Day 117 – The Horse Tragedy
Day miles: 27.6
Trip miles: 2422.8
Despite the storms of last night, the morning was clear and not too cold. My tent was actually mostly dry as well, perhaps just from the breeze that continued after the rain. It felt fairly windy today, despite the trees surrounding me at the top of the hill.
Seeing as I was at the top, the morning was a nice and quick descent down to the junction with an alternate route called Spotted Bear Pass. I decided to take it. It isn’t materially shorter than the CDT route – maybe 4 miles – but it would help my timing for reaching East Glacier a little bit if I did encounter a sea of blowdowns later in The Bob, so I decided to go for it.
The Spotted Bear alternate runs just west of the CDT through a valley at the base of some fairly high mountains. Halfway through, the route climbs out of the valley and up over Switchback Pass (weirdly, it is not called Spotted Bear Pass). Looking at the topo map, I had thought that I would be hiking next to a nice view of the mountains towering beside me for the first half, but this was not the case. It was heavily forested blocking almost all views of the parallel mountain range, and the trail was quite overgrown. The only upside was a few thimble berry patches and plenty of water.
I walked along, pushing through the overgrown trail. The berry bushes and various plants slapped and tore at my legs. I put in my headphones and played a podcast in one ear, leaving the other free to listen for grizzly bears. This felt like an area that still had significant grizzly resources – food to eat and water to drink.
A grey shape caught the corner of my eye, and I noticed some kind of creature off to the west. I stopped, focused my eyes on it, and waited for its head to turn. At first I thought it was an elk or a moose. I slowly pulled my camera out, zoomed in, and started filming. It turned its head again, at which point I saw another body walk up next to it. The shape of this animal was very familiar. I tried to creep forward through the overgrowth to decrease the distance between us. This was going to be great footage!! The animal turned its head again, and I realized I was staring into the eyes of an old grey burro. Yep, they were two donkeys tied up to a hitching post at a campsite, and I was the jackass filming them. I quickly deleted that recording and moved on, noting that I should probably get my eyes checked after the trip was over.
I hiked a few more miles and then ran into another group. I first saw two horses and three dogs, standing beside the trail. I then saw two people – a man in his 70s and a lady. I said hello and they waived back. They asked if I was hiking with the girl in front of me. I said no, wondering who they were talking about. I asked how they were and the man replied that they had a horse down. At first I saw nothing, but then realized he was holding a rope that lead to the ground just about 10 feet west of the trail. I stepped up to the side of the trail and saw that there was, indeed, a horse laying down on the ground. I could tell right away that this was bad.
The lady described how the horse had just suddenly gone down by the side of the trail. She showed me where it had thrashed about. It had managed to work its way about 10 feet off trail, and somehow wedged itself under a fallen tree. There was still room between the horse and tree, so it could theoretically wiggle out, but it was not moving. It was lying there, still, and the woman was trying to pour small amounts of water into its mouth from a water bottle.
They explained that the horse was over 20 years old and that they thought it either had heat exhaustion or colic, which is where the intestines become twisted. I know nothing about horses, but I could tell that the situation here was dire. The couple said that the burros I had passed earlier were part of their party. I asked if I could do anything to help, if they needed food or water or wanted me to message anyone with my Garmin. They said no and that there was nothing they could do at the moment but wait. I then gently asked if it was a situation that they thought the horse would recover from, to which the lady answered “probably not.”
I hated leaving them there, but there was nothing left to do but give them time with their horse. A concern lingered in the back of my mind, however. That horse probably weighed about 1500 pounds. If it died there, or they had to shoot it, the carcass would remain trailside without a major effort to extract it. A horse carcass would turn into a grizzly bear buffet fairly quickly. I hoped that they had a plan to notify rangers or keep the bears at bay, if needed. If not, it would be risky for anyone to use the trail until the carcass was no longer a source of food.
As you can imagine, grizzly bears are not “chill” when it comes to people walking by their meals. A section of Glacier National Park was closed off earlier in the year for this reason. A herd of cattle got lost in the winter and froze to death near the trail. As they thawed this summer, the grizzlies descended and the trail was closed for at least a few weeks while they feasted on the cows.
I felt really sad for the horse and the owners as I walked on. I hoped things would end for the better, but the situation really did seem like the end of the line for that horse. I liked to think that people who rode horses out west were tough and used to this kind of thing, but losing a beloved pet is never easy.
I started the climb up to Switchback Pass. It was something like 3.5 miles to the top of the pass. By the time I got there, I was sweating profusely and excited to be done with the ascent, switchbacks or not. The view at the top of the pass revealed that I was out of the woods, at least for a little while. Whereas the first part of Spotted Bear was entrenched in the forested valley, I would now descend down along a ridge before getting back down into the trees.
On my way down, I ran into one of the more well-known aspiring calendar year triple crowners who went by the trail name Quadzilla. It was a fitting name as his quad muscles looked like two bazookas attached to his body, ready to fire. They were impressive muscle cannons, for sure. While my quads have definitely gotten bigger, my legs just don’t get super ripped and muscular as I get stronger. They get lean before the muscles start to grow a bit, but that’s it.
I chatted with Quadzilla for a few minutes. He asked me about my camera setup. He was carrying a larger, removable lens camera. He showed me a video he had just taken of a grizzly wandering off beside the trail. It was pretty cool. I hadn’t seen a grizzly yet. I wanted to, but I also didn’t….
I passed two flip floppers, now heading south, and then pulled up at the next water source to take a dinner break. If possible, I try to eat before I even get to camp. I eat and brush my teeth and repack my food up so that all I have to do is tie it off to a tree when I pitch my tent. It’s better food hygiene for grizzly country so that there aren’t any smells of food or cooking coming from the same area where I am sleeping. I sat by the stream and made my food, then cleaned up and kept going.
It was good that I did not eat at camp, because it took me quite a while to find a place to pitch my tent. I walked and walked, but the surrounding areas were full of downed trees, thick underbrush, or areas otherwise not conducive to camping for various reasons. I stopped and dug my headlamp out and continued on using it to see.
Around 9:15PM, I finally found a relatively flat area. It seemed to be my last shot at camping, so I wandered into the pine trees and found a spot just big enough for my tent. I liked that it was in the pines, but it also backed up to a sizable creek. Further, there appeared to be a game trail coming up from the creek, and then running down through the pines in front of my tent. It was hard to tell how active it was with just the light from my headlamp. I normally would definitely pass a spot like that up, but beggars can’t be choosers and I didn’t want to continue to hike in the dark, so I made it work.
The evening was quiet, other than the sound of running water. I set up my tent, leaned one trekking pole against a tree, and walked back over to the trail, crossing to the other side to tie up my food bag. I was so happy that I had already eaten and brushed my teeth. All I had to do now was get in bed, look at my maps for tomorrow, and go to sleep.
When I got back to my tent, my headlamp illuminated a giant moth that had decided to rest on the trekking pole that was holding up my tent. Its eyes glowed red in the light, and it slowly blinked them shut, and then open again, as if to show me that it was alive and not interested in moving anywhere. It was very large, so it was more of a Mothra than a moth. I envisioned it swooping into my tent the minute I unzipped the door to go inside. That would not do. I took a leaf and nudged Mothra until it took off like a helicopter into the night. I switched my headlamp off so as not to attract its return, and dove into my tent onto my ridiculously lumpy sleeping pad.
POP! A huge noise erupted from the pad underneath me as I tucked my legs in the tent and shifted around. Uh oh…. I sat still for a minute, waiting for the inevitable deflating of the entire pad. When nothing happened, I realized it had just been another baffle divider popping, enlarging the already bulging belly of my plastic snake. While this made the lump under my back bigger, it was still better than not having a sleeping pad at all. However, it meant that when fully inflated, the pad was not at all comfortable to sleep on. Simultaneously, it deflated while I slept, ultimately leaving me on the ground. I therefore had a very short comfort window during which the pad was deflated enough for the lump not to be too large, but inflated enough to where I was not on the ground. This was going to be an amusing challenge….
Despite any sleeping pad awkwardness, I fell asleep quickly before I could even finish looking at my map for the next day. I was tired, it was late, and every fiber of my being gave in to the silent seduction of darkness and moonlight. As I fell asleep, I hoped the horse and its owners had found peace, somehow, no matter what that meant.
Day 118 – The Boot
Day miles: 31.4
Trip miles: 2454.2
When I was 4, we lived in Freehold, New Jersey. I have a surprising number of memories from those days. I remember people and events, like riding big wheels with my friend Ethan Goldberg. I remember throwing up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the Goldberg’s steps, then running home. Of course, the inevitable phone call came and my Mom asked, “did you just throw up on the Goldberg’s steps?” Uhhhh, yeah, I guess I did. Why did I just leave? I dunno – it seemed easier than ringing the doorbell at that point. I had yet to learn to face the music.
I remember trying to go for a jog with my Dad. I am pretty sure I made it 30 feet. Hopefully he at least found it amusing.
In the winter he built us snow forts. Our dog, Peanut Butter, loved the snow. I can take no credit for her name or for having her at all, because when we brought her home from the pound, I was terrified of her. I remember crying all the way home. Why? Who knows. Kids are funny like that. But, it only took a day or so for Peanut and I to become best friends. Well, I should say that it only took that long for ME to become obsessed with her. Peanut was a momma’s dog until the day she died.
Peanut was a terrier mix of some kind. She liked to chew and dig and destroy. She ate an entire wicker chair in New Jersey. She loved getting marshmallows when we cooked outside, and she would bury them in hiding places around the yard for later enjoyment. She had a plastic, Hawaiian Punch teapot shaped like the Hawaiian Punch bowl character from the TV commercials, that she would proudly carry around, chew on, and toss violently when the mood suited her.
Peanut was always throwing up, and examining the contents of her puke was often quite interesting. If you are a person who fishes and consumes your own catch, you may have had this experience in looking at the stomach contents while cleaning your fish. You might find minnows, crayfish, or even lures and old hooks – tales of life and survival underwater. With Peanut, you might find deflated balloons, string, pieces of furniture, small rocks, toys, etc. Her stomach contents were often the answer to the question “Where could that _____ possibly be?”
Outside of playing with Peanut, I was into relatively normal kid things back then. I liked GI Joe, dinosaurs, anything related to cars and construction (tools, heavy machinery, and tractors are cool, even if you don’t know what to do with them). I was also a big fan of the Lone Ranger.
Watching it now, I am quite sure I would cringe at many of the inappropriate aspects of that old black and white show – the portrayal, and name, of the Tonto character, for starters. But, what kid my age didn’t like the Lone Ranger? He was a TV hero, and the gunfights, horses, Wild West and Americana had me hooked. A battle between He-Man and the Lone Ranger might have been the ultimate entertainment of that time, but I don’t think any of us really wanted those worlds to collide. Even in our childish imaginations, I think we knew that two heroes facing off was a zero sum game. It was good to have separate worlds amongst the imaginary titans.
In addition to watching GI Joe, the Lone Ranger, and the like, I did enjoy playing with the action figures. What kid doesn’t? I had my favorites from time to time. Weirdly, one of my beloved was just some guy wearing a construction hat. I liked him because he had hands that were gripping a tool. When I removed said tool, however, I could make him grip the thin branches of the shrubs outside and position him hanging from the bushes. For some reason, I found this to be great fun. Who knows what kind of world I created in my mind when I did this.
The Lone Ranger action figure was one of my favorites. He had that cool mask and an old-school six shooter in his hand. He rode a horse and wore boots – all of the signs of coolness. The Lone Ranger was there to keep the world in check. He was always good, and always won.
One ordinary day, I couldn’t find my Lone Ranger. Kids lose toys all the time, usually just forgetting where they put them. This wasn’t unusual, but I couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. I looked and looked, but the Lone Ranger was nowhere to be found. I don’t remember getting upset about it. I think I just moved on to whatever the next thing was in my brain. The Lone Ranger would turn up. He always did, just in time to save the day.
Later that day, Peanut threw up on the kitchen floor. As I’ve already said, it was not unusual for her to do this, as she was always swallowing god knows what. Examining the contents of her puke was a regular family activity. As we stooped over the small puddle, my eyes took it all in. There was a balloon. I think I remember some small twigs. But there, in the center of it all, was a boot. It wasn’t just any boot. It was the Lone Ranger’s boot. At this point, you should know that he did not have removable boots, so it was really also a Lone Ranger foot.
Such was the end of the Lone Ranger. We never found the rest of him. I suspect the remains of my stoic hero exited my world and Peanut’s through the only other possible passage, deposited warmly and unceremoniously in a cloud of stink somewhere in the backyard, with bottle flies as his pall bearers. I suppose it is possible she buried him, but I doubt it. Real heroes don’t suffer any differently than the rest of us. Life still chews them up and craps them out. The difference is the legacy they leave behind. A boot isn’t just a boot; it’s a reminder of the impact that person had on the lives of others.
I don’t remember being sad about the Lone Ranger. If anything, maybe I realized I didn’t need the physical toy. The Lone Ranger, at least the good pieces of that character, were as alive in my mind as they ever had been. A trophy doesn’t make a person, and neither does a plastic caricature. I’d like to think I understood this at four, but honestly, I probably just moved on to something else.
At this point you’re probably wondering if this is still a story about hiking. It is, though in a way, it also never has been. But I am about to tie this back, so here we go with that. I did not write about this on the day I hiked out of Anaconda. I took a picture, but then got distracted by the prison, the lightning storm, and the mental health facility. There was so much material there…. Every time I write a daily entry, I later choose pictures to upload with it. I also frequently look at the pictures I have taken for a particular day to jog my memory on things I saw or appreciated. I was looking back at older pictures, and I found one from my road walk out of Anaconda. I noticed a small, red, plastic boot on the side of the road. It was clearly from some kind of toy, and it made me remember the story about Peanut and the Lone Ranger. So there you go, and here is a picture of the boot. It was the size of a quarter.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of feet outside my tent. Fortunately, I am fairly sure it was a deer. I heard it walking slowly towards my tent, and then a minute later, THUNK! My trekking pole, which had been leaning against a tree, fell into my tent and down to the side. I shouted and hit the side of my tent, which seemed to do the trick as I heard the feet retreat. I think it was a deer that started licking my trekking pole handle, which then knocked it into my tent. Deer will do this for the salt buildup on trekking pole handles. I should have known better than to lean it against a tree. Usually I lay it down with the handle inside the vestibule of my tent to try to discourage rodents from chewing on the handles, and deer from, well, knocking them into my tent.
A few minutes later, I heard the feet return. This time I turned on my headlamp and repeatedly shook the walls of my tent and yelled. That seemed to do the trick, as I heard the animal run off this time, probably back down the game trail I had so cleverly camped beside. Ugh. This was exactly why I didn’t like to camp by streams and in areas with animal activity. It was too late though, so I went back to sleep after blowing some air back into my air mattress.
In the morning, I was happy to see that nothing had messed with my food bag. I had this vision of my little area being a grizzly highway, with them untying my bag from the tree and tossing it back and forth like a football, smiling with glee. It was interesting to see my little area in the light. There were actually three intersecting game trails there – one that paralleled the Spotted Bear alternate, and two coming up from the creek, converging right in front of where I camped. No wonder there was a flat spot there – the animals probably gathered there every night.
Anyway, I hiked off into the morning, grateful that nothing much had come of camping in a superhighway. I found myself walking out of the forest into an overgrown burn zone, and ran into two northbound hikers I had not met yet: Ladybug and Detour. They were taking a break by a stream, and I enjoyed chatting with them for a bit before hiking on. They later caught up with me and I hiked behind them for a bit until they took another break and I moved on.
The trail today was very overgrown. I found myself wading through brush and thimble berry bushes. The latter was nice in the sense that I got to eat some thimble berries, but they can be a pain to hike through. I was finally getting tired of pushing through brush, not being able to see my feet, and feeling it occasionally tear at my shins. I just wanted to hike and not feel like I was bushwhacking. At one point, I tripped on the heavy brush and fell forward simultaneously onto both knees. Fortunately, I didn’t injure myself or get scraped up too badly.
I had made my way back onto the CDT earlier in the morning, and after what seemed like the longest day of hiking through overgrowth, I found myself reaching the end of a valley and needing to make a decision. It was getting closer to sunset and very gusty out. The wind was whipping around and it smelled heavily of smoke from distant fires. I was about to start a long climb up onto what looked like a somewhat exposed ridge. Should I keep going? I wasn’t sure if I would find a place to camp that was protected from the wind up there. In the end, I decided to go for it. I love doing those ridge walks as the sun is setting. It would be a spectacular view, and I figured if I couldn’t find a place to pitch my tent up there, I would just strap on my headlamp and keep walking down until I found something suitable.
I climbed and climbed as the wind whipped around me. At one point, I took off my hat and held it as I crested the mountain. Fortunately, it was not all treeless at the top. There were exposed section, but plenty of forest nearby – I just had to find a spot where I could tuck away. This made me relax a bit, and I walked on across the ridge, beginning what would be a long, sloping descent down tomorrow.
I ended up finding a flat area with tree cover and views off both sides of the mountain. It was tucked back just enough that the wind was not a factor. It was kind of perfect. I set up my tent there in the fading light and enjoyed the orange glow of a setting sun, its rays choked by a hazy smoke that still occupied the sky.
So many comments in FarOut had said that there wasn’t good camping up here. I was glad that I did not listen. I have become very good at finding places to camp even when it seems like there is nothing around. I made my dinner, tied my food off in the forest, and lay on my lumpy mattress listening to the sound of the breeze and thinking about the day. The sky melted away in a blaze of orange and pink, dissolving into a deep navy abyss speckled with stars. Their light shown through the smoky haze, not to be stifled. I missed home and missed my wife, but I was happy to be where I was in that moment, on top of a mountain sleeping under the miracle of the sky in the world we live in.
Day 119 – The Change Up
Day miles: 31.7
Trip miles: 2485.9
Morning on the ridge was beautiful. It felt like it got light earlier, just because I had access to the sky from both the east and west. Often I am just buried in a forest, or enjoying sunset, but waiting longer for the light from sunrise to hit.
I started my hike down the ridge. I had camped 17.5 miles from the highway into East Glacier, and 32 miles from the point where the trail dips right behind the East Glacier Lodge. If I walked the road into East Glacier, it would shave off maybe a mile or two. I didn’t really feel like doing another road walk though, so I dismissed that idea and marched on.
The trail looked like it flattened out on the map once I was down from the ridge, but it did not. There were lots of PUDS (pointless ups and downs), and the trail was thick with overgrowth. If I was lucky, it came with thimble berries, but often it was just annoying brush covering the trail. I hiked through some extensive exposed burn areas. Absent any overhead tree cover, the sun beat down on me, making the recently cold nights seem like a figment of my imagination.
After a half day of pushing through overgrown trail, I finally hit a mile stretch of some fairly bad blowdowns. Up until this point, I was beginning to think I was going to escape the reputation of The Bob for having horrible blowdowns. Fortunately, it only lasted for a mile or so. I can’t imagine what the SOBOs had to deal with. The more I learn about the CDT as I hike along, the more I think that hiking southbound is the worst way to experience it. I think a late northbound hike or maybe a flip flop increase the likelihood of a good experience.
I jungle-gymed my way through the blowdowns, moving incredibly slowly – maybe 1 MPH. I finally got through them, sweaty and tired of dealing with overgrowth and fallen trees. I made it down to Summit Campground by the highway where there was potable water and picnic tables and took a break in the shade. I ate my lunch of peanut butter and some random snacks and weighed my options.
In the end, I was tired of dealing with overgrowth, so I decided to walk the road into town. I didn’t feel like wading through any more bushes or dealing with more blowdowns today. I also decided to change my town strategy. I had originally planned to stop in East Glacier. The problem was, I had also originally planned to resupply at the camp stores in the campgrounds that would follow: Two Medicine and Many Glacier. The store in Two Medicine had already closed for the season, and Many Glacier was soon to follow. Further, I had to actually hike into Glacier National Park to the Two Medicine campground to get to a backcountry ranger office where I could secure camping permits for the park. Walk-in permits could be obtained for same day or next day hiking only. Advance permits were an inconvenient to impossible task for a thru-hike – I had already explored this option. I therefore found myself in a situation where I did not know how many days of food to procure in East Glacier until I had permits from Two Medicine, which was farther down the trail.
I contemplated this dilemma, and decided I would change my plan as follows: I would hike the road into East Glacier to shave a few miles so that I would have time to pass through town and camp just outside of town right before the Glacier National Park boundary. There was a very small area between town and the park where I could legally camp, since I had already secured a recreational permit from the Blackfeet tribe. East Glacier and the land leading up to Glacier National Park are part of the Blackfeet reservation.
I had enough food to make this plan work, and I could even stop at the small grocery in east glacier for a snack on my way through town. Two Medicine was 10 miles from East Glacier, so I would cut that down to 7 or 8 miles, wake up early the next day, reach Two Medicine, get permits, then hitch back to East Glacier. I could then resupply with the appropriate amount of food, depending on the hiking distances allowed by the camping permits I secured, and hitch back to Two Medicine the next day to restart my hike from where I left off. Happy with this plan, I started the road walk into town.
The road was hot and, while less than ideal, I was happy to have a break from constant weeds and brush hitting my legs. The rail line into town runs parallel to the road, so I walked along the train tracks instead for a while. It was quite peaceful and I was much happier walking up there, but I later saw a sign noting that it was illegal to walk on railroad property, so I moved back down to the road. Fortunately there was plenty of shoulder to walk on, and before I knew it, I had cleared the 11 miles into East Glacier.
I arrived in town at about 5:30PM and stopped first at the tiny grocery/convenience store. I was glad that I did this – I could now see that resupply was going to be really limited (and expensive). I was in between two bubbles of hikers, and the bubble in front of me had really wiped out the supply of many items. No matter – this was a challenge I could kick down the road until I had permits. I purchased some snacks and a few drinks, as well as a sub sandwich. They had a deli counter at the back of the store, which was awesome. I had a few snacks at the store and downed my drinks there, then hiked out with the sandwich for dinner.
I walked up to the East Glacier Lodge. It is quite large and very nice. Across from it is the Amtrak station. I already had a train ticket booked on Amtrak as part of my leg home from the trail. When I was in Anaconda, I did some estimation, and decided to go ahead and book transport home via changeable tickets. I would take an Amtrak from East Glacier to Minneapolis, then fly home from there. A train ride seemed like a great way to wind up the trip. I originally planned to walk into Canada and meet an old friend in Waterton, but the information I obtained was that the border crossings there and at Chief Mountain were both closed.
I hiked behind the lodge and beside its golf course to rejoin the trail. It took me until almost dark to get to the park boundary. I stopped about 0.2 miles short of it and camped up on a hill. The starry night came quickly, despite the distant lights from East Glacier and nearby Browning. The moon was bright, the breeze light, and I was excited to be so close to the park. I knew that once I had my Glacier permits in hand, I would know exactly what day I would finish my hike. Up until this point, I was just “continuing north.” Now the end would be imminent. It already was.
I contemplated this as I lay in my tent. A journey of this magnitude doesn’t have an end at first. It feels so vast that it will never end. But, of course, the end will come, and it starts to feel different when that reality sets in. I was ready for it to be over. I was still having fun, but I was tired. It was time to wrap it up. It was hard, however, not to let thoughts of “what will I do next?” rush in. Living in the moment is easy when the moment is all you have. The minute the inevitability of a future different than the present creeps in, it can be harder to stay in the moment. I didn’t worry about it though – not in that moment. I was too tired and excited and hopeful that I would not have any issues getting permits to complete my journey. I was almost there! I was close to completing a goal, but much could still go wrong if I was not careful. I set an alarm to wake myself up early. I had a lot to accomplish tomorrow.
Day 120 – The Message
Day miles: 7.4
Trip miles: 2493.3
It was hard to wake up at 4AM. It doesn’t start getting light out until 6:30, so it is still cold and dark at 4. It is also the tail end of what I call the “witching hour,” when the grizzly bears are out and about along with other predators, but it is impossible to see them. I don’t like hiking in the dark out here, but sometimes I just do it anyway.
I decided to get a very early start on the day for three reasons: (1) I was anxious to get my permits, which is always competitive with other walk-in hikers, regardless of whether they are thru-hikers; (2) I had a big climb in front of me before heading down to Two Medicine, which would slow me down a bit, and (3) I was hoping to catch the sunrise from the mountain top after said climb. For these reasons, I made haste breaking down camp and hiked out in the dark with my headlamp.
As soon as I started walking I saw a pile of fresh bear poop in the middle of the dirt road that I had camped next to. It definitely was NOT there last night. It was like the bear had left me a message: “Just so you know, kid, this is my turf.” It was pretty clear, and I pictured it glaring at my tent as it pinched its loaf into the middle of the road/trail. That pile of poop was like the horse’s head in “The Godfather.” Ugh…. There was nothing to do now but walk.
It felt like grizzlies were going to pop out at every turn. There are a LOT of grizzly bears in this area and in Glacier National Park, in addition to a large population of black bears. Glacier has one of the densest grizzly populations in North America. I therefore decided that I would grace the morning with my rendition of Billy Joel’s greatest hits, and proceeded to work through the album at the top of my lungs. I try not to be obnoxious about making a lot of noise or affixing bells to myself when I am hiking on trails around others. It was pitch dark though, and I knew there would be no one else around as I had just entered Glacier National Park. It was illegal to camp there, so I unless someone was camped illegally, I would not be disturbing their slumber.
I felt better when I started the long climb on single track trail up an exposed ridge. Even in the dark I could see a little bit, so it felt much less likely that a grizzly would suddenly appear from out of the trees. I was rewarded for my early rise, making it to the top just as the sun formed a warm glow on the horizon. I hung out at the top for a while, enjoying the peace and tranquility of first light. I had a nice view of Lower Two Medicine Reservoir in the distance.
I was able to take my headlamp off at the top of the climb. It felt so good to see the light! On my way down the other side, I was wowed with an incredible view of Two Medicine Lake, where the campground is, and the mountains surrounding it. It was absolutely stunning, the morning sun causing the tops of the mountains to glow with a reddish hue. If this was just the beginning of Glacier National Park, I was excited to see what else lay in wait.
I finished descending down the trail and joined the road to the ranger station at the campground. When I arrived, the ranger was asking someone to re-review campground rules, and then talking with a woman about how to deploy bear spray. I thought she was going to spray the entire inside of the station! She had procured the spray just for a walk around the lake by the road…. Witnessing the first 10 seconds of interactions this ranger was having with campground guests made me think that working at a big national park in the permit office or at one of these campgrounds would definitely not be a dream job.
I managed to get my permits sorted. It took a little juggling based on availability, but I got campsites that would have me in the park for five nights – four nights out of Two Medicine to touch the border and complete my quest, and then one night after some backtracking and following a non-CDT trail. I would then be out of the park the morning of the sixth day. Some of the legs were a little longer than I had hoped, but I would be carrying all of my food from East Glacier, so it worked out ok. I also kind of had to take what I could get, as permits were limited and there was not a lot of flexibility. Overall, I was happy with my mileage schedule.
I also learned from the ranger that it was, in fact, and despite what the Canadian border crossing websites said, possible to cross into Canada at Waterton. In fact, it was quite easy, and only required self-reporting through a Canadian app, as well as a US one. At that point, though, I had already booked my Amtrak ticket and flight, so it would be too expensive to change plans. I would still be able to go to the border, and since there was no border station at Waterton, I could even walk into Canada just to say I crossed into Canada – it was nothing but forest there.
Permits in hand, I walked down the road that led out of Two Medicine. I hadn’t seen any other thru-hikers there. I thought I might see someone at the permit office. I learned that it was no longer an option to camp at Two Medicine, so no hikers had stayed there the night before. They closed camping to all tents and soft-sided structures due to bear activity. A black bear and her cubs had been roaming the campsite and becoming very interested in tents, looking for food, so they had deemed it a bad idea to continue to allow people to camp there this season.
I kept walking down the road and started trying to hitch as cars went by. I made it a mile to a mile and a half down the road until I found a good pull off, and decided to stop there and just stay until I got a ride. It took a little while, but finally a van pulled over. I was excited! It turned out that the van was a shuttle run by the East Glacier Lodge. The lady driving said that she could give me a ride, but would have to charge me $15 as that was what the shuttle cost. I didn’t care – $15 for a guaranteed ride sounded great to me, so I hopped in.
I learned that the lodge ran regular shuttles between their East Glacier location and Two Medicine, as well as their sister lodge in St. Mary’s, a town further north that also served as an access point to the park. Accepting this ride was fortuitous, because this knowledge gave me an immediate option to get back to the trail tomorrow in a reliable fashion, as well as an option to get out of the park later.
When I got back to East Glacier, I went to a hostel down from the lodge called Looking Glass, run by a woman named Luna and her husband. They used to operate a restaurant in town, but either it failed or they didn’t want to run it anymore, so they converted it to a hostel. I chose to pitch my tent out back for $15, though they also allowed sleeping inside on the floor. Luna had cabins as well, so I went ahead and reserved one for the night before my train would leave when the hike was over. That way I could mail anything I might have trouble getting past TSA for my flight out of Minneapolis, like my knife, tent stakes, trekking poles, etc. I didn’t want to check my pack on my flight home for fear that it would fall apart – it was already held together with safety pins in several places.
The hostel had everything I needed, which was perfect, and there were a number of hikers there, most of whom had already finished the trail or would hike out from East Glacier tomorrow. In terms of people hiking out tomorrow, Axel and Windchime were there, as well as Dallas and her hiking partner. The latter two would hike out from East Glacier tomorrow, but were headed to Chief Mountain. Axel and Windchime would finish at Waterton, but were starting their hikes from East Glacier tomorrow. I was the only one who had already hiked to Two Medicine.
There are two northern termini for the CDT – Waterton and Chief Mountain. Waterton is the traditional end point for the CDT, in Glacier National Park and right next to Waterton Lake. It has a boundary marker monument and is said to have a pretty backdrop with the lake and mountains. Chief Mountain has traditionally been the early season starting point for SOBOs when the passes to get to Waterton are not yet open, as well as the destination for NOBOs who finish too late to get through the park to Waterton. It has since transformed into a chosen destination for some who just find it easier to finish there, since it is right on a major road. While it is logistically easier to finish at Chief Mountain, I didn’t want to finish at the road. Chief Mountain also has a border monument, but I wanted to finish at Waterton Lake in a bit more serene setting, so that was my plan. I was fortunate enough to still have a choice, but Glacier was going to shut down for the season at the end of the month. I assume that anyone who finishes in October has to go to Chief Mountain, but I am not sure.
I walked down to the grocery and took care of my resupply, then did some laundry so that I could hike out with clean clothes. I almost skipped this step, but having clean clothes felt good and I was glad I took the time to do it. On my way to the store, I stopped in at the lodge to learn more about their shuttle times back to Two Medicine, as well as ask them about getting back out of the park. One of the employees there had actually thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2018, the same year as me. Her trail name was Truck, and while we didn’t meet on trail, it was really nice being able to talk with someone who I knew would understand what I was trying to sort out.
Truck and her colleague were incredibly helpful! I was able to book a shuttle to Two Medicine for tomorrow. I only had to hike about 14 miles tomorrow, so I booked a 10:30AM shuttle, which would allow me to eat the breakfast buffet at the lodge before leaving. I also reserved a spot on their shuttle back to East Glacier from St. Mary’s, which was also only $15. They explained that I could hike down to the Going to the Sun road from my last campsite (it’s kind of like the Blue Ridge Parkway, but weaves through Glacier Park), which was about 7 or 8 miles, then catch a free hiker shuttle to the visitor center at Logan Pass. There was then another free shuttle to the visitor’s center in the town of St. Mary’s. From there I could walk to their sister lodge and get the shuttle back to East Glacier. It was perfect, and I felt good having a plan in place.
In my plan, I had built in a full day after getting back to East Glacier to take care of going home preparations, like mailing some of my gear back, doing laundry, buying snacks for the train ride, and generally just saying goodbye to people and memories. That afternoon back at the hostel I talked with other hikers and ate a frozen pizza from Luna’s small store. She has a nice assortment of snacks and resupply items so that it isn’t really necessary to go to a restaurant, unless you want to. The frozen pizza was $5, so was a convenient and cheap way to have a meal. Earlier in the morning I had gone to a restaurant next door called The Whistle Stop. Their stuffed French toast was amazing! I also ate two pieces of pie – one huckleberry and one strawberry. It was quite good.
Windchime and Axel took note of the campsites I had booked and hitched out to get permits and return. It wasn’t so much that they wanted to stay at the same sites as me, but rather that it helped give them an idea of what made sense from a mileage perspective. I hoped I might see them at the campsites. It would be nice to share them with other thru-hikers, rather than just regular park visitors, if for nothing else other than a similarity of journey. When they returned later I found out that we would, in fact, have some of the same sites early on, which was nice.
When I laid down to go to sleep, it hit me that this was it. Everything was sorted out now. All I had to do was wake up, eat a buffet, and start the wheels in motion by boarding my 10:30AM shuttle back to Two Medicine. In 5 days, I would hit the border and complete my goal, and on the morning of day 6 I would hike to a road and be done walking. It felt surreal, but I was happy. Perhaps “content” is a better word for it. I felt content.
Being around hikers at the hostel who had finished already definitely made me realize that the end was near. Even though I was so close to being done, I could not relate to them. It felt like they were existing on a completely different plane. Everything is different when you’re done; if you’re not done yet, you still have to hike, still have to push, still have to adhere to the same routine of waking up every day and making your miles. Likewise, you are still discovering, still seeing new things, still enjoying the beauty of the trail. I confess that I didn’t talk much with the hikers who had finished. I didn’t go out to eat with them. I didn’t know them, and I didn’t want to hear them talk about their hikes ending while I was still trying to complete mine.
I went to be feeling good, with a plan to wake up early so that I could sit and eat at the buffet for a while. I wanted to drink endless cups of coffee and charge my phone before leaving. The inside of the lodge was really nice, so it would be fun to just relax there and have a later-than-usual start to my hiking day. The sound of barking dogs in the distance filled the early hours of the night. It wasn’t so loud that I could not get to sleep, but it was certainly testament to the number of “community” dogs that roamed around the reservation. I saw two furry little legs walk by my tent – a cat out on its nightly prowl.
I was grateful to have all of my logistics finally sorted, to have a nice and cheap place to sleep, and to be on the verge of exploring Glacier National Park, which promised to be beautiful and rewarding. I fell asleep to a cold wind and the promise of adventure in the air. My hike wasn’t over yet, and I had a lot left to look forward to, and to survive, on my way to the Canadian border.
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