Day 112 – Meeting Matt Damon
Day miles: 29.6
Trip miles: 2307
I had only acquired 2 days of food in Helena. Today I would pass by an outfitter (“Dave’s High Divide”) just off trail, where I would buy enough food to get to Augusta, Montana, my last stop before East Glacier. The end of my hike was starting to feel real! When I hit East Glacier, it would truly be the home stretch.
I woke up early to a mostly deflated air mattress. I wasn’t incredibly uncomfortable because of this, but my back and butt were cold where it was touching the ground. There was just enough air remaining trapped in other areas to make it bearable, but there was definitely a leak. I suspected the valve area. If the mattress had been punctured, it would have just deflated pretty quickly. It was odd though to have an issue so soon, considering I purchased the mattress in Salida only a month or so ago.
Several of the dividers between the baffles had also popped, causing them to merge and bulge. These walls formed the individual air pockets within the mattress. Well, there was now a large section that was just one big lump right under my back. When fully inflated, the mattress looked like a snake that had swallowed a rat. This was actually more uncomfortable than it losing air. That said, I was close to the end of the hike, so I decided to just put up with it for now. I could send it to Thermarest for warranty consideration after my hike, if it would just make it to the end….
I started my day climbing the rest of the way up Black Mountain, the. Walking a ridge and skirting around Nevada Mountain’s peak. By the time I reached the base of Granite Butte, I needed water. It was another hot, sunny day. I was happy about that though, preferring it greatly to the rain.
Instead of climbing the trail up to Granite Butte, I dropped down to a dirt road around it. I was headed to an off-trail water source called Poorman’s spring. I stopped at a raspberry patch beside the road for a quick snack, and then continued on until a road junction where there was a faint trail down to the spring. When I arrived, I laughed. The spring had been creatively “piped” using and old Miller Lite can to capture and funnel the water. It was definitely creative! If not for this, I would have been scooping the cold, clear water out of a shallow puddle. It was great!
I left the spring and made my way back to the CDT by way of following the road to a junction with the trail farther north. I rejoined the trail and walked ridges, gradually descending while still climbing at times, until I got to the turn off for Dave’s High Divide Outfitters.
Dave’s is just a short side trail away. There is a sign that says “Water” to the east of the trail, and in less than a quarter mile you’re at his shop. Dave’s is kind of like a large shed, but full of gear. If you need to replace something, there is a good chance Dave has it.
Dave is retired from the Air Force, and I am pretty sure he said he had a shop like this on the PCT, though I am not sure if he just worked there or owned it, and I don’t know if he still has ties there. He’s in a great spot on the CDT, and looking at his inventory it’s pretty obvious that he has been paying close attention to thru-hiking gear trends over the years.
Dave also has some food options for resupply. If large groups come through, he may run out of things. This happened to me with a few items I would have liked, but I was able to make it work. It’s a little pricey to resupply there, but I felt like I got extra value by not having to go into Lincoln or carry more food from Helena. I also just think it’s cool that he has a shop there, so I’m happy to support him.
I purchased a bunch of food, then some snacks and a soda to have while there. I met a Swiss hiker outside, who promptly continued north. I also met a young, 21 year old guy named Jewels. Jewels was from Lancaster, PA. I have met a lot of folks from Lancaster on various trails. It seems to be a breeding ground for hikers.
It’s fun talking with people who are 21. They have their whole lives ahead of them, and it is interesting to listen to them talk about their experiences on trail, as well as their dreams or goals for after the hike, if any. They have a different sense of time, having passed less of it than I. Being around young people reminds me that I have experience and skills, but that I need to keep learning. After interacting with young people, some might feel old, or like the time for doing new things has passed. I’m just the opposite. I get new ideas and I think “I’m smarter now, I have more experience – I can do that too, and faster than I could have when I was young.”
When I was in my early 20s I moved to Beijing, China and started a study abroad company. If I could take my 44 year old self and stuff it into my 23 year old self back then, I would have been so much more efficient and effective from a business perspective. Would I have still been as fearless though? I’d like to hope so, but I’m not so sure. Back then I had absolutely nothing to lose. Generally, however, I take the words of the younger generation as potential ideas and inspiration, not harbingers of my impending obsolescence. I still feel motivated to things differently and go against the grain. I like the hard challenges.
Jewels had a very early 80s look. He had neck-length curly hair and wore clothes that could easily have been part of any 1982 wardrobe. I told him that he looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Don’t say Matt Damon,” he said. Damn. That was it! His facial features were kind of like Matt Damon. “Uh, no, not Matt Damon,” I stuttered. Obviously he didn’t like that comparison, probably because, to him, Matt Damon was an old man like me! But he definitely looked like Matt Damon. I wished he would deliver the soliloquy that Matt Damon did in “Good Will Hunting” where he serves it up to the Harvard student who is trying to embarrass Ben Affleck’s character at a bar. It would have been so perfect.
“I dunno,” I said. I’m probably just imagining things since we haven’t met before.” Jewels, if you ever read this, sorry man – you’re Matt Damon. To me, that is an honor, as I happen to be a Matt Damon fan. He is my secret man crush and no look alike will do. I’d love to have a conversation with that guy and listen to his brain tick away.
I left Dave’s. I said goodbye to Jewels and a fat little chipmunk that had been running around my pack and staring me down for food. It was time to do what I do, which is push north.
I saw a couple of deer on a ridge as the light started to fade. I made it to a small outcrop just before a camping area and the road at Flesher Pass. I decided to camp on the outcrop. Though it was exposed to the wind, it seemed like a calm night, and I wanted a view of the sunrise over the mountains in the morning.
It was dark by the time I set up my tent, but the stars relieved the sun and illuminated the night sky. It’s funny how a million points of light and the moon can light up the sky, but not the same way that one special burning fireball does. They also convey no noticeable heat. But their beauty is more easily received, for one can stare and stare and never go blind, one can watch their abyss and never cease to discover, never get bored. It’s a big world out there – anything is possible.
Day 113 – The Avian Annoyance
Day miles: 23.5
Trip miles: 2330.5
It was a pretty view from my little perch over the valley this morning, albeit a bit hazy from smoke. Sometimes in the morning I hear birds. Sometimes I hear The Most Annoying Bird. Unfortunately, TMAB was providing the background music for my morning wake up today.
When I was in Helena, I downloaded a bird identification app called Merlin. It’s produced by the king of ornithology, Cornell University, and quite easy to use. I meant to download it previously, but until Helena I didn’t have a good enough signal to download the requisite data for it to work.
It was actually sometime prior to Helena that I started to notice The Most Annoying Bird. Maybe it was in the section before Anaconda leading up to Goat Flats, but I can’t remember. I do, however, remember the sound.
Imagine the sound of nails on a chalkboard coming out of the mouth of a little grey bird. Actually, it’s more like a sound so annoying that you might be convinced the bird is utilizing some form of sound torture to get you to leave, or otherwise lose your mind. I challenge any of you to make a sound more annoying than that of the Clark’s Nutcracker. Click on the link to go to YouTube where you can see and hear this impish little thing: https://youtu.be/W32ZJEP6aSs. I dare you.
Some days the cry of the Clark’s Nutcracker has followed me through the forest all day long. It is the only bird I have identified so far using Merlin. I have seen many birds, but as the old saying goes, keep your enemies closer.
You will most likely not have to hear this bird unless you spend some time in higher elevations in Montana or some nearby areas. I suggest bringing headphones and some loud music if you hike where this bird lives. Contrary to its name, it cracks zero nuts because it never shuts its beak. You will never hear just one. They live to chorus and echo, to call back and forth and scream across the tops of trees. Turn your volume all the way up when you listen to the video of this bird, because that is how loud it is in real life. I’d you aren’t wincing like an ice pick is slowly piercing your temple, then you either haven’t turned it loud enough or you’re already dead.
I wondered if the bird was named after William Clark. It’s highly possible, but I doubt it. If I were him and discovered this bird I wouldn’t have told anyone. I guess I might have written about surviving the mental torture of trekking through its noise for miles and miles, so perhaps he did log its existence after all. I haven’t finished reading the journals of Lewis and Clark, so I do not know if he mentioned it along with other sufferings. Maybe its noise killed him. But if I were Clark, I would have quietly named it the Meriwether Pigeon and then spent the rest of my life trying to forget it.
Anyway, the Clark’s Nutcracker was up on the ridge attempting to ruin sunrise, but fortunately I was headed down to Flesher Pass. I left that sucker to annoy the deer.
I took a side trail down beside the road at the pass to a spring. It was going to be another dry stretch today. It’s funny how these little springs just appear out of the ground. It would be interesting to see a cross section of the earth to understand where the water comes from.
I backtracked to the road at Flesher Pass and began the inevitable climb after the road. The morning passed quickly and before I knew it I was descending again towards Rogers Pass, another road crossing. I stopped at a small stream before the pass to get water and saw another hiker sitting down taking a break. Her name was Elettra, from Rome, Italy, and she was hiking the CDT from Lander, WY to East Glacier, MT.
We chatted for a while and I had an early lunch there at the stream. Elettra had hiked the PCT previously, and was currently working seasonally on farms through programs that are commonly known as WWOOFing (worldwide opportunities on organic farms). We talked about Italy as well, since it is a favorite travel destination of Gillian and mine.
There were a few thimble berries around, so I ate some of those before heading out. I passed a few people in the parking lot at the road, including a couple who were examining what appeared to be a coolant leak out of one of their vehicles. Sadly, I could not help them, but they seemed to be ok. After that I started a big climb back up to the top of the ridge under the hot afternoon sun, sweating like a pig greased for the oven.
The views for the rest of the day were stunning, albeit a little smokey. The hiking was challenging, with lots of climbing up and down and up and down. The views made it worthwhile though. The weather was good – it was hot and I was still sweating a lot. There were very few trees around. At one point I passed a yurt and a bad weather shelter. It was so exposed up there, those refuges would be a sight for sore eyes in a bad storm. I popped into the yurt to check it out. I would have slept in it, but it was still early and I wanted to keep hiking.
I kept going, but I was tired. There were no switchbacks – just straight up, then straight down, under the heat of the pounding sun. As evening started to set in, I met one of the calendar year triple crowners Gillian and I had been following – Carl, The Professor. He was hiking the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, and Continental Divide Trail all this year! Further, he actually hiked the Eastern Continental Trail, which is longer than the Appalachian Trail and includes all but the very beginning of the AT. I believe Carl had already finished both the ECT/AT and PCT by the time I ran into him. It was cool to meet him. A calendar year triple crown is quite the achievement! He is planning to hike the Mountain to Sea Trail across North Carolina after the CDT, so Gillian and I are hoping to be able to help him out with some trail magic when he gets close to the Outer Banks.
While I was impressed by Carl, unfortunately his energy did not rub off on me. I was tired and it was getting dark, so I found a somewhat sheltered spot with a view at the top of the ridge and pitched my tent. The evening was relatively calm, and the smokey sunset was beautiful. I was grateful for a day of sweating to the views, and quickly fell asleep on my lumpy, semi-inflated air mattress. Nary a Clark’s Nutcracker could be heard, in my dreams or otherwise. It was perfect.
Day 114 – The Manic Day
Day miles: 32.5
Trip miles: 2363
My little campsite at the top of the ridge was wonderful. I enjoyed a beautiful sunrise and my tent stayed nice and dry. A lone squirrel heavily protested my presence before I could even show my face out of my tent. I was a foreign object in his world (which was small, as there were not many trees up there), and he was determined to chitter about it to the entire world.
It was a smokey sunrise as it continued to linger like a grey haze around the ridge line. This usually makes the sun look extra orange and erases some of the intensity from its morning rays. It made me feel a little like I was on another planet.
The first part of the day was tough. It was more of that difficult, steep up and down ridge hiking. This lasted for the first half of the day, after which I began an oddly complex journey through a series of narrow valleys that kind of resembled seams through the mountains. It was one of the more convoluted valley walks I have ever taken.
I cut one way to the T-intersection of two valleys. I went north; to the south one could eventually get to a lake that I had seen earlier from the ridge. That first valley was so narrow it was like cutting through the mountain in a v-shaped fold. The intersection with the next valley was wider, but heading north away from the lake narrowed up again. I wondered if any prehistoric battles amongst territorial carnivores had occurred here. It was the kind of place that, given a chance meeting of rivals, would force a fight. It would also be the ultimate gauntlet to funnel unsuspecting victims into.
I passed through several more valleys as they opened up in size and gradually became forested. Once the forest showed up, the water came with it. That was how I saw it, but the reality was exactly the opposite – the forest was there because of the water. I saw a woman hiking south and said hello. Her name was Gluten Puff. As there aren’t a lot of people with Gluten Puff on their drivers licenses, I figured she was a thru hiker. She was, though not on the CDT this year. She said she had been helping Mr. Fabulous and Nature slack pack. Slack packing is where someone else provides transport for you, your pack, or some of your gear, so that you can hike with little to no gear through certain sections. This makes it much easier. If I didn’t have a pack to carry, or didn’t have to carry as much gear, I would be less tired and be able to hike longer distances.
I have never tried slack packing, though I have nothing against it. I personally just want to hike my entire hike carrying my own gear, simply so that I can feel like I achieved that piece of it on my own. Also, I don’t feel comfortable only having a portion of my gear. I love the freedom and safety of always having what I need on me. If I need to stop for whatever reason, like a sudden, violent storm, I can. If someone else has my tent or sleeping bag, I might not be able to stay dry and warm. It’s my own hang up.
Everyone has their own ideas of what can or can’t play a role in their hikes. You will even hear people refer to their “thru hikes” and “triple crowns” when they are skipping sections or hitching the road portions of hikes. There isn’t a lot of consistency, even amongst the way trail organizations define things. Everyone can kind of decide for themselves what shape their hike will take. I accept this, because it is reality, but it does water down the term “thru hike” a bit, in my opinion. Rather than argue against a growing trend, I just describe my hike as continuous footsteps, which is my goal and more specifically describes my hike. In the end, it is all arbitrary and unimportant. None of it really matters, just like taking a vacation to Barbados. It’s just something to do. What I get from the hike is, however, undoubtedly valuable in an intangible sense, but only to me.
I continued hiking into the evening and passed a large group of campers. They had some kind of wire fence erected around their food bags, which were laying on the ground. I have never seen such a setup before. I suspect the fence may have been electric, because it would otherwise deter nothing. If electric, it would have to have a very strong charge to keep a hungry bear away. I did not ask the campers about this, but I wondered.
I pushed on as dusk settled in. Rabbits hopped back and forth across the trail. One of them froze and posed for me. I love seeing rabbits up close – they are so cute! Rabbit alley narrowed on one side as I walked onto the side of a ridge. Without knowing it, I passed up my last good opportunity for camping in a forested area and entered a burn zone.
I kept going as it got dark, thinking that maybe I would be able to hike through the burn zone and find a place to camp for the night. The problem with burn zones is, standing trees are typically dead and therefore risky to camp around, there tend to be a lot of deadfall covering the ground, the ground can be dirty with ash (which is annoying to get on gear), and they tend to be exposed to the wind.
I kept pushing, but it got dark and I had to pull out my headlamp. I looked at my topographic map and could see that I was still 1.6 miles before the trail flattened out, but probably still in the burn zone at that point. So, I instead climbed up the steep bank beside the trail and made my way to higher, flatter ground. I found a spot that was somewhat slanted, but would do. It was in the burn zone, but there were no dead trees towering over it and I could make it work.
It was super quiet up on that bluff. Everything felt still, I think because there just wasn’t a lot of life there. The stars shown bright, and as soon as the moon came out I no longer needed my headlamp. I reflected on the day. The hiking had felt somewhat manic. The morning was an intense roller coaster of climbs and descents. The mountains then spat me into a series of strainer valleys, lulled me to rest through the forest, and woke me up again with a sendoff by bunnies into a burn zone under the stars. The only thing that wasn’t included was a storm, thankfully. I was grateful for that, and grateful to be resting under the stars after a long day.
I was just over 15 miles away from Benchmark trailhead, my access point to get into Augusta. It would be my last resupply before reaching East Glacier at the edge of Glacier National Park. I was getting closer to the end, one step at a time.
Day 115 – The Augusta Experience
Day miles: 15.5
Trip miles: 2368.5
I started moving in my little burn area campsite before sunrise. I had just over 15 miles to reach my access point for Augusta, but the access point was just a trailhead off a dirt road. There was no busy highway to hike to, so I knew it might take a while to find a ride into town, if I could even do so.
I walked with purpose in the chilly morning air. After a mile or two, I passed a tent that was literally pitched right beside the trail. It was pretty obvious that (1) this was a thru hiker, and (2) that they had also been looking for a place to camp and had to settle for whatever they could find in the burn zone. I chuckled a little to myself – we do what we have to do.
The trail became more manicured, and more full of horse poop, as I neared Benchmark trailhead. I entered the infamous Bob Marshall Wilderness, though just briefly, before the trailhead. Tomorrow would really be the beginning of entering its depths.
The Bob Marshall Wilderness, popularly (not necessarily affectionately) called “The Bob,” is one of the largest wilderness areas in the US. It is notorious for its annual blowdowns that CDT hikers must navigate – specifically southbound hikers. Usually by the time us northbounders arrive, most of the blowdowns have been cleared. That said, because most stories about The Bob attach to it a lore of difficult conditions, I wondered what lay in wait for me over the coming days.
When I saw Fluffy a while back, he described The Bob as a jungle gym of fallen trees where one must climb from tree to tree without touching the ground. He had a huge scar on his thigh where he had impaled himself on a blowdown. Of course, he had flipped north to hike south. My experience could be different. I just didn’t know. But all legends about The Bob reminded me of the Fire Swamp in the movie “A Princess Bride.” Tomorrow I would deal with the Fire Swamp. Today I would just stare at the sign and take the Benchmark trailhead into Augusta.
The Sun river flowed at the intersection of the CDT and the trailhead. There was a placard about migratory ducks that use the river each year. I crossed a large wooden bridge over the water and followed the sound of squeaky toys to the parking lot.
I used to wonder why pet stores were full of toys that squeaked. Why would a dog like that?? Nothing I was used to actually made that noise. Well, I was wrong. The forest is actually full of squeaky toys. Chipmunks scream a little high-pitched squeal and run away. They chirp to announce my presence. The same goes for groundhogs and red squirrels, the latter of which also chitter, but no one would want their dog to have a toy that made that noise.
Marmots and pika make a different noise, but it also sounds like a squeaky toy. Birds chirp. You name it and it probably squeaks. They are also all adorable. It’s like a world where furry adorable toys run around squeaking and chirping and looking cute. There were a lot of squeaky toys going about their daily business at the Benchmark trailhead.
When I got to the trailhead, there were a lot of cars in the parking lot. This was a good sign. I collapsed my trekking poles and converted my pack into hitchhiking mode. I walked through the parking lot loop, hoping to find someone who might be leaving and would be willing to give me a lift. It was just past lunch on the Friday of Labor Day weekend, so I figured there was a good chance that someone might be finishing up a morning hike. Alas, no luck.
I decided to walk down the dirt road a mile or so to where several other trailheads emptied out into the main road. This would increase the amount of traffic that would see my thumb. I finally passed the last lot and a small little rural airport where I watched a helicopter take off. I found a spot in the shade and waited.
A few vehicles passed by in clouds of dust, but no one stopped. An hour went by, and then two. It was a VERY quiet road, at least at that moment in time. I began to lament not trying to set up a shuttle into town. A guy named Frank had his name and number in FarOut, but I thought it would be easier just to get a ride when I showed up. I now had no cell signal to text him.
I sat for a while longer. 3pm came and went and I remembered that I could send texts via my Garmin InReach, so I launched a message to Frank. I felt guilty sending it last minute in the Friday of Labor Day weekend, but this was not for a free ride. I knew Frank charged $20 a head, so I figured maybe he would want the opportunity. He clearly did because he messaged back right away and said he’d be there in 40 minutes!
Happy to have transport secured, I decided to prepare a leftover pack of instant mashed potatoes. I ate it while sitting on the side of the road. After 40 minutes a truck pulled up. It was Frank.
It was actually Frank, his wife, and their old Australian shepherd. Frank scooped me up and then made the rounds of the other trailheads to see if any other hikers were around. I had walked two miles down the road from the trailhead. Sure enough, two other hikers were sitting at the trailhead and joined us: Apples and Manhands. I had met them way back in Wyoming the day before arriving in Rawlins and had not seen them since. They had been in the tent I passed in the burn zone this morning. It’s funny how we leapfrog each other and can go for long periods of time without contact, even though we are so close.
Frank was a boisterous guy and a hustler. He gave us an amusing and interesting tour on the way into Augusta. I enjoyed it. Early on he started talking up his friend’s cabin, and how it was a cheaper and better option than the RV park in town, Wagons West. It was such a persistent and hard sell that I was a little skeptical. He finally asked me, “so do you want to stay at the cabin?”, trying to get me to commit. I had already told him that I wanted to see Wagons West first, but that I appreciated the option, and so I again reiterated this. I will say that his friend’s cabin looked nice, and Frank was ultimately respectful of my wishes.
Frank drove us into town and showed us the cabin on the way. Augusta is a one street, one four-way stop town, so everything is very close. He took us to Wagons West where Apples and Manhands had mailed resupply boxes. Wagons West was full due to a rodeo in town, and they charged $20 or $25 to camp outside, so staying at Frank’s was a no brainer. Axel was also in town and staying there, so it would only be $30 each for us all to stay at the cabin and have our own rooms. That’s a really good deal! We would also have access to a kitchen and free laundry, shower, Wi-Fi, etc. it was just what I needed.
Frank recommended the food at The Buckhorn, a saloon and restaurant in town. We went there before heading to the cabin and Frank and his wife joined us. I had a giant burger with fries, which was great.
After our early dinner, we dashed over to the general store to get snacks and resupply. It wasn’t the best resupply I’ve done and I felt like I bought way too much food, but the store had enough for me to get the job done.
Back at the cabin, which was basically just a little house in town, we all got cleaned up and organized. We had to sit on the neighbor’s porch to get Wi-Fi, which was weird, but somehow unsurprising. At dusk an army of deer came out to eat grass around the cabin. There were two little fawns that still had their white spots. They were so cute!
As I climbed into bed, a real bed, I was excited about breakfast in the morning. Frank had said that the breakfast place in town, The Lazy B, was really good and opened at 6:30, so I planned to be there early. After that, it would be back to the trail and into The Bob.
Day 116 – The Chinese Wall
Day miles: 26.7
Trip miles: 2395.2
Frank’s friend’s cabin was comfortable and I slept well. Frank kept saying he just collected money for his friend and only got paid for his shuttles. It was a little odd. I didn’t care if he made a cut or not – it’s a business and he’s allowed to make money. If I had a friend who pushed my rental cabin as hard as Frank and had exclusive access to my pipeline of customers, and if his wife was cleaning my cabin and I was nowhere to be seen, I’m pretty sure there would be a financial arrangement, since that doesn’t sound like fun otherwise, and seems more of an obligation than a friend might be willing to make for more than a few days. But whatever – I didn’t care or need to see the sausage made because the sausage itself tasted fine to me.
There were comments in FarOut from hikers complaining about Frank’s style of pushing his friend’s cabin hard and about his shuttle prices. I can sort of understand the former – because I of those comments I was well prepared, but I also am not one to cave to a hard sell. I don’t mind the confrontation. But I did not like comments on the latter. Things like “Frank says he is trying to help hikers, but he charges $20 per head no matter how many people there are.” So what? Don’t pay his fee if you don’t like it. Stand there for 4 hours and wait for a ride. I have no patience for entitled thru-hikers. No one owes you anything – not a ride, not a bed, not trail magic. If you don’t want to pay $20, that’s fine, but don’t slam someone who is providing a valuable service in exchange for a market-driven price. He wouldn’t be charging $20 if people weren’t happy to pay it. Anyway, I digress….
I showed up at the Lazy B for breakfast to find it closed. It didn’t open until 8AM, but I was scheduled to be on Frank’s shuttle with other hikers at 8:30, so I nixed that plan. I walked down to The Buckhorn to see if they served breakfast. The owner was counting money at the bar and said they did not serve breakfast, but he poured me a cup of coffee. Frank walked in, so I talked with him and the owner for a little bit, and then headed to the general store to pick up breakfast there.
I grabbed a coffee and two microwave burritos from the store and headed back to the cabin. Once there, I promptly discovered that the cabin had everything except a microwave, so I walked back to the general store to use theirs, then back to the cabin again to wolf down the burritos and hop in Frank’s truck.
We saw a herd of buffalo that someone was raising for meat on the way to the trailhead. Frank was full of stories about the local happenings, and about the grizzly population there. It’s nice to ride around with locals. Without that experience, any place is just a blip on the map really.
We thanked Frank and said our goodbyes when he dropped us off at the trailhead. Apples and Manhands zeroed in town. Axel and I were hiking out, as well as two hikers I hadn’t met before: a woman named Dallas and a guy whose trail name I keep forgetting…. I cruised back down the trail from Benchmark, back across the bridge over the Sun river, and into The Bob.
The trail was wide, flat, and incredibly well maintained, at least for now. I ran into lots of weekend backpackers. In some ways, this section of The Bob reminded me of the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine on the AT. I thought it was some big, scary, remote place, but the Hundred Mile Wilderness was full of groomed trail, some road access, and tons of weekend backpackers and summer campers.
I didn’t want to judge The Bob too hastily, but I hoped this level of “cruisy” trail would continue. It was hot outside, but I made great time on the relatively easy trail. I was loving it, especially with a pack freshly full of food!
I eventually made it to one of the famous landmarks on the CDT known as the Chinese Wall. It was, essentially, a very long towering rock face to the west that continued for quite some time. It was beautiful and interesting. I am not sure why it is called the Chinese Wall, but perhaps someone thought it resembled The Great Wall of China.
I climbed up a pass beside the wall with Axel now close behind me. We both followed a side trail that allowed us to climb up onto the wall base and enjoy views in both directions where it “bent” at the pass. A white mountain goat stood glued to the steep side of the wall way off in the distance to the northwest. It was an awesome site to see, but too far away for a good picture.
I climbed back down and helped a couple take a picture before continuing on. I walked until almost dark, leaving the Chinese Wall and climbing a series of successive hills. Dark clouds started to form as I neared the top of the highest one, so I decided to camp there for the night. It felt like my last chance at flat ground for a while. It was still forested, and though there were some dead trees around, I didn’t seem to be in the direct path of any that might fall.
Thunder rumbled and it began to sprinkle as I pushed my tent stakes into the ground. The rain picked up quickly as I inserted my trekking pole into its slot in the tent and locked it into position with tension. I was able to get inside just as it started to pour.
It stormed for about 45 minutes. There was a lot of lightning and thunder fairly close by, but I felt safe in my location. I fell asleep to the sound of rain before I could even finish charging my phone. It had been a good, long day. I wondered what adventures tomorrow would bring.
You might also like
