Hiking The CDT- Part 16- Wolf Creek To Chama

12 May 2020 / bens game / Leave a comment

Setting off from the hunter’s camp, I told Beads I would probably see her at a lake in around 30 miles to camp at and went ahead. The trail wound around rugged peaks on a grassy plateau before dropping into a deep forested valley. The climb out the other side felt steep though in retrospect probably wasn’t too bad. My stamina was dropping daily as the half dose of antibiotics worked it’s way out of my system. I rounded over the top of the mountain and in the next valley came across a hiker. The first thing I noticed about him was what he was wearing. Full waterproofs, zipped up head to toe. It was a pretty mild day, I was in shorts and a T shirt. I thought ‘man he must be warm’. As he came closer I noticed his pack more. It was huge. You could park the titanic in the main pouch and that would just cover the tip of the iceberg of what was in that pack. Then there was the extra attire. He was sporting a bear grylls style black and orange machete, worn stylishly on the waist. ‘Hows it going?’ I asked as he sat down to pass out. ‘This is hard work’ he explained as he unzipped his waterproof to reveal the fleece below, while sweat dripped from his brow. The sales man at an outfitters had definitely seen him coming. He told me he was hiking the Colorado trail from Chama (the next town along) and I can’t remember how many days he said he had been on trail for, but I was slightly alarmed. I wondered if he knew how far he had to go. I suggested he take off the waterproofs to be a little cooler and walk with as few layers as possible. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he should probably ditch everything to increase his odds of surviving the next days…or weeks.

Arriving at a beautiful blue lake surrounded by trees on a saddle, I decided the day was still young enough and this wasn’t the place to stop. Scenic as it was I kept going. Ominous clouds built in the sky once more as I studied the map. I reached a point where to go further would keep me on high ground for the next fifteen miles at least. The thunder clouds grumbled at me as I rose up the next climb. I decided to keep going, noting a tarn I could drop to in another five or six miles if things got bad. Needless to say, they did, and I found myself sprinting off the edge of a mountain once more. With the sky darkening I dropped to Green Lake. Once again a little off route. Arriving at the lake as electric cracks shattered the sky over head, I found a sign saying ‘no camping’ at the lake. I don’t know what they would have advised a single hiker arriving alone at dusk in a lightening storm to do, but I walked a short way from it and pitched up. Within moments, heavy hailstones started and the wind picked up as the back of my tent buffeted down onto me. I will be honest and say I was not convinced the tent would hold up to much more. I held my foot against the top of the tent in an effort to stop the supporting pole from breaking. Soon it became cold even inside my sleeping bag. I began contemplating that I might have to get dressed and walk all night to avoid hypothermia if the tent broke. The lighting seemed to settle over the small valley I was in and stay there. Over this hike it seemed most the time lightning struck inside a valley, it would restrict itself solely to the valley. In retrospect, maybe I would think twice about constantly sprinting into valley’s each time a storm appeared.

This was a long night. I was tired, and a bit fed up. Ten or fifteen minutes would pass then another huge strike would light up the tent. I put in my earphones to try to block it out, but it wasn’t much of a help. I had no concept as to whether the strikes were getting closer or further away, but I remember feeling that each strike might be my last. During the day in these high areas you walk past hundreds of trees and one in every so many would be a lightning struck tree, destroyed and charred. A daily reminder that lightning can strike anywhere, and it is a frequent and dangerous event. Later I found out from some locals that during this storm a motorcyclist had gotten off his bike at the top of a nearby pass to take a photo and was struck dead.

The next morning I woke to scattered clouds and the calm sort of forest you might seek out for a day’s hike. There was a small path that had led down into the area I had camped in, but it went back the way. I hiked to the south side of the valley and scrambled my way up the large rocks on the other side. I walked out across the hill til I found the path I should be on. I knew Beads would be a long way behind, but when coming across my muddy footsteps in the trail after seeing none the past miles, would be confused where I had come from. The trail slowly wound around and down towards Cumbres Pass. A sign on the ridge warned of dangerous snow conditions here in winter times. I would bet the original north bound hikers would come to this and think twice about proceeding. Nobody wanted to post hole, and nobody wants to be buried alive in an avalanche. I arrived at the pass early morning and started walking down towards the town of Chama. There weren’t many cars passing and I figured the descent into New Mexico was a welcome one. The temperature would warm the further I went. I wouldn’t have to suffer through cold nights any more.

My walk down was long and I arrived much later in the afternoon than I had planned. I had a 50/50 mentality for the the next section and would need more maps to advance. My hike now hinged on it. I spent an hour walking around to find a computer, eventually coming to the local library and printed out my new maps. They were black and white and low quality. This posed a problem. I printed them as far as ghost ranch, the next stop, hoping the resort could help. I booked into a motel and sat on the bed trying to decipher them. Imagine all the contour lines, forests, rivers, roads and any other features on a map being grey and pixelated. I had a pen to try to highlight what should have been a red line for the trail, but couldn’t. The maps were useless. A short while later I received a text message from Beads. She was in a bar down the road and wondered if I was still in the town. I walked down to join her. She had this one last section to hike for her trail to be finished, but would be taking a few days off at Ghost ranch first with more friends and I would probably cross her walking the other way in the next days. She split the motel room with me and headed off the next day morning.

I carried on my search in the town for a better quality map, before eventually giving up. I was at a little bit of a loss. I could have asked to join Beads, but wanted my route to be a continuous southwards line. I knew that many hikers had walked the road here coming north from Ghost Ranch to avoid snow so there was a possible way south. I called the ranch and asked if they had a computer and printer I could use and they informed me they had a reasonable quality system I could use as well as cheaper camping for CDT hikers and good food. The dullest alternate on the CDT. A dry roadside for 45 miles. But it would keep me going and get me back on trail. At least on a main route I wouldn’t have the worry of running out of water.

Hiking The CDT- Part 12- Rawlins To SteamBoat, CO.

4 May 20204 May 2020 / bens game / Leave a comment

Tribhu and I hiked out of Rawlins in the afternoon early August. Hot, dry and ready for miles. The initial route we followed was a roadwalk up and out of the town. The road went from smooth asphalt to rough gravel. We hiked until dark and pitched up a short walk from a reservoir. We had enough water til morning and this was supplemented by a small amount of rain during a thunderstorm. I held my cup to the bottom side of my tent flysheet while in bed and waited for it to slowly fill. It must look a little odd to drivers on this road (albeit a gravel road) seeing tents at the side, but we were not bothered by anyone and not many cars passed. The map had noted the area didn’t have much water and this would be the start of a long and unexpected day.

In the morning we walked over to the reservoir and Tribhu walked in away from the aquatic vegetation to get a little water. We soon discovered it was unpleasantly salty but after checking the map noted a place named ‘Deadman springs’ was a few miles further. You might in similar circumstances walking to find water, question why somebody would name a spring ‘Deadmans’. The answer became apparent on arriving. We found no water was here, but rather a dried out river bed. Dehydrated once again we walked on a short way to see a section of road tunnel off to the side with water in the bottom of the corrugated steel tube. Not being too picky about where water would come from at this point, we scraped it up with Tribhu’s water bag, filtered and drank. There wasn’t a lot of water to be had, and initially disturbing it kicked up a lot of dirt until the clean looking puddle turned mud bath. There was no point in clogging the filter so on we hiked. We came across a stream of clean flowing water at the roadside and loaded up. Five miles down the road we discovered our last batch of water was also incredibly saline. It made for a disappointing first swig and I poured mine back out on the floor. We kept hiking.

The sun rose high and we headed towards a sure water source on the map we knew should be good. I could almost have ran to the small narrow pool of water in relief. After filling up we eyed a road workers skip on a large gravel car park that would make good shade. We sat down around lunch with our backs to it, drank plenty and ate. A car pulled in belonging to a road worker and stopped for his lunch. But upon seeing us, seemed disturbed and moved off with haste. Quite honestly so would I. We were covered in dust, dirty, scraggly shirts, holes in shoes, presumed homeless or similar. We had a good laugh from it before moving off. Never do so many people look so homeless, but spend so much money to achieve something like a thru hike.

The next day after camping in pleasant forest we had a 16 mile descent to the next pass. This would be a quick town stop getting the basics. It did give time for a burger and beer, but for no more than an hour. Kirsten was there to pick us up and drop us off. She put in a lot of hard work over these months to Tribhu and every hiker she helped. Arriving back at the pass we moved up into the forest heading for Steamboat, Colorado. This was exciting. Rumour had it as soon as you pass into Colorado the trail system becomes immaculate. Perfect switchbacks, wide trail, great views. The reality was not quite this. It looked the same. It felt the same. But there was a cool Colorado vehicle registration plate at the state line. The trail here linked some forestry roads with single track. On our penultimate night we camped high in a small cluster of trees. We watched a thunderstorm cross the sky that came to settle over us. We questioned our precarious position on the mountain. Our dainty cluster of trees didn’t seem much protection. A larger cluster back down the way seemed better, but with rain beginning we decided to stay put. The lightening here was terrifying. The strikes weren’t frequent, but maybe every twenty minutes there would be a supersonic boom that would shake through my core. The silence that followed broken by only by the fresh rain as it splattered on the tent. You could feel the deadly energy building. In a house or car you feel secure, and in a normal person’s day you could just avoid going out into an electric storm. But here, it was not enjoyed but rather endured. It seemed to strike both above and below us, down at the cluster of trees we had considered the safer option. The next morning we climbed the last hundred or so meters to the summit to find another couple of hikers had camped on the summit in a much bolder position between small outcrops. ‘It wasn’t a great night really’ they informed us . Later that day we saw what we believed was a wildcat, shooting from a meadow to trees and vanishing. Arriving at the pass we waited for Kirsten. We actually overshot the pass and ended further down the road but hey, that’s life.

Late afternoon in the town we put an add on the thru hikers Facebook page asking if anybody knew of cheap accommodation in town, and it was responded to moments later from a house tucked up in the trees. Thru hikers had been stopping here all summer, they had plenty of spare bedrooms and a family feel to the place. It was a fun lodge and I loved the layout. If I ever build a house, it shall be to this kind of style. Tribhu and Kirsten had friends to meet in boulder the coming weekend and would set off in the morning to hike the next section. After discussions each day while hiking he also offered to get me a new sleeping bag. He was shocked and appalled by the fantastically cold one he resented I used. I gave him a couple hundred dollars and said I would be stopping at the hostel one night in Grand Lake when I go through. I had opted to stay at the cabin an extra day instead of hike. We guessed that by the end of his quick overnight to Boulder, he could drop it off there for me before he carries on. I thanked him and accepted in my mind I would be alone the rest of the hike. I was a long way ahead of any other hikers now. I don’t know if it was the warm sound of vinyl records, the comfortable seats or the large dinner table all the strangers would sit around together. But it felt good here. I wanted to repay the people who had opened their home to us, I felt a lot of thru hikers had stopped here over the summer and some probably had taken advantage of a free house. I descended into the town, filled several bags with food in the supermarket and came back up to cook them a meal. They insisted I didn’t cook alone. That evening we and a few of the neighbours had a true feast. They made me the offer of staying longer if I wanted, but I that had been the end of many a poor hiker’s trail, right here. One of the occupants had turned up earlier in the year after starting his hike, and also found it too enticing. Several months later he was busking in the town each day and smoking weed here every night.

I moved on in the morning. I discovered the worst place to hitch in the world is probably Steamboat, Colorado. Hikers have a saying: ‘shiny people in shiny cars’. Steamboat is quite a wealthy skiers town, and it’s usually (but not always) older cars that give rides to strangers. I feel too many people have watched too many scary movies to understand why someone is at the roadside. Eventually, maybe two hours later, a new car did stop, possibly one of the only cars that would. A fellow that would be working for the Continental Divide Trail Coalition. The group that promotes the trail, works to secure access where the trail didn’t officially exist and generally is a positive force for the wilderness. He gave me a lift to the pass and I was off. I had spent a lot of money and before leaving the town checked my balance found my credit card was at least £1000 down. I accepted I might not have the funds to make the end of the trail but wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t. I wouldn’t bust myself through this next section but I would enjoy each day to the full.

the piece of paradise in an otherwise uninviting ski town

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

30 Apr 2020 / bens game / Leave a comment

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 5 – The Anaconda Pintler Wilderness

27 Apr 202027 Apr 2020 / bens game / Leave a comment

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

26 Apr 202027 Apr 2020 / bens game / Leave a comment

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.

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.

2015-07-03_21-33-13_358 — The Place I pitched up for the night

Valle De Los Halcones

6 Dec 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

Once upon a time when I started this trip I was like a lone wolf, bounding across the meadows and mountains.. Then I met Karli, and we were two misfit wolves driving across the desert and mountains. Then Chris and Nicole came along, and we were a pack of wolves looking for bad ass climbs….

Knowing the Suesca main crag would be busy We decided to concentrate a weekend on the Valle De Los Halcones. According to the guidebook the land was private and all the bolts on the area had been cut off by the land owner due to climbers making a mess. Fortunately for us an American and another English lad, Jason and Sam, were living in Suesca and said we could park at their house right on the edge of the valley and they knew the land owners. They invited us to talk to them and after a brief few minutes of talking Chris had made it clear we would be careful and take everything out we brought in. The owner permitted us to enter the valley for 2000COP each (about 60cent each or 40p).

We grabbed our packs and headed over the rise into the valley. It felt nice to have a short walk in again. Despite going running most mornings including this one the small rise had me breathing hard. It could have been the pack of climbing gear and a 6 litre bottle of water and the 9000ft elevation, but hard work felt hard.

Entering the valley was like entering a lost world. Crazy knowing a mile away were hundreds of people climbing on top of each other. We walked around a while and found a big slab worthy of a play. All the bolts had been cut or removed so we ran a rope to a boulder further back and set up a top rope for the morning.

The start of the problem was hard. Real hard. First I tried, then Chris, then Karli, we all failed. The crimps were too small and shoes just weren’t holding. Nicole came next and some kind of witchcraft happened, she just cruised to a higher point. But was again stumped. The line was hard. Not being dismayed we all took a turn overcoming the hard part with some aid and climbed higher. The top 2/3rds of the boulder were awesome. Small crimps combined with good footholds and a couple of flake holds leaving a dyno to the top for a rounded edge.

We took it in turns going for the top. I took the chance while not on the rope to run around to the top and lean over to get these shots.

sequence of climbing to falling. quite cool I think

After a while and getting the whole sequence linked we moved further down the valley to relax while climbing up and down some vertical/slightly overhanging but easy crag. At the end of the day we were all pretty beat and cold and headed back to town for 60cent beers and soup.

With thanks to Das_Karlo, Burritocharmer and Olas_y_montanas.

Trad Climbing in Suesca, Colombia

26 Nov 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

So. In prep for some bigger mountains, I’ve started teaching Karli how to trad. She can sport climb already, so its been quite good progress, the past week has been spent around Suesca, Colombia. Camping at around 9400ft which is a nice gentle bit of acclimatisation for Cocuy National Park. We have been running and climbing each day. By that, I mean climbing some, and thinking of running; then not.

Ive been teaching Karli how to place gear, build anchors and safely rappel. She led her first multi pitch, approx 250ft, a good solid 5.7 (American grade) with some interesting features- 35meters up an interesting clean corner, a 15meter run out on a traverse without any protection, and a nice steep 40 meter corner to climb with bomber protection. A great fun route .

topping out

view down from the second belay ledge

red line is the route with green indicating anchors we used

We have been camping up the hill on the far side of the valley, in an old dissused quarry big enough to hide the car from weather with great views back the way too, nice sunsets, lightning storms and best of all its free.

top of route after Karli’s first multi pitch route and lead.

top of another three pitch route

coiling rope after a good day out

the end of the traverse before going straight up.

The weather has held up great and we have been ticking lots of simple routes. Below is a picture of Karli gasing the wildlife with arms raised, poor squirrels, didn’t know what hit em’. Lunch has been from a local restaurant costing about 3 dollars to feed and water both of us with soup, and a plate full of chicken and rice and veg and fresh juice. The roof tent has been building a nice sweaty climbing shoe aroma after a week of not washing. We are back in Bogota for a weekend off before another week or so of climbing in Suesca and running in the evenings before the ambition grows. After the restrictiveness of Central America nearly sending me crazy with cabin/car fever being confined by rain, high entrance fees and every local sticking out a hand wanting money, South America is starting to become really good fun and re-establish why we are on this trip.

higher up her first trad lead

placing prot.

practicing rappelling from bolts

small way up another route

the view

the sunrise

Central America

26 Nov 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

So….. Central America. A lot has happened since I last wrote in Honduras, we have been through Nicaragua where we hired motorcycles to zoom around Ometepe, this was very touristy but going to the far end of the island we found a small hostel among where the locals live where that was reasonable, we went kayak touring one morning and I was pee’d on by a monkey in the trees above I got too close to. Lots of wildlife, spiders, creepy crawlies. We did a few smaller hikes, up to waterfalls. A night visit to an active volcano and plenty of driving miles. We visited an old fort where gorillas were imprissoned (people, not the animals). The Nicaraguan police were corrupt as expected. I can’t blame them, i am told they earn $250dollar per month. On one day we had a policeman step out onto a carrige way to flag me down as he saw the foreign rich car approach, I drove around him and carried on. Later that day another police officer did manage to flag us down to inform us we performed an illegal manouver and would have to pay a fine. Fortunately for us he spoke no English and we played the dumb tourists for 15minutes till he waved us away. I think every overlander going through Nicaragua has had a similar experience.

Volcano in Nicaragua

I’ve heard of some officers that will play a waiting game for hours until their bluff is called asking for a senior officer to come at which point they say its no problem, carry on. I found it novel going to a big market one day where all the produce was ‘locally made by family’ but was identical through out the rest of central america and had an authentic chinese look about it. After Nicaragua came Costa Rica, the price of everything went up driving over the border. National parks charging up to 32dollars to camp the night. Bare in mind the most expensive American National Park I visited, cost about 30dollars for a week, or less if you camp in the back country. I imagine the prices are so high because mainly tourists come for one week holidays and have come too far to say no.

The river picture is a hot spring, or rather there is an expensive touristy hot spring just up from this point for about 40dollars per visit, which heats the river to a nice warm bath right below for free, complimented by the cooling rain from above. A great place to chill for a few hours. To the right is a free camp place by a lake, with me stringing out a tarp to collect rain water. Supermarkets seemed to charge a great deal for bottled clean water. Due to the cost of central, we made the decision to gun it for Colombia. Onto Panama.

We didn’t have too much time in Panama, just over a week before shipping the vehicle by container. We found some free camping and a bolted crag (cliff) local enthusiasts cleaned up. A nice couple of days falling repeatedly on routes. Just outside Panama City was a nice high camp that was cool enough to go running from in the morning.

climbing the basalt formations in panama

the container was shared with a couple of overlanders to reduce cost. this is the colombia end,.

loading Karli into the container, i tried to pay the shipping agent to lock her in there, reasoning she had food and water, they didn’t buy it

flying panama to Colombia

me running one humid morning up a hill near Panama City. A nice cool camp high up

Now we are in Colombia And the world has opened up again. Instead of paying to climb a volcano, its just a small park entrance fee. Instead of the compulsary guides, they are optional. There is free camping, decent stores, cheap food in restraunts and supermarkets. Im getting psyched. Near by there are big mountains over 5000m , snow, cool temperatures, unlimited climbing and nights of sleep where i don’t have to sweat.

This week I was particularly psyched about a decathlon store for cheap clothing. I think Karli is getting sick of the same pair of shorts I have been wearing since we started the trip. They have gone from black to faded grey.

Next blog – trad climbing- it should be more interesting from here.

A Grand Day Out

4 Sep 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

I thought the hikers diet of pop tarts was over, I thought I wouldn’t go back to that life style again, but I was wrong. If anything Karli has forced my diet to deteriorate even more. Poptarts, donuts, tornados, corndogs, really anything I can get my mitts on.

Last night we dropped down into the Grand Canyon from the South Kaibob Trail. Around 5000ft of descent. During the day the temp is around 42c which makes this too hot to descend with any rational mind. I watched others hiking up in it nearly passing out carrying empty flasks, not nearly enough mid day. I felt sorry for them, but knowing I was only carrying a half litre down myself to get to the bottom, couldn’t spare any. The river at the very bottom is the only water station on this route (carrying of a filter required). We set off at 3pm, and as we went down the burning sun started to cool. I wasn’t expecting such a good trail, wide, smooth and all the things a good trail is. We initially planned (in the loosest sense of the word, we actually just walked into the ranger station and picked up a free map) to do the Rim to Rim to Rim overnight. But upon reaching the river, we became a bit lazy, justifying only one descent by saying how busy we would be in the coming days, a first.

feet up

the last few miles out the canyon

moon lit sky

colorado river

we took these sandwiches on route, by the canyon bottom they were a over heated gloopy pasty mess

about 1500feet of canyon in view

ridgeline down the first half

explorer stance

After a while chilling by the river, and as the sun set we set off back up the canyon. Most the way up the moon shone bright and there was no need for head torches which was a relief as my battery warning light was flashing. On route there were beetles, scorpions, tarantulas and other weird insects. We drove a few miles out the national park then crashed out down a forestry lane.

about half way down

2/3 the way down

Karli on Black Bridge over the Colorado River

I have a fear of wasps, not a needless fear, but they sting me every few years when I let my guard down, I am always the victim and it is never provoked. This morning I was nearly a victim again. There is a hole in the roof tent we cannot cover (this aids in the closing of it). The wasp got in through the hole and decided not to leave through the un-meshed window. I protected myself as best possible by covering myself with my sleeping bag while instructing Karli to get rid of it. Climbing yes, Kayaking yes, snowboarding yes, winter mountaineering yes, I’ll take any without fear. But these tiny merchants of doom should be exterminated, I have no place in my life nor love for them.

We are now in California now, finding somewhere to camp the night. The next few days should have lots packed in.

A change of Direction going the right way

2 Jul 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / 2 Comments

leading the parade

the 2nd flat

1st flat

choice of teepee or wagon to stop in in ovander for the night

4th july parade, with free beer, beef jerky, and lots of red white and blue

lovely family that gave me lemonade from a home made stand

resupply-the food of a hiker biker

my home, office, transport and leisure for the next months

crosses that line the road at the scene of accidents, a reminder of how dangerous roads can be

camp out just before helena

So, I was heading back to the trail Via Amtrak when i bumped into an old friend Lucky Larry; and was inspired. Instead of hiking the whole divide, Why not cycle the great divide and climb the interesting parts? With the increased daily mileage so fewer days= less food, a bicycle would pay for itself by Mexico (Is what i have told myself)

This idea was in the back of my mind as i hitched from East Glacier to Browning towards where i left off. At Browning after a couple hours waiting, with not many cars passing, a young guy pulled over called Skyler. He agreed to driver me and after a small diversion I decided to stop the night in Lincoln. On route Sky said he wanted to hike up a pass we were going over. We pulled in at the top of the pass, he goes to the boot and pulls out some trainers.

‘I found these at the hostel, can you believe someone would chuck them away’.

I was surprises to be staring at the trainers i chucked away in East Glacier which caused my feet so much grief through the snow and subsequently a week off trail. This was a entertaining twist. After the climb it was pretty much settled I might as well go back to Missoula to buy a bicycle. Sky gave me a lift in and breakfast in his awesome self built trailer house. At 9am I started searching the town for a bike, and towards the end of the day was getting desperate to find the spec i wanted at an affordable price, everywhere I went had just sold out, or had the wrong frame size. Sarah and Josh put me up again for the night and the next morning I met a guy from a bike shop to buy a used bike that was perfect. My steel framed machine of speed, mechanical discs, 40mm tyres(with space for a little more), wide drop bars. I set off around lunchtime and cycled around 50mile to Ovander, stopped briefly by a flat tyre from a piece of hard wire. In Ovander they welcome cyclists with open arms and contribution based accommodation($5), I opted to spent the night in a trailer with a comfortable mattress and grab a burger in the bar.

Saturday morning i cycled into Lincoln to join the great divide mountain bike trail, as I arrived in the town the street were lined with people, I presumed they were all there to greet me and send me on my way, but to my disappointment found they were actually getting ready for the 4th July parade in a few minuted time. So i took my place among the ranks and waited. The parade started and within a minute was handed free beer and beef jerky. Sweets were chucked to the children and the streets lined with red white and blue, cowboy hats and solid boots. I talked with the locals for a while then tried to set off. Across the road a family stopped me and ensured i had at least a cup of fresh lemonade. The children were using the money made to buy candy.

I set off at 1pm hoping to go a few miles, but the route drew me in and I was soon slaughtering myself, mile by mile up and up. The first descent was described as steep, and yes it was, half way down i pinched my second tube. The trail is easy but this was worrying in the first 15 mile off road as I had one more tube in reserve having spent 2 already. There was a camp area in the next valley, but I was flying on adrenaline. So climbed the second pass , this descend was smooth but with large washed out sections running and weaving down the trail, making me nervous on my 40mm gravel tyres. Lower where it was slightly rockier i started chucking the bike about; But the steel machine kept going, the wheels staying unbuckled to my relief. By half 7 I thought there is no point in stopping this close to the pass, so pushed and camped then night just off the road down to Helena. I planned on spending a day gettin to Lincoln and two days getting to Helena but had made it all on one day. Yusss!!!!!. The night was spent with what i presume was a pack of coyotes howling a couple hundred yards away. I was downwind and glad to be receiving no attention, with only an inner tent between me and them.

Sunday morning I have rolled downhill into town and am now sat back drinking a beer waiting for my luxury 2* motel room to be made ready. Ahhh hot shower, clothes washing and A/C (I hope).

In summary, the plan has changed, by covering the boring sections of trail 2-3 times faster, the bike will pay for itself and i will cover ground quicker. I shall climb peaks on the way down to Mexico as I choose, hopefully a good few 14ers (no fixed plan but maybe one per day) and a bit of time in the wind river range prior.

I need a name for my bike, any suggestions???? The name i like will be painted or at least marker penned onto the frame forever more.

BENS GAME

hiking, biking, climbing, Sailing, Overland, living free

camping