking Aspen. The sunlight streamed through perforations in the forest, creating a dreamlike landscape. Birds followed us on our hike flitting from tree to tree, either curious about these large beings joining them in their homeland or simply tracing the same path we were looking for food.
As we trekked a small stream wound along with the trail. We crossed it several times, once with the assistance of a conveniently fallen log where the water was too deep to walk without having to remove our hiking boots and wade across. The stream fed into small lakes; each time we saw one we leapt at the prospect that we might finally have reached Toxaway Lake, but after a few moments we were repeatedly disappointed by the sighting of the other side of the tiny body of water. We were still thoroughly enjoying ourselves and appreciating the strenuosity of the hike, but after five or six hours of hucking our packs we were ready to find a nice place to setup camp, eat lunch, and catch some fish.
Eventually the trail began to slope sharply downwards and we knew we had nearly reached our destination. As we descended we were able to make out through the trees the sun glinting off of what could only be the waves housed in a large lake. Our weariness forgotten we forged ahead and broke out of the woods to a view that none of us will ever forget. Looking down the water was crystal clear, and we could see the bottom just as we could at Farley Lake. Toxaway Lake is a long, narrow lake, and from the Eastern end we could see the sharp relief of several of the higher peaks that form part of the Sawtooth Mountain Range. Snow that had not had a chance to melt during the summer, and would not melt at all now, still remained in the bowls between the peaks. A strong headwind blew on us from across the lake, and waves lapped the shoreline that we stood on. We spend several minutes admiring the view before we snapped out of our reverie; this was a wonderful place for a view, but not a good place to setup camp. Time to keep moving.
Our hope had been that we could setup camp as soon as we reached the lake, but we should have known that was futile thinking. We trekked about half of the length of the lake with the wind in our faces. Eventually we found a perfect site on the North side of the lake. Two small rises created a natural wind shield, and in the center of the rises was a nicely cleared rock area that was perfect for those of us using tents. The rest of us hung our hammocks in nooks created by trees and rocks; despite our best intentions, once the camp was setup we all instantly took a moment to appreciate our wonderful site with a well earned nap.
We woke slowly sometime later with the bright sun still shining overhead. The wind had died down quite a bit, so we took some time to explore our surroundings. We were about 300 feet from the trail and 30 or so feet from the water’s edge. On each side of our campsite were large boulders that were perfect for sunbathing, sightseeing, and fishing. Everyone went about their business; I spent my time reading, journaling, and taking photos, while the others set out to try their luck with the prodigious trout we had heard so much about. A few discouraging hours went by without any bites, then all of a sudden we heard in the distance, “Fish on!” All of us sprinted over in time to see Tyler pull out a nice sized Brook Trout - about 16 inches. We didn’t know it then, but Tyler would get the award for first, biggest, and most fish on the trip.
Another hour without any luck went by, so we headed back to camp to start cooking dinner, discuss the day, and see if we could figure out a different method for pulling in the Brookies. None of us had fly rods, so we were limited to what we had in our tackle boxes. I enjoy fishing but am not an expert fisherman by any means - I leave the deep strategy to those who know what they are talking about and spend most my effort behind the camera and with the pen and paper. I was simply content to be in a beautiful place like this with some of my best friends with nothing to do but gaze at the mountains and spend quality time with the boys.
With dinner finished we set out to try our luck again with the fish. Cole managed to pull in one more Trout before we turned in for the night, but that was the extent of our luck. The sun began to set and we focused our time on enjoying the show that mother nature provided us. Based on the time of year and the cycle of the moon I knew that the stars would be amazing tonight, and they did not disappoint. It was one of the darkest, purest nights I have ever seen, and the Milky Way was so vivid and bright it looked like you might be able to reach out with a spoon and bring down a big scoop of it to Earth.
Day 2 - Toxaway Lake to Alice Lake - Through the Mountain Pass
~5.5 miles, 6 hours, more difficult switchbacks
Morning came early - without the pressures of modern society to control our sleeping schedules we went to bed with the sun and rose with the sun. As we exited our respective sleeping quarters in turn we all looked over the lake in awe. The wind hand completely stopped with the sunrise and the lake was complete glass. A mirror image of the mountains we saw rising above us dipped below to the bottom of the lake. We stood in silence for a few minutes, stuck in a daze at the clarity of the reflection.
In our modern lives we rarely take the time to stop and simply appreciate something. There is always an email to answer, a call to take, a post to read, a task to complete. We never have a chance to just be, to coexist with the turn of the earth and the passage of time. When we make the effort to get back into nature, true, real nature, we take a step closer to savoring the moment and relishing in our current act because we are there and it is where we are meant to be.
Bundled up warmly in our winter jackets, the morning coffee and oatmeal was slowly enjoyed as we looked across the lake. Before too long we finished eating and packed up camp - we had a big day ahead of us. We didn’t have to go far, only about 5.5 miles, but it was up the toughest switchbacks of the loop to the highest point of our trek. Our Toxaway camp was around 8300 feet; the mountain pass between Snowyside Peak and Park’s Peak topped out at 9400 feet, then dropped back down at Alice Lake at 8600 feet.
Breakfast gone, we set off. The day started off easy enough, but we could see the pass slowly growing larger. Steadily, surely, the trail began to grow steeper and steeper. We passed a small, unnamed lake on our way up. The clarity of these mountain lakes was still not lost on us, and we stopped for a few minutes to appreciate that as well as a snack. Knowing we needed to keep our blood moving we made it a quick stop and set off almost as quickly as we stopped.
Next came the switchbacks. It probably only took us an hour or so to hike up the toughest part of the trail, but it felt like much longer. The bright mountain sun gleamed off of the light brown scree that surrounded us, and the only sound that filled our ears was the crunch of our boots putting the trail behind us.
Hiking a challenging trail is different for everyone. Inherently in itself, carrying a 30 - 40 pound backpack for extended periods at almost 10,000 feet isn’t the classic idea of “fun”; it’s a highly strenuous activity that requires some level of craziness, idiocy, or both. We all have our reasons and our motivations that push us forward one step at a time. The views are amazing, and maybe that is the main reason people do it. For some it’s the sense of adventure and wildness of the mountain. There is also something especially fulfilling in the knowledge that you are carrying everything you need to survive on your back, that maybe you could just keep hiking forever and live in your tent, foraging for food and fishing for protein, never staying in one place for long, never needing to look at another screen again, independent from society’s beck and call.
Making our way along small ledge we saw the entire trail we just hiked dropping down to our flanks and we passed over the precipice of the pass. The sight that greeted our eyes took our breath away.
Along our entire right hand side (West) of our view a range of mountains emerged from the the side of Snowyside Peak, looping around in front of us and then extending as far as the eye could see to the East. Directly ahead to the South lay two lakes, the aptly named Twin Lakes, and just over the mountain to the East we could see the tip of our destination, Alice Lake. It was one of the most stunning natural views I have ever seen. Unlike the Black Hills or even some of the Rockies in Colorado that we had visited before the Sawtooth Mountain Range is extremely jagged and for quite some time all we could do was stand and stare.
Figuring this was as good a place as any to stop for lunch we set our packs down and propped ourselves up on a bed of rocks that constructed a few conveniently made chairs. The remark “This is the best view I have ever had for lunch” was certainly made more than once.
With our bellies full and our legs re-energized it was time to keep moving. It was all downhill from here; we crushed the final portion of the hike and made our way without trouble. As we descended the vegetation slowly returned and by the time we reached the lake it was thick enough to give us solid shade from the midday sun. We setup camp on a small peninsula that protruded from the North side of the lake and wasted no time stripping down to our underwear and jumping from a large rock into the lake. The water was frigid but refreshing.
In an encore of the prior day’s activities we spent our time exploring the lake, relaxing in our hammocks, and fishing along the shore. We had better luck with the fishing, pulling in two nice Brook Trout which gave us a solid side for our freeze dried dinners. As the sun set clouds moved across the sky and painted the horizon in oranges, pinks, blues, reds. The tops of the mountains glowed amber like they were ablaze; more than once we heard the distant rumble of rocks cascading down the mountains. The clouds that provided the color for the sunset also veiled the stars, so our primary motivation for staying awake into the night faded. That combined with the hike through the mountain pass led to an early bedtime almost as soon as it became too dark to see.
Sometime around 1:00 am I awoke to the rustling of trees and bushes outside of my hammock. I lay still, thinking it might be one of the guys up out of the tent to relieve themselves. As I listened it became clear that whatever was moving out there was not a human. I popped up out of my hammock with my headlamp; two wide, bright eyes gleamed back at me. Each night we had hung our food and garbage in bear bags away from camp, but I had no doubts about where a curious animal might wander in the night. “HEY YOU! GET OUT OF HERE!” I bellowed at the top of my voice. I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard me all the way in Stanley. The two eyes vanished and whatever it was rumbled through the trees away from the campsite at high speed. My yells woke up the rest of the crew and we spent a few minutes taking stock of what may have happened. In the dark we were unable to draw a clear conclusion; we burned off the rest of our remaining adrenaline and settled back into our warm sleeping bags.
Day 3 - Lake Alice to Pettit Lake - End of the Trail
~6 miles, 4 hours, moderate difficulty
In the morning when we woke we attempted to scope out the area that the critter had been in, but the prints were not deep enough to confirm what type of animal had been poking around our camp. Either way we were glad we had hung all of our food far away from camp.
Mother nature again treated us to a beautiful showing. The mountains reflected in the lake like a mirror and we savored one of the most scenic cups of coffee we had ever had. Unfortunately all great things must always come to an end, and we set out on the hiking trail with our lives on our backs once more. We had a six mile hike with little to no uphill, and we were able to crush it in only about four hours. Although we left behind the pristine lakes the scenery on the hike back was just as incredible - our vantage point gave us a view of the surrounding land and the green, green forests kept us company as we breathed in the crisp pine air. We had encounters with a family of Mule Deer and a Grouse on the way back - the Grouse utilizes camouflage to fool predators and allowed us to approach closely thinking we were unable to see him. We laughed at this confident fellow’s attitude and left him to go about his business.
Our car was waiting for us at the trailhead and we were as happy to see it as it was to see us. Backpacking is an incredible release from society and a fulfilling challenge that pushes you to achieve things you never thought you could, but knowing that you have a cold beer and a soft bed waiting for you makes that challenge all the sweeter.
“I long to let go, drift free of things, to accumulate less, depend on less, to move more simply.”
Like some of the images we captured? We have several of our prints from this trip available for purchase!
