Hiking The CDT- Part 11- The Great Divide Basin

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Heading down into the town with Tribhu and Kirsten was a surprise. I had planned on having a day off here with rumours of a lush green village square to camp on, but Tribhu had other ideas. ‘Dude, I will buy you beers tonight in the bar, if you hike over the divide with me tomorrow?’ This was a split decision for me initially, as I was still slightly hesitant from my injury I’d had since Mac’s Inn. I shall also point out the Divide Basin is a roughly 122 mile stretch of desert like scrub land, scorching hot, with little water and no shade. I said I would come out for a beer at least before deciding. In the town I discovered I could stop at a Noels outdoor education center with a hot shower and cheap laundry services, so booked in there instead of camping. A while later I walked down to the bar after a refreshing shower and joined them. No sooner was the first pitcher was on the table and refreshing bubbly beer hitting my mouth, than I decided I should cross the divide with Tribhu. We drank a fair few beers but called it a night before too long, on account of wanting an early start. I said I would meet them at the supermarket as I still needed to resupply. I also received a message from Kathleen, she was camped at South Pass City, and asking how things were going. She had skipped ahead and had this one last section before heading to a wedding and having a couple weeks off. South Pass city is a historic town few miles into the basin, but could be cut off with some cross country. Cross country here is just walking across a flat. I said Tribhu and I would be hiking across, and there was a small chance we would catch up.

The next morning I grabbed standard food: ramen noodles, snicker bars, the kind of junk diet that would make you cringe in normal life, but it was now, well, standard. I grabbed a coffee and 4 new water bottles and started drinking the coffee. Tribhu sorted food for himself then we set off to the pass. I had a headache and was heading for a desert pan, but other than that life was good. Somewhere between mid and late morning we set off. We put on some tunes and relaxed into in. When I say relaxed, I mean we paced across, aiming for a small spring marked on the map approximately 17 miles in. The spring was a tiny patch of ground barely noticeable from the trail, but after scraping slime of the surface it provided good drinking water. We relaxed here for an hour or so and ate lunch in the shade of my tent flysheet, propped like a sail over the connected poles. After checking our average speed we found we were going over 4mph. This was a great boost knowing our pace would get us there in decent time. As the sun eased we set off again and found our next spring well maintained. For this desert area, a safe practice is to presume the next spring will have no water, and the one after might. So carrying water in excess is a reasonable thing to do. It gave a strange feeling walking away from a mountain range, and after a while no matter how far I walked, the mountains seemed neither closer nor further away. Like being trapped on a huge non moving scrub land.

The trail uses both gravel road and single track across the basin.

The next day we dropped to a good spring before heading out over a flat. Lighting was breaking crazily all over, and as the main storm passed we sheltered in a shallow ditch crouching. With icey rain coming down it wasn’t long before we were losing feeling in our limbs and decided to move regardless. Due to the rain, mud caked to the bottom of my shoes weighing them down. I resented this half inch layer of mud that would peel off the dry dirt below step after step. On and on we walked. The sky lightened bringing us back to heat and dry ground, some of it feeling quite sandbox like. I would eye up ground to the side of me trying to decide if it looked more solid. Soft ground proves strenuous work and trying to avoid it became a challenge. We were walking towards a patch of sky in the distance that was black. Dense black and the ground beneath it black. It was bizarre to see such darkness in the daytime. Lightning was striking one place in the middle of it. A large strike, then silence, then five minutes later again hitting the same point. Miles passed and as we came up a rise the trail slowly turned us towards this point. A cattle grid with raised sides at the highest point on the hill. We advanced with more caution. Since there were large gaps between the strikes we decided to wait til after a strike, then sprint for our lives over it. We waited, then with a thunderous crack we were off. Once at the brow of the hill we just kept running down the other side, knowing in all likelihood there would be another strike there any moment. Sure enough there was. We kept moving. There were horses in the basin, and on an adjacent rise a short distance away lightning struck and sent them bolting across the hillside. It was well into the day at this point and on finding a seemingly safe place to pitch our tents, we stopped. Not knowing if there would be any more decent shelter out here and the ground ahead flattening, it seemed wise to have an early night. I had downloaded movies to my phone and put on an old black and white to pass time. This storm while large, continuous and potentially deadly, was far cooler than the expected weather we anticipated.

The next morning we rose, with 40 miles left. Around 20 miles in scrubland and 20 more on the road. We passed our last spring, drank plenty of water, and decided lunch would be at the roadside. The heat today was stifling. The kind of heat that makes your head feel like its ready to pop. We missed a turn and ended up walking a few extra miles here much to my dismay. I knew this would add an hour to our already long day. At the roadside we ate the last of our food and psyched up for walking on a hard paved surface. Walking on a hard surface compared to trail is agony. The soft trail gives, and absorbs. But asphalt is solid and unkind to joints, at least when pacing anyways. Around ten miles along, we sat in a drainage ditch for a ten minute breather, there was no shade from the sun. It would be a long slow descent down to the town of Rawlins. A car spotted us and pulled over asking if we wanted a ride and we thanked the driver, but insisted the walk was necessary. It was a grind, and even though we were still hiking fast. It was brutal.

Arriving in at about 4pm we walked into the center of Rawlins and met Kirsten who had a beer waiting for us. We drank a beer each and went over to the campsite. Pitching up on the soft grass I lay back and looked up at the sky, the grass was so nice compared to the basin. Adding up the hours we walked each day, we managed to average over 4mph the whole way. This crossing seemed the epitome of embracing the brutality. Who knew suffering was so much fun.

  • vast expanse
  • the seeds on my shoe would get inside the socks and itch away
  • more vast expanse

Hiking The CDT- part 10- The Wind River Range

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The Wind River Range is one of the most Spectacular Places On Earth. The mountains seem endless, the views breathtaking, the wolves wild, the lakes blue /green and the hiking some of the best I would encounter. So good that when I had the chance, I came back a second time.

I hitched to the pass with a local guide who had just finished on Garnett Peak, the highest mountain in Wyoming. I was feeling reasonable strong but still my shin pained a little. Taking care on descents I would manage to keep the pain to a minimum and slowly recovered as I crossed this section. I think it is around 180 miles. Arriving at the Pass I walked several miles down forestry lanes meeting the occasional thru hiker coming North, the first one I met was nervous about grizzly bears. I gave him my can of bear spray and told him of my encounter with a Grizzly Bear, it had been good and I felt lucky to have had it. Grizzly bears don’t get much further south than the Wind River range, and I figured I would rather not have the weight of a can. Since I started this trip it had swung from my chest strap on a piece of cord . Thru hikers rules, every ounce that can be ditched should be ditched. I hiked a good way as light rain splattered down keeping me soaked and cold. I eyed up a cross country route marked on the map that would save on a lot of distance, but was over high open ground. Lightning started cracking overhead, splitting the sky into fragments. A second later thunder would boom and the ground would tremble. I opted for a walk the long way through the forest, feeling secure with dense forest towering all around. I had good music and passed the afternoon comfortably.

Hiking has a lot of slow lessons. It teaches you any wrong decision is yours alone, any frustration is yours alone, and if you’re angry you have no one to blame for being where you are but you. If you’re scared, you have to learn to deal with it alone. I think a lot of people never become comfortable with spending time with themselves but the lesson of solitude and experiencing all emotions while being alone is powerful. There is nothing more therapeutic than being isolated in the wilderness. In cities people always have the stimulus of the others around them, and seek reassurance or spread blame for things not going right. But in always having people around, you never learn self reliance and patience. I think this trail teaches a lot about both.

I camped the night in a small cluster of trees at the top of a pass. The night was brutally cold, freezing over everything including my tent and shoes. It was a slow wake up and I felt almost hungover with dehydration. I had a slow coffee then dropped the tent to shake off the frost, and packed to move. I could hear wolves howling nearby. I hadn’t considered wolves being out here and on hearing them the process went through my mind- they are pack animals and I probably look like an injured animal to eat? But surely they are scared of people, there must be hunters? But this close to a National Park would anybody ever be here to fire a gun and scare them? I would never have an answer and my only option was to proceed as I was. I shivered as I started walking, finding it difficult to get warm blood flowing. It’s difficult to be happy until you feel warm in such a place. But as the sun rises and scatters across the hillside, the feeling of being home comes back. I listened to a few audio books while hiking here.

On this second day towards the end, I bumped into another hiker called Race. I would hike the evening and camp at the top of the pass with him. Having another hiker helped slow the pace and it was great having the evening meal with someone else. It blew my mind when hiking how in a morning I would look across the horizon thinking it was a long way, and by the afternoon I would be over it and onto a new horizon. Each day this would happen, it kept going, and going, and going. There was seemingly no end. It was perfection. I was in an endless cycle of hiking with endless views. Race was meeting a friend at a campground, but I carried on alone and began climbing up into the real mountains.

As I started to climb, the slightly high sides on the trainers dug into my ankle on both sides. It didn’t take long to abrase to the point my ankle was rubbed raw, and reddened with pinpricks of blood. I tried to persist but the pain was high. I sat down. I didn’t fancy trying another four or five days of this. I opened the top of my pack and took out a pair of small scissors to start cutting away at the trainers to lower the sides. I slapped some microscope tape over my skin where it was worn for a little more protection from brushing against trousers and plants etc. I then proceeded to hike. It was such a relief. I climbed up through the forest and broke out into a steep boulder strewn valley. Barron and grey granite that was cold in heart and touch. The first route for me would be Knapsack Col. It’s an alternate to the main route (I think?) but fantastic high alpine environment with a beautiful tarn. There is no real trail but the route is over boulders following obvious directions from one valley to the next. Over the next day the views of granite would be broken up with valleys full of hundreds of small pools and lakes.

A small gap breaks up the mountains between the North and South on the CDT route across meadows with lakes. Here I ran into many Northbound hikers. Probably the mass of them. I didn’t talk too much. Thru Hikers in opposite directions understand the difference it makes getting extra minutes of daylight. I camped before the second section of mountain. Here there was a highly recommended alternate better than Knapsac col, but I didn’t want to break myself again. I was pushing still over 30 miles per day. I knew this route would give more interesting climbs but the official route that wound around the peak would do for now, it still had plenty to climb and scenery.

Near reaching my final pass I was close to running on fumes, and my food was nearly depleted. I had taken other hikers advice back in town and carried less food than usual, and here it kicked me, it wasn’t my style. I was fortunate to come across other hikers that were on a weekend break. When they asked what kind of food I bring on a hike like this, I laughed and shower them a near empty bag saying I guess I was subsiding on cosmic rays and and positive attitude. The said they were hiking out but still had loads of food and showered me in great snacks. It provided thousands of extra calories in much more entertaining food than I would normally carry including some home made beef jerky and energy shot style sweets. This was epic. As I dropped down the other side of the pass the path was steep shingle, not much fun, but I knew this would be my last big descent of the area. As I moved I was now being powered by a sudden high calorie diet. I was a day and a half from being out of a long section and ready for a day off trail. I arrived in the evening to a national forest campground. Pitching up on the gravel after dark I was happy there was less than half a day to the next pass.

In the morning I hiked on, with the trail eventually joining some gravel road then breaking across country one last time to the roadside. The roadside was a small layby on a brow with poor view in either direction. A hard place to hitch from. When a vehicle can see you at good distance, the driver has a chance to weigh things up. When they see you in passing, the chance of a ride is almost always gone. Two northbound hikers were on the other side of the road and had been there an hour. I joined them for a while trying to hitch before I decided three was too much of a crowd and I would try to find a better layby further down. Moments after walking away a car passed me and started beeping the horn frantically. It was Tribhu and Kirsten. I chucked my hat into the air to celebrate and ran over. They were dropping a couple of other hikers off at the pass and now giving us a lift back down.

  • camped on the second night
  • Race leading the way
  • a view to the mountains I would soon climb
  • Knapsack Col
  • this guy followed me every day getting skinnier and skinnier
  • Camp on the Third night
  • each morning more frost
  • Camp the 4th night, moonlight
  • weeving back and forwards over the water slide of a slab for over a mile
  • the final pass to climb
    just behind my hat

Hiking The CDT- part 9- Yellowstone

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I hiked into Yellowstone at a reduced pace, knowing my shin wouldn’t be up to too much over the next days. The trail leaves Old Faithful, and heads South East away from the crowds. It isn’t hard to get away from crowds here. According to the NPS 97% of visitors never go more than one hundred yards from their car. This is a great shame but also good for people that like the wilderness in solitary. The rangers allowed my permit to go a quite a bit further each day than normal hiker permits (they treat people attempting the CDT nicely), and said if I did need to use a camp further or closer than the allocated one to just make sure it’s in an official camp area. My first camping place was 18 miles in. With a 10am start and a slow pace I figured I would get there in 9 hours with a little light to spare. I hiked passed Lonestar Geyser and into the Firehole Springs area. The scenery changed from dry pine forest to a prehistoric boiling pot almost instantly. Watching water bubbling and steam rising up from the ground as I hiked made for a fantastic spectacle. I had watched documentaries on Yellowstone as a kid and was finally here. Here at the place I thought would be the highlight of my summer, and 1000 miles in wasn’t even half way. The Firehole Springs area gave way to shallow flooded meadow. It was amazing just how fast the trail disappeared. I squelched through the area until it came back to forest. The forest gave me a lot of time and easy trail to concentrate on my injury, and how stupid I was for coming into this section without being fully healed. Mile after mile ground by until I reached my camp. It was deserted except for flies. I had half a mind to hike on to the next camp, but with an hour or two of light left I though better and pitched up. I find camping alone quite boring, especially when I’m told where to camp. The sun eventually set and I went to sleep.

The next day started with a nearly shoulder-deep wade through the exiting river from Shoshone lake, holding my pack above my head to keep the contents dry. I hiked through pleasant forest and eventually came out on the main road and crossed onto the Heart Lake trail. Here I bumped into Buck30. ‘I thought you’d blown me out the water and were long gone!’ he said. I told him of where I’d been and we hiked onto the Heart Lake Ranger station to have a further break and chat with the ranger about what life was like in the park. We also crossed a North Bound hiker that didn’t flipflop, the first we had seen. You can usually tell a thru hiker from a distance. Wearing worn out clothes, long worn out shoes full of holes, and a very small pack but turning up more than 15 miles from the nearest road. Looking near homeless but with a rather large stride. I forgot to mention I was now on my third pair of shoes. The Moab trail shoes were uncomfortable, the trainers I picked up in Helena were worn out and very holey, and now I was onto a set of Salomon 3-d chassis’ trail shoes. Anyway, back to the trail.

Hiking off from the Heart Lake shore, the trail crossed a small rise and entered into a pleasant small valley with great meadows. The trail was faint, and there were a couple of small backtracks where the trail would lead to a dead end pond or just peter out entirely. It was a fantastic area and enjoyable with no large climbs. At the end of this day I pitched up and Buck kept hiking a while longer to the next camp. I wished I had hiked on because within a few minutes in the morning, I had to wade through the next icy river that was much colder than the mouth of the lake had been. I was getting used to the unpleasant icy chill seeping inside my trainers, but that didn’t mean I wanted it at 6am. Though it does wake you up better than coffee. I was enjoying having my space but knowing there was another hiker on the trail is nice when hiking alone, it’s reassuring to know there might be help if something were to go wrong. By the end of the day we were crossing over the Yellowstone boundary and into the Teton Wilderness. I passed another NOBO (north bound) hiker who was nervous about bears. There was bear scat all over the place and it was big. I mean HUGE!. The kind of thing if you stood in, you would be better off chucking the shoes away. The trail wound down around the Snake River occasionally til one final big crossing over the Buffalo River with a strong current. There were a few gents at a camp at one point with packrafts , small inflatable boats that fit in a backpack. I knew they were about to have so much fun.

This part of the trail was also home to the Parting of the Waters. A river that splits into two, one side will end in the Gulf of Mexico, the other side in the Pacific. I sat here for lunch and once again I came across a famous hiker, this time called Lint. This was the third well reputed hiker I’d bumped into and once again I had no idea who this was, but he was excited to hear Buck30 was behind me. Lint has done the ‘triple triple crown’, the three long distance trails in the US, three times. Shortly after lunch I would come to the horse super highway, or horse way, something to do with horses. It stank and was full of horse poop. All the way. I came across several riders on horseback that were bemused to see a hiker this far out, and when telling them what I was doing and how far I was going in a day were gob smacked and took their hats off to me. That night I camped by a lake alone, pitching up at dark. In the night it misted over, and I was woke in the early hours by bells and the sound of a horse. I looked out my tent and saw a rider on horseback leading several loaded pack animals. It was spooky. I wondered how many times he had been up and down the trail in the dark of night through the mist.

I hiked out ahead for most the next day on my own while still feeling strain in my shin. I was taking it easier, still doing big miles each day but with good rest stops. With five miles to go before the next camp (a lake just off Togwotee Pass) I was admiring the view when I heard ‘BENJAMIN!’. It was Tribhu, caught up and flying like a kite. I informed him I was on a go slow but with a short distance left we split the difference between our paces and hiked on. On reaching the lake, Tim’s girlfriend Kirsten was walking up the way to meet us. We hiked at a gentle pace out the way and to the lake. I said I would wait here, I had told Buck earlier I would probably camp the night at the lake. Shortly after Tribhu and Kirsten left I discovered signs in the camping area stating no soft sided tents, bear and cubs are active in area. It threatened a large fine for breaking the rule, and not wanting that fine, I opted to hike to the road and hitch down the pass.

Seconds after I arrived at the pass, a car came by and offered a ride. It was two girls that had driven up to find mobile signal. They were camped before the next town but offered to drive the extra minutes into Dubois regardless. Pulling into the town they asked ‘Is this it?’. I responded ‘I’ve never been before, I guess it must be’. I hopped out the car and thanked them for the ride. There was a gas station, an agricultural sales place and a motel. The motel cost was a stinger, I think about $110 for the night. A nice modern room with A/C but more than this broke hiker needed. If I had been so bold as to wander around the corner, I would have found the town was far larger than I realised and there were much cheaper options. The next day I did this and kicked myself as punishment. I wandered into a shop and bought a coffee, sitting back on the seating outside and waiting. A NOBO hiker also rolled in who knew Buck30, and was excited to know he would be there soon. Hours rolled by and eventually around lunch Buck came to town unhappy the hitch took so long. The three of us walked to the hikers motel and managed a room each for $30, I wasn’t going to do a second night, but at that price I couldn’t help it. We stuffed our faces with the finest food the town had to offer. Tribhu also turned up but was leaving that day and was just there for a resupply. He mentioned the next town on trail after the Winds had a free camping area and perfect for a day or so off. I said goodbye but presumed this would be the last time our paths would cross due to his quick pace and my injury. The next morning I said I would probably see Buck a bit further down the trail and I walked to the edge of town to hitch.

I knew the sheriff of this town didn’t allow hitchhikers to catch a ride from inside the town so hiked out a good long way clear of any buildings. Minutes after I stuck my thumb out, I saw the police car come rolling around the bend to pull up in front of me. Out stepped a white haired officer. Like a scene from Rambo, he stated ‘Hitchhiking is banned in this town’. I looked back the way into the town. The main town itself was 3/4 of a mile back, so far as I could tell I was a good way out of the town. ‘Where is it OK to hitch from?’ I enquired. ‘See that sign on the other side of the road? Anywhere past that sign’ he said. I looked to the other side of the road in disbelief. About 30 feet down was the Welcome to Dubois sign. I was right out of the town and he came to move me 30 feet. He took my passport and there I waited as he stepped back into his police cruiser and seemed to radio and talk to someone. Eventually he brought it back and said ‘Don’t let me catch you hitching in this town again, have a good day’. With that he drove off. Now. The far more interesting part of this story. Skip ahead two years. I had just finished hiking the Wind River High route and spent the night in the same town again. Hitching in the other direction this time, at the other end of the town I stick my thumb out. A pickup pulls over and a white haired man offers a ride. I hop in and ask what he does around here. ‘Well, I just retired, I was the sheriff around here most my life’. I didn’t mention I had met him before, but it gave me a new insight the kind of man he was. He clearly cared about the people in his area, I don’t want to go into the details too much, but he told me a few stories about being first on the scene at several accidents and having to break it to the families. He said it made it had made for a difficult career and what he had seen, has stuck with him all his life. I was grateful for the ride.

Hiking The CDT- part 8- Lima to Macs Inn(edge of Yellowstone)

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From the hundreds of sheets of paper maps I had been carrying I was down to the last pages. I had discarded the rest making my pack the lightest it had been this whole journey. This day I was late on the trail after oversleeping in a real bed, and my ride landed me short of where I finished the previous day. This took an extra hour or so before I reached the start of my actual day. I had 28 miles to cover from the trail head but it was 10am. Not my best start but doable. This finish in 28 miles was dictated by a lake, I liked finishing by lakes as they gave a good place to wash and an unlimited supply of water. I hiked around ten miles and got chatting to a nice man who wanted to record all the thru hikers on trail this year. We chatted about how it had been so far, and after round half an hour I set off down a valley. Pleasant as it was to talk, I was slightly stressed by losing so much daylight, it marred my chance of making the lake before nightfall. I realised after jogging downhill for ten minutes the trail I was on was taking me further down than the map showed, and I should have been going up. It was wrong. I hated the fact I had pretty much jogged downhill for ten minutes, and then had to walk uphill 15 minutes more. This day was getting out of hand for my target finish. After climbing back up I found my trail faintly marked and tucked against a fence I had passed 25 minutes before.

I was now on a mission and pacing at my limit, traversing up over and around the many hills as fast as I could. The trail up the final hill of the day was faint and faded away a for a good while. After walking a good distance back and forwards I picked it up a half mile higher after trudging through deep foliage. There were lots of dud trails leading off to the side here and there, with the actual trail being less tangible than the main route through. I understood why this trail was not for novices. The motto for the CDT, if there is one, is ‘Embrace the Brutality’. The heat, lack of water and poor marking certainly helped towards its reputation. Cresting the last ridge the sun dipped onto the horizon, and I watched it slowly fade. The first real rest stop of the day was to watch my light disappear. As the sun ebbed I dug into my pack for a my head torch. The head torch I chose for the trip was the Petzl E light. An emergency LED with a retractable cord to be worn on the head and weighing around an ounce. I descended off the ridge into the forest as the civil twilight dimmed and pure darkness followed. The light output of my torch was poor, illuminating a small circle in front of me. Initially the trail could be followed, but after climbing over a few downed and uprooted trees the trail was lost. I couldn’t tell where I had come from or where it was I should be. I looked at the map and decided I knew where I was though. I couldn’t be far. I took out my compass, set a bearing, and advanced.

On and on I hiked slowly in the black. After an hour or so of walking in silence, I could hear water ever so faintly off to my left. I checked the map. There was a river that would drop into the lake, that had to be my river. I was making slow but steady decisions, one step at a time. Man I was thirsty. A while longer brought me to a steepening of a descent, but also in front of me like a welcome beacon there was a clear path. I knew it had to be the trail to my lake. I arrived at 11pm. With a camp area marked on the map, I knew there would be a bear box too. A steel container to put food and smelly things in that is bear proof. I walked around the lake looking for it, stumbling and kicking my toe occasionally. I came across a couple of families out camping and still up. I could sense the alarm of the two dads as a stranger approached in the night. I called out and asked if the bear box was nearby to try and put them at ease. They came closer and after seeing me in torchlight, one asked ‘Are you a thru Hiker?’. I responded ‘I’m trying to be’. They laughed. ‘O man, we were just talking about what it must be like to thru hike a trail like this, that’s really neat.’ I talked with them for ten or so minutes covering the journey so far, but in the end had to politely say I am really tired and needed to sleep. They pointed me to the bear box and I wished them goodnight. I chucked my food into the box while eating some of the junk food I had, then roughly pitched my tent. I was so tired I pitched about 7 or 8 yards away from the box. I went into a deep sleep.

The next day I woke at sunrise, a little late but not terribly so. I ate a snicker bar for breakfast and hit the trail, stashing a couple of extra bars in my waist belt to eat while I hiked. I few hours later I found myself slowly catching up with another hiker. His name was Buck30. I think this name originated with the dollar and 30 cent he carried the length of a long distance trail without realising. Hikers try to ditch every ounce they can, some would even cut a toothbrush in half. So to carry a dollar and thirty cent in change, scandalous. Buck30 is an exceptionally gifted hiker who’s life was dedicated to exploration, having hiked tens of thousands of miles all over the world. (over 24,000 at the time I met him in 2015, now much more). He was on his second hike of the CDT and taking note of how it had changed in ten years since he last did it. I hiked with him for a day or so, becoming alarmed after seeing him drink from a spring with a dead bird in it and found out he never filtered the water he drank. This was something I was seeing increasingly more. Carrot, Spark and Trackmeet never filtered water either. I can only imagine Buck30 must have an insanely strong immune system that can kill anything that walks. Ask most hikers about Giardia, and they will have a tale to tell. I would find later on this trail my stomach is not as capable in fighting off parasites. The hiking in this area was beautiful, following the divide ridge for the main part. Eventually we would branch off and head towards Macs Inn, a cut-off popular on the divide. It doesn’t save a great deal of distance, but it’s a great bit of cross country with river crossings, meadows, and overgrown willow groves higher than me; so thick I had to force my way through blind. This route also takes you over a main road right outside a Subway. I’m sure you can understand the temptation. You’re walking hundreds of miles, one route will keep you scenic while the other has fast food, western toilets and a small shop to buy more food from. I left Buck30 one evening high on the mountain and said I was going to carry on down a way before camping. This was the straw that broke the camels back. I joined onto a forestry track and hiked down thinking I could have a subway for breakfast. It was about 10 miles and I didn’t fancy the distance in the morning. But as I hiked, a small niggle started in my shin. I kept going only because there wasn’t a flat enough place to pitch my tent. Down and down I went, and the pain went up and up. By the time I was a couple of miles from the main road it was excruciating pain. I was kicking myself, instead of camping high with a view I pitched on a sloped bit of ground. I figured it would be better by morning.

The next day I woke with a painful leg. I hobbled the last couple of miles to the main road. The junction was crowded with kids and families on ATVs’. I don’t mind them, but after nearly 1000 miles of tranquillity, coming to this two-stroke infused air was a shock. With the abrasive sound of revving engines and constant pipping horns, I couldn’t feel further from the wilderness. I grabbed a coffee in the shop, ate a couple of doughnuts and sighed. Not knowing a lot about these types of injuries, I tried binding it up to restrict the movement and thus be able to hobble. The hike I had originally planned finished a few miles away. What I though would take most the summer was over in a month. My last sheet of paper was out. The last miles. Buck30 joined me a hour later and we sat drinking coffee. He planned on hanging around most the day here, but I wanted to get on the way knowing it would be slow. I told him I would probably see him towards the evening and I hobbled off down the road. I walked out the town and took my next turn, after walking down it a few miles I was in agony. What a stupid thing to have done. I turned back and headed for a campsite I passed back at the junction. I pitched up and knew my next day or so would be here while I figure out what to do next. I made a point of downloading some more music as my current selection was slim. I also downloaded a few audio books knowing they would help pass miles. I then start on my next problem. Maps. I was out of them and there was nowhere to print more. Once in the boundary of Yellowstone I would have no means of navigation. This was an issue and one I didn’t know how to solve. The next day I forced myself to relax and picked up a book from the campsite reception to read. It was dreary and dull. I hate murder mystery, but it seemed the best of the bunch to choose from. The day was agonisingly slow, the wrong kind of quiet. I wanted to be hiking but knew I had to be patient.

That evening Carrot, Spark and Trackmeet rolled into town. I invited them to camp on my pitch and mentioned my map problem. ‘We’re hitching into West Yellowstone tomorrow, come with us. There will definitely be a place to print maps there, it’s a big town!’. Since I wasn’t hiking far and needed a little more time off it seemed a brilliant idea. The next day after joining them I did find a print shop that gave me for the first time legible maps I could read details on. Up to now the low print quality of my home printer had been a pain. I opted to get them printed to get me through to Grand Lake, Colorado. I was aiming a long way South now and if my shin healed (injury noted), at the pace I was going I could hike at least a thousand miles more before the end of the season. I knew I’d gone too fast, but if I struck a balance and had longer slower days I could still do it. The three suggested hitching into Old Faithful to rejoin the trail as hitching back around to complete the last few miles would take longer and be less pretty. I didn’t know a lot about thru hiking etiquette at the time so it didn’t concern me to miss these miles. I stocked up on a little more food and said I would see them out there as I would be moving slow. I camped the night in a National Park site after hitching in with a Dutch family, and the next morning received a ride in a convertible mustang to Old Faithful. I left my hat in the back of the car by mistake. Walking into the national park gift shop I was left with two choices. A cap that said I ❤ Yellowstone, or a Stetson Crushable. I think every kid at some point wants to be a cowboy, and this is probably the closest I would get. I also despise any hat that says ‘I ❤’. I chose the Stetson. I walked over to the permit office and asked which campsites were available over the coming days. They really try to limit the miles you can hike in a day for safety. But when a dirty scrawny hiker comes in fresh from a thousand miles, they are willing to give a bit more. It was around 10am and with me starting the trail moments later I opted for 18 miles the first day. I bumped up the miles for the second. The ranger told me they cut a little slack to CDT hikers in the South of the park, and if I chose to go beyond my allocated camp it would be fine as long as I camped inside an official camp area. I walked out and towards the trailhead. I was excited about the next section. I was about to see Yellowstone.

Hiking The CDT- Part 7-Leadore To Lima

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Nothing in my life mattered at this point apart from hiking. Hitching back to the trail, I felt good and was ready to lay down miles. The only considerations I had at this point were eating enough food, and not getting too lost. While in Missoula, I paid a trip to the outdoor store and bought a new bigger camping pad. I was becoming tired of sleeping on dirt. It was a plush Big Agnes Air Core insulated pad, around three inches of comfort, with raised rails on the side. It was like the Rolls Royce of camping pads. In some ways I preferred it to a real mattress. The down side, sitting for a prolonged period in the evening and blowing into it to inflate. But the extra weight and time I viewed as worth it.

The CDT through this area is poorly marked, and you will not find sign posts helping out. It was a maze of forest, small hills and large open areas. I was out ahead hiking on my own on the first day and sat in a wooden throne on a lakeside. I ate some Doritos, and contemplated this next section. My habit would be to study the next ten to fifteen miles of map, and paint a visual picture of what it might look like and where I might turn. I would note things like how high the hill would be on one side and how far up it I would need to be to find my path. The details that can be gleaned from a map can be quite surprising with practice. If there was no trail, I would pick a landmark in the distance and walk towards it. If I could not see a horizon, I would take a bearing on my compass and just walk, combining it with the knowledge I would hike around a mile every twenty minutes. Later that day when the others caught up, Trackmeet in a detectives voice stated ‘Ben, I know it was you sat on the throne at the lakeside, there were dorito crumbs, ranch flavour to be exact, and I know that’s your flavour.’ … Busted. There was no denying.

We hiked on a way and came across one of the most ‘American B movie’ sounding areas I have been to in my life. The “US Sheep Experiment Station”. Like something out of a Sci-Fi movie gone wrong. Who knows what black sheep lurk around the trees. I didn’t see any sheep but can only presume in this area they were bigger, meaner and more inclined to eat meat than their smaller cousins elsewhere in the states. In this section trees became sparser as I hiked and so did the trail. Often disappearing for 5-10 miles at a time. I had to pay a lot of attention and found if I didn’t check the map I would become lost quickly, and trying to reconcile yourself with a map in high heat with little water becomes draining fast. I know the others had an easier time using their phone to navigate, but there is a sense of satisfaction knowing you can carry yourself through the wilderness without aid.

On the second day I was coming into a large open vista that sticks in my memory, I stood on the edge of a hill looking at the miles I had to cross. Lighting was striking the ground maybe fifteenth miles off to the North. I double checked the map. The clouds were moving in the direction of the opening I was eyeing up. If it struck while I was out there, there would be no shelter. But like everyone seems to say, you gotta get the miles in. So I proceeded. It’s admittedly quite insane to hike into something you know will happen. Having lightning striking the ground within a short distance really makes you question what your doing in the middle of a large, flat opening on your own.

I picked up my pace and started across the clearing. But my effort was for nothing as right in the middle rain began lashing down and lightning began to strike. There was a small depression of ground that dipped maybe four feet and I hastily pitched my tent and crawled in to shelter. I suddenly didn’t fancy the few miles to the other side and bunkered down like this felt slightly more secure. It was like mortar rounds dropping around me without warning. All I could do was sit and hope the shallow scoop and 15d nylon tent was enough to protect me from the million volts spasmodically striking the area around me. But just as quickly as it had come it was gone and within a quarter hour it went silent. I packed up my soaked tent and hiked on. These sort of quick hitting lighting storms happen daily in the Rockies and trying to hike a ridge from one end of the country to the other exposes you to a daily barrage of fear.

On my final day in this section I was dropping off the ridgeline from one valley to the next searching for water. Earlier I had noted on my map it looked like the last water would be a stream before climbing onto the ridge, and made a mental note to MAKE SURE I PICK UP WATER. I forgot when walking past it and carried on up the hill. Near the top I realised the mistake but it was a big hill and I didn’t want to turn back. This turned into a torturous mistake. From maybe five miles along the ridge I dropped a little way into one valley, hoping for water. Nothing. I climbed back up, I then dropped off the other side of the ridge into another valley, still nothing. I climbed back up, I was wasting so much time and effort for being lazy in the first instance. I dropped into one more valley, there was a slow trickle of water in a cow infested area. It had Giardia written all over it, but I did have a filter. I slowly filled two bottles as mosquitoes stabbed into my neck, face, and legs. Swinging to kill them and dumbly holding my breathe through the agony. When the bottles were filled I brushed myself all over and ran clear, climbing up the other side of this valley and back to the ridge. On the ridge I sat down to eat biscuits and relax. I had just wasted a couple of hours I didn’t need to. The sky was clear and sun beating down on this weary hiker.

Off in the distance I saw a hiker approaching, and I figured I would wait til they caught up. At the speed I’d been going I still didn’t think it was Spark, Trackmeet or Carrot. I waited, glad to be away from the pain of the valley. The hiker caught up with me. ‘Hi’,. I said. ‘Hey’ came the response. ‘I’m Tribhu, you must be Ben’. We talked about how he had been a little behind me for weeks. How every hiker he had spoken to told him an English guy was just ahead. It must be crazy hearing every day someone is just a hair whisker ahead of you. Like a shadow that can’t be caught. Then we talked about the next road crossing. On the map there was a star mark with the annotation to call a number and refer to ‘the star’ for a ride. The number given was the motel owner in the next town and he would gladly pick up a hiker in return for a nights stay in the motel. It was on the edge of an interstate and as such not a place to be hitching. Tribhu said ‘Well, I’m a pretty fast hiker but my girlfriend is going to be waiting for me on the roadside. If you hike fast enough you can have a lift into Lima(the next town/gas station)’. More than happy with the prospect of a ride instead of 10 mile road walk, I joined him.

It was a scorching day and I didn’t want to miss this ride so I laid the pace hard. At the end of the first climb I looked back down to him. A moment later he reached the top of the climb and said ‘ Whoa, I didn’t realise you could hike this fast, I haven’t met many other hikers that can do this pace’. I didn’t say it, but the truth was I was hiking so fast because I didn’t want to miss my ride. We carried on chatting over the next miles both focused on the next point of water. Marked as a trough in a valley, we made particular note of it as it’s where we would drop off the ridge line, and it would be the valley we walk out of. As we descended, the heat intensified and the ground became flat and barren. We hiked at a near jogging pace for many hours, I think averaging around 4mph. The time ticked slowly while maintaining focus on pace. I was dehydrated and it was a bit exasperating. By the time we hit the road I was done for the day. Officially the trail paralleled the road for a mile but I decided that was enough. I felt like I had run a marathon and said goodbye to Tribhu. I would cross the road and wait for a ride here. I was burned.

Twenty minutes later Tribhu pulled in with his girlfriend and gave me a ride after finishing the extra mile. The Motel we arrived at ten minutes later was cheap and cheerful. Not renovated since the day it was built, it was a time capsule to a gone era. I did a shop for food from the gas station then showered, watching pools of baked on dirt wash off in waves. I chucked my clothes into a washing machine and sat back, trying to focus on an old rerun movie that was playing on tv. A short while later Tribhu was at the door to tell me he would be taking the following day off with his girlfriend and I could have a day off too or see him further down the trail. I went to sleep and the next day feeling rejuvenated, decided to hike. Waking late I went into the reception, a friend of the Motel owner was heading back in the right direction but only half way. I was grateful for the ride and left a quickly jotted note on Tribhu’s windshield. I ended up walking about an extra 5 miles that morning and although I lost an hour and a half to it, I wasn’t concerned. I felt bedded into the trail and was at home in my world.

Hiking The CDT- Part 6- Chief Joseph Pass To Leadore (Bannock Pass)

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I arrived back at the pass, finished my beer and said goodbye to my ride. I walked a few miles up the trail til it petered out into unblemished forest. I pitched my tent in the light and ate my salad with ranch dressing. This was a peaceful evening and I was glad to have it. One thing I have barely mentioned to you so far this trip is my camping pad, which is the lightest inflatable camping pad in the world. It inflates with one breathe of air and rolls up smaller than a can of cola. It has a point of support for my head, my shoulders and my backside where it abruptly ends. Supporting only half my torso, my legs lie on top of my rucksack for warmth. There is little padding to it and it’s not great for a side sleeper, front sleeper or back sleeper. It’s more a token gesture to comfort. The pad features cut out patches marketed as ‘lofting areas’ for ones sleeping bag and comes in outdoor orange, the coolest of colours designed to attract those with a wallet and no common sense. In the first few days on trail my sleep is poor, and improves only a little after some warmer temps were encountered. When sleep is mildly hypothermic it is only mildly adequate, but the pursuit of warmth is main reason I could wake so early every morning without any complaints and start walking. The starting walking was also a painful experience though, with a little Plantar Fasciitus. My explosion to high mileage would begin to plague me more and more over the coming weeks. Too much too soon, but then again, I did, so it was not.

I hiked half of my first day in this section with a ridiculous dragon back ridge line rising and dropping hundreds of feet every half mile. It was a leg burner that forced me to stop at each high point, something I had not had to do on this hike til now. Reaching a small pass, lightening struck and thunder followed putting me off hiking over some high ground ahead. I pitched my tent to wait it out through a splatter of rain. Half an hour later I hear a ‘Hello’. Outside were three more hikers. Carrot, Spark and Trackmeet. I should also explain most hikers have trail names, nicknames if you will. The rule is you can’t pick your own. It has to be picked for you, and you have to accept it, it can’t be forced on you. The hikers I had met all tried numerous times to name me, but to their dismay I kept to Ben. The new hikers were also flip-floppers who had already hiked New Mexico, and invited me to join them. And so I did. The pace was faster and for the next few days I would hike with them most the time. Carrot was a famed writer and well known on the trail, but since I hadn’t heard the term thru-hike til a month prior I was non the wiser. They hiked in a very fluid and smooth manner. And when switchbacks became ridiculous and overlong, would walk straight down the hillside. It was like free-ride skiers. They navigated using a mobile app and when the trail meandered they would go straight. Sometimes this would work well, on others, the reason the path meandered became more obvious. It was a fun approach.

On one such point the trail came to be on one side of a crescent shaped valley, and we all could see where the path would end up on the other side. It seemed blindingly simple. If we descended a couple of hundred feet, walked across the valley floor and up the other side it would save a lot of time. Launching down we found the valley was full of old mining works and cabins long abandoned. On reaching the forest the line of sight was gone and it became mildly disorienting to walk on blind. The bushwack climbed steeply, then dropped on the other side of a rise to reveal a very steep shingle and dirt hillside. We had to climb this to rejoin our trail. Trainers could not kick into the hardened dirt of the hillside, and small stones would tumble down with each step. Falling onto hands repeatedly then moving like a lobster slowly up to slide a little more down. I used the spikes on my hiking poles, stabbing aggressively for the slightest grip. We traversed to the side and over steeper ground where a slip would have a sand paper rash at best, and cataclysmic at worst.  Reaching larger still loose stones, we delicately clambered up the remaining hundreds of feet to the top. On the other side of the valley we stood side by side. Except for Carrot. She was no where to be seen. We started shouting for her. It was an anxious moment. Had she been behind us? Did she get lost in the forest? Several hundred yards further along comes a faint response. On a seemingly near vertical part of the cliff, Carrot was half way up looking like she was free solo climbing. ‘Do you see which way would be best for me?’ she yelled. It was like waiting for teeth to be pulled, such was the tension. A fall out here wasn’t an option. Finding a small eroded gully she clambered up. At this point we had covered 30 miles in the day. The trail became relatively easy. We all felt good but hungry so went another five or so miles before sitting for supper and laughing at Carrot’s climbing epic.

The kind of views through a lot of this area

The final day after a lunch of ramen noodles with the guys, I was out ahead a little way on my own.  I had some cross country (without trail) walking on a compass bearing, the finish to the pass had the option of a forest walk or a sagebrush wack. I fancied the bush wack and soon found a glorious rash all over my legs which would result in puss-filled blisters later. It was a sore and unwelcome end to this section. I was also aware as I walked that this was probably a good place to come across rattlesnakes, and was hyper aware of each step. As I approached the pass I realised it could be a hard hitch into Leadore, Idaho. The pass was a dirt road and I had yet to see any cars during my few miles approach. Ten minutes later Trackmeet came out and joined me. There was no sign of Spark or Carrot but a pickup was rolling by and offered a ride and we didn’t want to miss it. In we hopped and rolled down to the town.

Leadore , ID
The skies out here are always really cool, with regular storms rolling over.

The town was small and mainly deserted, but with friendly locals and a welcoming gas station shop. A local farmer found what I was doing pretty cool and bought me a burger and fries to enjoy. After chowing down, Spark and Carrot arrived. The three said they were going into Missoula for a day off trail and invited me to join them. With the pain I had under foot a day off could be a welcome recovery. Within seconds of sticking thumbs out, a car filling with gas offered a ride. We could see the husband and wife have a conversation, then walk over and ask if we wanted a ride. Along with his wife and two kids he now had four hikers and their packs. With every inch of the vehicle occupied we set off . On route they pulled over for a quick spot of fishing he promised his kids he would do, and afterwards they even dropped us off at the house we were staying at. One thing the trail taught me was the kindness of people who knew what they offered couldn’t be repaid but still wanted to help. Back home in the UK I would often give hitchhikers a ride in and out of my local Lake District and never really questioned it. But to be on the receiving end of so much kindness so often is pretty incredible at restoring faith in humanity.

In town Carrot had a trip to the hospital and then we all went out for a binge on mexican food, ice cream, and a great BBQ place on the evening. Pictured here is me eating a family ice cream tub to myself, it said ‘great for sharing’ but I went all in and finished it off, I was already burning away my body at an incredible rate.

I want to highlight that while the writing is skinny in a lot of detail, the real detail comes later as I go more and more into my element. Each section of this hike is 100-180miles roughly from one pass to another. Each day my aim becomes to hike around 35 miles, I believe on many of these days I managed a little more. I aimed to carry around 4500kcals each day, but this isn’t enough for 12 hours of fast hiking with a pack. I lose weight with each day hiked, which then aids hiking even faster. In a month or so when I eventually weigh myself I get quite a shock.

Hiking The CDT- Part 5 – The Anaconda Pintler Wilderness

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I felt energised as I charged up the trail and over my first small pass of the day. Like a tuned machine with one purpose. I was given a set of hiking poles in Helena and it was like being given an extra set of legs. The speed I could climb at was phenomenal. If Glacier or the Bob was the starter, I was coming into the main course. The next days were hypnotic, crunching 10 miles before breakfast, a cup of tea, quick study of the map lining it up to the peaks around me then blasting away again. By lunch 20 or more miles down, by 4pm, 30 or more. I felt unstoppable. I had my limited music collection of around 15 songs on my mobile on repeat and how I came to know every word. I passed one other hiker doing a section hike over 120 miles.

The trail would wind up and down from one pass to the next, I was climbing thousands and thousands of feet every day. I loved it. One thing I should note is, the miles I was hiking were in fact higher than the miles I thought I was doing. The annotations on the maps included rough distances, but the author acknowledges they often are shy of the actual mileage by 10-15 percent. To my knowledge my days would have 34miles or so. In reality I believe I did more.

I felt until a few years ago I wasn’t particularly skilled at much in life until this scrappy bunch of maps landed in my hand while hiking in poorly marked out terrain and I was let loose. I felt more at home than I ever had before, like this was what my body was meant to do. Below me was Surprise View Lake and it was breathtaking. I figured I would have lunch here but the mosquitoes were intolerable. I hiked on, miles and miles on before I finally sat down for lunch that day. The evening also didn’t disappoint giving another fantastic lake to eat an evening meal by. I can’t remember all of the camps I did through here. It was sensory overload.

The second to last day I climbed into a burned out area after a lake and hiked my shoes off, the sun seemed to move incredibly slowly, and the trees had an eerie feeling. After hiking on my own for several days this beautiful area felt like something out of the Blair Witch. Was I hiking in circles? As the sun set shadows would dance, and I found myself hiking faster hoping to camp in a clearing. In the bottom of a valley ahead I saw my clearing. I always love coming across large meadows and while they aren’t the perfect place to pitch a tent, they are spacious and free. Being the first days camped completely alone, I still feared anything possibly resembling the sound a a grizzly in the night.

The final morning out I had a choice of the official route, or a more cross country route. The cross country route was more appealing as it featured a river and that meant I wouldn’t be thirsty. I came by a log cabin. I wasn’t aware of the date but it was around July 4. There was an old man with many dog residing there, I shouted from a long distance so as not to startle him and sat for a little while talking. He told me he served in Vietnam and fireworks bring back a lot of bad memories to him, so he prefers to be away from them around independence day. As such, he also takes his neighbours dogs as well every year and has a couple of days to himself out here in the quiet.  He also told me about the history of the area, the Nez Pierce Tribe, Chief Joseph, and the removal of tribe from land and subsequent 1170 mile chase by the US military before finally surrendering to terms that were never met.  I felt happy to have sat and chat for a half hour or so and learn about the area. It is shocking this was in 1877. Almost the modern world. It was refreshing to talk to someone not in a hurry.  He offered an orange but I turned it down. A second offer ensued, if he sees me at the pass, he would offer again.  I hiked on until I joined a well trodden trail, Then, picked up the pace again. A while later I came out at Chief Joseph Pass, moments later a pickup pulled over and the drive passed me an orange. I was glad he did. He informed me of the towns in different directions and offered a ride to the town of Salomon, but I already intended on the town of Darby and had a subsequent long wait. This was the Montana/Idaho borderline, and Idaho was not very receptive to outsiders, especially hikers that have no car. Most my day was waiting for a ride to and from the town, with many cars passing. It was probably the worst hitching place on the whole divide. I guess some of that is the luck of the draw. On the way back from Darby, a pickup gave me a lift and a couple of beers to drink on route.  Combined with the salad I packed it made for a nice evening back near the trail.

Hiking The CDT – Part 4 – Helena To Anaconda

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Back at the pass after a successful pit stop in Helena, Kathleen and I hiked on, starting early afternoon. At this point my feet were toughening up and developing thick callus. I ditched my uncomfortable hiking shoes and picked up a set of cheap trainers. With a new level of comfort we advanced. Most of this day was spent walking through thick forest, breaking into meadows, some old forestry trail long since disused and overgrown. Reclaimed by nature, the trail either wasn’t well marked or we just weren’t on it. At one point a tree on the other side of the valley fell and we were there to see and hear it. In the hundreds of years it had stood tall and grown, surviving storms, droughts, fires and weathering. In this blink of an eye it was gone., the last day of its long life. I would be on this earth for half its own life span if I am so lucky, of the thousands of trees over the thousands of years, that moment was its last and life goes on, just like mine one day will. I hope it left a good dent.

We were cutting across country on a rough bearing according to where we thought we should be on the map. It was a little cooler today and we went at a steady pace. We knew ahead of us somewhere was a hiker bubble. The ‘bubble’ is a main group of hikers much like a peloton in a cycle tour. One fact I hadn’t mentioned so far is all the hikers that started on the Mexican border and hike up to the San Juans in Southern Colorado had been stopped by high snowfall, but this stoppage coincided with the trail opening up enough at the Canadian Border, so many of the hikers did what is know as a flip-flop. A jump to another part of the trail, to start hiking South. We knew from the last trail log (a small ledger kept at trailheads, signed by everyone who passes) that the bubble was on this trail earlier in the morning. And we were likely to see them the next day. Kathleen hoped her two friends would be near by. We were taking a break at the side of a gravel forestry road close to sunset, and, while deciding which route to take, heard a shout from the brush beside the road. Another hiker was at down relaxing waiting for the bubble to catch up. Some how we had trimmed time by cutting across country and managed to get ahead of them. A few minutes later they arrived. We all pitched up inside the brush and sat chatting till dark. Waking the next day the whole group set off in a broken manner. After hiking til around mid day with some of the group, we came across Kathleen’s friends having lunch by the river. The next day was spent ambling along and chatting. I was running on solar power and my phone spent most the time dead so I didn’t get many photos of this section. I won’t start on the hassle with the roll up solar panel I thought was the solution to all my life’s problems, but in the next town would replace it with more suitable means. The penultimate day of this section, was known as the Anaconda Cutoff .

The Anaconda Cutoff, as in title, cuts off a large loop from the official trail, 90 miles to be exact off the 3100mile hike, and most CDT hikers opt for it. By opting for it you pass through the town of Anaconda. Which is a cracking small town with shops, motels and even a small bowling alley. Logistically easier but with the downside- a very long boring roadwalk for 15 or so miles into the town.

The walk was long and passes both a juvenile Penitentiary and a state prison, with signs warning not to pick up hitch hikers from the roadside. I imagine the look of a bunch of scraggly people hiking outside them causes nervousness among the locals. We approached the road section on the evening and a local informed us the campsite we were aiming for on the edge had closed down, and invited us to camp on his front lawn instead. The so called trail magic had struck again. I was quite surprised a stranger would show this kindness to a group of 8 hikers. I had more expected a pointed shotgun and ‘Get away from my property!’. The next morning we completed the trudge along the road and into town. First port of call- Mcdonalds. Everybody likes a good burger and a group of lean calorie consuming hikers are no exception. The bubble of hikers intended on spending the night in town but I knew a town stay would kill the bank and I was hungry for more miles. I did a shop for food and while I was on the pavement outside the store a police man came over and asked what I was doing. I looked near homeless, with a dirty shirt and mud-up shoes. I told him what I was attempting. “Wait here” he exclaimed before driving off. Ten minutes passed and he pulled back in. In a bag were maybe 10-15 dehydrated hikers meals, the kind that weren’t in my budget but sold at any good outdoor store for $5-10 dollars a piece. Having the option of scrambled eggs for breakfast, chilli con carne for lunch and a curry for supper was a real treat. He also gave me a fabric police badge from his precinct as a memento and a story behind the numbers on it with a reference to lawless times. Being something you cant just buy easily, its a favourite memento. I still have it.

  • the other hikers
  • the weapon of choice for a thruhike, a Big Agnes tent, weighing a couple of pounds
  • I love hiking through miles of open scenery

I said goodbye to the bunch and hiked off down the road to the start of the next range I would hike. This had a great feel, my legs sped along. It was another ten or so miles of road walking, which was interrupted by a local running out her house to give me an ice cream. I could get used to these surprises. I found the forestry trail that would lead onto my next footpath.  The target I picked for the night was a lake. I was glad not to be stopping in a town for a day off. Here is a rough equation, if I pay $70 for a motel room the night I get into town, $20 on breakfast, $20 on lunch, $35 on dinner, $70 more for the final night’s sleep then I’ve spent $215 for the 24 hour town stop as a minimum. A stop like that every 150miles on a trail like the CDT would be around an extra $4000. To hike a bit further and have a better chance of finishing my hike, more like it. I carried on climbing the 4×4 track until I passed a sign banning bikes and cars, from here it deteriorated significantly until I was smashing through brush knowing I must have taken a wrong branch earlier. But in words echoed eternally through the minds of many a hiker ‘Always push forwards’, and so I did.

Eventually I pushed far forwards enough to break through to the trail I was supposed to be on. As the sun began to dip I pitched my tent beside a lake, ate one of my new tasty meals, and zipped into my tent to sleep. I felt a little lonely that night knowing everybody else would be back in the town bowling and drinking the night away. It was also a strangely spooky place, I had bad vibes from it and didn’t sleep easy. It looked so idyllic when I had arrived, but as I lay I imagined this grassy constriction being visited by larger creatures in the night. But enough, tomorrow, I would start hiking big miles in a way I didn’t know was possible. It was time to let loose.

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The Place I pitched up for the night

Hiking The CDT – Part 3 – Lincoln To Helena

/ bens game / Leave a comment

On a Sunday morning we rose up and went to the roadside to hitch back up to the pass. It was quiet, with the odd car heading to church I guessed. Not many rides going for three people. It took an hour before a van pulled over and a gent told us to hop in. Dropping us at the pass we climbed straight up, thousands of feet til the vistas opened up. A beautiful day. Today each of us went at our own pace, with me out ahead. I sat on a rock for a while. Now, you might guess I’m about to paint a perfect picture, taking in scenery before me. But it is on this rock I left my first pair of sunglasses. A pair I bought from the gas station for $19.99, and honestly, I liked them. But didn’t like them enough to hike back 5 miles. Sod it, I would hike without. And how painful it proved on the eyes. I learned from this to make it so I couldn’t possibly lose another pair again, by using a bit of cord around the neck. I would have mocked it as a child but my how I now understood why people with glasses do it.

On we walked until the next pass over the road. Early in the day I sat and read the map waiting for the others. The maps- Now, over the years of people attempting to hike this trail a man called Jonathan Ley decided to make a downloadable version of them designed for A4 letterhead paper which we all have a printer for. On these map are annotated details, thinks like ‘spring located here’ which, when mainly following a ridgeline, is mighty handy to know and helps plan where your next water source is. Or contact details for local Motel owners willing to give a ride to the pass and back. At this particular point on the map where I sat the annotation said ‘this is the only water source for the next 18 miles’. I’ll be honest – I cant remember if that’s exactly what it said, but know it well, I filled up to capacity my 4 litres of water and let the others know.

As we walked I also told Oldschool and Kathleen that after the next town I planned on picking up the pace and trying for some bigger days. As my aspiration was growing but bank account was not. We finished the day camped at the roadside below the next climb. The next day would be one to remember.

At a time of year when one expects cool temperatures, Helena Montana was experiencing a heatwave. Up the mountain it was no different. It was scalding heat. Missing sunglasses was tolerable, but this heat was not. Combined with the heat was a 24 mile dirt roller coaster with no source of water, which doesn’t sound bad but it was. Lots of up and down, for mile after mile. With little in the way of respite. The issue with the continental divide is it tries to follow a dividing ridgeline. My dehydration was so bad my tongue would stick to which ever part of my mouth it touched, and pull off painfully when I tried to move it. Salt was crystallising all over my body and face. Down at Helena it was 38c (100f) and while it was a little cooler a couple of thousand feet up, it was no joke. We were aiming at a dot on the map marked as a spring. The hours ground by painfully. This was probably the worst dehydration I had ever experienced. Dust kicked off the path with every step. I was a long way past sweating, there was no water left to sweat out. When the spring came in to site it was joyous. I was ahead of the others and walked towards it confident in my saviour of a small puddle of water. Fenced off to prevent cattle contaminating it I climbed over and approached the boxed off cool water, cool fresh clean water, an ice cold beverage of mountain spring water which was… full of dead rodents. My heart sank. The lid to the spring was ajar, and inside many dead rodent, possibly squirrel like, but in their state, hard to make out. It was torture, the choice between this contaminated water, or dehydration. The others arrive. I showed both of them. Even with a filter it wasn’t a prospect I would look forwards to.

The next spring on the map was 5 mile further. After for how far we had walked, that isn’t far. But after a day of being dried out slowly by the burning sun. It was. Sometimes luck in life is low, but for us it changed so quickly. A couple on a quad bike in the distance were passing, we waved at them and they came over. Explaining our situation we asked if they had any water. They said no. But, the husband reaches over to the cooler box on the back of the quad bike. He pulls out an ice covered bottle of Cocacola. ‘We do have these though, and some fresh fruit on the ice’. If ever there has been a commercial worthy moment on the face of this planet, this was the moment. The planets had aligned.  I took the bottle….. Slowly unscrewed the cap. Paused, the condensation ran down the side onto my leathered hand. I held it up into the light to experience the translucent syrup in all its glory… turned sideways… and poured. At that moment, no one had ever experienced a more perfect silhouette of a man drinking ice cold heaven. Sounds good huh? In reality flies were buzzing around driving me insane and the Cola almost felt like a burning cold, I gasped for breathe and drank again. Man it was good. The couple gave us a mobile number and an invitation to their house when we made it to the pass for showers, food and laundry. What a day.

Feeling like a million dollars we hiked on into the evening. It started raining. Then came the lighting. I watched from the edge of the tree line, seeing it cracking across the sky and striking the field before me. The flat land between me and the next car ride. That was enough for the day. We went back into the trees a little way and pitched up for the night. Flashes bringing full illumination to the inside of my tent before reverting to blackness. I sipped a small amount of Black Velvet Whisky I had in my pack and went to sleep. This was a pass day, Oldschool was up in the dark and ready to go. These are the days you want to get into town early, enjoy civilisation to the max then get out by evening. We hiked on through down beautiful lanes the last 10 miles. Arriving at the pass we stuck thumbs out and moments later were on the way down again. This time riding in a pickup with a man shocked about the news of Caitlyn Jenner. Its funny five how years on I still remember that detail. Down in the town Oldschool told us he was taking some time off the trail, it had been a rough few days. The trail was living up to reputation. I don’t think it’s the trail itself that is hard, but the massive variation of extremes over such a long distance as a body is pushed hard. In the town, Kathleen rang the number we had and the wife came down with ice cold spring water from their home for us. Man, the simple things in life. We went to our new friends house, showered, had our clothes washed then headed back to the supermarket to resupply and go on. By this time over 400 miles into the hike and half of my intended hike I thought was possible. On the way over to the main road we passed a bunch of kids selling fresh lemonade, which in the heat couldn’t be more welcome.

Maybe this whole hike is just about making cold drinks taste better than ever.

Hiking The CDT- Part 2- The Bob Marshall Wilderness

/ bens game

Back in the Hostel in East Glacier I was having a day 4 off. I was sat around other hikers and being given useful but not useful unconfirmed facts like ‘the Bob’ has the highest population density of Grizzly Bears anywhere in the lower 48 states. But this wasn’t the concern, the concern was that now the easy part was over, the real trail begins, the reason the CDT had its reputation. The Bob Marshall Wilderness section covers approximately 200miles of trail. For hikers that planned it, you can mail a package to a ranch at around mile 160 that will collect if from a town and hold it for a fee, but I hadn’t planned thus didn’t have the luxury. I would have to carry enough food for 200miles. 200miles, over 8 days that would be 25 miles a day. Food for 8 days. in hydrated food around 2kilo a day (the weight of a 4500kcal ration pack, which i wouldn’t be using, but it was a good point of reference) or 16 kilos for the 8 days.  33lbs of food. That didn’t seem reasonable. I needed to do more miles. Having just done that kind of mileage through glacier park at over 30 miles per day, it seemed doable. I would aim for 6 days through ‘The Bob’. 33miles per day.

This seemed like a fun kind of challenge, a bet which had me pitting myself against nature. The weight of my bag when packed was heavy, but I streamlined and scraped away every possible gram. The clothes I arrived with, gone to the hiker box, the extra wrapping from food, gone, and just enough fuel to get to the next town.  Oldschool asked what I planned on doing about resupply and after telling him my plan we agreed to hike together. At this early point I was already thinking beyond the first 800 miles I set myself the challenge of hiking. My intended daily mileage had just doubled from 18 per day to 33. Early in the morning while the others in the hostel slept we crept out the door and headed for the trail. Inside the National park the trails are well marked and mostly maintained. Outside, the maintenance drops. It gets wilder.

The day off allowed my feet to recover fully and we were motoring along at a steady pace, we picked a crossing over the highway as our place to have a break, 15 to 20 miles down the way. Marked with a large spire memorial to Theodore Roosevelt. Here we met a small group of hikers already having lunch that set off the evening prior. We hiked together a few miles before one in their numbers decided she wanted to cross the bob faster and so joined us. 185 miles to go. Hotsprings, our new hiker called herself, was also aiming to hike the divide and liked the slightly faster pace we were at. The first few miles were pleasant, after which, for maybe 10 miles we crossed the same river maybe 20-30 times. Each time the shock of icey water stabbing into our feet. The crossings were  interspersed with meadows that were alive with birds and fresh air. Towards the end of the first day we chanced upon a cabin, a trail worker had taken up residence in ready to start clearing downed trees from the winter. I enjoyed chatting with him but as the sun began to fade we headed off to find a camp of our own. When travelling in bear country there are three options for camping and food storage. First is a bear canister, a great way to store food, screw the lid on, place it a small way from your tent and your done. Simple, but it takes up space and adds a kilo or two to your pack. Second is a bear bag and cord for hanging it in a tree, my chosen method. Its light, cheap, sometimes easy. What they don’t mention is when it is darkening, and you try to find a tree high enough and with a limb wide enough to be out of reach of a bear, your options are not plentiful and often non existent, taking precious time you wish you were off your feet. Time after time I chucked a small stick with my cord attached high into the tree, only for it not to clear the branch. Or get nervous about how close to the tree the bag was, or worry about the bear knocking the cord from the small tree it was tied off to. After what felt like an hour of attempted hanging, I crawled into my sleeping bag and started dreaming of a bear running off with my food.

We woke in the morning and hiked on, miles and miles up and down valleys twisting and winding, clambering over downed trees, deciding which route to take. We started hiking through an area of burned forest, which is pretty at first, but gets tiring and provides little shade from a burning sun. I still had my ice axe and crampons in pack just in case but in the baking heat it felt ridiculous carrying these useless lumps of metal. This day was mainly uneventful, coffee breaks, hiking, river crossings until I came across a mobile phone off in the grass to the side of the path, still charged but without its owner. Towards the end of the day while still in the burn area, we opted to camp on a small island in the middle of a river crossing giving us a safe distance from potential falling trees. I wonder what could have happened to the owner. Likely being a thru hiker I could post it on a hiker forum when we get out. Tonight we used the third option of food storage and least advised, sleeping with it in the tent.

DCIM100ATC9K

In the morning we carried on through the burn and as the valley narrowed we came to what appeared to be an abandoned ranger station, except, there was a tent on the porch, it wasn’t a reach to imagine this tent with a hiker on the trail in front of us could have lost a mobile being used for navigation. ‘Hello!!’ I shout expectantly, hoping not to startle. The response came back and a minute later there stood Kathleen, I discovered she had entered the wilderness a few days before us hiking with a couple of friends, lost her phone, ran back to find it saying she would catch up in a day and walking miles back and not finding it, and not sure which way her friends went, opted to stay put with an educated guess more people will pass. Extremely happy her phone was back she opted to join us and we shared a little food to help top her supplies up. Not a lot, but a token of help. Now we were four. She packed up and our procession carried on. We climbed up and up to Switchback Pass, legend has it there are 99 switchbacks (zigzags to make the ascent easier). I’ll be honest, some of the switchbacks went uphill on the downhills and were a little infuriating when you hike a half mile and finish 20 yards from where you started. I was hungry by the bottom, the pointless turns ground at me as I imagined how far down the trail I could have been otherwise. Five miles on was a station where we had a small fire and washed in the river. It marked the next camp and the start of a bad habit sleeping with food in the tent. I told myself  it was reasonably safe, with each days food being divided into ziplock bags and then packing into a rolled up drybag it was reasonably odour proof. Maybe the bears will be offended by my smell before they ever smell the food.

I hadn’t been paying any attention to mileage too much, just knowing walking dawn till dusk would be enough to fulfil the feat. I did notice hiking in a bigger crowd of people, the pace slows significantly. I kept walking ahead on my own, then relaxing and waiting for the others to catch up. I enjoyed this and feel it gave a lot more space to enjoy the wilderness at its own level but still be social. The next day we climbed a pass and stopped by a lake for lunch. I went ahead and dropped over to the Chinese Wall, a spectacular 12 mile cliff with lush green meadow at its foot.  Lots of wild cat prints make me keep an eye over my shoulder. I waited for the others at the other end then we dropped down the valley, down and down thousands of feet as we exited the wilderness area. Camping beside the river I stretched out, feeling it a little in my back. We were 10 miles short of the 160mile ranch.

This was day five and right on track we arrived near the ranch mid day. Meaning if we kept pace by tomorrow evening we would be in a town eating good food. The potato, chocolate, and oats diet gets a bit bland, and even the odd bite of beef jerky still leaves me feeling empty. The small forest carpark we spilled out onto would be the end of the hike for many, but we start climbing the next valley up and up. We also left behind Hotsprings, who was having foot problems and I would bet was relieved to be somewhere she could stop. Wishing I had something tasty to eat consumed a lot of my thought process as the climb carried on. This section I didn’t take too many photos, but I had fun, As the light dulled we pitched up and were done, safe in the knowledge the next day would have less than 25miles. By mid afternoon my shoulders could take off the pack.

Day Six- the heat, Oh the unrelenting heat, and the pointless ups and downs, who made this trail? Why are we going over every single bump?  This time Oldschool was ahead after getting up earlier, leaving me and Kathleen to catch up the rest of the day, we felt sure he would be around the next corner at every bend but somehow was burning the miles quicker than we could. We arrived at the pass and stuck our thumbs out. Within a few minutes a ride drove past, then on noting us drove past again, then finally on the return stopped. ‘I was trying to decide if I should or not?’ we hopped in. It was a student who was pretty high and proudly blasting Pulp through the stereo when he realised I was British. Down we sped in the town. Oldschool was already waiting and relaxing. I went into the gas station and bought a large Cola, drinking it in seconds. For some reason the water had started tasting bland in the mountains. Every sip I had was sucked through a micro filter screwed onto the water bottle, and it was effort. But the CocaCola flowed free! I was keen to get resupplied and going back to the pass, but Oldschool was pretty burned. We sorted a motel room between the three of us for around 30 dollars, I took the floor. I hadn’t planned on any town stops after East Glacier, my budget was a shoe string. It felt good knowing the longest section of hiking was over though. No other section was 200 miles.

Could I hike this whole trail?