These Things Happen

July 22nd

Today was one of those days that would normally be considered frustrating, but you learn to accept the nature of backpacking and just accept.

First, I started walking through some cattle herds.  Some were skittish, but others seemed to think I was there to open a gate to let them into greener pastures.   A group started following me, which felt weird.

 

Later the trail became less well marked.  One of the mixed blessings of the Continental Divide is that there are several alternates.  On trails where only CDT hikers use the trail, alternates dilute traffic and therefore the tread is less visible. For me, open meadows/ fields are my undoing.  Fortunately, today these open areas  were hilltops, so even though there might not be specific tread to follow, a distant post with a CDT sign on it was good enough for navigation.

I finally got close to a herd of antelope.  I came to a cliff and looked down to see a decent sized herd.  Normally, they scan the horizon so diligently you cannot get close.  I guess they don’t look up.

Later, still, I came to Cottonwood Mountain. Again, one map set encourages hikers to climb up and over the mountain.  The official trail went down a canyon then around the mountain.  Being old-fashioned, I went down the canyon.  The trail was non-existent and the posts very far apart.  Long story short, I turned downstream when I should’ve turned upstream.  I ended up off trail (note I never officially declare myself  “lost”) for about three hours.  That would normally be frustrating, but it gave me a good chance to appreciate the game trails.  These are the routes the animals make and follow.  Some are very good tread and find very efficient routes.  The elk ones are great because they are big enough for a human to walk on.  I did see several female elk and saw one bull grazing on a hillside.

Eventually I got back on track.  I had to walk through a big herd of cattle which led to a pseudo stampede.   I always try to be calm and move slowly, but once one cow freaks, very often the rest do.

I came down through sage brush to a beautiful creek called Tendoy.  The flies and mosquitos had been bad all day.  I was ready to call it a night.  I found a wooded campsite on a little hill away from the creek and set up camp.  I did meet two men on horseback that had been scouting elk for the hunting season ahead.  As I thought back on the day, I had hiked about 26 miles, but only about 21 were on the trail.