thru hiking

Hiking The CDT- Part 16- Wolf Creek To Chama

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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.

The San Juan Mountains. Classic USA.

Hiking The CDT- Part 14- Copper Mountain To Monarch Pass

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Waking in the morning we waited around for Tribhu for a while before deciding to do a slow walk up our next pass. We passed a gent on his way down and he asked ‘Hey, are you Beads and Ben? Your friend is racing ahead looking for you!’. I told Beads I would head off and try to catch up. Hiking off ahead and gaining the top of the mountain, I could see Tribhu all the way down in the next valley. I jogged the next few miles and caught up. We ambled along to the next pass then hitched into Leadville. This town is at around 11,500 feet and the air up here feels clean and dry. We book into the hostel for the night and went for a grocery shop, buying a few beers and heading back to drink them. There is an ultra race going on and the hostel seems to be the epicenter of the it, with competitors from around the world staying. I had admiration for all those people heading off to run 50 to 100 miles in one push. They seemed equally shocked though at the thought of doing over 30 miles a day, day in and day out for months. Beads arrived a couple of hours later, and we chat away the evening with other adventurers before getting a ride back to the trailhead the next morning.

This day becomes my worst on trail. We ate breakfast a short way out and came across a cooler box with iced drinks for hikers on the trail. Its pretty cool to come across unexpected cold drinks when the water you have to drink is always hot and unpleasant. We had planned to climb Massive Peak on the way past as an extra bit of excitement in the day. I was going slow, so told Tribhu I would catch up with him at a junction for the summit trail a short while ahead. I hiked, I sat, I tried to eat but couldn’t. My stomach hurt. I hiked a short distance more. I sat down. I hadn’t felt so drained in a long time. What should have taken forty minutes took a couple of hours. I felt like I was going to pass out on a gentle incline and knew this wasn’t right. When I eventually arrived at the junction, Tribhu was concerned. We opted not to hike much further that day and for my second time over the last thousands of miles, we had a camp fire. Eventually Beads caught up and joined us. I couldn’t stomach dinner and went to lie down. I felt like I had been booted in the stomach. A couple more hikers from the Colorado trail joined our camp and after a while I got back up feeling a little refreshed. This had happened for a few afternoons previous and I put it down to a small stomach bug.

The next morning I felt fine, so me and Tribhu set off ahead of Beads to climb Mt Elbert, she would keep to the trail and see us later. We started up the trail and an overpowering smell of laundry detergent lingered in the air. It was confusing to say the least. What was this chemical smell doing up the mountain? It became stronger as we climbed. It was a busy Saturday with low lightening possibility and within minutes we started running into people. We pretty much ran past the crowds on the way up and it was so bizarre, all of the individuals had this smell. It could have been that each member of this particular crowd was just overzealous with the detergent the night before. But I like to think I had adjusted to being in nature more, and using less detergent, was ultimately starting to notice the unnatural things more than ever. It’s no wonder bears and elk run as soon as they are near people. Reaching the top and running the final ridge to the summit we snacked then started our descent to Twin Lakes, dropping the 5000 feet we viewed as a pleasant side track.

Once at the general store in town we found Beads sat outside with a few more hikers drinking a beer. We found out Mumford and Sons were playing a big gig in the town of Salida that evening. Not wanting to miss it, we hitched off trail for some festivities. After talking with Bead and Tribhu in the town we decided I likely had Giardia. The symptoms I had had over the last days fit in with the parasite. One of Bead’s friends who had come to see her, happened to have half a course of Metronidazole sat in the glove box of his car. It had been there for a few years, but not wanting to waste a trip to an expensive hospital, I opted to take what was on offer and at least see if it fixed the problem. If it seemed to, I could go get more. I forgot to mention earlier in this blog, somewhere around Yellowstone, my water filter had began to block up and became a hindrance. I stopped using it and decided to be like the other hikers not filtering. It felt pretty cool just drinking directly from streams. Beads was another hiker that didn’t filter water. I guess when you try to be like the cool kids, you get caught out. I have wondered how many of the hikers that don’t filter water carry the parasite without any symptoms? How many are able to kick it themselves? I guess all I know is my body isn’t that good.

The gig was good fun and the next day we headed back to trail. I said I was going to hang around for a day in Twin Lakes and didn’t want to push while being on antibiotics. But after the others left and I had finished breakfast and sat for a couple of hours I felt a renewed energy. I picked up my pack, and headed out once more. I didn’t walk this day fast. I intentionally mozied along, listening to music and enjoying the sights, while packing in a couple of mountain passes before nightfall. The Collegiate peaks are beautiful, grey mountains skirted with deep greens and browns with trails running close to their summits. It had a very different feel to the peaks further north on the divide. Its funny through here, I was trying to take is slow but still found myself covering a lot of ground. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so energised and awake, it was like being back at the start of the trail again. I figured that coming up higher into Colorado, it had been altitude making it harder. But now began to suspect it had been Giardia. I felt like I could have ran a marathon with my pack on, such was the return of the energy. I didn’t think I would see Beads and Tribhu again, but guess with the extra spring in my step, soon caught them up. Later in the day I found them at a lake, beneath Tincup Pass sat in the shade. I joined them and hiked on. We camped by a second lake and enjoyed hot chocolate after a ramen dinner supplemented with cashew nuts. This was becoming an enjoyable way to pad out the same mush, giving extra crunch. By this point I really felt I needed to hike at my pace. Neither faster or slower than the others, but to listen to my body and have a little trail to myself again. I hiked out at Monarch Pass with them but opted to give myself an extra evening off in Salida and a little more space on the trail.

  • Leadville Hostel
  • Mt Elbert Summit
  • hitching to Salida with Tribhu and Beads
  • Twin Lakes
  • Collegiates
  • Grey peaks, Green valleys
  • epic Colorado Trail
  • Sun setting on final night before Monarch Pass

Hiking The CDT- Part 13- Grand Lake To Silverthorne

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In the hostel in Grand Lake, I found myself upstairs digging through the hiker box. A hiker box is a box of random things along main trails. Hikers ditch items into them after realising they don’t need them, or ending their trip. They can be a real treasure trove or just a pile of worthelss junk. Hats, packs of ramen noodles, torches, maps. All kinds. This particular one was useful for me, as I was once again out of maps. I opened it to find the Northbound CDT hikers ditched maps, which now became useful southbound. Win. I also found a selection of cereal bars and snacks to add to my stock. Not long later another hiker checked in. Her trail name was Beads. I had met her earlier back before Anaconda. She had been hiking with the bubble, but had already hiked sections in between at an earlier date, so had skipped ahead and here I found her. I said I was going to take a look around the town but we could grab food later. Down in the reception a note had been left for me. Tribhu and Kirsten had stopped by moments before, dropping of a nice shiny new sleeping bag. After finding out I wasn’t a couple of days behind as they had thought I was, wrote down where they were staying and a mobile number. I gave them a ring and later on the four of us, plus another hiker, turned up into town and went for dinner. The all-american restaurant that we stopped in had a floor layered with peanut shells left by the previous diners.

The next day Tribhu and I headed off towards the Devils Thumb, a prominent rock pillar back up on The Divide. The map had noted a serious blowdown had happened the previous winter and it was true. A good few hours were spent hopping and crawling over a completely downed forest beside Lake Grandby. Afterwards the trail dropped momentarily towards a campground where we stopped for a beer. One thing the Colorado section of trail is great for is there is always beer nearby. We hiked on past Monarch Lake and up towards the divide. Camping in a meadow just before.

In the morning the climb was tedious. It was sweaty from the word go and I had an awful time, but cresting onto the ridge line, the views high up became phenomenal walking between 10,500 and 13,500 feet for the next few days. I know I said in the last blog I would be far more careful about thunderstorms, but what can you do. The first thunderstorm of the section was on James’ Peak. We opted to take an over mountain route with some scrambling instead the official hike to the valley. A giant cloud rolled over right as we crested the summit, and we descended in a rush to a ridge that would take us onto Mt. Bancroft. We sheltered in a small pocket on the ridge between two large blades of rock. We listened to the lightening crack around us, but felt reasonably secure in our small haven. An hour or so passed before we moved off again as the clouds appeared to be dissipating. It was well into the evening by now and we arrived at what seemed to be an old weather station high on the mountain. A couple of collapsed weather vanes and radio towers scattered the area, and a large deserted aluminium box stood tall. With another large cloud approaching fast, we decided to stop the night in the old metal box. Inside, the old wooden floor had collapsed but we sorted a few boards into sleep-able decks and rolled out our sleeping bags. That night I was hassled by a persistent mouse determined to get my food. I lost a lot of sleep chasing it away, and kept re-awakening to the sound of its teeth against the fabric of my drybag. In the morning I woke to discover it had pooped in my shoe as vengeance for denying it the goods.

The next day we woke with little water (we had been up on this ridge most the previous day) but had a long gentle ridge that would descend and bring us to Berthoud Pass. The pass was slightly infuriating. We were out of water but could hear we were only a few feet from it. The stream here had been capped off with a large steel grid that was padlocked down. After a while we accepted we wouldn’t be able to get any water and moved on, climbing back up the ridge on the other side. In another few miles there would be a stream. A few hours later we arrived at Jones Pass, joining a forestry road. This was just in time for the next lighting storm. There was no possible fight so we chose flight, sprinting down the road to seek what we perceived to be the increased safety of the trees lower down. The bright flashes struck all over, keeping our motivation to move high. At the bottom we took a long lunch as the storm continued to rumble, filling our tired bodies with-you’ll never guess it-more ramen. We could see lighting strike higher up where the trail would carry on and overcome the mountainside, and there was no hurry to be there. We watched a movie on my phone and eventually decided the rumbles had quieted enough for us to carry on. On nearly gaining the ridge, the rumbles started again, thankfully not breaking into flashes. On top we were treated to a sight of hundreds of Elk littering the mountain, watching them scatter as they spotted us. We were quite a few hours behind schedule due to the lightning storms, and Kirsten was going to be waiting at the other end of the trail for us for quite a while. As the sky faded from blue to yellow to grey, we dropped into one last valley before crossing a river and slowly making our way up the hillside towards Ptarmigan Peak. Enshrouded in the inky black, Tribhu led the way, and I kept looking over my shoulder expecting a wildcat to launch from the dark and take me out. I really wished I was hiking in front. Tribhu had a small LED lantern fixed onto his waistbelt for lighting. When turned around from a distance, out of the dark, he resembled something I can only describe as Legolas with glowing crown jewels. We couldn’t find the trail but slowly meandered up the hillside, stumbling and getting stabbed by invisible branches as we made minimal progress. Our batteries started to fade but in torchlight ahead we spotted a small white shining bead fixed to a tree. From this bead we see the next and realise we have found the trail, like little stars of hope in the dark forest. Getting late and feeling tired we accept we won’t be flying over the hillside and not really knowing how much of the climb is left we pitch up on some poor grass for the night. The clouds were in thick and everything seemed damp.

In the morning we woke to find we had a stones throw of a hike to the top. On top, Tribhu managed to message Kirsten and tell her we were OK. She hadn’t panicked and presumed we were just a little delayed. The sun shone gloriously on this grass covered peak, giving a great view down into Silverthorne. I remember this descent felt long. Really long as it would slowly wind down the mountain towards the finish. The smell of pine once again permeated the air, awakening the senses. Reaching the end of the trail Kirsten was waiting with iced coffee for us both. After a much needed coffee and thoughtful deliberation, Tribhu and I decided to hike the last few miles into town. Although the ride would have been nice, Tribhu wanted to ensure that his footsteps connected completely from one end of the country to the other.

In town, we found a fitness center with pay-for showers and my first scale since I’d left England. I’d lost 30 pounds in the last two months, which came as a surprise seeing as I had stuffed my face at every opportunity. Tribhu would spend the day in town with Kirsten, and I spent the day shopping for a new pair of shoes before I met Beads at a brewery in Dillon. The bartender serving us gave us our beers for free, thinking a thru hike sounded pretty cool. Trail magic strikes again. After dark, Beads and I slowly hiked up the valley towards Copper Mountain to pitch our tents. We were treated to a firework display down in the town as we ate more ramen and waited for Tribhu to catch up.

  • nearing the top of James Peak, with large clouds rolling in
  • walking the top instead of taking the lower paths
  • sunset
  • base for the night, morning view
  • sunset on the last evening before descending into the valley
  • reservoir between Silverthorne and Dillon
  • a free firework display to eat dinner to at Copper Mountain

Hiking The CDT- Part 12- Steamboat to Grand Lake

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The old forestry road faded away as I climbed upwards and away from the roadside. I was warned by my ride that there would be many signs saying ‘private property’ and ‘trespassers would be prosecuted’, but it was a right of way. The person who bought land on both sides of the road a little way in didn’t want anybody coming down this public access road and did their best to make it seem private. When I came to the property I understood exactly what he meant. I was told you can be on the road but don’t camp around here, don’t sit at the roadside for lunch, don’t even stand still. The property only lasted a couple of hundred yards and was back to regular forest with forestry carparks and trailheads afterwards. I’m glad I didn’t meet the property owner. All I could think was ‘who buys a couple of acres of land on either side of a road and tries to close the road that runs behind their property for the next 20 miles’? I soon forgot about it as the road climbed up. I would hike until dark and pitch tent on a small patch of flat ground between trees.

In the morning, within a few minutes, I would come across a black bear in the middle of the trail. I fumbled around in my pack for my phone to take a picture and tried running after it but the bear had disappeared. It’s not recommended to run after a bear, but after seeing four or five bears in total in the past months, I really wanted to get a photo of one. A few hours later I would spot a second black bear ten miles further down trail. The scenery here was good and trail relatively straight forward, apart from where it suddenly branched from the main route without there being any trail or marker. I spotted the mistake quickly and lost only a second. Again painting a mental picture of my route, and keeping check on my rough compass direction would save a lot of incorrect miles. It takes focus.

Time for a rant. While re-checking parts of this route before writing today to jog my memory, I came across a blog written by a hiker. They stated the whole CDT is straightforward for navigation, she didn’t need to use a compass once and didn’t think it was necessary. Only the guthook mobile app was needed to navigate (a mobile app popular with hiking the route). The app is undeniably brilliant, giving both your location and the exact location of the footpath within 6ft the whole 3000 miles. It is quite honestly impossible to get lost if you have this on all day. You keep yourself on the blue line and follow it to the next pass. But that doesn’t mean phone batteries don’t die, it doesn’t mean electrical means of navigation won’t get drowned in rivers or in wet pockets on rainy days. I usually find when someone navigates solely with a mobile app, their ability to use a map and compass lacks quite severely. And they spend most of the day with a nose glued to the screen, keeping their dot on the thin blue line of the trail. As well as the hikers I have mentioned in my blogs who I respect, I have met quite a few I didn’t mention because of this kind of thing.

There was one time to me when the route was obvious. I would look up at the features around me and go in the right direction, and a hiker I was with at the time was solely using the App. He traipsed back and forwards getting himself on and off the blue line on his screen, but the trail wasn’t there. I think the people who hiked this trail through the 70s and 80s had a real adventure and had to learn how to navigate. It’s too easy now to turn on a phone and think navigation is easy. Think about it like sat nav in a car, with modern mobiles you sit the phone on the dash and it tells you where to go, when to turn and you are never lost. But, go back to when there were only paper maps and either only yourself or a friend riding shotgun to navigate. Then take away the odometer so you don’t know how far you have come. Gets a little harder doesn’t it. For the trail now, factor in there are between 300 and 700 miles of trail that just don’t exist (it gets less each year as more trail is complete and re-signed). Combine that with a path occasionally splitting 4 ways but the map shows only one. Or maybe your trail branches off but there is no trail where it should be. Then consider there are no roads signs over the mountains and through dense forest. Add in low visibility some days, add in miles of downed trees through sections. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think her skills lacked. To not understand why a compass needs to be carried and to say navigation is easy on a trail reputed for hard navigation, shows a misunderstanding of what navigation is. I have ten times the respect for people who bothered to learn how to handle a map and compass. When I came back and hiked sections of the CDT in 2017, I used a navigation app. I didn’t need to navigate, I just had to follow a line on a screen. I’m not against them. But when using an app, you aren’t navigating.

Back on trail, I would hike the day mainly on ridge lines where the tree line faded out and windswept gravel and patchy grass was my only companion. The mountains were getting higher and cooler and less water was needed compared to the heat back at the start. Towards the end of this second day I was racing another lighting storm to a peak. It is a daily occurrence. There was a shelter on top of this peak and if I made it I could spend the night there safely. The sky grumbled around me, a warning from the ancient gods to descend. I really didn’t want to be delayed by this storm, but some days you lose. Lightening started striking higher than me on the mountain forcing me to turn tail. I half ran, half skipped straight down from the ridge towards the trees below. I hid in the forest and pitched my tent on rather slanted ground. I know they say to stay away from trees in lightening storms, but my odds felt better when tucked away from the brunt of a bolt. It crossed my mind if I did get hurt here, it would be unlikely anybody would ever find me. I was off trail, and in an area without trail. Nobody would have reason to clamber down a hillside to nothing. I hoped the storm would subside but eventually gave up hope and went to sleep. There was a possibility of descending down to an old forestry trail that would wind around the mountain, but I felt a compulsion to make the top of this peak.

The next morning I climbed back up to the ridge and carried onto the summit at around 13,300ft. It was a beautiful day with nice cirrus clouds scattered in the sky. I descended feeling good. As the day went on I would listen to music, enjoy the odd coffee break and a walk into further storm.

  • a cloud inversion on the second day
  • classic CDT
  • clambering over logs becomes tiring after a while
  • the ridge I retreated from in the evening before reclimbingthe next day
  • views the next day

I had intended on a slight deviation keeping higher than the official route went in search of better views, but a very large cumulonimbus cloud put and end to the idea. Keeping to the official route I found myself running as lightening flashed all over the hillside. Rain started but hail followed, so thick and heavy I couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of me. I ran down a trail that soon turned into a river. I considered running straight down the hillside but lighting struck lower down on the hill. Sack that! I followed the path with an inch or two of water streaming down and turning it into a river, some hail would stay on the surface to be swept away giving an awesome spectacle. Bright white light would flash blindingly and honestly it was hard to tell if the strikes were in front of me or behind me, but I knew they were very close. The deafening crack was on top of me. I tried to keep out of this stream of a trail, thinking to myself how stupid it might be to be ankle deep in a perfect long energy conductor. Trying to keep off the trail was muddy and caused me to slip. What a mess this was. To add, this icy torrent started chilling me. I couldn’t feel my hands, my feet, my legs. I was struggling to keep my body warm. It was getting a touch hardcore, but the only option was to keep moving. I kept up a jog down into the valley forcing my cold and rigid muscles to do work. There aren’t too many times in my life I have felt threatened, but this time made the list. With the low visibility I couldn’t tell if I was on a small ridge or near the valley base, but there is no good place to be in a lighting storm. I kept running down. After twenty minutes the strikes were not as close. I dropped to a flatt-ish clearing. This would do. I struggled to pitch the tent and did a poor job, but it was enough to be watertight (ish). I climbed in and pulled off the wet layers, shivering. I inflated the camping pad and sat on it to keep me insulated from the ground. When I felt dry enough after a few minutes I climbed into my sleeping bag. I would wait til the rain stopped then eat some food and carry on.

  • fun ridge line walking
  • a building storm
  • grand lake the next day

I woke after dark, hungry and tired. It was silent. I had been out like a lamp for a few good hours. I was disappointed in myself for not hiking on, as Grand Lake was only a few miles further down. This was the Never Summer Wilderness area, even its name beat me down. I cooked some Ramen, ate some chocolate and went back to sleep. In the morning I woke to cold wet clothes in a pile outside the tent. It was a touch miserable, On a scale of one to ten lets give it a solid 5. I say five because at least they weren’t frozen, that would have elevated the situation to completely miserable. I was soaking, and felt like everything I owned was wet and smelly. I could feel mosquito bites from previous days itching. I held onto the knowledge that in a few hours I could be in the Grand Lake Hostel having a warm shower. Nothing sounded better than that. After an hour of walking I broke out of forest into a meadow, I was in the Rocky Mountain National Park and the sun was shining. It was still a couple of hours walking at least, almost teeth grinding agonisingly tedious. But fresh air picked me up and by the time the sun hit, I was feeling fine. I didn’t want to repeat my experience in a lighting storm like that and from here on decided I would play things safer. If such a thing exists on the divide.

In the hostel a couple of people were behind the reception desk. They asked where I had hiked from.

‘Oh man, did you see that lighting storm up there last night, that was insane! You were up there in it? No Way!!!’

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

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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.

  • awesome skies
  • another storm
  • fresh drinking water

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 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 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 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 3 – Lincoln To Helena

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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.