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July 17, 2018. Sullivan Lake to Metaline Falls.

After a great night’s sleep, I got up rested. I tried to eat breakfast, this time an overnight soak of a 10-grain cereal with fruit and nuts. Not a favorite.

Pretty straightforward lake hike. It was an attractive lake.

There were a few day hikers out early. There is an air strip at the end of the lake.

The rest of the way was a six mile road walk. If the road had been busy, it could’ve been frightening as their was little shoulder.

Pretty country, but I was most focused on getting to town. Foremost, I was looking forward to my new pair of shoes.

Around 9:30, I walked into town. The Post Office wouldn’t open until 10:00. Fortunately, one of the town’s two restaurants was open. I enjoyed this second breakfast much more.

I got my shoes and found a place to stay.

Metaline Falls is a town that peaked in the 1910s. Mining and, later, cement and other resources were the drivers. Except for one zinc mine, everything is shut. As a result, almost all businesses in town are shut.

There is some very interesting architecture. One is an apartment building with ornate green brickwork at the top.

Best of all, there is a residence called the Rock House. It has two outbuildings. The main residence is built with local stones. My photos I took don’t do justice to the creative work. There were two gorgeous stone chimneys.

July 16, 2018. From the side on Mount Mankato to Sullivan Lake.

It was very still last night. I thought and hoped there would be more of a breeze, but it was stagnant though the temperature did drop as ome.

When I started hiking the first thing I saw was a forest fire in the valley below. Uh oh.

I knew I should report it, but to whom? How? I turned on my phone and had a few bars. 9-1-1 seemed wrong. I googled the forest service for this particular area. I dialed the local office. It was early, so it was a recording. However, I was able to leave a message, but given the garbled connection I wasn’t sure it all went through. I also sent a note to the PNT trail association.

It was a great morning for hiking with many open meadows to cross.

The day kept getting hotter. Before I entered a lengthy burn area, I found a very unique mushroom. Previously, all mushrooms had been traditionally shaped.

Having reached the peak height for the day, I crossed a meadow that would lead to several hours in a burn area.

The burn area was depressing, inspiring, and boring. All the death and destruction is depressing. Ancient trees, countless animals, all burnt.

Inspiration came from the plants literally rising from the ashes and animals and insects trying to gain a foothold.

As the temperature soared with no source of shade, hiking was tough. I experienced this weird feeling where I just had no appetite. My rational mind knew I should eat, but my physical condition could not stand food.

Around 3:00, I finally left the burn area to follow a cool, noisey creek downhill. Appropriately named Noisey Creek, it would eventually feed in to a reservoir named Sullivan Lake.

At first, the creek and trail rapidly descended. However, at some point the trail switched away from the stream and began long, gradual switchbacks.

For a day hiker or casual mountain hiker, these broad leisurely paths might be very appealing. When you’re an exhausted through hiker, these paths are frustrating, in this case adding, I guessed, two miles more distance than necessary.

Finally, I reached a drive in campground between Noisey Creek and Sullivan Lake. It was 4:30 and I guessed it to be around 95 degrees. Tempting as it was to just buy a campsite, I knew the RVers would have a different schedule and they would be running their generators to run their air conditioners.

So I pushed on. A road ran down one side of Sullivan Lake and a four mile footpath down the other. I started down the trail,but had to rest. For the first time on this trip, I stopped for an extended break. It was too hot. Salt crystals were visible on my shirt and hat marking the days exertions.

After 30 minutes, I resumed my lake trail, constantly looking for a campsite. However, this side of the lake was a steep slope. After a few miles I came to a perfect campsite. A level place for my tent, close to the lake, and some prior occupant had made a bench at the water’s edge.

I ate dinner on the bench watching the sunset soaking my legs. A waxing crescent of moon appeared. Like a dimmer switch, as it descended toward the ridge across the lake, darkness increased. Once behind the ridge, it was dark and beautiful, with small waves touching shore.

July 13, 2018. From West Side Road to Pyramid Lake

At 7:00 Sharlene, the trail angel, was there to pick me up. A thoughtful person, she was interesting to speak with on the drive to the trail.

I skipped a 9 mile paved road walk. I have paved roads at home I can walk if I feel a burning desire. I started at trailhead for Parker Ridge. I’d heard and read that this was a real quad/calf buster. Also there was strong advice to fill up at the trailhead stream because there was no other water source for 16 miles. I drank a full liter, carried 4.

I knew it would be a low mileage day since I started out at 1,800 feet and sought to end up at 7,200 feet ideally. Oh, and it was supposed to top 90.

Parker Ridge was the center of a fire a few years back. The Forest Service and volunteer trail crews had remade the trail. Early on, the steady switchbacks rose through old exposed areas. The bonus was huckleberries to munch on.

After an hour or so, I entered the burn area. The crews had designed a trail that alternated directions and drew attention away from the glum monotony of a burned forest.

There was some interesting vegetation jumping in to the void. That brought insects. More curious to me, I found a pair of woodpeckers. I assumed they must like their insects extremely well done, definitely on the dry side. My quest has been to video baby grouses flying. I got sort of close.

My legs and lungs felt really good. In my experience, in longer hikes there is a whole bunch of physical and mental melodrama for the first few weeks before things settled down. Now, I felt fine.

Once around 6500 feet, the landscape changed to boulders and stunted trees, dotted with some lingering snow patches. I gladly dumped out my warm stale trailhead water and collected snowmelt for filtering.

The sky was a beautiful blue and a gentle evening breeze was starting. I decided to push for 17 miles. I know that doesn’t sound like much, with the elevation gain, five days food, and the hauled water, it seemed good to me.

Pyramid Lake was my destination. I could see its namesake mountain from a distance. It was indeed a three sided pyramid top. Finally, around 7:30, I neared the campsite. Having seen nobody during the day, I thought my mind was playing tricks since I heard the sound of children. Sure enough, the campsite had two families there with four adults, six kids, and two french bulldogs. I was in shock. How could these people and dogs covered such a hike? I mean, french bulldogs?

Turns out the locals take a dirt road to a trailhead 2 miles away. Somebody probably carried the dogs. Anyhow it was quite a contrast to their elaborate meals and my cold- soaked lentils & quinoa; my fastidious food hanging and their just laying food around the campsite. At least they went to bed at a decent hour.

Pyramid Lake was beautiful and I was tired and as I lay in my tent, the wind started to gust every 10 or 15 minutes cooling the air perfectly for sleep.

[NOTE: If there is a PhD level of WordPress blogging, I am struggling for my GED. This post is out of sequence. Sorry.]

July 10, 2018. From crappy place to Bussard Mountain

Not surprisingly, I did not feel too rested. I broke camp and dropped down to the valley. I was in a hurry and excited.

Ahead was the Feist Creek Falls Resort and Bar, an”on trail”restaurant.

I knew it wouldn’t open until noon as I walked up about 9:30. A nice lady tending the beautiful garden gave me permission to sit on the covered patio where I thankfully charged my electronics.

The place was beautiful. I could clearly see the bar, but the resort not so much. In the back of the restaurant/bar there is a legitimate waterfall. The bar is made of logs and has the required animal heads. In the front, there is a large covered porch with huge hanging flower baskets. The porch overlooks a trout pond, the Moiye River, and then Bussard Mountain. The trout are huge. There is a vending machine inside the bar to buy food to throw in the pond. I bet the fish enjoy bar patrons getting tipsy and buying fish food.

A bit after 10:00, the three hikers from London showed up. We talked trail and gear and FIFA world cup. Half an hour later, an employee let us in early and offered coffee. Ahead of schedule they opened the kitchen and I enjoyed a hamburger and fries.

My batteries were fully charged, but I needed to get some tap water. I filled up my two liter platypus bottle. (Platypus is a brand of refillable containers that are flexible and lightweight.) I packed up, said goodbye to the Londoners, and was on my way.

It had remained overcast in the 50s with no rain. Frankly, this was perfect for hiking. I went past a large, old mule operation on the floor of the valley. Another reminder of how times have changed. George Washington was a famous mule breeder and one could argue mules helped open the west. Now, Bussard Mountain Mules was downcast and overgrown. As an aside, I was not able to find out how Bussard was named and why the locals all pronounced it “buzzard.”

The climb up was easier than I expected. I had fewer stops and fewer still complaints. On the way up, my sixth sense kept bugging me with a feeling I had left something behind. I tried ignoring it as silly. After all, I had only unpacked my electronics and Platypus. Finally, my paranoia got the best of me, fearing I had left behind my charger. The good news was my electronics were intact. The bad news was my two liter water container was gone. Althoughed pissed, I was glad because I did have an extra one on hand. The only challenge was that I had very little water with me.

I was ahead of schedule knowing that my ride into Bonners Ferry would not be until late tomorrow afternoon. As a result I set up camp a bit early. I was right near the top of Bussard following an old mining road. Some hunters had already set up their camps along the way with cut and stacked firewood. That was tempting, but I found a natural niche in the thick shrubbery and pitched my tent, built a fire ring, and ate.

After dinner, I gathered firewood. Nearby, the mining road changed to my next trail. As I approached I saw a jumbled pile of boxes and plastic. Amazingly, it was boxed food grade five gallon plastic water containers. I figured the hunters wouldn’t stash water here far from their camps. It must be surplus water for trail crews. Thanking the trail gods, I helped myself.

Enjoying my little fire a bit later, I heard voices. I assumed it was the Brits. (Note: based on their homeland and the westward hike, I refer to them as One Direction.)

Instead, it was Steve and Zeke, just out for a lung-busting mountain bike ride. They must be in amazing shape. They were real helpful and had good local information, even confirming the water was excess forest service.

After they left, it began to drizzle a bit more, so I crawled into my tent and drifted off to a faint ping on my roof as it darkened.

July 8, 2018. One stealth camp at Bunker Hill Creek 24 miles to a roadside camp at Midge Creek.

It sprinkled during the night. I was surprised some drops had made it through the canopy to my tent.

I was very sore. I got rolling in the deep woods. Soon, I was on a forest service road heading to a river in the bottom of the valley. I was going through the Yaak valley.

There was not much to see. I dropped down in to the valley, followed a few paved raods for a few miles and saw three vehicles. I suppose 8:00 am on a Sunday morning is not a time most folks are out. The town of Yaak is about 10 miles south, but I had no desire to see it.

Eventually I left the paved roads for a forest service road that climbed. It was a hot sunny day so I tried to move to the side with the most shade as I hiked. I saw only one vehicle in four hours on the road. I put on the audiobook to break the monotony.

Another mountain, another Lookout that can be rented. Garver Mountain Lookout tower was at the very top, but I stayed on the trail. Once past the lookout, I was on trail, not road, it was nice and slightly rolling in the woods, but still a bit warm.

Eventually, the trail descended to more forest service roads which were my future for the rest of the day. I saw absolutley nobody for the last five miles.

At the end, the road just stopped at a bridge. It was as if it had been maintained just to get to the next section of trail. There was a gravel turnaround that had become slightly overgrown with grass. I was going to pitch my tent here.

Just as I had reached that decision, a big white pickup appeared. The occupants were disappointed the road ended. The driver kept insisting there was a back-road way to go from Eureka to Bonners Ferry. I showed him my phone app map and he seemed disappointed, like somebody just explained there is no northwest passage.

I threw together my dinner and campsite. I did startle a few small mice that bolted through the grass. Great, I thought. I ended up hanging my backpack and food bag.

25 miles.

July 6, 2018. Eureka, MT to stealth camp near Boulder Creek.

Last night in the motel, I was presented with an interesting scenario. On one side a young family checked in. At first the baby was giggling, but eventually got fussy and cried. I have been in their shoes. On the other side, an older couple checked in and they were hard of hearing and thus spoke loud and had the television cranked. I will be in their shoes soon enough.

I walked out of town early, about 6:30. I was loaded with 6 days of food plus water. Watching a town wake up is always interesting. At the last gas station before leaving. I grabbed s cup of coffee.

For a small, tourist town, Eureka had a gem of a hiking / biking trail. It was well maintained and several miles long following the Tobacco River, then, roughly the shore of Lake Koocanusa. I saw two bald eagles along the river.

All good things must come to an end and so I eventually cut over to the freeway. A hot 11 mile walk as RVs, logging trucks, and motorcycles whipped by. Thankfully, I had my MP3 player so I listened to an audiobook most of the way.

It was a pretty boring hike. I was walking along Lake Koocanusa which has a pretty blue undertone. The name is a mashup of Kootenai county. Canada and USA. It is a river dammed several years ago and it stretches 40 miles crossing the US /Canadian border

I did rile up an osprey in her nest. She initially took flight and circled me and her nest. Eventually she settled came to roost down and settled down to her chicks.

I crossed the steel bridge to get to the other side. Thankfully, there was a pedestrian walkway. As I age, I am increasingly nervous about heights. About halfway across the winds started making a weird sound rushing through the railing bars making a bizarre sound. The rest of the way I closely hugged the inside railing.

 

 

There was an interesting “shrine” a bit further on the western side. It was unclear whether the honoree died at that spot or was simply honored there. Homage was in the form of beers, bullets, and quarters. Atop was a tasmanian devil in a dress. I’m not sure how I’ll be remembered when I’m gone, but this would not be my first choice.

Finally, I reached the base of Mount Webb. On a hot, dry afternoon it was a 3,300 foot climb in a few short miles. It was an exposed ascent. I had brought 2 and 1/2 liters of water, but it was soon evident this was not enough.

I eventually reached the old lookout station. It too could be rented, but was not occupied. I walked around the catwalk. It was windy. I think staying overnight could be absolutely beautiful with panoramic sunrises and sunsets or a sheer trip through hall in a windy lightning storm.

All of my water was gone. It was 7:00. I still had over a mile until the next water source. Of course, the trail I was on was the Thirsty Mountain Trail.

After I guzzled down a liter of water, I filled my two liter container and then tried to find a place for the night. The forest was a mix of tall, older trees with very little room in the understory and it was steep.

Finally, I found an area that had been trampled by cattle when grazing had been allowed. There were cow pies, but they were at least two or three years old. In a hurry, I put up my tent and ate my dinner. The mosquitoes here were numerous but dumb.

I climbed into bed about 9:30 and almost fell asleep instantly. Later, I was awaken by on and off sprinkles even though there were stars clearly visible.

I was pleased I had managed to crank out a 26 mile day, but my feet and legs were protesting.