To keep from waking everyone else up, I slept in until 6. But then I got up and started packing, and everyone else woke up too. Prince and Beanie Weenie did not really get out of bed, as all they had to do was hitch 40 miles out to Yellowstone that day.
But who did get up immediately was the mystery fourth hiker, Andrew, who turned out to be the lone sobo I had passed the previous day going over the hill to Cub Creek. Apparently, he had passed me again somewhere near Cub Creek where I ate dinner without me seeing, hiked all the way to the road, and spent the night at some random guy’s house halfway to Dubois while I was weathering the storm in the campground.
Anyway, before I had even finished packing, he left, saying he was going to a public restroom because he’s a “shy pooper,” which makes no sense as an excuse to leave to me. It certainly supported our efforts to give him a trail name along the lines of Secret Agent Man–he always comes by when you aren’t there or aren’t looking or can’t see, and disappears again just as mysteriously. Now, I’m thinking maybe Secret Squirrel would be funnier.
For my part, I finished packing, loaded up, and walked to the Village Cafe again. Even though the Cowboy Cafe had a line of people waiting for a seat, Village Cafe had enough free tables I could seat myself. So, coffee, bacon, sausage, 3 eggs, and hash browns leaving me still a bit empty, I ordered a plate sized hotcake too.
When I left the cafe, I was actually ready to hike, even though it meant hiking in the rain. It was that misty, foggy, and occasionally lightly sprinkly sort of wet. But I wrapped up in my Packa and walked a mile to the north edge of town to stick out my thumb. Much better luck this time. Ken, working up at the Triple Bar J, was headed home from getting a tooth pulled on his day off, stopped for me after I’d only been there ten minutes, and took me all the way up into the pea soup fog of Togwotee Pass and right to the trailhead. Super nice guy, too. Lived and worked in WY his whole life.
So, I headed off into the fog and sprinkling rain up a long road that devolved from gravel to mud over the course of just 3 miles. I had my hood up and my head down, but at some point, I looked up and saw a yurt standing there. It seemed like a good time to take a break, so I climbed the steep and rotting wood steps and pushed open the knobless door. I was surprised to find the place was fully furnished and clearly well-used. There was a double bed (partially soaked since the canvas roof was leaking) and a bunk bed next to it. A table with a propane stove hooked to a propane tank on top. A wood stove in the corner… with hot coals smoldering inside. Someone had just left. I hoped I was allowed to be here. (Comments on Guthook indicated lots of hikers staying there before me.)
So I grabbed a couple of pieces of split firewood from the pile by the stove and slid them inside. I tore a page from the magazine on the table, balled it, and shoved it under them. Then, I just blew a few times on the coals and the fire was roaring again. The stove was a bit leaky and smoke was getting into the room. But it started burning more cleanly soon. So I dragged a chair over and had a long, relaxing snack break next to a fire and out of the wind and rain. It was afternoon by the time I hiked out again.
The fog lifted over the next hour or so, but there was still a cold wind blowing and the sun never came out long enough to dry anything.
I met nobos Crocs and Jibs beside the road. Jibs was on the phone with a hotel in Dubois and could only say a few words to me, but I gave Crocs some tips about Dubois and in return, he suggested a shortcut of the upcoming hairpin in the road. I don’t think I quite found the trail he was talking about, but I did find a decently well-used trail through the dense, wet woods and cut off a mile of trail.
I stopped for lunch a little way past there, a pretty late lunch considering my late start and huge snack at the yurt, and then the trail finally left the road and cut through the woods for a while. Further on, the trail started alternating between wet, boggy meadows and woods. Later on, I was following a series of signposts that seemed to run right through the thickest parts of the bog and thick bushes, which was odd since I had no trouble skirting the bog on the edge of the meadow. It became clear when I checked my map that the trail did indeed avoid the bog and those signposts had nothing to do with the trail. But I was already well away from the trail and there was a good cow track in front of me, so I continued following it out to the road and cut across to the trail on that.
Just past where the two crossed, there was one of those enormous two man Zpax tents nestled at the edge of the woods, which was odd because it seemed way too early to be encamped. I called on it to find out if it was anyone I knew.
It was actually a couple, Cliff Richards and Lost Keys, and they were actually sobos for once. They had come out of Dubois late the previous day and spent the night in the yurt on the double bed then left late in the morning, hence the hot coals still in the stove. Cliff said they were stopping early just because they didn’t feel too good for some reason and liked this campsite, but still intended to hike all the way to South Pass City without a stop in Pinedale. I only saw Cliff’s face, Lost never poked hers out, but I figured I would see them again down the trail.
I, however, still had some time to get some good hiking done and didn’t intend to stop. It was starting to rain lightly again, and I was hiking out into the meadow with no protection from the cold wind. Even with my new gloves, my fingers were freezing.
I made it to my goal of Sheridan Pass without stopping and without having eaten dinner, so I continued until the next stand of trees (for wind protection) and made camp. The rain was getting heavier as I did, so I was trying to keep everything dry and get it under shelter as fast as I could. I decided staying warm and dry took priority over bear protocol (and what kind of bear would be out in that weather anyway?), so I climbed inside my tent, did all the set up from the inside (which is slower), changed into dry socks and added my long underwear, got into my sleeping bag, then cooked supper in the vestibule and ate in the tent. It was a pretty intense rain while all this was going on and it all took so long that it was well into the ten o’clock hour by the time I was ready to sleep.
But I couldn’t. As soon as I lay down, water was dripping on my face. I got out my towel and started mopping up water from the inside of the tent and fly, then modified the shape of my tent the best I could from the inside to stop it from channeling condensation in such a way that it would drip on my face. I put the towel next to my head and finally went to sleep.
Trail miles: 16.5 (counting the mile I skipped)
Distance to Pinedale: 74 miles
These antler sculptures look like something right out of princess mononoke 
Ken 
yurt 
going down to cow town 
Crocs and Jibs 
