July 8th.
I knew today was going to be tough: hot, a long, waterless road walk, and then a climb back up in to the mountains. Plus my new shoes had given me blisters which were acting up.
In the morning as I descended I nursed my remaining water. I hiked through a cow-filled meadow called Burton Park where all the water was fouled. I eventually headed out of the forest to the bottom of a valley where Interstate 15 whisks people and products along.
Heading down, a group of three pick up trucks towing empty srock traIles passed me on their way up. On the way back down, the elder rancher stopped and said “Don’t suppose I could offer you a ride.” I said I was trying hard to walk the whole way. He said “I figured” and went on his way.
The weird torture of this all is that I was coming down into a broad, dry, treeless valley. On the other side was my destination clearly rising miles away. The silver ribbon of Interstate 15 cut through the middle. My route was equally visible as miles of gravel road veering to the north, under the freeway, and then up into the mountains. My only water source was a creek that had run through a few active ranches. Tempting me was a rest area off to the left. I know that sounds ridiculous, but shimmering in the heart of the valley was a beautiful rest area. I imagined cold running water, clean restrooms, and an attendant serving coffee to weary travelers. Unfortunately, what stood between me and my fantasy rest area were 2 pretty obvious trespasses plus an exciting, perhaps life-altering, sprint across an interstate. Predictably, I chose gravel and cow water.
As I was nearing the end of my gravel road walk, a white Forest Service pickup slowed down as it approached from behind. To the amazement of us both, it turned out to be the exact same forest ranger that I met on a gravel road on July 4th. I joked that I had a right to know why the USFS was tailing me. He was just on routine patrol and this was the southern end of his territory. Odd, but true.
I had a tough, long climb back up to altitude. The trail was shared with horses and ATVS at this point. Didn’t see anybody, but there definitely some folks firing guns in the distance.
I was nursing my cow creek water as I went further uphill. Thunderstorms were forecast, so I could still sleep up high, just not too high or too exposed. As the sun set, the clouds thickened, and the last flat camping spot was coming in to view, miraculously, a tiny spring showed up. Right near the top of a dry mountain was a clear, icy spring. I was so happy and immediately replaced my cow water and rushed off to set up camp near a bluff overlooking the entire Butte valley. What a great finish to a tough 23 mile day.
backpacking over the hill 