Most of us are at least somewhat familiar with Yellowstone National Park, having made the drive north to see spectacular wonders like Old Faithful and Mammoth Hot Springs — not to mention opportunities to see bison, elk, wolves and bears — all from the safety and convenience of the family car.

What most of Yellowstone’s millions of annual visitors never see is an expansive and remote wilderness adjoining the park on its north side, located primarily in Montana. The Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness Area offers scenery similar to what you might find in parts of Yellowstone, but without the crowds, and certainly without the modern conveniences.

The Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness, covering more than 940,000 acres (not quite half the size of Yellowstone), encompasses two rugged mountain ranges and parts of three national forests. The Absarokas dominate the western portion of the wilderness area, while the eastern side features the high granitic plateaus of the Beartooth Mountains.

There are two main ways to get around among these wild canyons and peaks: On horseback or foot. On a recent trip, my backpacking companion and I chose the latter.

We decided to set out along the West Fork of the Boulder River, a beautiful stream that cuts through the heart of the wilderness area and is considered the main dividing line between the Absarokas and the Beartooths. In order to maximize the scenery, we decided to set up a shuttle hike that would lead us 30 miles up the West Fork Boulder, over a 10,000-foot pass, and down the Mill Creek drainage to the south.

After dropping off a vehicle at the southern terminus of our trek, we headed back north to the West Fork trailhead. As we made our final gear checks and pack adjustments and hit the trail, it became immediately obvious that horseback is a popular method of transportation here. But the trail was nicely maintained and the sun shone down on a warm summer day, and our spirits were high as we made our way up the canyon.

Not far into the trek, we could see that this canyon had burned not too long ago. Based on the regrowth of underbrush, we estimated it had been about five years earlier, and we were right — a fire in 2006 burned what looked like almost every pine tree in the canyon.

Still, the scenery was great. Fireweed grew thick, painting the forest floor in bright pink and purple tones, and the burned-out forest gave us much greater visibility of our surroundings.

About eight miles in, we found a lush meadow with an established campsite. After getting a late start, it was a welcome sight as the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks surrounding us. We dropped our packs, eager to head to the water’s edge and see what we might be able to pull out of it.

After several tries without a bite, Scott’s pole suddenly twitched and bent, and within a few seconds he had landed one of the most beautiful Yellowstone cutthroat trout I’ve ever seen. Cutthroats are named for the bright orange-to-red streaks under their gills, but this fish’s entire body was a dazzling shade of orange.

Another cast, and Scott pulled out another one. Having witnessed his success, I also switched to a pink lure. Three casts later, I had my two-fish limit as well, so we walked back to camp, cooked them up, and basked in the glow of the full moon before turning in for the night.

However — and I can’t emphasize this enough — we didn’t hit the sack until taking the proper precautions to keep bears away. You see, this is prime territory for both black bears and grizzlies, and a tent won’t protect you from a hungry bear. They can literally smell you from miles away, so its important to store all food and cookware away from camp, tied up in a tree in such a way that bears can’t reach it (and don’t sleep in the same clothes you cooked in). These measures are important for the safety of humans and bears alike.

We also kept cans of pepper spray within close reach at all times, and made lots of noise while hiking to avoid surprising any unsuspecting bears who might be feeding at their favorite berry patch.

Speaking of which, our timing was nearly perfect as far as wild berry season was concerned. We stopped at regular intervals along the trail to gorge on wild raspberries and huckleberries, and even the occasional strawberry. If required, we could have made it through this trip on fish and berries alone — but never assume you can get by out there without bringing your own food.

As we continued south, stream crossings became more frequent, and the trail became steeper and not as well-maintained. The second day was slow going, with many downed trees lying across the trail and slippery water crossings. After a few hours of this, I could really start to feel the fact that this was the first time I’d been backpacking all year. Scott kept a steady pace in the lead while patiently tolerating my moaning and groaning.

As the trail got steeper, we found a flat spot and, deciding that was going to be a rare commodity for the next several miles, set up camp for the night. Again it was trout and backpackers’ meals for dinner.

We awoke the next morning knowing we had to cover about 13 miles, including hiking over the 10,000-foot Mill Creek Pass. As we reached the treeline, the trail once again became obstacle-free, and the final push up the pass wasn’t as hard as I had anticipated.

We marveled at the view and rested briefly before embarking on the long trek downhill. This side of the pass had a much different feel, as it had not burned recently and the pines were lush and green. Several hours of trekking to the south trailhead left me thoroughly exhausted, but a dip in the icy creek, dutch-oven fried chicken, a cold Montana microbrew and some good company brought me back relatively quickly.

We both commented on how we had definitely done enough backpacking to hold us over for awhile, but upon returning home to Utah and temperatures near 100 degrees, I found myself already missing the cool, clean air of the high mountain wilderness.

The trip had been a total success. No one got hurt, the weather was ideal, and we saw some amazing country for the first time in our lives.

Oh, and we didn’t come across any bears — which, if you don’t have a vehicle or building in which to take shelter, is a good thing.