Hike Journal Entries: July

07/01/05: In Which I See Some Really Bad Trail and Meet a Northbound Section Hiker

[Note: this entry contains bitter political commentary that should be avoided by those who believe things are just great in America.]

I didn't sleep all that well as the mosquitoes never quite went to bed and hovered around the bug bivy all night. Nice stars though, when I woke up once or twice, though there were some clouds by morning. I got up at 6, taking my time expecting a leisurely day, but as I was eating my granola about 6:30 a thunderstorm hit. Having not put up the tarp all my gear was scattered around in the open, so I dropped breakfast and rushed over to hurl everything in the pack as quickly as possible (Tommy, who always thought I took way too long to get going in the morning, would have been impressed).

As quickly as it came, the shower was over and nothing got too wet. Still I got the message: it may be July but in Montana on the Divide thunderstorms are not just an afternoon phenomenon; they are on the menu 24/7 and I had better not forget it.

So I got off to an early start. Very little of today's hiking was on trails per se; rather it followed current or former jeep roads. I have restrained myself from commenting harshly on this practice, but when I witnessed what had been done to Long Park, an extensive meadow, it is time to expose what appears to me to be the pernicious effects of the bureaucratic mind.

Long Park is a meadow on a steep slope that is about a mile long and averaging maybe 100 yards across. No way with today's road or trail standards would anything be built running directly up that incline, but historically a jeep road had run there. By the time I got to see it the old road was multiple ruts over 2 feet deep in places with large rocks underlying the meadow exposed. With all the rain and snowmelt the water taking the path of least resistance turned it into a creek.

This area needs restoration but there is no money for that; furthermore, the meadow is used for cattle grazing, further damaging the rest of the meadow and hampering its ability to hold back the waters flooding down the roadbed. (Let's be honest here and note that USFS Multiple Use means Multiple Abuse by cattle, logging and mining industries that contribute heavily to the election of Western congressional reps. Public recreation opportunities are PR window dressing to hide the fact that those looting our public lands always come first.)

So our local forest supervisor has a big problem and no money to solve it with (after all we need to keep spending hundreds of billions to keep the Iraqi oil fields, I mean, bring freedom to the Iraqis). The solution is brilliant: abandon maintenance of the road, turn it into a trail (better yet, the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail that Congress mandated but never funded), and let the cattle keep tromping and chomping. Monied interests are kept happy, while the recreational interests blame each other, one for the loss of access to roads and the other for the poor condition of the trail. The sad thing is this trail "solution" has been used repeatedly, though maybe not in such extreme circumstances as Long Park.

After descending through this environmental disaster, I eventually arrived at Champion Pass and decided to take a break there. While sitting there I could scarce believe my eyes as a northbound hiker came out of the trees, crossed the pass and plopped down beside me. It was Pete, a section hiker who started in the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness and was headed to Canada. He had done his wading in snow early on and we traded stories about the trail we would each be facing, as well as talking about the PCT and AT, both of which he had hiked previously.

After an hour of such talk we exchanged goodbyes. I continued on and found a nice spot along a small creek for dinner and also caught up on some of these journal entries. After dinner I followed another road up over the Divide and found a reasonably spot to camp under some older trees (most of this area has been clearcut). It is near the road and before getting ready for bed I exchanged greetings with a couple of ATV riders that passed by. Ah, yes, 4th of July weekend.

Spent the night at: N46.18000 W112.50735 Elevation 7746 ft

07/02/05: In Which I Get Ticked Off, a Tick Off and a Ride to Butte

There were some clouds when I got up but no rain, so I got ready at my usual pace and took off about 7 for the I-15 interchange where I was supposed to meet Ellie and LiAnna. It was only about 10 miles and all road walking, so I was not expecting much trouble.

About halfway there I decided to follow the signs to the Lowland Campground in hopes of getting some water and cleaning up a bit. I stopped in the picnic area, but couldn't see any water, so started walking the campground loop. This dog came out and started barking and growling, following me in my unsuccessful search for water (need to bring your own). After 5 minutes of this the owner hollered from an RV and it quieted down for all of 5 seconds before resuming its harassment. It even followed me as I left. By then I was mad enough to pick up a rock and throw it at the dog, but realized my anger should really be aimed at the lazy owner who couldn't be bothered to get up (8:30 AM is really early).

I went on down the road a bit and pumped water from a creek. While there I felt something behind my right thigh and discovered a tick, which I removed with tweezers. Razzu and Tommy had picked up several of them earlier, but because I wear long pants instead of shorts they have a harder time latching on to my legs, so I have not been as vigilant as I should be. Especially since I have been walking through cattle grazing land for the past several days, which in my experience is the most likely place to find ticks.

I arrived at I-15 about 11:30 to wait for my ride to a shower. I was excited to see my family and I was looking forward to lots of things in Butte, but a shower was number one on the list.

While waiting, a southbounder named Kevin came by. He and I had exchanged messages about starting together, but nothing had worked out. He ended up getting to East Glacier a week after us and after hearing Shug's story, decided to skip the Park and start right from East Glacier. We traded info and he headed on, figuring to hitch back to Butte on Monday.

At 4 o'clock when I was convinced that Ellie and LiAnna were at the wrong freeway interchange and would never come they appeared. I pitched my pack in the trunk and got in for the ride to Butte. I ate in the car, got my shower when we got to the motel and then snacked some more as I caught them up on all that had gone on since East Glacier.

Though a little worse for wear, I passed inspection and we headed out for the laundromat and dinner. On the way back we stopped at the store to pick up some more food for hiking tomorrow and I got a quart of ice cream. My hiker appetite finally failed me and I had to have help finishing it. I was busy talking to them, showing pictures in the camera display and sorting gear until 10:30 when I finally had to get some sleep.

Left the trail to spend the night in Butte at: N46.10174 W112.41414 Elevation 6318 ft

07/03/05: In Which The Webmaster Gets a First-Hand View of Life on the Trail

There was a noisy party at the motel until the wee hours, so no one slept well, but we were up early so LiAnna could join me for a couple of days on the trail. She does a great job putting journal entries and pictures on the website, but this was her big chance to experience the reality behind those electrons.

Ellie deserves a special mention here as she has unstintingly supported my hike and today drove us to the mountains to start hiking on this, our 25th anniversary. I am sure this will mortify many of you, but neither of us are too hung up on the events marking the passing of the years. I would not be out here making this hike without her love and support and there are not words adequate to express my appreciation for that. (And I can say almost certainly that I will not be off on some long hike when our 50th rolls around.)

It was perfect hiking weather—cool and sunny, so LiAnna and I made good time as we started climbing into the mountains. She had been training at home hiking around Mt. Rainier and was pleasantly surprised to find the trail was not even as steep as that.

We topped out around midday at 8100 feet and the only real problems were the mosquitoes, which swarmed us at nearly every stop. LiAnna inhaled one and started choking, but was able to recover sufficiently to continue. In the afternoon on the west side of the hills it was actually drier so there were fewer of the pests, but a new menace arose—dirt bikes and ATVs. They began running up and down the trail in increasing numbers as we approached the creek we had chosen to camp near.

After 17 miles LiAnna was pretty exhausted and the only reasonable spot to camp was right near where they liked to roar through the creek. Perhaps lacking the ambience we had hoped for, the need to rest won out over the search for the perfect spot. Besides there were few mosquitoes, and after the midday itches we did not want to deal with them any more.

Spent the night at: N45.96606 W112.31959 Elevation 5692 ft

07/04/05: In Which We Survive ATV Hell and Return to Butte

It was fairly cool along the creek when we got up in the morning. We slept fairly well, though LiAnna was a bit worried about chipmunks gnawing through her tent and eating her food. She claims as she was falling asleep she could hear them chirping "APA" (the name of her employer).

We followed the guidebook route through a maze of ATV trails, but getting an early start only saw a few. (Note to future hikers: do not hike this section over 4th of July weekend.) The mapped route recommended (and complained about) an 8-mile walk down the gravel road. We had to do a mile of it as we approached I-90, but that was plenty for us.

We finished the 10 miles about noon and then Ellie, my sister Melinda and her husband Brian showed up with a great picnic lunch that we ate by Homestake Lake. When we got back to Butte and got cleaned up, Brian, who is going to hike the next few days with me, and I went over maps to decide where to leave his vehicle.

And who should arrive in Butte late that afternoon but Tommy and Razzu, who had just blown through the miles from Rogers Pass to I-15, where their friend Peter picked them up. We all went out to dinner and shared stories. They are taking tomorrow off but given how fast they hike I expect to see them by the time I get to the Idaho border.

I cleaned and sorted gear, trying to get my filter working better. It had clogged around Butte in all the silt that is running in the creeks and cleaning the ceramic portion did not seem to help. I finally ascertained that the paper post filter was clogged (a feature I did not have on the one I used on the PCT) and replacing it got the water flowing quickly again.

The first three weeks was tough, both in terms of hiking and communicating with the outside world. I should now be passing through towns with post offices and pay phones more regularly, so hopefully you should be hearing from me more regularly.

Left the trail at I-90 to spend the night in Butte at: N45.91839 W112.41440 Elevation 6389 ft

07/05/05: In Which the Circling of Butte Continues

It seems easier to travel while postholing in snow than it does to leave town when thruhiking. I was busy with last-minute decisions, had a last breakfast with Ellie and LiAnna, said goodbye to them and then rode to the trailhead by I-90 with Melinda and Brian, arriving about 10:30.

While Melinda was taking the obligatory picture of Brian and I before we started, Kevin, the thruhiker last seen at I-15 3 days ago was dropped off. He started off ahead of us as we said goodbye to Melinda. Many thanks to her for the ride and the cookies she had made that I was carrying to eat.

Today's trek was a continuation of the long loop the trail makes around Butte, providing us with several views of the city and its now closed copper pit. There was new trail tread for the first several miles, though for variation we managed to find an alternate that was staked and ribboned but never built and followed that for half a mile before returning to the trail.

Brian did well for the first 9 miles to Pipestone Pass, but struggled after that as we needed to keep going to find water. He runs a lot, including marathons, but is currently trying to deal with plantar fascitis, which makes walking painful.

We finally found water in Tanner Creek and then went on a bit further to spend the night along Fish Creek, sharing the territory as is to be expected this time of year with the mosquitoes. They are a sign of good weather, so who am I to complain.

Spent the night at: N45.80309 W112.47424 Elevation 7144 ft

07/06/05: In Which We Take a Long Road Walk Through Cow Pastures

Brian was up first and we were ready to go by 7:30. We marched out to the road near our campsite on Fish Creek and essentially never left roads all day. Brian is a better map reader than I am and he was able to convince me to take the "minor bushwhack" shown on the map that saved us about a mile of additional road walk.

All the land in this area, public and private, is used primarily for cattle grazing, so all the water sources are heavily polluted. We had about 10 miles between water sources in the afternoon, so we pumped plenty of light brown water (it tasted good, really) and took off. We reached I-15 (its other side southwest of Butte) about 4 and then walked roads another 3 miles to reach the polluted waters of Divide Creek. We cooked dinner there, pumped lots more water for the long dry hike ahead of us tomorrow and headed up the hills.

This last section was on an old jeep trail and it looked awfully good after trekking on hot gravel roads with little shade all day.

Spent the night at: N45.88826 W112.73873 Elevation 6512 ft

07/07/05: In Which We Finally Get Out of Sight of Butte

We got up and left our cow pasture lodgings where the flies from the cow pies were about as bad as the mosquitoes. We had a long climb ahead of us to near the summit of Burnt Mountain and were lugging lots of the cow-flavored water I had pumped at the creek the night before.

The jeep tracks we walked on were no treat, but certainly better than the gravel roads of yesterday. Near the summit there was a vista point looking back at Butte where I ate and enjoyed the scenery, but Brian was too tired to haul his pack that far off the trail. We continued climbing along the Divide in the afternoon where oddly enough the USFS had signed a saddle point as Burnt Mountain, the top of which was .4 miles away.

Late afternoon I dropped down to relatively clean Jerry Creek (i.e., no cows there, just last year's deposits) and scrubbed the filter and got water for us. We then hiked a new 3-mile section of trail that has had minimal use because it bypasses the key water sources.

We finally stopped at the Hungry Hill Mine site, which has been totally torn down. While eating dinner another thruhiker, Steve, showed up. He started in New Mexico and then came to Canada just after we started. He plans to head into Anaconda tomorrow to resupply. We were camped up high with a few of the Anaconda-Pintler peaks, so I climbed the hill to enjoy the sunset.

Spent the night at: N45.93016 W112.92885 Elevation 8516 ft

07/08/05: In Which Brian Takes His Leave and I Head into the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness

We got up about 6, said goodbye to Steve and got ready to go ourselves. The morning’s job was to descend to Highway 274. It was steep at first, but then devolved into a steady descent along an old road. We finished about 10:30 and Brian decided to hitch back to the car rather than walk more gravel roads.

He got a ride fairly quickly that took him all the way to his car, so he met me fairly soon and we said our goodbyes. He was concerned that he had slowed me down, but that was hardly the case as we covered nearly 60 trail miles in essentially 3 days of hiking. Besides, I enjoy sharing the experience with friends and family who want to make the effort. And given his bad foot, Brian made a great effort.

I picked up the additional food I had stashed in his vehicle and started up the road to the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness Area. It was a long 6 miles of gravel with the occasional vehicle giving me a nice dusting. I got to the campground at Lower Seymour Lake where I got water and cooked dinner. I then climbed on trails into the wilderness for a couple of hours, arriving at Upper Seymour Lake by 8. It was a beautiful place but had just hatched hundreds of mosquitoes, so there was a slight edge to the enjoyment as I got ready to camp.

Spent the night at: N46.03652 W113.26560 Elevation 8295 ft

07/09/05: In Which I Go Up and Down in More Ways Than One

It started raining after midnight, so I hopped up and erected the tarp quickly (I sleep out whenever possible). About 5 minutes after I was done the rain stopped. The mosquitoes left briefly but returned and were waiting to greet me when I got up with the rain gone about 6.

By 7 I was climbing towards Goat Flat, the 9000+ foot pass above the lake that crosses the Divide. Just as I neared the top I entered an all too familiar condition with clouds blowing over the Divide. In this fog I carefully crossed the open ground from cairn to cairn and found the junction for the trail leading down the way I needed to go.

This would be a good time to talk about thistles, as there were way too many up high here in the wilderness. They are a non-native, invasive weed, and whenever I see them, I hack them down with my trekking poles or stomp on them. This activity is partly to do my bit to make the trail better and partly to emphatically state my opposition to allowing horses and other livestock to crap all over the trails and thus bring thistles, dandelions and a host of other nasty weeds into the back country.

Now I have heard some say that I am a bit one-sided (and I know that now all feed is supposed to be certified weed-free), so to be fair I have decided to quote from a horse packers website (thetruthabouthorseapples.com) and let you make up your mind on this issue: "Horses have long been maligned as the source of the droppings on the trail commonly referred to as 'horse apples.' Anyone who has been around horse packers knows that for decades the horses have been trained that when they feel the urge to move off the trail at least 100 yards from water, use their front legs to excavate a hole 6 inches deep, make their deposit, cover it carefully and then return to their duties on the trail. The true source of horse apples turns out to be those thistle-eating Eeyores of the environmental movement--vegan radical activists. [They are no doubt also Earth Liberation Front members too, but since we are sticking to only verifiable facts here we won't add that charge.] These weed-eaters skulk around trailheads watching for honest horse packers to start up the trail. They then follow them up the trail, drop their pants and leave their foul droppings to be mistaken for those of horses. [I bet you always wondered what the end result would be of a diet devoid of animal products. Now you know!] So, pardner, you are much better off riding a horse if you travel in the woods, but if you can't, please watch your step."

Regardless of who you believe or how they got there, I hope everyone will join me in helping to eradicate these weeds in the wilderness.

About 9:30 I stopped for a break in a light sprinkle and was really feeling sorry for myself. Here I was in the mountains I had been looking forward to for a week of road walking and I couldn't see them. I got up anyway to climb the pass by the 10,000 foot Rainbow Mountain and to my amazement as I approached the top, slogging through a bit of snow, the clouds began to lift. I got this amazing view of the Divide and could see where I was going to hike for the next few hours.

After taking some pictures I descended into Queener Basin. There I met a northbound hiker, Doug, who is hiking on a raw foods diet and whose adventures I had followed (www.rawhike.com) before I left. He has done New Mexico, the Wyoming desert and from Yellowstone to here. He had split up with his partner Eric and asked me to pass a route message on to him if I saw him.

About an hour and a half later I ran into Eric, gave him the message and then exchanged trail news for a while. On the monitor of his camera he showed me the pictures of the snowstorm that stopped Doug and him in Yellowstone in early June. It was fun to meet both of these hikers after reading about their adventures.

I climbed Cutaway Pass, dropped down the other side and then climbed up to Warren Lake to have dinner about 5:30. At 8400 feet with a brisk wind coming off the lake, this was not a really pleasant meal. I climbed briefly and then began descending along a creek.

When the trail began to climb again I decided I did not want to end up spending the night at the next lake (Rainbow) which I was afraid would be as miserable as Warren was. So I stopped a little after 7 along Fishtrap Creek. Turned out to be a good decision as rain started just as I got the tarp up.

Under the tarp I mended my pack, which got a rip of several inches, and periodically killed the lethargic mosquitoes that were also suffering from the cold and the rain. Is there summer in Montana?

Spent the night at: N45.95354 W113.42397 Elevation 7419 ft

07/10/05: In Which the Clouds of Doubt Are Lifted by a Rainbow

I was about to get up when I heard the rain so waited for the shower to pass before breaking camp. It was a late start but with gray skies overhead I really didn't care. I had passes with supposed great views to cross, but it was obvious I wasn't going to see much.

It started out with light sprinkles, but soon turned to heavier showers, interspersed with dry periods. The big decision was always whether to remove the poncho, but it seemed like every time I did the rain would start again. I managed to take a few pictures either by shooting from under trees or taking advantage of the dry periods.

In the afternoon I scaled Pintler Pass and once more reached the cloud level and limited visibility. For that reason I decided to forego the recommended cross-country alternative to Oreamnos Lake not wanting to spend 2 hours navigating in a fog bank with my compass.

Showers got heavier in the afternoon and I started having serious doubts about the wisdom of this hike. If you cannot see the scenery, why bother? Out of wilderness area and trudging through thousands of acres of burned trees in the pouring rain it was really hard to get up much enthusiasm.

It finally let up and the sun came out, so I decided to cook dinner rather than wait until stopping for the night. Bad choice! It was just about cooked when the rains started up again. I hurled everything but the cook pot in the pack, covered it with plastic bag, and then hunkered down in my poncho under a tree to eat while the rain fell on me. Real dinnertime ambiance.

Hiking on after finishing, the sun came out again and there was a partial rainbow above the burned trees. I tried to take it as a hopeful sign, but it certainly didn't bode well for finding a place to sleep. I finally settled about 9 PM for a tiny flat spot on a steep slope among the burned trees. I no sooner had the tarp up than the heavens unloaded one more time and water began running under the tarp due to the slope. It let up before anything got seriously wet, though with all that had gone on today nothing was particularly dry.

Spent the night at: N45.83646 W113.65301 Elevation 7783 ft

07/11/05: In Which the Sun Comes Out Since I Was Out of the Wilderness Area

I awoke to blue sky and in my haste to camp last night had luckily wound up on an east slope, so the sun was soon warming me and drying things out. Taking advantage of this meant that I did not get under way until nearly 8, but I did so feeling much better.

First location of note was Surprise Lake, but no surprise to me since I saw it coming on the map. Pleasant but hardly noteworthy. I got water at a creek shortly thereafter as most of the rest of the day's hike was to be along the Divide. There were a few nice views, but nothing like what I missed the last couple of days. I was just glad to be out of the rain.

I lost the official trail in the middle of the afternoon, so picked up the route recommended on the maps I carry (they often have different routes). I had dinner with no rain (none all day, no less) at the Hogan Guard Station near Trail Creek. I got lost again trying to bushwhack up to the next road, so decided to walk another road back to the official trail, so ended up spending the night near the headwaters of Trail Creek.

Spent the night at: N45.73784 W113.90424 Elevation 6882 ft

07/12/05: In Which I Resupply in Salmon

I got up and off slowly, but quickly found the new trail in this area. And once on it, it was nigh on impossible to lose it, as there were several signs per mile identifying it as the CDT. It would be nice to think they really care about the hikers, but the signs were all about 9 feet off the ground, no doubt for cross-country skiers.

This was emphasized when I came across this Taj Majal of a ski cabin that signs referred to as a "hut." I had earlier passed this strange bench sitting unanchored on a rocky knoll near the trail, and seeing another one by the hut realized this was for skiers.

I reached the parking lot by Chief Joseph Pass and used my water bag to give me a brief shower. I put on my cleanest clothes and walked down Highway 43 to Lost Trail Pass on Highway 93 where I attempted to hitch a ride into Salmon, about 50 miles away.

This might be a good place to pass along a little history Brian told me earlier in the week. The border between Idaho and Montana was supposed to run along the Divide, so the federal government sent a team of surveyors out to the Divide where it leaves Wyoming and they headed northwest dutifully recording the border. A group of citizens in Butte, realizing which way the waters flowed and not wanting to be included in Idaho, took it upon themselves to visit the surveyors when they got to Lost Trail Pass and offer their "help." They pointed the surveyors north along what we now recognize as the border and so the survey proceeded until much further north they found Clarks Fork River flowing west and knew they had gone wrong. A wire was sent to Washington and the word came back to shoot a line from there straight to the Canadian border, giving the familiar straight end to the panhandle.

Getting a ride took almost two hours and I doubt I was helped by the flies congregating around my pack. The ride I did get was accidental, as some tourists had stopped to get their picture taken next to the welcome to Idaho sign, so some guy pulled over to give me a ride thinking I was from the car that had broken down and needed to get to town for parts.

His name was Dan and he was a bored oil field worker on time off from a drilling rig in the Persian Gulf. I presumably amused him with tales from the trail and he took me all the way to the post office and then to a motel, saying he had nothing better to do.

I got to Salmon mid-afternoon, called home, showered, did laundry, went to the store for ice cream and veggies (turn left at the second light turned out to be a mile away in a town of 3000, one of the bigger near the trail), and then came back to the motel to clean gear and get ready to go back out in the morning. I arranged for a ride back on the local shuttle and called some family members.

As any thruhiker knows, time in town flies by and it was 11 PM by the time I finally got to bed. It had been in the 90's when I got town and was still warm that late at night. At least I didn't have to put up the bug bivy.

07/13/05: In Which I Start Hiking the Idaho-Montana Border with the Insects

I was up at 5:15, took my last shower for a week, ate, got my pack ready and caught my ride at 6:30. The driver was friendly and the other passenger turned out to be someone who liked to memorize geographical facts. When he heard my home town he told me the county. He also knew a lot about the states and counties I would pass through, so we had a great time discussing divide-related info. I talked the driver into going the extra half-mile up to Chief Joseph Pass, so I didn’t have to walk back up the highway with a full pack.

The first five miles were a road walk and I soon passed a family camped by the road, the kids sitting on camp stools in the road having breakfast. A little farther along a guy on an old motorcycle caught me and stopped, curious to know who was walking up the road. He told me about a spring nearby, but I was still carrying plenty of water. I moved onto an old trail and by noon had gone about 10 miles.

Shortly after that I took a break, got up to go, and promptly headed off the wrong way. Another product of what have come know as "positive thinking navigation:" There is trail tread, it looks like it is heading in the right direction, so it must be the trail. After an hour of descending this ridge I could no longer deny it did not remotely fit either the guidebook description or the map, so I began a long trudge back to where I started. Excuses might be poor trail signage or the gap between maps 48 and 49, but if I had been a bit more alert, it would never have happened.

While I hate to see this happen, my travel time between resupply spots includes a factor for losing the trail or at least the time spent making sure where you are. The ridge I went down was much more pleasant than the burned over one that turned out to be the correct route.

It might be good to note the presence of insects on the trail. I am constantly passing through spider webs, a sign no one has gone ahead of me recently, but also a bad thing because they are catching other insects that harass me. The flies have taken to biting me occasionally and the mosquitoes have increased their presence at all locations, disappearing only if it gets really hot. Mosquitoes get by my swatting to bite me between 20 and 30 times a day. I hardly react I am bit so much, but the itch is irritating at times. Finally, I should mention the omnipresent ants. Almost any place you stop they are climbing on you and your pack.

With the time lost on the wrong trail I made Big Hole Pass around 7, but could not find the water that was supposed to be there. I pressed on another couple miles, getting water on the streams off Mount Morgan and then cooking and sleeping on the only level spot I could find near the Divide. I didn't sleep on the trail (like I did a few times on the PCT) but was right next to it.

Spent the night at: N45.52145 W113.81818 Elevation 7214 ft

07/14/05: In Which I See a Moose and Stay on Track

I was off by 7, starting with a steep drop on an old jeep road into the Sheep Creek drainage. As I passed over the ridge between the two branches of the creek, I saw a moose loping through the trees. At first all I saw was dark hindquarters moving through the trees and thought I had my first bear sighting, but then the head popped into view with the distinctive antlers. This border area seems pretty remote, so I am hoping to see more animals.

The rest of the day was spent climbing up and down, often on steep trails with good views in all directions at the passes or ridges. Late morning I hit new trail tread, often 3 feet wide and well reinforced with rocks on the steep slopes. It lasted most of the rest of the day, so hat's off to the local forest service district for a job well done. It is built to last 20 years or 500 horse passages, whichever comes first.

I had dinner at the scenic Upper Slag A Melt Lake and camped near Lena Lake. Lots of my blood-sucking friends were present. I tried to convince them I had given at the office, but it didn't work.

Spent the night at: N45.34783 W113.72143 Elevation 8420 ft

07/15/05: In Which I Meet Another Northbounder and See Some Clouds

The mosquitoes helped propel me on my way after I procrastinated a bit getting up since I could see so many waiting outside the bug bivy. There were no Divide crossings in store today and I started by dropping to one creek, hiking up the ridge and then back down to another.

On the way down to the Rock Island Lakes I came upon Denny, a northbound section hiker going from Yellowstone to the border. It always surprises me a bit when I come upon anyone as I can go for days without seeing another hiker.

Hikers going the opposite direction are the best because they have current trail information and we shared what we knew about water, towns and other hikers. I found out Brian and Lisa were about a day ahead of me now, having saved time with the Anaconda cutoff.

After our goodbyes I walked to the bottom of this drainage and then tackled another ridge. The trails today were the exact opposite in quality of yesterday's, with minimal tread and no maintenance, meaning lots of downed trees to skirt.

When I came down off this ridge I started on an extended road walk along Berry Creek, eventually stopping for dinner after fording it about 6. Clouds built up a bit during the afternoon, but no rain. Of bigger concern were the clouds of mosquitoes that haunted me even while walking.

After dinner I did a bit of walking through sagebrush, forded another creek and began walking up to cross another ridge. Along the way I noticed a couple of dragonflies, archenemies of mosquitoes, so there is hope that the tide will turn soon. I camped near the top of the ridge.

Spent the night at: N45.21516 W113.51683 Elevation 7671 ft

07/16/05: In Which the Wind Blows and I Sail Along

It sprinkled 3 times last night. I would hop up prepared to erect the tarp and it would stop. Finally I put the tarp up and of course it didn't rain any more. There were mosquitoes to greet me in the morning, but after I started hiking the wind, presumably related to a cold front that passed through last night, picked up and kept them at bay all day.

After a couple of climbs up and down over ridges and across creeks I walked the jeep road up to a couple of scenic lakes below the Divide named Darkhorse and Cowbone. Near the former was an old mining site with buildings still standing. Near there a couple on an ATV stopped to chat about the area and where I was going.

That turned out to be a couple-mile cross-country jaunt up to a pass high above the lakes. The last couple hundred feet were a steep scramble that was the riskiest thing I have done since leaving the snowy passes of Glacier NP. Plenty of trail sections need work, but right now that trail near Goldstone Pass would be my number one choice for USFS attention.

The remainder of the day was spent walking the Divide, once again with the wind howling over the top, but this time with no clouds except a few fair weather cumulus in the distance. In the first couple of miles I climbed a rocky precipice to over 9700 feet (highest point yet on the hike), glad of trekking poles support when gusts of wind tried to send me flying into Montana. The views in all directions were outstanding but I found that I really couldn't capture them effectively with my small camera.

As the afternoon wore on I was still on the Divide but dropped lower into more forested parts with limited views in the distance. I had carried water from Cowbone Lake, but needing more to cook dinner and a place to camp with a little less wind I dropped to a road and hiked to a creek. The Divide had been sheltering me from reality as I immediately came upon a large clearcut. By Oregon standards the trees here are tiny and take much longer to grow, and it seems pathetic to look at a clearcut with stumps averaging 8 inches knowing that they ill not even grow back that big in the lifetime of the people who ordered and carried out the destruction. Just down the road, however, things went from bad to grotesque, as they had clearcut the hillside and then sent a caterpillar in to destroy everything. Perhaps they are trying to create a rock quarry, but the image it presents is abysmal.

The water was fine, the camp site okay, but with the chilly wind blowing it looks like a cold night.

Spent the night at: N45.05557 W113.46610 Elevation 8001 ft

07/17/05: In Which I Spend Another Day High Along the Divide Between Idaho and Montana

With the tarp up to keep the wind out I slept fairly warmly, but it was definitely a brisk morning when I got up. I hiked up the road and then cross-country for a bit and returned to the trail along the Divide.

I continued south, dropping down to Lemhi Pass around 10. This was the location that Lewis and Clark crossed the Divide on their way westward 200 years ago next month. There were several displays in the area which I stopped to read and then headed down the road a bit to the Sacajawea Memorial Picnic Area where I got water from its famous spring, supposedly the source of Lewis' journal entry about the remote source of the Mississippi.

Returning to the pass a ranger named Mike greeted me and asked which trail I was on (apparently some people are hiking the Lewis and Clark route). He took my picture by the pass sign and we discussed hiking and the surprising lack of visitors this summer (he said more people were at the pass the last two years than this big anniversary year).

Leaving the pass I came upon a little trail magic—Yogi, a hiker from last year, had left a stash of beer and Coke for thirsty thruhikers. Though not normally my beverage of choice, I was glad to drink the Coke (140 calories that I didn't have to carry from Salmon). Many thanks to Yogi, who I heard speak at a PTCA panel this spring in Portland.

I climbed on and up, passing 9000 feet again. There were great views in several places and my appreciation of this largely unknown area is growing. At Goat Mountain I mistakenly followed the old guidebook route to the pass and had to bushwhack down the hill, happy to hit the new trail about 100 feet from the spring I was looking for. I had dinner there and then went on for a few more miles before camping for the night. The wind let up so there were mosquitoes again, but not too bad.

Spent the night at: N44.83833 W113.38196 Elevation 9114 ft

07/18/05: In Which I Descend to Bannock Pass and Head into Leadore

I was up early and off with thoughts of a shower in town on my mind. The remaining 10 miles or so to Bannock Pass were mostly through cow country and I saw a coyote trotting down the hill at one point.

I reached Bannock Pass about 11 and began what I expected to be a long wait for a ride. Within an hour a pickup from Leadore (where I wanted to go) pulled up and six hikers got out: Brian and Lisa (last seen in Glacier), Zach and Buddha (who Tommy knew from the PCT) and a couple of northbounders. After exchanging greetings they headed back to the trail and I got a ride back to town with the driver who turned out to be the owner of the motel where I wanted to stay.

After a shower I went in to town to make calls (no phone at the motel but I am only paying $32), get my resupply box at the PO and get something to eat at the cafe. I had a chef salad (ah, how I have missed fresh vegetables) and a milkshake. The milkshake is free, a tradition paid for by another hiker and available to all CDT hikers who stop in Leadore.

I was busy doing my usual sorting and cleaning in the evening, when I looked out and saw Tommy and Razzu. We caught up on stories, and since the motel owners were away, I let them take showers. At dark the owners returned and they got their own unit for the night. Due to different schedules it looks like I will start out ahead of them in the morning, but no doubt we will hike together some in the next section.

Left the trail at Bannock Pass at: N44.81418 W113.27228 Elevation 7710 ft

07/19/05: In Which I Head South from Bannock Pass and Eat Bannocks for Dinner

I got up about 6 and had granola and got my pack together. I went over to the phone and sent off my journal entries and then joined Tommy and Razzu at the cafe for another breakfast (hard to have too much for breakfast). About 9 I got a ride up to Bannock Pass with the motel owner. He had to leave then because of an appointment and Tommy and Razzu still had stuff to do in town so they decided to hitch up later.

The whole day was a long walk along the treeless Divide. There were great views but the wind began to pick up and really blow by midday. With very few trees, it was hard to stop and take a break, so I plodded along trying to keep from getting blown into Montana. I am sure some of the wind gusts exceeded 50 MPH and I worried that when I stopped to pee I might be skewing the rain gauge totals over in Dillon, MT. The Tibetan prayer flags (tied to the pack in Butte, sent by Susan and JR) flapped wildly and my pack straps lashed me painfully onwards.

The high point literally and figuratively for the day was Elk Mountain at 10,250 feet, my first time on the trail over 10,000 feet. The trail came near the top and I scrambled the last 100 yards or so to the top where I was rewarded with views in all directions of Idaho and Montana.

There was smoke in the air as afternoon wore on, reducing visibility and leaving an acrid taste in your mouth, presumably from a fire somewhere in Idaho. I stopped for dinner in the shelter of a few trees. Due to the slope and the wind, I did not try to cook anything, but had hummus with bannocks.

After dinner I staggered up a very steep hill and when I looked back I could see Tommy and Razzu coming in the distance. Rather than wait awhile for them to catch up, I kept going because I wanted to get off the Divide and out of the wind to sleep, even though I knew it would die down at night. It took until almost dark but I got down by a spring and they showed up shortly thereafter, glad I had kept going to this place because they were out of water. They had left an hour and a half after me from the pass and had not stopped for dinner, so while they cooked I got ready for bed and was asleep (despite the mosquitoes now that we were out of the wind) before they were.

Spent the night at: N44.61262 W113.04631 Elevation 8430 ft

07/20/05: In Which I Wuss Out While Tommy and Razzu Are Cool

We got off to an early start, leaving by about 6:30. We went past Morrison Lake and then over a couple of ridges before following Coyote Creek up to the Divide. The wind returned and we went up and down, sometimes steeply.

We reached a pass on the Divide where the official trail dropped east into Montana. The notes on the map suggested that wusses took that route, while the cool people stayed on the Divide to climb Cottonwood Mountain. While I would have liked the views, I had enough of the wind so wussed out downhill while Tommy and Razzu took the cool high route.

I stopped to eat on my way down and was treated to what could have been a cloud laboratory for the meteorology class that John Day taught. Clouds formed as they ascended the precipitation staircase on the Divide and almost like magic would dissipate as they cleared the Divide and started to descend.

As I went on I noticed a couple people and a tarp and went over to say hello. It turned out to be a group of 8-10 Upward Bound young people having lunch. We talked for a bit and then I headed on, climbing back up the ridge and coming out on the spot I agreed to meet Tommy and Razzu just as they descended to that point. They have been cool, but mostly looked hot, as the sun had baked them the whole time and the views were not that great, partly due to the haze left over from the fire.

We walked out into the sagebrush, past the Harkness Lakes and across a couple of creeks. As we neared the trailhead by Nicholia Creek, we met a couple of backpackers headed back the way we had come, planning to see the area and do some mountain climbing.

We hiked up Nicholia Creek, stopping for dinner in one spot and a little later, all agreeing we were exhausted, pulling into a flat area near a side creek to spend the night (with lots of mosquitoes, of course).

Spent the night at: N44.42504 W112.89421 Elevation 6959 ft

07/21/05: In Which The Views Near Italian Peak Are Not Enough to Stop Tommy from Going Rogue and Me from Mooing

It was cold when we got up. We had decided to take the alternative up the valley to take in the views at the Divide. It was a few miles further but we were tired of hiking through sagebrush.

The trail was not well-marked, so there was bit of map and compass work to make it up to the high point at Nicholia-Deadman Pass. From here we had some great views of the jagged peaks along the Divide, especially Italian Peak, which is the highest in this area.

It was up here that the dangling threads of this hike began to unravel. Tommy's old hiking shirt had a ripped right sleeve, so he had torn it off. While at the pass Razzu pulled out a tattoo that said "Rogue" and applied it to the bare upper right arm of Tommy.

We are all struggling with various minor problems, so a bit of humor helps at times. Both Tommy and I are waiting for town stops to get new shoes (mine are so torn that I get small rocks in them and blisters have formed on both heels). Razzu and I have packs with problems that needing fixing or replacement. Tommy and Razzu are suffering from allergies caused by some plant in these cow pastures. Despite all this we keep heading south (though we are mostly heading east now, with some northern stretches that allow me to say I am hiking north to Mexico).

Coming down from the pass we cut off the trail and climbed over the Divide to Divide Lake. We hiked down the outlet creek back in the sagebrush and lupine, which seem to grow together around here. It was very hot and when the ground flattened out we cut cross country to Bannack Pass to rejoin the official trail. While the name looks the same as the one I took down to Leadore, that one was "Bannock" and this one is "Bannack", which no doubt confuses a lot of people.

From Bannack Pass we began an extended hike through cow pastures. We passed an old limestone quarry and Razzu scrambled down into a vertical cave shaft that was littered with bones, supposedly from bisons that would fall through when the ground was covered with snow hiding the hole.

We were essentially hiking across cow pastures with no trail tread, so it is very hard on your feet. Pretty soon I had seen too much of this and started mooing. I only wish I had the tail so I could swat the biting flies.

Eventually we dropped down to one creek, where we got water and made dinner. From there we went on a couple more miles and camped near another creek with a good view of Garfield Mountain.

Spent the night at: N44.50499 W112.65382 Elevation 7858 ft

07/22/05: In Which We Meet the First Northbound Thruhiker and Get Blown Away on the Divide

With a town stop on the agenda for tomorrow we got moving promptly hoping to get close enough so we could arrive early. The first part of the hike involved lots of twists and turns through open grasslands (i.e., cow pastures) which we were able to negotiate successfully.

In the middle of one pasture near the Red Conglomerate Peaks we met Will, a northbound hiker who had started at the Mexican border. He had to go through quite a bit of snow, but is obviously making great time. He reminded us that we had 2000 miles to go, which could have been depressing considering how hard we had worked to get here, but I prefer to think of all the great country ahead to be visited.

Later in the morning as we went up and down over ridges that were partly forested Razzu ran into a somewhat lost section hiker, Porter, headed north. He pointed him in the direction we had come and we continued on through pastures occupied by cattle. Tommy no doubt keeps his eyes on the horizon more than Razzu and I do because he managed to step in three fresh cow pies.

We stopped for lunch on Shineberger Creek (quickly renamed Shitberger Creek) and the cows came by to eye us up. We continued up the ridge along the creek and reached the Divide about 2.

What I had hoped would be a pleasant stroll with great views turned into one of my worst afternoons of the hike. There was no trail tread and we were hiking up and down steep hills strewn with rocks. To add to the mix, the wind was blowing steadily in excess of 30 MPH with gusts over 50 MPH.

For some reason I have trouble thinking when it is so windy, so I mostly staggered along imagining we were following the Divide and hoping the others were checking. Somewhere along the way I lost my compass (which matched my mental state perfectly) and wouldn't take my map out because I was sure it would blow away. Finally, about 7 I came to enough to declare that it was time to pull out the GPS and figure out if we were still on the trail. We set up the packs to create a windbreak and sure enough we had missed our turn a couple of miles back. While this was somewhat upsetting, in this wide-open country with no trail tread it really didn't matter all that much, so we took the middle fork of Modoc Creek instead of the west fork. After dropping down to the creek and blessedly out of the wind we camped and had dinner to a nice sunset.

Spent the night at: N44.45285 W112.35389 Elevation 7692 ft

07/23/05: In Which We Cross I-15 Again and Head into Lima

With thoughts of food, showers and clean clothes spurring us on, we got off by 6:30 and quickly hit the road that passes for the trail at the end of this section. Some folks passing in a pickup stopped to ask if we were lost, but we assured them we knew right where we were headed.

When we reached I-15 we had to climb the fence and cross the freeway (not particularly hard in this remote area on a Saturday morning). We walked a couple miles up the frontage road to Monida, essentially a ghost town right on the border named with the first three letters of each state. What was there was a phone booth, and from there we called the motel in Lima where the generous proprietors, Mike and Connie, are willing to drive up and bring hikers back to their establishment.

I hit the shower first, while Tommy and Razzu chose to head to the cafe. After getting on clean clothes from my drift box I joined them, downing a milk shake and large salad. We got a room to share, did laundry and made phone calls.

This was the largest congregation of hikers I had yet seen on the trail, all heading south: Brian & Lisa, Zach & Buddha, Leslie & Dave, plus the three of us.

While Brian and Lisa left in late afternoon to return to the trail, the rest of us went out that evening to the local bar for dinner and visiting. We had a great time listening to each others' stories about the trail and life in general. As I had been warned beforehand, vegetarian food options along the trail are limited, but I made do with a marginal cheese pizza, baked potato and salad. It was after 10, well past my normal bedtime when we returned to the motel.

Left the trail for Lima at N44.54563 W112.29057 Elevation 6783 ft

07/24/05: In Which I Zero in Lima

This was my long-planned day off—the first with zero trail miles accomplished since East Glacier. I slept in until 6:30 and then joined Tommy and Razzu at the cafe for breakfast. They were planning a day off to sightsee in Yellowstone, so they were leaving this morning. They got off about 10 along with Zach and Buddha.

I moved my stuff from the larger room we had shared to a smaller one and started getting busy on the long list of things I had to do, journals and correspondence chief among them. I had several detailed entries including GPS readings that I had to translate from my scrawled notes to send to CDTS (guidebook source).

Having finally seen the website I called LiAnna and discussed a couple of possible changes. One was to add a page with links to other 2005 CDT hikers. (Hopefully LiAnna has found them all, but if you know of any others, let us know via cdt@startlivingthetruth.com) We also decided to add more pictures and LiAnna came up with a plan to allow that for those with faster connections while keeping the existing limited for those with slower modems.

Ellie and I discussed what was going on at home and what I wanted in future resupply boxes. The biggest change was something we had already discussed and she had sent to Lima—a different backpack.

My Gossamer Gear Mariposa was wearing out at the yoke—one of the carbon rods had pushed through and I was afraid further wear might cause the shoulder straps to tear loose. I really liked the pack and how it carried my gear, but I decided it was time to switch to the heavier Mountainlight pack that I used on the PCT. At the same time I decided to order a ULA pack based on the recommendations of Tommy, Zack and Buddha, all of whom use one. LiAnna agreed to handle the ordering details and I am hoping it arrives in Wyoming.

As my far too short day came to an end I was still busy cleaning and sorting gear—deciding what to carry and what send ahead to my next extended stop in Dubois, Wyoming.

07/25/05: In Which I Hit the Trail Again and the Sky Hits Back

I got up early, had breakfast and finished my last-minute sort. I boxed up some maps and other stuff to send home and the drift box to send on to Dubois and was over at the post office at 8 when they opened to mail the along with some pictures for LiAnna to add to the website.

Around 8:30 Mike gave me as well as Dave and Leslie a ride back to Monida (they were taking a different route). I gradually climbed on roads until late morning when I reached the Divide. About that time the clouds moved and while I tried to find my way through a mostly trailless section, it began thundering and raining (no visible lightning).

The rain let up and I took a break to eat. About 1:30 it started to sprinkle again and I was debating whether to put on my poncho. It picked up a bit, so I took off the pack, got the poncho, and slipped on the pack (the poncho covers both it and me). As I raised up the poncho to slide it over me, a huge gust of wind and hailstorm hit. The hail was the size of large peas and it was all I could do to hold the poncho up to protect myself from the worst of it. There were no trees in the area so I tried to crouch by a fencepost. It seemed an eternity but the worst of it was over in about 5 minutes and the ground was white with hail.

It rumbled and sprinkled the rest of the afternoon, so I mostly kept the ponchos on, but there were no more heavy downpours. It was cold and my shoes and socks and pant legs were sopping wet so I kept hiking to stay warm.

Despite the effort I didn't make a great deal of progress as I had to pause often to find the trail or decide it had disappeared again and it was time to pull the compass out and make my own.

After 8, once again not sure of exactly which way to head across a meadow, I decided to seek shelter for the night from the wind in a grove of trees and start fresh in the morning. I started to cook dinner and discovered that somehow I had not put my one and only spoon in the pack. Limited daylight and the desire for a hot meal quickly extinguished my despair and I whittled a pair of crooked chopsticks and carried on.

Tarp up and gear all stowed for the night I finally crawled in my bag about 9:45. I was just falling asleep when I felt the ground shake. I came awake and thought, "Earthquake" but then my rational mind kicked in and reminded me I was in the Rockies, not along the Pacific in earthquake territory. I must have been so exhausted by a trying day that I dreamed the ground was moving.

Spent the night at: N44.54868 W111.95412 Elevation 8087 ft

07/26/05: In Which I Start Out Cold and Miserable and End Up Warm and Elated

I woke up with temperatures in the 30s, but I needed to get some miles in today if I was going to reach Macks Inn for resupply tomorrow (necessary if I wanted to get to Old Faithful before the PO closed for the weekend at 5 PM Friday). I found my route and left about 6:30 headed east into the just rising sun. The sun was melting the ice in the meadows and wading through sometimes waist-high grass my lower half was quickly soaked with icy water. Worse, route-finding continued to be difficult, so often I was standing around consulting map and compass instead of moving, which keeps you, warm. Worse yet, the new pack was killing my shoulders and my new shoes were starting to cause blisters.

Finally by mid-morning and approaching Aldous Lake I picked up consistent trail tread, which improved dramatically the other side of the lake because it is a dayhike destination (I passed a family with fishing poles headed in).

Past the lake the trail deteriorated again, but was at least followable as I climbed back to the Divide and entered the US Sheep Experiment Farm. Not quite sure what the experiment was, but I found little difference in walking through sheep pastures as opposed to cow ones. Despite that, the weather warmed and I dried out by early afternoon.

I headed toward Taylor Mountain and though the jeep trail petered out halfway along the Divide, it was open country with great views so I was able to make my own way pretty easily.

Late afternoon I switchbacked up to Taylor Mountain and then passed along underneath the summit before beginning a long series of switchbacks to descend. As night fell and I stopped to camp, I felt much better than in the morning, having made good mileage and warmed considerably (my warm weather indicators, the mosquitoes, were back tonight).

Spent the night at: N44.55207 W111.62757 Elevation 8379 ft

07/27/05: In Which I Say Adios to Montana and Dash to Resupply in Macks Inn

I got up early determined to make it to Macks Inn before the PO closed at 5 PM. I dropped to Keg Spring Road and then climbed again, dropping down to the pretty Blair Lake. From there I went over the ridge and parted ways with the official CDT route, which makes a long detour north that is not really popular.

Instead I headed up Hell Roaring Creek toward the Divide. The disadvantage of this route was that after the first mile the trail was spotty at best, meaning it would vanish until I would stumble upon another short segment only to lose it again.

Eventually I arrived at what the guidebook calls Mississippi Spring, the most remote source of water that empties in the Gulf of Mexico. I filtered water from here for the rest of the day and then went uphill to the Divide, leaving Montana for the last time with the EM Davis adios salute: "Say something for your mother." From there I went another mile or so on an old jeep road/trail and reached the graded gravel road into town.

It was about 1:30 and I faced a choice: follow this road for 12 miles or take old abandoned roads, supposedly hard to find, for 10 miles. I opted for the longer but surer route and began fast hiking/jogging to town. I arrived at 4:15 and was able to call home before recovering my package from the PO. The interesting note from the call was Ellie telling me about an earthquake near Dillon on Monday evening. Turns out I wasn't dreaming after all.

At the lumber yard near the PO a man came up to me and asked if I was another of those hikers. After so admitting he offered me a place to stay outside of town (I declined, needing to get into Yellowstone tomorrow and wanting to put some miles in that direction. He also told me he had talked to Tommy and Razzu at 1:30, so I knew they were still ahead of me though a little behind schedule.

After getting some ice cream at the store I hiked another 6 miles along a road before pulling into an area of thinned lodgepole pines to cook and sleep.

Spent the night at: N44.47362 W111.23770 Elevation 6588 ft

07/28/05: In Which I Bid Adieu to Idaho and Enter Yellowstone

I forgot to mention that at the store yesterday I begged a plastic coffee spoon (the woman gave me two, so hopefully I can make them last until I get my drift box). With that utensil I ate my typical soaked granola breakfast and resumed my roadwalk.

It was boring with limited views through lodgepole pines that had grown back after original clearcutting. As I neared the park, the roads were blocked by huge berms and adjacent holes in the ground that required hiking around. I did record a bit of data for CDTS.

I finally entered Yellowstone and within an hour got to bid adieu to Idaho for the last time as I crossed into Wyoming, my home for the next few weeks. I had hoped with a change of states I might see a change in weather, but clouds began thickening.

There was a trail in the Park, but fire in 1988 had killed a lot of the trees, so they fall regularly blocking the trail. Being on the fringe of the Park, this trail does not get a lot maintenance work done on it, so navigation was a little frustrating.

I reached my designated campsite at Summit Lake a little after 5, and about 5 minutes later a Park Ranger showed up to check on me. We were both pretty surprised—him to find someone out here and me to have a ranger in the vicinity. I gave him my permit info I got over the phone from Lima and we chatted for a while about hiking.

After dinner I hung my food on the bear pole like a good hiker, worked on my journals and engaged in my favorite pastime of swatting mosquitoes. It hadn't rained but it was still windy and cool, so I put the tarp up just in case.

Spent the night at: N44.41546 W110.93738 Elevation 8582 ft

07/29/05: In Which I Do Old Faithful, but Flee the Tourists and Then the Mosquitoes

A few sprinkles of rain got me moving in the morning, but nothing serious continued. I had a few miles to go, mostly downhill, to reach the Firehole River and many of the main attractions of the Park. As I approached the area, a few tourists came up the trail and wanted to know if I had seen any bears.

I had a great time walking along, looking at pools, mudpots and geysers, taking pictures at every opportunity. As I approached the Old Faithful area, the tourists got thicker and I steeled myself for dealing with more people than I had seen in the last month.

It turned out everything I wanted to do was spread out all over the Old Faithful complex. First I went to formalize my backcountry permit and they required me to sit through their video (having seen Glacier's wasn't good enough) and then quizzed me for a while before they decided I could have my permit. I next went to take a shower, then back to the post office, only to discover it was closed for lunch until 1:30. After it opened I took my food resupply with me to the laundromat and sorted it while I washed and dried my clothes. It rained while I was doing this, so I was glad not to be out hiking.

I called and talked to Ellie and LiAnna. Ellie told me that Tommy and Razzu will have a room in the Yellowstone Inn and wanted me to stay with them, but by 4 PM I had had enough of Old Faithful and needed to leave, so I walked over to the Inn and left a note for them. Hopefully, they will catch up in the next couple of days.

My designated campsite for the night was about 9 miles away, so I hiked away quickly. Unfortunately, it wasn't quick enough to escape a thickening cloud of mosquitoes. I talked to a couple of hikers coming out who indicated that Lone Star Geyser would be going off soon, so I made a short detour to the site and was rewarded with a great eruption.

Having tarried here so long I really had to hurry, but the mosquitoes got worse, in fact, so bad that I put on my windbreaker and (gasp) broke out the Deet and dabbed it on my hat and the backs of my hands.

My campsite turned out to be this spectacular spot overlooking Shoshone Lake, but it was about half a mile off the trail, so it was nearly dark when I arrived. I had a cold dinner, hung my food and threw up the tarp with my tiny LED light.

Spent the night at: N44.35552 W110.78728 Elevation 7791 ft

07/30/05: In Which I Take a Long Walk in the Park and End It with a Heartfelt Bath

I got up about 6 and decided to visit the Shoshone Geyser Basin without my pack. I spent about an hour traveling and visiting this great thermal basin with sites equaling what you can see by car, but at dawn I had it to myself. Back at campsite, I got ready and left about 8.

I made a bad mistake to start, taking the advice of the volunteer at the backcountry ranger office to go around the north side of Shoshone Lake. He said the trail was better and avoided a long ford. It may have been better but it was four miles longer and there was about a mile of tough hiking through loose gravel right along the lake.

It started raining before I finished my circuit of the lake. Making a quick check of the map I saw there were creeks ahead, so left the lake with less than two cups of water trying to escape the mosquitoes that were enjoying the cool weather. At my next stop I read the guidebook that pointed out all the creeks were dry or unfit to drink from, so I was now facing 12 miles to Heart Lake with little water. By then I had also figured out with the added miles I would have to hike 32 miles to make it to my designated campsite.

I really started flying, crossed the main road and started towards Heart Lake. I passed many hikers leaving there, even a few horses, finally getting there a little after 5. Along the way I saw a few interesting thermal features along Witches Creek that drains into the lake.

The ranger at the cabin near the lake checked, discovered I was another of those crazy CDT hikers (he had seen four in the past two days) and waved me on. I made immediately for the lake where I filtered some much-needed water.

I ate a little and it was approaching 6 when I raced on trying to cover the last 8 miles before dark. It was fairly flat so I made good time, though in my haste I turned onto the trail into a campsite and had to backtrack for a few minutes. In the last hour I had three fords, one of a creek and two of the Heart River, the last nearly knee-deep and coming just before my campsite near the confluence of the Heart and Snake Rivers. It was nearly dark when I got there, so cold and wet I once again went through the cold dinner, hang food and put up tarp routine, swearing tomorrow I would stop early and have a hot meal no matter what.

Spent the night at: N44.21492 W110.46142 Elevation 7329 ft

07/31/05: In Which I Make It Out of the Park, Slowly and in the Rain

I had little motivation to get going and it was well after 6 before I began to stir. When I realized that the sun would shortly clear the ridge and shine on my campsite, I moved even slower, checking maps and guidebooks for future routes and updating my photo log for all the pictures I took yesterday.

With everything dried out except my shoes that were about to get soaked anyway by the moisture on the grass, I set out before 9 to head up the Snake River, an endeavor that would take up most of the day. I went slowly because I was tired from yesterday’s effort and to give Tommy and Razzu a chance to catch up, as they were supposed to be about 10 miles behind me.

As I watched the Snake run freely, I thought of its ultimate fate, to be trapped behind a series of illegal fish-killing dams before it joins the long lake that is called the Columbia River. I doubt I will ever see the Columbia run free, but I think that science and law will ultimately triumph over politics and the Snake River dams will be removed.

It would help if this country had a real energy policy and if a headline I saw in a paper recently is true, one is supposedly on the way. Despite lip service to change, this country is run by oil men and our energy policy is a carrot-and-stick plan to control the oil fields—invade Iraq, initiate a failed coup in Venezuela, threaten Iran (the stick part) and cozy up to some of the most venal despots in the world in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Nigeria and miscellaneous Emirates (the carrot approach). And from off in the woods I can safely predict that the energy policy will never include raising vehicle mileage standards to an easily achievable 50 MPG, which would reduce global warming, eliminate the need to invade more oil-producing countries and improve our balance of trade deficit.

I shouldn't have been daydreaming about energy policy because afternoon found me off course amid more rain showers. I went through another wet meadow, waded the Snake for the last time and headed for the Park boundary.

While checking my map and guidebook at the junction there, I failed to put them firmly back in my pocket and they fell out. When I discovered this a mile later I had to turn around to find them. So by 4 I had gone maybe all of 12 miles, but I climbed the next ridge among thickening mosquitoes and stopped at a creek to get water and cook dinner (the late suppers the past two nights had been cold and I was determined to have a hot meal). I got the water but before I could start cooking the rain resumed, so I headed on another half mile until it let up. I started cooking there and about had it done when it began to pour. In a repeat of the fiasco of a few weeks ago in Anaconda-Pintler I crouched under a tree in the rain and ate dinner, though this was a bigger tree so I was a bit drier.

By now it was nearly 7 and I headed off to do a few more miles but realized I had 1000-foot climb coming up to a 10,000-foot plateau without trees, not the wisest place to spend the night in the rain. So, after a mile or two I opted to pull under the shelter of some trees and make an early day of it. It was the first time in quite a while that I hiked a full day and did less than 20 miles. But if I had gone on, I would have disappointed hundreds of hungry mosquitoes.

Spent the night at: N44.10167 W110.22330 Elevation 8801 ft

© 2006 Mark C. Davis • Page Last Updated January 8, 2006