I woke up a little before 4am, then again with my 4am alarm. I decided to sleep in a little just because I was cozy and in no hurry.
Just after 6, I was ready to walk through that frigid water. My feet were already cold from walking around in my sockwas all morning, but the pain in my toes was as strong as the previous morning by the time I reached the other bank. Even after I got my boots on, it was a mile of hiking before the feeling came back to normal in my toes and I could walk normally without having to think about every step.
The narrows of Hell Roaring Canyon were spectacular, but my awe was replaced by more pain when something stung or bit me on the top of my head out of nowhere. Shortly after that, I stopped for a break, thinking it might be nice to have my hat on instead. In the middle of the break, who should come up the trail but none other than Blitz himself, whom I left behind in Silver City and have been expecting to pass ever since. We chatted for an hour or so about the trail ahead for each of us before going on our respective ways. Just for reference, Blitz has been doing regular 30s and has hiked about 2000 miles in the time it took me to hike only about 1300 miles. Sure, I’ve had more than a week’s worth of zero days by now, but even if he took none, he’s still hiking nearly 50% faster than me on average. Guess he’s earned that trail name.
Anyway, not much to say about the next bit of trail. A few miles of walking on a dirt road over rolling hills. There was a guy on an ATV walking three hounds.
I stopped on a hilltop overlooking Henry’s Lake for lunch. Several trucks and ATVs pulled up near me while I ate. The wind started picking up and gusting pretty hard. It blew my bottle over just after I had finished filling it up, wasting a lot of water. I had to use almost all of what I had left to refill it.
I stretched the dregs for the next 5 miles until I reached water again, which involved crossing the highway and climbing a mile up Black Mountain before starting to work my way around it at that level, looking down over Raynolds Pass and the strangely similar looking houses of all those who lived there. Along this road, I opened a gate for a forest service truck and the guys inside offered me a Smokey the Bear Buff. I declined because I’m perfectly happy with the Buff I have.
I took my afternoon snack break an hour late so that I could collect some water to drink with it. Then I stopped for dinner and more water collection at the Mile Creek bridge a mile later. The wind was blasting really hard by now.
From there, the trail began to slowly scale the side of Black Mountain via the Mile Creek ravine, going straight up the hill at quite a gentle slope right next to the creek. There was still some very potent wind, but it died out as I climbed, protected as I was by the sides of the ravine. Eventually, I think the weather changed. The severe weather statement on the Weather Channel app said the wind advisory ended at 7:30, but it was already little more than the occasional light puff by the time I stopped just before 7.
If I were to go any further, I would have to climb several miles of switchbacks up to the mountain ridge with no chance of a campsite. If I wanted to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, I had to stop there. There were no cleared campsites, but I found a nearly level spot on a narrow ridge and cleared it myself. I don’t need much space. Temperatures were dropping and I was glad to crawl inside my sleeping bag. I hoped I wouldn’t wake to a jungle of condensation again.
Anyway, there was no need to hurry out of camp in the morning. I had a room booked in West Yellowstone for two nights hence and not much travel left to get there.
I woke up at 4am and it wasn’t raining. It hadn’t rained at all since the previous evening. But the sun had gone down on a wet meadow and the night had been very cold. In other words, conditions were ideal for everything in my body-warmed tent to be coated in condensation.
So the morning started with toweling off the ceiling and inside of the rainfly. The wet socks I had hung up were still soaked, of course, and so were my boots. When it came time in the packing up process to put them on, it was mere minutes before my toes were painfully cold. That pain continued all throughout packing up, while I eagerly looked forward to getting started hiking so I could warm up.
Then I looked at the map and saw that I was going to need more water to get through a 17 mile dry stretch. I scooped some out of the creek and started it filtering, then found myself running in place and jumping up and down with my hands in my coat pockets while the filtering seemed to just drag on forever. The pain in my toes was only reducing to the extent I was losing feeling in them, and my fingers were starting to ache as well. Eventually, I have gave up on letting the filtration finish and just tossed the dirty reservoir in my bag with water still in it so I could start. I started up the trail around a quarter to 6.
After a half mile, the top of the first steep hill, my toes had already warmed up to stop hurting and I was warm enough to stop and take off the jacket. I also took the opportunity to put up my headlamp, which I hadn’t actually needed once I started hiking because twilight had already begun.
The morning started with a climb of about 2000 feet to within sight of the summit of Taylor Mountain over the course of less than 10 miles. It wasn’t a continuous climb though. Rather, there would be a short steep climb followed by a short drop, then repeat, mostly through wet grassy meadows. As it was cloudy all morning, the sun couldn’t dry the grass, and so my boots, my socks, and my feet stayed wet the whole time.
On the second short climb, I met Hot Lips and Caveman, nobos who started in April, coming down and got an update on the sobos in front of me. I didn’t know either of the names I heard. No surprises there. I knew it was not a popular section and that everyone I knew before was long gone by now. If you’re wondering, yes, Hot Lips does bear a passing resemblance to Loretta Swit as she looks now.
I stopped at the summit of the next hill for my first morning break. It was a great view, but I wished it was less cloudy.
After one more little climb, I finally came steeply down to join the road that zigzagged up the side of Mount Taylor. This was the longest single climb of the day, rising more than a thousand feet in about 3 miles. It was a really easy climb in terms of grade and slope, but it was an hour straight of relentless climbing. I didn’t stop for a break until I was nearly at the highest point of the trail, just below the peak. I had finished 9.5 miles by 10:30 and was already very near the highest elevation I would reach the whole day.
It was still fairly cool, breezy, overcast, damp. My feet were still soaked. But soon after I started walking again, a thick fog rolled in over the mountain ridge. Passing through a low-hanging cloud, I couldn’t see more than two dozen feet in front of me. Soon, I saw a silhouette pop up behind a ridge and fade into view. I stopped my podcast and took my headphones out in prep for a conversation.
It was Mooch, another nobo nearing the northern end of the trail. He didn’t have much interesting to say about the trail behind him, so I gave him some news about the trail behind me. He didn’t seem in quite the hurry as the two earlier had. I wasn’t either. I had a pretty good pace going.
There isn’t too much to say about the remainder of the day. It was more downhill than up from this point. The sun came out enough before lunch that I could change my wet socks for ones that were now only slightly damp from riding outside my pack when I stopped to eat.
I took water out of a nice little creek just before dinner time, and submerged a boot entirely in mud trying to get to it. I guess that’s what they’re for.
I stopped for dinner near Lillian Lake, and while stopped I got to swap back from the slightly damp socks to the others that had completely dried outside my pack. As the grass dried, so had my boots, so my feet could finally be completely dry while I walked. I tried to give my towel some time to dry in the sun, but dinner didn’t take long enough to make a dent in that amount of moisture.
It also hadn’t been able to dry the slippery mud in the trail where it was shaded by trees. The next mile after supper was a descent in such mud. The mud was just the right consistency to preserve a set of perfectly clear bear tracks that had taken that same trail ahead of me sometime earlier that day, presumably not too long before. I continued seeing those tracks for the next couple of miles until I decided to stop for the night.
I had come to a crossing of Hell Roaring Creek that couldn’t be done without wet feet, and while there was a large clear meadow on the near side, there didn’t seem to be any good camping on the far side. Since it was already time to knock off for the evening, I decided to save the crossing for the morning. I spent the next ten minutes wandering around the meadow areas looking for a good, clear, level spot before finally settling for something somewhat imperfect but not rocky and only slightly lumpy. There I made camp and turned in after checking the weather. No rain predicted for the night, some chance of scattered showers the following evening. Should be another good day of hiking.
I woke up to the 4am alarm, but no sooner had I awoken than a thunderstorm rolled in. I’m willing to pack up in the dark, but no way I’m going to pack up in a thunderstorm and get all the dry stuff wet. I slept in until the storm passed and the rain stopped at 5:45.
The storm was immediately followed by a heavy cold wind. So I needed extra time to dry the wet stuff that I could (and water had pooled under my mattress and under my pack from where my Tyvek had caught it, being more waterproof than the sheet it replaced, but I have an idea to stop that from happening in the future) and I had to stop packing frequently to warm my hands when I lost feeling in them. As such, it was almost 7:30 by the time I hit the trail again. It was still cold enough I kept my down puff jacket on for most of the morning.
All night and morning I could hear the distant bleating of sheep, but I was only a mile in when I actually came upon the herd. Two of the sheepdogs came up to see me and then returned to the herd. A couple of minutes later, I saw a Latino man on a horse with a horse and some dogs with him who said he was taking care of the sheep.
Right after that, I had to throw my Packa on because it was raining again, though it only lasted a moment. Soon, I arrived at Rock Spring and stopped to take my jacket off and take a morning break. I took another morning break a couple of hours later at the top of a hill when the sun came out and there was a brief bout of blue skies. The water in the grass along the trail had soaked through my boots and then my socks, so I changed into relatively dry socks here and hung the wet ones on my pack.
Although they managed to dry somewhat throughout the day, it wasn’t fast or thorough because the blue skies were rapidly replaced by the ever-present smoky haze.
I saw a couple of grouse beside the trail. I saw three fly off the trail in the afternoon too. That’s the most grouse I’ve ever seen in a single day.
Of course, when I came to the creek where I had been waiting to collect water, I saw more sheep in one view than I’ve seen in my life total. And some goats and, of course, the loyal but skittish dogs protecting the flock. I sent the flock into chaos and disarray on my way through. I scooped up some water from the creek, but I carried it far enough away over the hill that even the most egregious sheep couldn’t see me before hooking up the filter. The sheep may be gregarious, but they aren’t particularly friendly, and they smell. I didn’t want to eat my lunch around them.
Oh yeah, I was starving at this point. I sat on a rock and took an hour lunch while my phone charged and my water filtered. Then on again, up a steep climb, and then down.
Mostly the trail was going along the sides of the ridges leading down from Baldy Mountain here. I stopped once on a random rock in the hillside for my afternoon break. I decided against getting my Packa out when I left to give my socks a little bit longer in what little sun was getting through the haze and trees, but a mile or so later, the ominous dark clouds had gotten close enough and thick enough that I stopped to put up the socks and put on the Packa. From there, the trail pitched steeply downward toward Aldous Lake.
On the steep descent, I met “Metric Ton, a nobo LASHer – Long-Ass Section Hiker” to quote the man himself. It had just started raining and I was stopped to zip up the coat and put my hood up, looking down instead of ahead, so he spooked with his shouted greeting from below.
We chatted about the usual pleasantries and hiker small talk–names, places of origin, gear problems and suggestions, the weather–but all I could think of the whole twenty minutes until he finally got his raingear on and got around to taking the picture he had asked for was that he was keeping me from getting to the trailhead and eating dinner.
Further down the hill, I came to a creek overrun by huckleberries that seemed ripe. I tried one, but huckleberries are always kind of meh until you put a bunch together and add sugar.
When I arrived at Aldous Lake, I started seeing the day hikers. It’s a very popular little day trail. There was a whole family gathered on the bank, one older boy throwing a line in the water. The mom told me which side of the fork was the trail ahead. Another family with a pair of dogs stood near the bridge over the inlet stream. They told me there were little cutthroats in the lake, and also sent me the correct direction from the fork they were standing in.
A mile later, I started seeing a lot of salmonberry bushes along the trail and some of them were ripe and exquisitely sweet. Salmonberries absolutely taste great on their own, better than raspberries even, though they do share the problem of getting seeds stuck in your teeth even if you’re careful not to chew them.
I soon realized there would have been even more ripe salmonberries along the way when I caught up to a couple coming out with huge packs after an overnighter at the lake. The girl was carrying a zip-lock full of them. When I got to the trailhead, I signed the register, then went over to the parking lot just as the girl went into the privy, leaving the man to load their packs into the truck. He confirmed that they would make a pie from the berries and something else too. He said Winco used to sell bottles of them for 25 dollars, confirming what I had inferred about how hard they were to find. They had to be picked in the wild and their growing season is extremely short.
Anyway, I was starving again, but it was raining and I didn’t want to make dinner in the rain. Fortunately, the privy at this trailhead was the kind with a little 3/4 enclosed, covered porch of sorts in front of the door. I could sit in there under the roof, far enough from the door not to block it to anyone who needed it, but still entirely protected from the wind and rain. And, in fact, no one needed the privy for the half-hour I was under there.
It was still sprinkling slightly when I returned to the trail and began the climb back up to the divide, but it fell off within the next half hour, and the last hour of hiking it didn’t rain at all. I grabbed some water out of the next creek and hung the reservoir from my neck to avoid having to take my pack off and remove and reattach the Packa, so even though I wasn’t getting rained on, I did have the swinging bag of water constantly bouncing off my chest. Of course, once I was up the steep, slippery mud hill, the trail came out into a grassy meadow. A wet grassy meadow that wanted my boots, socks, and feet to experience that wetness too. I didn’t want to stop until I found that perfect spot again, but I was also eager to get those wet socks off and let my feet dry. I’ve heard that trenchfoot has been known to impede hiking somewhat.
Ironically, the perfect spot turned out to be right next to a creek much further on, so I needed have carried that water up the hill around my neck at all. I started it filtering as soon as I had my tent erected (always the priority when you don’t know what the weather is up to) but because I hadn’t cleared the last of the bubbles from the line, it still hadn’t finished by the time I had everything else ready to go. All I could think about was getting my boots off, but I couldn’t go to bed without that water. I went back and got the bubble out and it finished right up.
Finally, I could get in my tent and take off my boots… but no. It was at this moment I discovered a knob of wood, a broken stump of a sapling or errant vertical root that had been hiding in the grass exactly where I had pitched. I couldn’t move it and there’s no way I could sleep on it, even if it didn’t pop my mattress. I had to move the tent. Which is quite a difficult task with a non-freestanding tent already full of all my stuff. It took another 20 minutes. I was half an hour late getting to bed, all told. But I got it done, and done to an extent that all would be dry if more night storms rolled through.
I turned in finally, hoping for an early start and unmolested by storms and a mostly dry day of hiking. That’s what I needed to be able to get the miles done.
Trail miles: 19.0
Distance to West Yellowstone: 60.7 miles
looking down on a cloud
probably a lovely campsite when the wood isn’t soaking wet
The whole reason for coming into Butte at all was to get to Lima, as I said in the last post. Why? Because of the Black Mountain and Trail Creek Fire closure, blocking access to some 130 miles of the 350 miles I’m skipping. I’ll come back and do the skipped section when most of it isn’t closed.
Yes, the closed section includes the spot where I left trail magic, which means that very few people get to partake. Perhaps the magic will stay there until next year, but it seems likely it would be removed by trail crews in the intervening time if it even survives the winter freeze. It didn’t go completely to waste though. There were at least three comments mentioning it posted on Guthook before the closure.
Anyway, the easiest way to skip that section would have been to take the Big Sky alternate directly from the Butte East Ridge to West Yellowstone via Big Sky. I wasn’t aware of that possibility because it isn’t listed on Guthook, but even if I had been, I probably wouldn’t take it. Firstly, I came to walk the Continental Divide, and that would be a major detour off it. Secondly, I already have two resupply boxes to deal with by phone in Sula and Leadore, so it’s a lot easier to just go to Lima to get the box I left there in person and then get on the trail from there.
And the easiest way to make the trip from the northern I-15 crossing to the southern I-15 crossing is Salt Lake Express bus B10A from Butte to Lima, which leaves once a day at 5:30am. All of which is to say I woke to an alarm I set for 3:32am. I wasn’t the only person awake in the campground at that hour, but I was certainly the only one in the primitive tent camping area.
I was mostly packed by 4:30, except I needed to eat the strawberries and cream oatmeal I had bought for breakfast, two bowl-packages worth. I boiled some water and poured it into each of the bowls, then, considering making tea with the remaining hot water, I went to open that pocket on my pack and spilled one of the bowls. Luckily, the table was pretty clean, so I scooped it back into the bowl and ate it anyway.
I also collapsed and packed my trekking poles into my pack for the bus trip. Then I loaded up and set off up the Blacktail Creek bike path toward the bus station.
None of this packing operation or walk required the use of my headlamp. There was just so much artificial light around. The bike path was a little darker, but there were distant building lights and street lights, a sliver of moon, and Our Lady of the Rockies floating blurrily and eerily in the sky behind it all.
When the path came to a major road, I took a pedestrian underpass below it and emerged next to an elderly steam engine next to a convenience store that was open. I went inside and bought a breakfast burrito, a hot coffee, and a new bottle of sunscreen since I hadn’t been able to find any at the campground store.
The bus station was right down the street and I rolled up at 5:25 with the boarding process already begun. I was immediately confronted by a driver asking if I knew where I was supposed to be and then reveling in the fact that I guessed wrong. I had thought it would be the bus that said Salt Lake Express clearly on the side, but it was the van pulling a trailer that looked like it could have just been a random vehicle parked there until I got close enough to make out that it also said Salt Lake Express on it. Luckily, the rude driver was not my driver. Mine was actually super nice.
I ended up riding two hours next to a girl who was clearly in severe emotional distress, falling apart in tears even as she studied Ecce Homo via a confusing abstract idea web drawn in marker on her notebook, waving her hands over the connections distractingly. One of the men in front of me was clearly not all there either, though I didn’t notice until the driver told me about bizarre things he had been doing. I was just watching Netflix the whole ride on my phone (except during the one 15 minute potty break at a Safeway in Dillon) and didn’t pay much attention.
Anyway, I arrived in Lima around 7:30, pulled my pack out of the trailer, and headed over to the motel. I found the proprietor right away and he let me into the room where all the packages were stored. My box was at the very bottom of the pile in the very back corner.
At first, I just left the box there and went to find a power outlet for my phone and a bathroom. Then, I came back and opened it to see what it had. It didn’t quite have everything I needed, so I went to the convenience store next door. In addition to the apple cider I was missing, I grabbed a sandwich, some Beecher’s Flagship cheddar sticks, and a root beer (why not?). They didn’t have any protein powder for my breakfast shake, but they did have some instant coffee, so I figured I could just make do with thinner shakes for a few days.
I met the shuttle driver at his truck at 9. It looked like I was the only one headed out to the trail this morning despite it being a beautiful day with little smoke haze to be seen. It was about a half-hour drive to the Continental Divide which also happens to be the Montana-Idaho border (and, for the most part, the converse of that is true as well). He stopped so I could get a picture of the sign, then continued south to where the trail passed under the interstate. Here, he crossed the median on a gravel path and dropped me on the side of the interstate.
“How do I get to the trail?”
“Just hop the fence. Then go over to that road there that goes up that hill over there.”
I donated him a twenty for the lift. Can’t let a good service like that go out of business. Then he drove off, leaving me to figure out how to get over the wire fence without breaking anything (especially my brand new pack).
I stopped a half-mile down the road on a survey marker to put on sunscreen and bug stuff and lube. Then it was time for a long climb on a dirt road.
I really felt like I was back in northern New Mexico. Nothing but dry prairie grass and shrubs on the hills around me. When there were trees, it was clear that cattle hung out under them. And there were not very many of those. Mostly there was no shade.
There was finally a patch of trees a few miles in, and since it was 11am, I stopped under one for a snack break. I took a nice full half hour, then went back to climbing that hill.
By 1, I had already entered the Targhee National Forest and found a nice sitting rock in the shade for lunch. It wasn’t quite a footpath yet, though, as I was passed by a family of ATVs as I finished up. But soon I reached the top of a hill, crossed a cattle guard, and joined a more traditional footpath just as a light rainshowers passed by, sending me to the side of the trail to fish out my Packa as quickly as possible. It had already passed by the time I was halfway up the next steep hill.
That climb finally put me on the divide proper, right next to the fallen barbed wire fence that runs along the state border. I followed this for quite a while, still out in the open with occasional scattered trees. I found a large sitting rock in the shadow of one such tree and took my 3pm break.
Not long after this, the trail dived steeply down into a gap and climbed out again, but just before the climb got steep, it passed a pond. Since I was low on water by now (having last filled up at the motel), I stopped here for dinner. It wasn’t a very attractive spot to collect water: scummy, muddy, crisscrossed by deadfall, full of frogs, red bugs, and other insects dead and alive. But it was the only water I’d see on the ground for the rest of the day, and I didn’t even have enough to cook dinner, so I filtered some and then cooked and ate.
As mentioned, the climb out of this area got quite steep and, other than a brief little respite, continued for a full mile. On the steepest part, averaging well over a thousand feet per mile (over 12 degrees angle of elevation!), I first met a couple of guys going down and then another rainshower. This time, there was a tree I could stand under while I put my Packa on.
The next bit of trail after that rain died down enough to not require me to keep the rain gear zipped climbed less steeply through an actual forest. I kept walking well past my normal stopping time of 7pm, looking for the perfect campsite that was basically level and wasn’t surrounded by dead trees, of which there were so many on this hill. Eventually, I came to where a huge wide open meadow was visible from the trail, and left to go pitch my tent in the middle of it. I couldn’t resist the view. And the way there was no chance of getting killed by a falling widowmaker in a storm.
And it was clear there was a storm coming. Clouds everywhere, even as the sun set below them. I was cozy in my tent and ready for bed before the rain started, but it did rain and rain hard and heavy. There were some chilly wind gusts and some good, loud lightning strikes. It continued for well over an hour.
I don’t mind the rain so much when it happens after I’m in bed. It sounds nice. And hopefully, it means no smoke the next day.
Trail miles: 14.4
Distance to West Yellowstone: 79.7 miles
The middle light floating in the sky is Our Lady of the Rockies
The trail runs through that underpass. I jumped the fence just to the right.
Apparently there were drinks for hikers in that box, but I didn’t check or need one
The fence there is the Ida./Mont. border and the Continental Divide
I got up at 4 and on the trail a bit after 5:20. I had no breakfast mix, so I just ate a ton of chewy bars and Airheads all morning, multiple stops to do so.
At one of those stops, a bunch of cattle moved up to a spot across from me and a young heifer stared at me the entire time, unmoving, unchanging.
I passed one tent on the way, no sign of activity, but I guess there are some people around.
A little before 11 I came under the freeway and took a break in the shade for nearly an hour, then did the last mile to the interstate exit.
I waited an hour there and only three vehicles passed going southbound. None wanted to take me. So I texted Weatherman, a trail angel in Butte, and he carried me back to the KOA in Butte.
I checked in, pitched my tent, then a while later, I walked to a restaurant for a huge lunch including a huge chicken salad. I was there for a couple hours and got caught up on my blog. I also bought a bus ticket to Lima for the following morning.
Back at the campground, I got a light shower and some clothes in the wash. I sat outside charging my devices and making some plans for the next month. Yes, unless the whole state catches on fire, it’s going to take me an entire month to get through Wyoming.
But there kept being light showers chasing me away from the charging station (which was out in the open for some reason), so eventually I moved the charger into the laundromat.
With my clothes clean and back on me, I headed back to my tent to get to sleep for an extremely early start.
I slept in until nearly 6, and didn’t get on the trail until after 7. The tent and my Packa had to be packed up wet, though was forecast to be and turned out to be a mostly sunny (partly cloudy) day.
I used up the last of my breakfast mix, having elected not to resupply it in Bozeman.
The trail went up and down and across a highway and up and down some more. At first, there were lots of rocks, then the open side of Limekiln Hill.
I stopped at an overlook and on a random hillside to internet a bit while snacking. I figured if I had cell service I ought to look into reserving a room in Lima, but the motel only does reservations over the phone it seems, which means they aren’t likely to be booked up. I decided if I got there and there were no rooms I could just camp.
The highlight of the day, such as it was, was a pipe pouring water out with great force next to a ruined log cabin. I had emptied my water bag 7 miles earlier, so the enormous quantity of water was very welcome, so I had lunch there. (To be clear, it wasn’t a very hot day, and I felt overhydrated for most of it if anything.) I also spread out my Packa in the sun while I ate so I wouldn’t be carrying around a ton of water I couldn’t drink. I wasted a lot of time there, probably a solid hour and a half.
On the way out, the trail was lined with huge patches of ripe raspberries, and I sampled a few. They were alright, but I wasn’t particularly hungry. A couple of sluggish, boring hours later, I came to Highland Trailhead, where there was a privy (with no trash can–useless) and an entire family cruising in in ATVs (noisy).
I stopped a mile later to sit on a rock and make dinner. After dinner, I had about an hour of feeling normal compared to that sluggish, lazy, bored feeling I’d felt all day to that point, not that it helped much with the miles. Sure, most of the short day is explained by my sleeping in, but the slowness probably had to do somewhat with not having any more looming deadlines and there not being much reason to speed up given that the next day would likely turn out the same regardless. Either way, it was time to go back to my usual 4am wake up goal.
I couldn’t help waking up fairly early with all the alarms, but I intentionally slept through them. I had gotten to bed late and wanted to sleep in as much as possible.
Eventually, I got myself dressed and headed out to get breakfast at the Western Cafe. The place was a very cute diner, but very popular on a Thursday morning and packed to the brim. I had myself a nice cinnamon roll French toast breakfast with eggs and bacon and potatoes.
I returned to Brad’s house to clean up a bit and get ready for the trip, then realized I was super thirsty. I walked down main to find some place selling drinks. The co-op wasn’t open but the Ace hardware was. So I took advantage of the opportunity to grab a tube of Steelstik as well.
Back at the house, I spent the remaining time making a new nose bridge for my sunglasses with the Steelstik and sewing up the side of my money pouch. Soon, it was certainly time to be heading down to the airport, but just as I was about to call an Uber, Brad came in the door with his dog Piper.
He had just come in from Nashville, but said he would drive back to the airport with me just as soon as he finished eating lunch. So I grabbed my bag and played with the dog until we left.
I got through security with a little time to spare. It wasn’t too packed. So I bought a little snack and drink from the one shop selling food and ate at the gate.
From here, I flew to ATL, where I got supper from the only takeout counter that stayed open past eight, a Chinese food place, and I had to wait in line an hour just to get that. Then I caught my connection to CHA where my sister picked me up and drove me to her place. What with how late she picked me up and how excited her dog was to have a guest, it was well past midnight Eastern by the time I got to sleep.
Days 82-85: Interlude with Wedding
The next two days were pretty chill. I drove to Knoxville in a borrowed van, checked into a hotel, then drove to a pre-wedding meet and greet with dinner and games. The next morning I got hotel breakfast, cleaned up and got some clothes ready, got someone to give me a jumpstart so I could drive to get some lunch, then chilled with online friends until it was time to go to the wedding at the same venue as the night before. Quick wedding, long reception, then after-dinner beers at a brewpub with my oldest remaining friend.
The next morning was hotel breakfast again, checkout at 11, drive to Chattanooga in the rain, lunch at Olive Garden, then back to the airport in time to check my new backpack with the replacement knife in it and still have more than an hour to wait for the plane, which I spent watching TV shows with an online friend. Then followed a short hop to ATL, dinner from McDonald’s, one of the two open restaurants in concourse E, and a couple more hours of watching Netflix with online friend. On the flight back to Bozeman, I polished off the remainder of the season we had been watching. Brad (along with Piper) was waiting at the airport when I arrived, even though i hadn’t asked him to. We returned to his house, I dropped my stuff, brushed my teeth, went straight to bed.
Day 86: Leaving Bozeman
I slept in a bit again, but when Brad got up there was no denying it was time to get going. After a shower, I returned to Western Cafe for breakfast, but this time for the country fried steak breakfast with eggs and potatoes and toast and an extra side of French toast. My last chance to put on a little extra weight for the trail.
I also tried to find some place down main where I could buy some candy, but nothing like that was open, so I returned to the house to unpack my pack. At 9, Brad drove me to REI to return my old broken pack and buy a few essentials to continue with.
That done, I walked to the grocery store across the street and grabbed a couple of items of food, such as aforementioned candy. I knew Brad was getting on a call for work at a coffee shop at this time, so I sent him a text I would be at Starbucks waiting and walked over there.
After an hour there, I realized I didn’t get any limes, so I walked back to the grocery store. Brad was driving by in front of it at that moment looking for me. Turned out he didn’t have his phone with him and had no idea where I was. But he waited while I grabbed the limes and took me back to his house.
Once there, I put the knife I borrowed from Caroline in an envelope addressed to her in the mailbox then began putting all my stuff and food in the new pack and generally preparing to hike.
The weather was showing flash flood warning for the Bozeman area and it started raining finally as I packed up. The forecast showed scattered showers until the evening, at which point there would be one big shower.
Finally, I had my boots on and my pack packed and in the truck. Brad and Piper and me started driving west on I-90.
It took longer than expected because of a huge accident that reduced the traffic to single file for maybe 15 miles, but eventually we could move out again. We also went through one of those scattered showers, but as we got close to the Continental Divide, things cleared up enough we could see some pockets of blue sky and distant mountains. There was almost no smoke now for the first time in weeks. Along the way I ate a barbecue chicken sandwich on hard baguette sandwich Brad had made for lunch.
We pulled into Homestake, and I put my pack together (putting on my Packa rain cover) while Brad let Piper out to run and fetch in the parking lot. By 1:45 I was ready to walk and Brad needed to get to a place with wifi, presumably in Butte by 2 for his afternoon call, so we parted in somewhat of a hurry.
I called my mom then. We spoke for a few minutes during the first mile. Then it was airplane mode time. I put in my earbuds and podcasted my way up the hill.
After about two hours, I stopped under an overhanging rock and the rain started, sprinkling at first. There was a bit of thunder, but only fit a moment. When I started climbing again, a thick fog rolled in to accompany the rain. I continued in that fashion and weather, getting only mildly damp in my rain gear due to unknown leaks.
Roundabout dinner time, I ran into a section hiker going north and we chatted maybe 15 to 30 minutes about what the trail was like, as he’d done substantial sections in his own fashion. By the time we hiked on it was definitely dinner time, so I stopped at the next reasonably flat area and made camp and dinner. By this time, the rain had let up, so all my stuff stayed pretty dry and I cooked and ate outside on a rock. I wasn’t ready to blog until nearly 9, and wasn’t ready for sleep until well after 10. All the staying up late over my trail vacation meant I wasn’t really sleepy until then either. No problem though. I could sleep in a little bit in the morning.
