hitchhiking

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.

Hitching A Ride

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So, After getting out of The Bob, I sat at the side of the gravel road waiting for a car to pass. and there I waited………

It took around 6hour for one vehicle to pass. This is a dead end road, just a small carpark at the end of a 30mile stretch of gravel more likely to be used on weekends, and today was Tuesday. I was beginning to think no one would be leaving that day (there were 3 cars parked up, likely on camping trips for multiple days) when a lovely couple pulled out the car park, offered me a beer and let me join them to Augusta, they were in their 40’s and had given up the desk jobs to tour the country. I stopped the night in a RV park, got breakfast in a small cheap cafe for a few dollars, and decided to hitch to Missoula then Spokane as there would be more to do while my feet heel and I could have a proper catch up with Tribhu. I walked to the roadside at the end of the town and before I had even turned around an old F150 pickup pulls over, and a nice old man says ‘hop in’, he was a carpenter on the way to finish a house. He agrees to take me to the crossroad 20 miles further down where I would continue my hitch in a different direction. The second hitch took about 10 minutes. A shiny new 4×4 drove past before swinging onto a dirty side road and coming back for me, the driver was an ex-police chief, on his way to a wedding. He dropped me in Lincoln 30 miles further down. From Lincoln I had one small ride of about 10 miles west followed by the rest of the way to Missoula with a guy going to see a music act that night, I honesty wasn’t going to consider the car for a lift, I could see in the distance the front wing had been ripped off in an accident and I slowly lowered my hand trying to make myself less noticeable, but he pulled in and asked ‘Missoula?’. Taking that as a good sign I took the ride. Before letting me leave he insisted I take a 4 pack of beers for the road and wished me well, as he passed me the pack of beers he hesitantly asked ‘actually, would you mind if I took one for the road?’. Safely presuming due to the conversation we previously had he was high and myself not really interesting in the beers anyway i happily obliged. Oh America you never surprise.

The satisfaction of covering a decent amount of miles from the generosity of others is one everybody should experience, a great way to see the states and meet the locals.

In Missoula I would relax for the day and look around before heading to Spokane to see a good friend. I asked around for a good coffee/pastry shop and planned on sitting down with a little food and finding accommodation. When I arrived at the coffee shop, the staff enquired if I was on holiday. I said I’m hiking the CDT and taking a couple of days off. After buying a pastry the girl behind the counter said ‘take a seat and relax here for a while’. So I did, minutes later for her to come over and introduce herself. She was called Sarah and had cycled the CDT two years previous with her husband Josh, she said they received a lot of generosity from people along the way and they would like to return the favor. So arranged for me to come down after the coffee shop closed and I could have a lift to their house. I met the husband Josh who had just got back from a mountain bike competition finishing quite well. The thing that always surprises me in life is just how much other people want to help.  After a nice evening and a good breakfast of pastry and coffee the next morning Josh gave me a ride to the Greyhound Station to catch my Spokane bus.

I have been in Spokane for most the past week now stopping at my friends. My mangled up feet nearly good to go apart from one scabbed up blister that has decided to remain. So tonight I will head back to trail by catching the Amtrak back to Glacier and hitching back to where i left off. I have adjusted my pack to be as light as possible to accommodate better digital equipment for better photos, footage, and blogs. Here’s hoping i don’t need an umbrella, bear spray, ice axe, crampons, spare socks, wood burning stove, spare boxers or more than a 2 season sleeping bag.

On this trip so far I can count 9 hitches, 3 offers of accommodation overnight, free beer during the hitch, a nice pack of beers after another hitch, new friends to hike with, 2 grizzly bears, 3 black bears, moose, lots of deer, prairie dogs, mice, marmots, chipmunks, snow bridges, many river crossings, and probably a lot I have forgotten already. All good things. While this has been a slow trip to start I am looking forward to the next couple of months.