I woke up around 1am, wide awake for no apparent reason. It took me a while to get back to sleep, so written the 4am alarm went off, I decided to sleep until 5 to make up for the lost sleep. I hit the trail at 10 after 6.
It started pretty easy. All gradual downhill into the Mink Creek canyon, which was flat-bottomed and bushy like all the other creeks in the area. But I went as quickly up the canyon as I could as I had the day’s biggest challenge ahead.
The CDT turned off the Mink Creek trail before the end of the canyon, becoming a much less worn trail. It crossed the creek and immediately started climbing the hill on the other side. I met a nobo coming down this first steep climb. I told him I wanted to finish the climb before it got hot out (and with the sun starting to peek over the hill and with the chill of the creek area falling behind, it was getting hot fast), and he told me I was almost there. But I knew he was wrong. I wasn’t even halfway to the halfway plateau. It was another half mile until the steep climb leveled out and I traversed a nice flat meadow for a half mile to reach the second half of the climb. The sequel was just as steep and just as long but much less shady. When I reached the top, I had climbed 1309 feet in 2.5 miles. It was time for a break.
I found the one shady spot downhill of a small clump of trees overlooking a nearly dry pond. I sat there for almost a half an hour while the water I had carried up from Mink Creek filtered. I walked over to check out what was left of the water in the pond and found a list net cinch sack to pack out, and when I came back the filtering still wasn’t done. The filter is still a lot slower than it was before I filtered that really muddy water just west of Yellowstone despite all the backflushing I’ve been doing. Realizing I had already wasted far too much time here, I dumped the rest of the dirty water and began the hike down the other side of the hill.
The descent was steeper, longer, and more dangerous than the climb up. The trail was soft, dry dirt strewn with loose pebbles in a variety of sizes, sometimes like a naturally occurring arrangement of Kevin McAllister’s marbles on wood. I was slipping a little with very step and had to go slowly and carefully.
I only fell once. It was a slow motion involuntary hurdler’s stretch. My front foot just slid smoothly down the hill for several feet while my back foot stayed planted, slowly lowering me until my butt was on the ground. If a video had been made of the incident, I would be getting scouted by the Ministry of Silly Walks.
I met a large group of hikers coming up this same hill. Interestingly, rather than carry ropes to hang their food out of reach of bears, one of them carried an electrified bear fence. Seems like a convenient solution for a group this large.
One of them said “Nice bag!” as I passed, and my actual response was “Really?”
Anyone who has worn my go for any considerable amount of time would not think it particularly nice. I’m not the only one who has experienced catastrophic irreparable structural failure with it. I’m only still carrying one because I’m stupid. I was about to start complaining, but opened my eyes and stopped myself instead.
“Oh, you have the same one…” He’ll get to experience the joy of the Gregory Baltoro himself in due time. No need to belabor the point or dredge up the glory days of 2013 when Gregory made backpacks you could fix when they broke.
Just downhill from that meeting, I came to the first incredible waterfall of the day. The trail crossed Trail Creek just above it, but I sure liked the look of the pool at the base. A great place for a shower, maybe, if you don’t mind the frigid water temperature.
And then, a few minutes later, the highlight of the day. The trail crossed Two Ocean Creek at the exact point it split, sending half of its waters to each side of the Continental Divide. A single tree stood in the crotch of that bifurcation point, standing guard over the waters, casting judgment on the molecules, sending some to the left to join Atlantic Creek (and eventually the ocean of the same name) and the rest to the right to join Pacific Creek (and eventually that ocean).
The trail descended on the Pacific Creek side but soon turned off to climb up the Trail Creek canyon. When the trail finally came closely alongside said creek, it was lunchtime. I pulled over and found a rock in the shade overlooking the creek and ate lunch. I believe I also filtered some water from that creek while I ate.
The creek came down from a pass that was not steep on either side, so before I knew it, I was walking alongside North Buffalo Fork. Right where I first reached it was a long serpentine beaver dam forming a deep, calm pool. I was tempted to stop for a swim, but that would have cut into the miles. I did stop where the trail came close to the river a couple of miles later to have a snack under a shade tree. It was easy access to get some more water to filter.
As soon as I started again, I came by a cute little river-fed pond filled with ducks. Too shallow to swim, I think, but very picturesque.
Just past here, I met Green Tortuga having a break beside the trail. His Yellowstone permit didn’t have him entering the park until two days later, so he was doing his best to not hike too much. If he hiked another 5 miles, he would leave himself with only 11 to do the following day. I suggested he take the swim I had skipped.
A couple of miles later, I was at the North Buffalo Fork crossing, which involved taking an unmarked turn down a smaller trail. I took it on instinct, but it looks like a lot of sobos miss it. Some miss it on purpose to get to the road to visit the store for soda and road walk around the river crossing. But I’m not about that life. I put on my sockwas and walked right across that river. I thought it would be ankle deep, but there were two shin deep steps, so I got my calf sleeves wet.
The rest of the hike was just an easy flat walk up the Soda Fork canyon, which was equal parts open meadow and burned-out forest. I stopped just before 7:30 when I reached a stand of trees that were still alive along a creek. No sooner had I erected my tent than a flock of grouse came to visit. I got some water from the creek to start it filtering while I slept and went to bed.
Trail miles: 21.4
Distance to Dubois: 24 miles
where two ocean creek splits to flow into pacific creek (bottom left) and Atlantic Creek (top right) 
the beavers incorporated this bridge into their dam 
flooding it and the entire area as a result 
