backpacking over the hill

July 16th 

How do you get to 9,000 feet from 7,500 feet? This is a trick question because it involves backpacking. The correct answer, as demonstrated in today’s section, is to immediately go down 1,500 feet and then spend the rest of the day climbing 3,000 feet.

There were some interesting ruins near the beginning of the day alongside a creek. From the remains it looked as if pressure hoses had been used to mine for gold. There were odd gravel  channels and rusted eqipment I couldn’t recognize. 

I was passed by three strong young hikers.  Two women and one man.  He had graduated from high school in Minnesota. I visited with them briefly, but they left me in their dust. They were shooting for 26 mile days. Previously,  in Sula, I had met some very fast hikers (i.e. 30 miles per day).

Don’t think there isn’t still enough alpha male left in me to keep up with them.  But I just cannot take hills the way they can. And it’s not just uphill, either.  Plus, I do like to look around, take pictures, and enjoy myself.   I am working on an operating theory that younger hikers focus on quantity whereas older hikers emphasize quality.   When you are young you want to rush through and get things done in the fastest manner.

 But when you are older you want savor the journey a bit more.

I ended up at a Lena Lake. As it was the only good level ground at hand.  It was a 23 mile day.  I was beat and couldn’t wait to get to bed.  My only chores were to eat and feed the mosquitos.

July 14th

It is difficult to realize how exciting a town day can be. Food cooked by someone  else, a shower, electricity. Plus, I would get my resupply package for the next segment. 

I got up, brushed my teeth, and washed my hair.  There was no point hitching too early. Still I was pretty excited (and hungry), so I just flew down the hill to the highway. 

I stuck my thumb out for the passing cars. Nothing. I made sure my bacpack was visible, no hat, no sunglasses. I smiled some times, others I was serious.  There was a vehicle every 5 minutes. No luck.

After an hour, Curtis, Christiana,  and their dog Sable showed up.  Within 5 minutes we had a ride.

Sula Country Store and Resort was a perfect resupply spot.  They serve breakfast and lunch. You can buy a tent site, shower, and laundry.  Or you can get a cabin.  The store had a decent selection of foods.

I immediately ordered an omelet with  bacon.  After I retrieved my resupply package, I then went to my cabin, showered, and did laundry. When I was finished, it was lunchtime. Nancy, the chef, made sure I got a double chesee burger plus a turkey sandwich.  I bought some milk and junk food and set about cleaning my gear.  Later, I took a two hour nap.  The evening was spent charging my electronics and catching up on my blog. 

I got all packed up so I could get breakfast at 7:00 and hitch to the trail. 

July 13th

I was the only one ready to go at 6:30,  so I just started walking. I was running out of food and wanted to get as close to town as possible today.  Then, the next morning I would  hitch to town.

The hiking was great. Lots of water, views, and variety.  Eventually, I came to an area where an old road roughly paralleled the trail. Due to so many downed trees, it just made sense to road walk.  I left notes for my partners. 

When the road ended,  I got back on the trail and resigned myself to a slow day of climbing over, sliding under, and going around fallen trees.   However, after an hour I came across a group of mountain bikers who had chainsaws and were clearing the trail.  Even though it was to help themselves,  I profusely thanked them for their good deed. I even offered to help clear the trail for awhile.

Despite waiting a few times, I never saw my hiking partners. I did, however, run into two young guys who were northbound.  They started at the Mexican border in March and were poised to complete their journey.  They were generous and enthusiastic. 

I ended up camping on a hill just above where I would hitchhike hike from in the morning.  It was called Lost Pass.

July 12th.

I woke up a bit later than normal. All my stuff was still damp.  I had camped near a lake. Humans love to be near water.  However, moist air is drawn to low places at night.(I think the term is katabatic wind.) I had hoped a dry wind might develop, but no such luck. 

At least the weather was nice.  I started the day with a climb through an old spruce forest. Then I descended in a newer forest.  

I came across a hiker in distress.  She was the one who had hunkered down during the storm. Today she had taken an incorrect trail for miles and, to top it all off, she had an unpleasant personal situation that had unfolded recently. She didn’t want to hike alone so we started walking together. 

About an hour later I was pleasantly surprised to see Curtis, Christiana, and their dog Sable. I thought I would never see them again as they were fast hikers.

All four of us hiked together for a while, but eventually Curtis and team sped ahead, agreeing to camp at Surprise Lake.

My new hiking partner had lots of things to talk about as we made our way back to the Divide.  There was a strong, short rainstorm that dropped the temperature at least ten degrees.

After a 20 mile day, we all set our tents around the small, beautiful lake and agreed to start hiking at 6:30.  

We did get a little surprise when a rainstormen blew through in the middle of the night. 

July 11th

When I first woke up at 1:00, it seemed like my tent was collapsing. I pushed and realized the tent was covered with snow.  I banged from the inside, and it all slid off.

At 3:00, I did the same thing, but got out to investigate. There was about 5 inches on the ground. 

At 4:00, I again banged from the inside,  but this time I got an indoor shower.  The snow was high enough that it blocked the ventilation paths.  As a result, all my respiration in the cold humid air was collecting on the inside. Both the head and feet  of my sleeping bag were wet from the damp walls pushing in under the weight of snow.

By 5:30, I had to make a decision: hunker down and hope the snow stops and melts or push through.  I decided to push on.  I put on my wet shoes over damp socks, folded my icy, wet tent and headed out.  There was about eight inches of snow on the ground with more coming down.

Cutaway Pass was above 9,000 feet.  I was camped at 7,800 feet.  It was about 3 miles away.  My biggest fears were getting lost and frostbite on my feet.  Fortunately, the outline of the trail was discernible, especially towards the top. Oddly, a moose used a good section of the trail and his stride matched mine making the effort easier for a while.

I think because I kept moving, wriggled my toes, and the temperature never dropped much below freezing kept me safe. 

By the time I reached the summit, I was winded.  I was so happy that I had made it.  I was pretty confident as I descended the other side that the snow would lessen the lower the elevation. 

I spent the rest of the day breaking trail. In fact the snow did eventually turn to slush at the lowest elevation.  I avoided slush puddles with intensity.  

Towards the end of the day I had one more high pass to navigate.   I was  excited to finally see a pair of footprints!  They must’ve hunkered down at the base of the pass.  I sped along as best I could hoping to catch up.  

Just before I reached my final spot for the day (Johnson Lake). I managed another clever wipe out.  I was going down a steep slope. The trail was a mix of mud, snow, rocks, and puddles. To avoid a muddy slush puddle, I stepped on a rock at the very edge. Whoosh. Left leg goes screaming down hill, but my right leg stayed on trail in what used to be known as the hurdler’s stretch. Truth be told, I’m not sure I ever could do the hurdler’s stretch. But here I was in a wilderness area at 54 in form so perfect my high school track coach would be proud.  Well, nothing major snapped or popped or stopped wotking, so, astonished, I carried on.

I set up my wet tent and put in my damp sleeping bag. Exhausted, I headed off to a miserable night’s sleep.

July 10th

Although it did not snow, there was a light drizzle. Oddly, I actually sleep pretty good with a little rain on the tent.

I reached the trailhead.  The most amazing thing was a fantastic new, clean pit toilet. Previously, I had no need, but I was drawn to this beauty.  Inside, spotless.  

I trudged through the Anaconda Pintler Wilderness  (APW) in the rain.  I attached my umbrella to my backpack and kept my upper body dry as my feet got soaked.

The big highlight was ascending from a lake  up a steep series of switchbacks.   It was scary but beautiful. The further up I went, the closer I hugged the wall and the clouds were momentarily disintegrating.  It was beautiful when I finally reached an area known as Goat Flats. Although flat, it is slanted down.  I saw no goats.

The short cut through Anaconda rejoins the real trail here.  I was walking across the high alpine grass when a dark cloud rolled in, dropping visibility to ten feet.  It was both cool and eerie. 

I managed to wind my way down.  First through a Larch forest, then a sketchy, muddy decline.  The trail went along through mostly old forest.  I witnessed a freak event.  At Flower Lake, an old dead tree suddenly collapsed, partially into the lake.  The was no strong wind.  It just chose that moment to topple. It was weird.  Hard to put that thought out of your head as you walk through the forest. 

I was going to push for miles and clear Cutaway Pass before camp, but increasing rain with the introduction of lightening persuaded me to set up camp a few miles short.

It was a wet, cold camp after 19 hard miles.  As I got into my sleeping bag I was depressed by how soaked my feet, socks, and shoes were. My other pair had no chance to dry today. Maybe tomorrow would be better. 

July 9th

Fortunately, the bad weatherwent to both sides of me.  Burnt Mountain sheltered me from the storm.  It was 

an amazing sunrise.

Knowing I had a dry day ahead of me, I went back to the beautiful spring to fill up.  I drank a liter and then filled both my two liter water containers and placed them in the top of my pack, knowing that 8 pounds of clear spring water would be a pleasure to carry.  As I turned to start my day’s hike, my right toe caught on the top of a rock.  I lunged forward a step, tried to raise myself, staggered 2 more steps,  but the weight of the water behind my head threw  my balance off and I smashed into the ground.  My hands took some of  the blow, but most went to my right knee, especially the knee cap.  I sort of wish I had a slow motion video, but the damage was not funny.

The trail meandered through some abandoned mines.  I was listening to an audio book and failed to notice I was off track until about a mile down the wrong hill.  Bonus mileage! 

Eventually, the (correct) trail went through a flat valley with several abandoned log structures. It must’ve been something in its day.

Later the trail went through a wildlife management area (Mule Ranch).  I saw a mother and calf moose but could not get a good photo.

A fierce rain storm accompanied a drop in temperature as I walked along a highway. I put on another top layer and my rain gear. It promised to be a wet night.  As I turned up my forest service road to reach the Anaconda Pintler Wilderness, a nice local stopped and offered me a ride to the trailhead (7 miles).  I thanked him and said I was trying to walk the whole way.  He shared  that the rain was supposed to turn to snow, so I thanked him for the information. 

I eventually found a flat, high spot away from the road for a campsite.   As a rule I try to get far away from roads on Friday and Saturday nights due to drunks.  It did not snow,but got cold as I ended my highest mileage day yet (27).

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.

July 6th

Originally, I had planned on just an in-and-out resupply at Homestake Lodge. 

However, I had some problems with my water treatment and the timing worked for an overnight stay. Helen had sent my resupply package plus my replacement water filter. Yeah!

There were some great views of Butte. The city looks beautiful except for the fact it abuts a huge, active open pit mine.  The trail goes very close to a 60 foot statue on the skyline of Butte.  I couldn’t discern the name, but it was something like the Blessed Saint of Strip-mining or our Lady of Perpetual Hygiene. 

Besides Butte, the trail went past an abandoned mine, complete with rusty ore car and steam engine. The trail also had new, remarkably well built bridges over creeks.

 The temperature swings were interesting. At times it was overcast and in the 50s, perfect hiking weather. Then, it would get dark and a cold rain fell, causing me to stop and put on rain gear.  To end the cycle, the sun came out, necessitating the removal of rain gear.  Repeat.

NOTE:  I am having trouble with WordPress, my blog provider,not adding photos.   This stinks.  I hope to resolve soon.

July 5th. 

I set off early and was surprised to quickly run into Adam and Denali just waking up. I figured they were miles away.  They reminded me our paths would separate today as we chose different routes for this trail.

Not as much wildlife today. I had one mother hawk dive bomb me as I walked past her nest in a tree.  Also, startled a small bird who  flew away from her nest right in the side of the trail. By now I believe there should a lesson for all birds to NOT make nests near trails.

I finally got on the trail I was taking.  Most hikers choose a shortcut that involves 3 days of road walking versus a 6 day walk in the woods.  From the trail it appears I am the first person to take this route.  There were no other footprints except for elk and deer.

It was strange terrain.  There were large piles of smooth-ish boulders that created caves.  There were lots of  downed trees. I felt like this was ideal mountain lion territory. Soon after, I found a scratching tree.  

Cougars mark their territory by rubbing against trees, urinating, and clawing certain outposts. The tree I found had an ascending series of scratch marks with sap burying the preceding claw marks. 

Camped in a great spot by myself.