I was never good at good-byes and keeping in touch. As a result, I’ve lost some good friends and probably lowered the quality of my life. It also explains why it should not be a surprise I stopped writing this blog the day I finished the Continental Divide Trail (CDT).
Very soon I will take another backpacking trip. To bridge the gap between one trail ending and another beginning I wanted to provide a brief reflection on the CDT.
I ended up walking about 2,700 miles. It took me 4 ½ months. I lost 50 pounds, 49 of which I really needed to lose. I swear I lost about a half inch of height. I grew a beard, lost some hair, acquired two scars I still have, and my right pinky knuckle will always be smashed and crooked. It took me about 6 months to regain complete touch in my fingertips. Clearly, this was a great trip.
In spite of that list of physical things, I still have flashbacks. There is no specific trigger, but sometimes an image will just pop up in my mind. It is usually a view from up high or a beautiful sunset or a hell of a storm. But it is vivid and real and feels like a micro-vacation. I’m not sure how long these flashbacks will continue. I hope forever.
The CDT is a tough trail. In the hiking community the catch phrase associated with the trail is “embrace the brutality”. That’s a bit of hyperbole. I think it comes from people who have had the luxury of following a well-marked, established trail with trail signage every 200 feet. The CDT is like a youngster, still maturing and filling out and finding its way.
I am so glad I went southbound. Once the trail was clear enough to start south from the border with Canada, my only specific weather risk was to get through Colorado before heavy snows might force me off. Northbounders face two snow risks: lingering snow in southern Colorado and early snow in Glacier National Park. Plus, the thunderstorm risks in Colorado challenge northbounders. Lastly, Montana burns every August.
Surprisingly, the people I met were an incredible piece of the trip. Almost all other backpackers were friendly and helpful. Strangers in towns or drivers picking up hitch hikers were generally curious, helpful, and engendered in me a sense of pay-it-forward. I know there were a few jerks along the way and there is this annoying sub-culture in backpacking to be fast or to have done a lot of miles. But I must work hard to pull those memories forward.
What about the animals? I still get goose bumps when I recall startling bull elk with huge antlers and watching them crash through the forest. Moose, marmots, mice, mountain goats. Cattle herds that would either stampede away or, sometimes, give the star treatment and follow like a pack of groupies. Bears. If you read the blog, you know I had an unpleasant situation with a black bear and her cubs outside Leadore, Idaho. I still remember that. I replay what I should’ve done different and what I did right. I have no desire to be close to a bear again. I don’t hate them, but I think they are too unpredictable to be near. Still, I am very grateful I was able to see so many animals in their natural habitat.
I learned a few lessons I wanted to jot down so I don’t forget them:
- Do not roll-the-dice to get through one more pass during a lightning storm.
- Down mittens are excellent around the house, but not so much outdoors.
- My go-to medical technology is duct tape.
- There is no prize money for finishing the trail the fastest. I am not the fastest. Or fast.
- Do not hike with somebody who is carrying emotional baggage, it will weigh you down.
- Always let the tallest hiker go first in the morning, they will clear all the spider webs.
backpacking over the hill 