CDT - Bozeman to Dubois

Published on 2023-07-27 by Michael Stanton

To go back to days 116 and before, click here.

205 miles, 28,600 feet elevation gain in total.

First 50 miles and almost 11,000 feet elevation gain after the night at Robert and Julie's place to Mammoth.

Then 155 miles and 17,600 feet elevation gain from Mammoth to the pass above Dubois, Wyoming.

The text below refers to the same events as the blog entries:

• Entry to Yellowstone
• Yellowstone

So, as reported in the previous report, Robert picked us up at the coffee shop and took us to Bozeman. But first, along the way, we stopped at a popular store in the area called Murdoch's. Remember I reported that Cory lost his wallet, but it had been found? Well, the finder dropped the wallet off for him at the Four Corners Murdoch's. Happily, Robert works for them, and was able to arrange the hand-off with the manager there. I really like how all that worked out. Basically, his wallet was kept safe for Cory while he was out in the crime-ridden woods! Hee hee...

Robert is the "CTO" for "Murdoch's", a major store in the west. Here he chats with an employee about a recent software update.

Me, Robert and Mark. It was 20 years ago that we went to the Bugaboos together!

We bought our food for the next leg of the trip, along with supplies for a cookout on the grill (incredible burgers). We went to the house and met Julie, and before long Mark Pratt came by, who I'd last seen 20 years before! We settled in for a great evening of burgers, beer, hard cider and conversation. Robert had really drilled into these mountains and knows everything about every climb in the west. He skis, climbs rock and ice, kayaks...this place is absolute heaven for him!

A detail of Robert's climbing garage.

Robert goes through his different pack options as Cory stands, agog.

July 27, Day 117

8.6 miles, 2890 feet elevation gain.

We slept in...so fantastic! I waddled down to breakfast as Cory snagged a shower. Who did I see on a computer screen, but my ol' pal Theron...who works with Robert nowadays!

Breakfast with Theron, who has a willow-like, etheral look here.

While Robert rustled up some eggs, I chatted with Theron, who was shocked at how old, tired and emaciated I looked. Well...what can I say? It's been a rough haul from Helena, which was the last time I had a full rest day. But we've moved fast, and that's been good, too.

Cory came down and we poured over maps. We had several options for the next stretch. Robert had a book about hiking in Yellowstone, and a trail called Sky Rim caught my eye. It said:

A long, strenuous, spectacular ridgeline day hike for extra-fit hikers only. ...This might be my favorite hike in all of Yellowstone National Park.

Wow. In fact, that hike was one of the options. Another option was to just walk the highway down to West Yellowstone, then turn east into the park. Another, more ambitious, but now somewhat discarded, was to go far to the east into the Absarokas. Nah...we want to get down to the Winds!

So we felt happy enough with a kind of compromise. The walk down to West Yellowstone seemed lame. The Absarokas on the other hand, were too far. Sky Rim and a turning south from Mammoth seemed like the good, middle way. We'd finally re-join the CDT south of Grant Village near Heart Lake, about a days march from the southern end of the park. We'd see more of the park than most folks, but there would be a good bit of road walking there, too.

We went on a hunt for sunglasses, and Robert hooked us up with "Gooders," which were cheap but reliable. Later, back in Munich, I saw a guy wearing these and asked if they were Gooders. He said yes, and of course, he turned out to be from Bozeman!

Robert also got a bit of work done in the morning. It was late afternoon by the time we got going back to the mountains. He and Mark planned to kayak rapids of the Gallatin River which runs south to north between Big Sky and Bozeman along the road. As we drove, it started to rain. They altered their plans in various ways as we approached the trailhead. Technically, Cory and I should begin the hike right in Big Sky, but... we couldn't refuse a drive to the trailhead! I'm going to have to add up and report the total mileage of such missed sections. I'm hoping it's not a number TOO LARGE! Or I'll have to go back, ha ha...!

Mark and Robert drop me and Cory off at the trailhead.

Big Sky has this interesting pyramid-shaped mountain: Lone Mountain.

Sunset after a rainstorm.

The meadow we camped in.

Another sunset picture.

We said our goodbyes and started hiking behind a horse train. Eventually they turned off and we could move faster. At one point it was raining and we decided to rest and let the rain overtake and pass us. Cory had a live radar somehow on his phone, and saw that if we waited about 30 minutes the storm would roll over us. Indeed that worked great! We hunkered down under thick trees on dry duff as thunder and lightning raged around us, and we were mostly dry. Then we picked up and walked without rain to our camp in a meadow under Fortress Mountain.

The sunset was really gorgeous here, one of the best of the trip. We lay down, pretty tired even though it was a short hiking day. All the visiting and running errands takes energy too (though completely worth it!).

July 28, Day 118

22.3 miles, 4800 feet elevation gain.

We dropped down to Ramshorn Lake, where apparently there had been bear trouble recently, perhaps caused by pack train operators being a bit careless with the grain fed to the horses. Before we could get up onto Sky Rim, the trail indicated a descent into a valley and reclimb, however I had a GPS track where someone elegantly avoided that. By following the track closely, I saw that there was a trail...sure enough, we pieced this together to come in a natural way up to Buffalo Horn Pass.

Cory and I enter Yellowstone National Park!

Cory on the slopes of Sky Rim.

Once on the ridge south of the pass, we continued south and reached the boundary of Yellowstone National Park in short order. Nice! I didn't know the park extended into Montana...the ridge then bent east and took us in many ups and downs towards its high point, with impressive views into broad Montana valleys on the left side, and mysterious Wyoming country on the right (to be technical about it, we were looking into Tom Miner Basin on the left side).

Not a lot of words for this ridge, but plenty of pictures.

The ridge gains definition.

We actually saw a snowpatch in here.

Michael and the way ahead.

Cory and the southernmost Montana valleys behind.

We'd tried using high points to contact the park authorities to figure out where and how we could camp for the night. No one ever answered. We met a man and some young people on the ridge, and he had worked for the park service. He told us just to make our best effort but otherwise be quiet, leave no trace of our passage, and just pass through. Technically not correct, but it was hard to find other answers when they just don't answer the phone.

Anyways, from the high point (reached without a trail just grinding up a grassy mountain), we descended on trail to a lake. We decided not to go down to the shore and get water because we should have some creeks as we go further down.

Michael on Sky Rim.

Big, open country up here.

Hilariously, the trail just disappeared here and we had to just grind straight up the steep grass mountain ahead.

In fact, though, it was a long and dry descent. Finally we could get water at the junction with the High Lake Trail, here in the North Fork Specimen Creek valley. We took off shoes and rested tiredly by the creek, drinking water. An older couple came by, bound for High Lake and camp. We were also supposed to go that way, but the thousands of feet of climbing wore us out. We saw that we could descend the valley then turn east into the East Fork along the Sportsman Lake Trail, and eventually gain the same point. It did also offer us the chance to leave the park and sleep by the road if we found that to be necessary.

So we hiked on, only running into people miles down the valley setting up their tents for the evening. We turned into the east fork. At one point here I left my sunglasses at a resting place and had to tiredly wander back for them. We were beat!

Michael: "The Wandering Years."

Cory powers down from the high point of Sky Rim.

It was getting dark when we wandered into a designated wilderness camp. Unfortunately a man was there and said that if we weren't permitted we had to stay far away from him as he was a licensed horse packer. He basically told us to leave and don't come back.

That was odd. Absolutely bushed, we turned around and headed back to the trail in the dusk. There was another campsite about a mile on, though off the trail a ways to the north. We made for that place, soaking our feet at the end of the day crossing a marsh to reach the camp. Happily, no one was here to be upset with us, so we set up our tents, quickly ate and retreated from the mosquitoes.

A difficult end to an excellent day!

Shelf Lake, where we foolishly failed to fetch water.

Heading south in the North Fork of Specimen Creek.

The valley broadens, but still a long ways to go before we sleep.

July 29, Day 119

19.2 miles, 3225 feet elevation gain.

Easy miles through the forest and over a gentle pass to Sportsman Lake today, and then on to Mammoth. We wondered what to do there. Would we get there in time to talk to the rangers? Where could we sleep? Is there a hotel? Can we buy food? It was all a bit of a mystery. For now, we enjoyed the scenery in this big country...

Llamas not in the mist.

We passed some resting llamas in the meadow near the lake, then started climbing in earnest. Somewhere in the switchbacks, we entered Wyoming, though there was no sign. We were climbing along Mol Heron Creek to it's head, then turning east and climbing further to a beautiful unnamed pass.

Cory powers manfully into Wyoming.

Resting below the high pass guarding entry to Mammoth.

A gorgeous ridge-arm above the Gardner River Valley, this day bedecked with bison, though they'd moved on by the time I took the picture.

Michael trying to be comfortable at the high pass.

We rested at the pass and saw big brown shapes moving on an arm of high country to our south. "I think those are buffalo," said Cory. He has really good eyes. He was always spotting eagles, buffalo, goats, just whatever in the distance. I finally saw them, but I couldn't always see what he saw.

Coming down into a land of forest, root and twig.

My typical posture when I'm not walking. Lying FLAT!

For Cory and I both, different hot sauces were an essential pleasure for snacks and dinner.

Cory continues west towards Mammoth.

We traveled for a long time to the east, mostly descending. Eventually we met day hikers now and again, all energetic and smelling of freshly washed clothes. Eventually, under Sepulcher Mountain we met a park administrator who spoke cagily of stealth sleeping opportunities around Mammoth. The problem was that the campground was still closed to to the flooding of 2022. So technically, there is nowhere to camp in Mammoth.

Pretty tired by this point, we emerged onto a narrow road and started to smell sulphur. Steam vents everywhere! Before long we were in milling crowds descending a series of walkways to the edge of town. We'd been looking for camping places along the way, but as far as I was concerned, they were too high up and too far back for me to make it up there on this day! We'd just have to see what happened below...

Suddenly, we're in a kind of drive-through steam vent area above Mammoth.

The town lies defenseless below.

We got to town and found a little store with some resupply options. And a friendly employee named Pringles who had hiked the Appalachian Trail. There was a cafeteria where we could buy a sandwich and a drink. Great! The wilderness ranger office was already closed. We'd have to try in the morning there to get permits.

After the cafeteria closed, the place turned into a ghost town. We decided to hitch down to Gardiner, Montana. A car came along and picked us up, driven by a friendly Guatamalan teenager, with his girlfriend (Korean?) in the passanger seat. She was a trip. They both worked in the park for the summer and went down to the town in the evenings to fight boredom.

They dropped us off at a motor inn. We somehow got some dinner, but I don't remember what. It had been a huge day. We figured to buy supplies in the morning.

July 30, Day 120

21.7 miles, 2220 feet elevation gain.

Time to escape the motel in Gardiner, Montana.

We'd been able to do laundry the night before, down the hall. In the morning we went to the supermarket and had a big breakfast, too. We walked to the edge of town and hitched a ride back up to the park at the park entrance. It was from a young man named Tommy associated with this incredible documentary Unbranded. I'd seen it some years before and resolved to watch it again. We thanked him and went into the wilderness office. There we were given permits for the next 4 nights in the park. We'd have to get a permit for night 5, which would be in the wilderness near Heart Lake later. We had one wilderness campsite and the other three were in frontcountry sites: Canyon Village, Bridge Bay Campground and Grant Village.

We watched an obligatory bear safety movie. It was nice to sit in a chair and not have to move! It had been a fun and friendly encounter with the rangers, big thanks for that.

We went outside and started walking the road for 13 miles until we could turn off on trail to our wilderness camp after another 10 miles.

Gardiner: a hunter's paradise!

The season of road walking. Sometimes stressful!

It sprinkled lightly now and then. We came to a scenic pull-out and a muscular hispanic man with two grown sons was there. We started talking. It was my favorite interaction with strangers of the whole trip. His sons were mentally handicapped to some degree. They were so... present, so interested in what we were doing. They were all smiles. One of the young men tried on my pack. Their father was explaining our journey to them, but I saw that they had their own reason to find what we did exciting:

What we did required no vehicle. They were probably barred from driving a car. In America, how must it feel to be a young man and know you'll never be allowed to drive?

But here...here was a chance to side-step that difficulty and re-acquire personal power, and in fact, it might even be a better way. They saw that we were men happy to escape the world of cars. That we, in fact, regarded foot travel as even better than moving through the land in a vehicle.

I just saw all of this in their eyes and questions. I felt so honored to be able to give them something. To give them an idea.

I think we all gave each other hugs as we left. I was proud of their father, too. They were from Florida. He looked like a big tough guy you'd see on a beach there, full of muscles. But he always wants to lift up those boys.

As Cory and I walked again I had dreams of them hiking across the land. Who knows? Even to know there is a door is often enough.

I was almost exhausted by the gift of that experience...but we were suddenly in a difficult world. There was no shoulder on the road, and a good 10-11 miles to go. There were traffic jams occasionally, caused by people looking at bison or maybe a bison on the road. Some guy was angry and honked at us, apparently believing that we were the cause of traffic. Oh no...most people blew past us inches away from us in enormous camper vans. It was rattling to see how little people cared. If there was room, sometimes the car would swerve over into the oncoming lane. That was kind. But more rare than you'd think.

The road is not friendly. However, here is something I didn't know about Yellowstone: there aren't many trails. Basically, the trails are the road and just a few lines here and there. Every day now we'd have to do at least some, and sometimes most of our miles on the road.

Cory was particularly bothered at one point. He's a very safe driver and always has high situational awareness. He couldn't believe the things he was seeing. We would wave to get distracted drivers to look up from their phones and see us. But after coming within a hairs-breadth of being hit a few times our waves became more aggressive. Like...HEY THERE! HEY IDIOT...YOU SEE ME?

This was no good. We stopped at one point for a rest. Later, I decided to dis-engage in order to preserve my mental health. Rather than take increasing steps to protect myself from getting smooshed on the road, I'd just zone out in headphones and try to ignore the cars. Frankly, whatever increased safety margin I got wasn't worth the psychic frission, and in fact seemed to make things worse, somehow. My "new age" tendencies come forth at times like this, and I suspect that viewing the oncoming cars with eyes of suspicion and anger has a way of bringing those qualities to the fore in the approaching drivers.

So...ruhig bleiben...(german for "be calm, quiet").

Therefore we were happy to leave the road, walking for miles along a powerline, joking and wondering about the circumstances in which they built it. We met a happy couple then came with them to a sulphuric pond. He had a handgun and waved it around some (actually not legal in the park). He was always worried about bears. When a tree branch made a noise in the wind he said "what's that?!" and got the pistol out.

Needless to say, we had a lot of fun with this character in the days ahead. Nothing helps a thru-hiker like a strange personal encounter!

Finally they turned back. As it grew dark, we crossed a river then had to use GPS to cross a meadow without any trail to zero in on our campsite. Happily there was a bit of water there uncontaminated by sulphur.

Sundown near our wilderness camp.

Cory muses over dinner.

We found a wild frenchman named Marwin with a long beard at our camp, who was stealth camping his way across the park on a wild journey across the USA. He was talkative, and we had to break away to be able to set up our tents and prepare dinner. People like this make it clear that I'm not a real outdoorsman, I just play one on tv sometimes. I'd grown addicted to using Corys stove for hot water in the evening. My favorite dinner was ramen noodles with peanut butter, taco sauce, and a few drops of olive oil that Cory carried. Somewhere in here I got a fuel bottle and carried it in order to try and pay him back for the use of the stove. If you have enough hot meals, you don't want to cold soak anymore!

I'd bought some small cigars in Gardiner, and smoked two of them out here on a log, looking out to the sunset. Maybe because of the encounter with the young men and their dad, it was a special night. We were in Wyoming. We'd walked across Montana. All was well. What more could one ask?

Michael enjoys a post-repast cigar.

July 31, Day 121

11 miles, 1000 feet elevation gain.

No pictures today. Not much to say. We walked a few miles of trail in the morning, having an engaging conversation, though I forgot the subject. Then we hit the road and zoned out in headphones in order to prevent a repeat of the stressful road situation the day before.

We were making for Canyon Village. We got there and went to a 50s diner kind of restaurant for a burger. I had a deep conversation with a young Indian (as in the subcontinent) man named Ashwin about metaphysics. Cory was like "oh brother, Michael is in his element," and was probably glad that someone else was there to help soak up my noise on the subject!

We bought a few supplies and went to the campground. The nice lady there put us in a place right next to the main building. It was only a half day of hiking so we were there early. We took a nap. I remember waking up to a conversation between a man and woman with an enormous camper van nearby. They were arguing about which generator to use for the afternoon. She needed the one that the dvd player uses, I think.

Later, we took a shower at the main building. A happy french family came in and put themselves into shower stalls, babbling all the while. I guess they didn't have two generators and a jacuzzi parked outside. They must be using tents. I think they were creating richer memories, personally.

We ran into a young woman named "Little Shark" who we'd seen at the ranger station the day before. Cory also met her on the plane heading to Kalispell. We'd see her on and off over the next days. She hitched here, there and everywhere, seeing the whole park. She also walked plenty. But it illustrated a real difference between men and womenfolk: women can always hitch. Men might get a hitch. I regarded each successful hitchhike as a real victory. And I've had the hour or more of being relentlessly passed, realizing I have to arrange for some kind of shuttle because it just isn't happening. Women stick out their thumb and it's done. The only thing that irritates me about this is that the women who do this never imagine that their experience is special. They just say "oh, why don't you hitch to X and then back, etc.?"

You can tell them that it's not so easy for a man, but they kind of look at you like that doesn't compute and just repeat their suggestion.

"This is why we have to reincarnate, Cory," I said about it later. We simply can't understand the experience of another. We have to go through it. My personal outrage at the situation implies, to me, that I was a woman before, and now, as a man, the wound of the unfairness feels "fresh." Truth be told, guys agree with me about this problem, but their eyes are dull on the topic as not worth wasting words on. So I'm fresh in the pool of this sex, I conclude.

A fine rest here, eager to spend most of the next day in the backcountry.

August 1, Day 122

21.7 miles, 1720 feet elevation gain.

The Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.

We walked to the Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone (I like saying that...sounds very important). Nice rock and dramatic water. Continuing along the river, we finally crossed it and emerged on trail on the east side that quickly took us into country that felt open and remote.

Before another hour or two passed, we had bison on all sides of us. This was a neat feeling.

A bison on the great plain east of the Yellowstone River.

Cory crosses the plain, fully exposed to the wrath of the bison.

We felt that grizzlies were in the trees watching the plain. And the bison were not what I expected. I thought they would be like cows. But they were more like some african animal...more muscular than I expected. We had to climb a hillside to avoid one who stood in the trail and watched us. He would occasionally roll in the dirt, then stand up again and track us. Finally he stormed away.

In the small hills on the plain, we'd see little dust clouds, made when a bison rolled in the dirt or took off running. At another point, we passed the carcass of a baby bison which appeared to be in pieces. We walked quickly through that area, knowing a bear had been behind that.

Later, we were in forest and stumbled upon a bison sitting in the trail silently. Cory, as usual, saw it first, and got me to stop yammering on. We then crept off the trail into the trees and gave him a wide berth.

This was turning out to be a huge wildlife day. It felt very consequential. It was also funny to see traffic jams on the road in the distance at the sight of a bison. Meanwhile, we were out here with them.

The river near the great Yellowstone Lake.

Yellowstone Lake.

We reached the Fishing Bridge Campground and went into the little store for a snack, then had an interesting conversation with an old farmer woman who had a curious "innocent" way about here. I liked her very much. Later her son (or grandson?) arrived, but had a sallow, cynical look that wasn't as nice.

Country people are often happier than they have a right to be. And their sophisticated offspring are impoverished.

An elk at the Bridge Bay Campground.

We had dinner on the waterfront at Lake Village. Something like hot dogs or chili dogs, which was kind of a park specialty. We walked a few more miles to Bridge Bay Campground, got settled in for the night and enjoyed a beer at our park bench. Elk wandered into camp and we all took pictures. It had been a long and eventful day.

Our tents.

August 2, Day 123

16.9 miles, 1340 feet elevation gain.

We started by getting our wilderness permit for the last night in the park. Happily there was a space available on the west side of Heart Lake, though I would have prefered the east side in order to cover more ground. The rangers were very nice, though it was interesting to see that most of them had little experience with backcountry camping. Lots of questions about what we eat and how we live out there, which was funny!

Grizzly tracks (among many!) in the high country on the west side of Yellowstone Lake.

After walking a couple miles up the service road (for powerlines again) by a feature called Natural Bridge, there was a sign that the road was closed due to bear activity.

Well. I wasn't going back to the highway. At least after reading the carcass log. Yes, because, helpfully, there was a "carcass log" right next to the sign. We read that a few days before, two (not one, two!) bison had been struck and killed by vehicles on the service road. This then attracted a mass of bears. The carcass (carcaii?) was removed 2 days before. For this reason, we thought it was safe now to travel the road.

But wow, when we got to the place mentioned in the log, tension was high! In fact, we carried our bear spray in our hand. And we began seeing many, many, MANY grizzly tracks. We saw sign that a carcass had been dragged in the sand. We noted where each track left the road and imagined being watched. Other than this drama, the high country here was interesting and we had a good view of the lake shortly before the descent, though this was also near the accident site, so we didn't linger.

We got down to the road and could relax, at least a bit. It began to rain as we curved around the lake. We passed a collection of sulphur vents.

We entered the campground from the back side, piecing together bits of trail with cross country travel. On registration, we got our place along with some other CDT folks. Mike and Heather were here, last seen in the stretch to Helena. After a rest, we walked into the Village for dinner.

This was pretty neat: we went into the bar of the "fancy" restaurant, and the bartender paid for our drinks because she was also a thru-hiker. Then we went to dinner, ordering a fancy, expensive meal with dessert. We were amazed to learn that two women from the bar had paid for our meal and left. They'd heard our story as reported by the friendly bartender, were impressed and gave us this considerable gift.

Wow.

It's always a surprise to be noticed. We do our things and get used to working away unseen, uncared for. That's fine, yeah? But sometimes someone sees. I'd say to you that you are probably noticed a lot more than you think. And sometimes, you're noticed to an astounding depth. You might learn about it later. Or not.

We probably took a shower, though I don't quite remember. Rainy night.

August 3, Day 124

15.3 miles, 1100 feet elevation gain.

The laundry room had a covered outdoor area. I tried drying my tent here. The woman running that opened early so we could come in and warm up. Really nice.

She opened early for us, got us coffee, gave us a place to dry things. Home is also a feeling.

We chatted with folks inside as we ate some breakfast. Later, we walked over to the Village Store. I forgot why, but it ended up being tough to leave. It was probably 10 by the time we were walking.

Sign on the rainy road south of Grant Village.

Steam vents near Heart Lake.

First miles on the road (7 or so?). Then trail, and for the first time in weeks, we were back on the CDT. Back on the official trail, wow.

We crossed nondescript forest, coming out at some steam vents before dropping to the lake and more vents nearby. After sitting a few minutes at a closed up ranger cabin we felt the rain was going to really let loose, and we should get to camp. Sure enough, 15-20 minutes later as we started setting up our tents, the rain started heavy and didn't stop for 30 hours. We ate under umbrellas. I remember Cory's soaking hat dripping rain on him. At least we had heat from his stove!

Looking towards our camp on the west side of the lake as clouds gather.

Doing chores on the rainy evening -- sewing up a hole in the mesh pocket of my pack.

August 4, Day 125

20.1 miles, 2290 feet elevation gain.

No pictures today. Just a struggle to keep the things that need to stay dry, dry. I hated putting the wet tent into the main body of the pack, but that was the right thing to do in permanent rain. The sleeping bag and warm jacket were protected by a trash compactor bag. I hoped there were no tears in it!

Just a sopping journey, and a long one. A young man and woman passed us by. At another point, Mike and Heather appeared. Heather walked with us a while and became really keen on somehow building a fire. We'd seen a party of campers in the morning gathered around a smoky fire. Maybe she saw that too and it inspired her. Anyway, in the afternoon, she started looking for dry wood in strategic hollows. I thought the project was doomed, and just wanted to reach camp, set up the tent and begin getting warm with the help of a (hopefully) dry sleeping bag.

We took our leave (she did give up on the idea, she reported later), and kept walking. By lucky chance, we looked to the left on the trail right at the park boundary and saw a cabin with the young man and woman drying their things. Yes! We could sit on the porch and eat, increasing our chance of getting into bed warm and dry.

We went over and hung out with them. This was fun. We got water here and the rain actually stopped for a few minutes. We ate our hot meal on the porch, as I'd hoped for. We exchanged rueful gossip about folks on the trail. The great "social media butterflies" came in for particular derision. Sorry y'all...you get enough love from the whole world -- you don't need us.

Cory and I walked just a few minutes to find a flat place in the trees. We set our camp and went to bed.

August 5, Day 126

19.7 miles, 2940 feet elevation gain.

We'd heard the weather would be better today. Mike and Heather wandered by as we packed up. They'd camped nearby, but didn't see the cabin.

We crossed a wet Fox Park, fording streams several times, then started climbing. Eventually we were in sun, much missed over the last days! After some hours we came to a high and scenic plateau with a small tarn. My head was full of the thought: DRY THE TENT! In fact, dry everything! Because who knows when you'll get another chance. There was a decent wind, and I knew that combined with sun would rapidly dry anything.

Cory in a sunny meadow, heading south.

Cory makes a call home on "Two Ocean Mountain."

Our high point was a broad north-south summit of 10047 feet. I got my tent lashed to a tree, laid socks and other things out to dry and set about socializing and enjoying myself. A german man told us of his adventure coming north. It sounded very tough. "Every day I push more... I give 110%, but it's not enough. So I give 130% and still it was not enough..." He sounded really fed up. But he knew he was lucky to get to do this. The mental struggle is real.

My answer has been not to dwell on it. I've been impatient at times. I've felt that what I'm doing is essentially boring or unnecessary. But the more I think about that the worse I feel. No. I've decided to complete this thing, and all those thoughts will just have to wait. I think the german man has had a lot of time alone with nothing but his own thoughts rattling around. This has been one of the good things about hiking with Cory. I did sometimes want more alone time. But constant alone time is not good for me. I'd probably get "fed up" like this guy did. Still, I hope he finished his hike and gets to look back on all the ups and downs with pride.

Meeting a german northbound hiker on "Two Ocean Mountain," Hummingbird. He'd had a rough and rainy set of days.

With Mike and Heather on "Two Ocean Mountain."

Cliffs on the west wall of the North Two Ocean Creek valley.

We didn't even bother taking a picture of "Two Ocean Creek," which splits here, going to the Pacific and the Gulf of Mexico. I mean...we're on the divide... we are constantly seeing that kind of thing!

At the base of this mountain, we came upon the new thing which would bedevil us for the next days: HORSES.

My gosh...horses destroy trails. Huge mud pits. Tremendous effort expended at times to stay out of the ankle deep mud. Sometimes sloshing right through like a Vietnam rice paddy. We were in a land of private horse ranches which took parties out constantly.

We passed one horse camp. Maybe 2 dozen people and horses? Anyway, we descended the valley in steps. Things broadened out and it became easier to avoid the mud pits. We came to a camp in the North Fork Meadows with water near by. Mike and Heather were already here. We had dinner with them as rain began to sprinkle. I didn't mind though, everything was dry. I could hope that there would be a chance again the next day to dry things out.

Looking back up to "Two Ocean Mountain."

Near camp, rainy weather returns.

August 6, Day 127

17.5 miles, 3460 feet elevation gain.

I had studied the trail for the day ahead and knew that folks often made an error, failing to turn left on an obscure branch to cross the river.

Therefore we got it right. However the trail became really indistinct, and it was like we were going cross country down the hill to the river ford.

In fact, this country was a lot like the Bob Marshall Wilderness further north: lots and lots of deep river crossings. The country was just full of water. I think it was clear and sunny for now, but eventually the rain would come, I knew.

We went a long ways to the east, and missed our turn off because I was upset at being all wet from the brush. I think I'd managed to keep my feet dry for a few hours, then suddenly fell into a water hole. For whatever reason I decided to run in order to burn off anger. But I ran right passed our turn off.

So we lost a half hour or so eventually figuring out we had to turn around...

We did this, and started hiking up a mountainside. By now I'd learned that the horse destruction on the trail was always worse on north-facing slopes, because they hold more water. Ascending a north slope again, my fears were confirmed. Grr! Looking at these oceans of mud and dozens of pock-mark horse-foot-sized holes of brown water and slick mud for hours and hours really gets to me. I was becoming easily irritated in this stretch.

I told Cory I simply had to stop in Dubois for a rest day. In a way, that didn't make sense since we had a resupply box coming to the Benchmark Wilderness Ranch near the pass. But it had been over twenty days since a full rest day. The rain and horse-holes were driving me a bit crazy. Also, and this would be a growing problem, I hated the thought that Cory was slowed down by me because he needed to complete the whole trail this year. I had visions of him shivering in the Colorado San Juans because he gave in to my constant requirements of 20 mile days. Whereas, he often mentioned, he could put his head down and pound out much longer days.

The deeper into Wyoming we got the more this bothered me. And so I expressed my desire for a rest day more like "I'll stop for a rest day, but you don't have to." This was perhaps rude, because the truth was, he was a great guy to hike with and we were a productive team -- and friends besides. I felt like he should go on faster. I guess I thought I would in his shoes. And so I felt in his debt, and that made me occasionally irritable (I also couldn't really articulate this at the time).

This picture is from Upper Nowlin Meadow, in a beautiful notch between Terrace and Smokehouse Mountains.

Looking up from the meadow to the cliffs of Smokehouse Mountain.

So anyway, we climbed along, separating here and there, listening to music. The sky was filling with clouds though we still had sun. We needed to cross one more river before we could climb up to a plateau at Brooks Lake which meant Highway 26 was close. The descent to the river was odd...long switchbacks that seemed a little bit pointless, but the ground was fairly steep.

Looking into the complex terrain of the South Buffalo Fork River, which we need to cross. We'll climb up onto the arm of the peak directly across, then continue south.

Climbing above the South Buffalo Fork, as rain threatens.

We finally got down to the river and I have to say it was the most difficult crossing of the entire trip. The river was powerful and the water was fairly high. Cory was extremely thoughtful, and remained strategically behind me as I carefully placed each foot in the thigh-deep water. In a way, this irritated me, though that is only a reflection of my poor character. I was becoming convinced that he was going slower than he should go, and just because of me. So each extra kindness he gave me reminded me of this uncomfortable idea -- that I was becoming a burden.

This is entirely a product of my own kinked and stunted thought, I know. In fact, Cory was just being the considerate and thoughtful dude that he is. Haha...so you see my inner environment was getting a little bit miserable in here, to match the weather!

But I was also proud of the crossing. It felt like we'd really been in wilderness these last days. We climbed and the rain let up for a while. Views increased, and my mood with them. However, after a couple hours, the rain increased again, this time with a cold wind. I thought we should set up camp before it started coming down really hard. I was looking at the map ahead and it didn't look good for camping in the next miles. So when a small flat spot under some rather dead-looking trees appeared, I wanted to stop.

We did so, me feeling a bit guilty for relaxing the rule about camping only around healthy trees. In fact, a tree that my tent was tied to did make strange noises throughout the night. And we also heard a tree crash into the ground before sleep.

Anyway, we had our wet camp. I actually cooked in the tent, going out in the wet to retrieve the stove from Cory. Looks like I'm a real stove guy, now.

It was fairly early. I started kicking myself for forcing a stop when we could have done another three miles. Mike and Heather came by. We said we'd see them in Dubois, as they were stepping out for a rest too.

August 7, Day 128

10.9 miles, 1596 feet elevation gain.

Let's go before it starts raining again! Ugh though...cold tent...cold hands...wet tent...

It's 7:15 in the morning in the Teton Wilderness. Where are you right now?

But movement brings energy. Sure enough though, the north slope was full of horse-mud. As we reached the high point, I took off running. I wanted to be alone, somehow, and after watching two or three people pass us by stomping directly in the mud, I felt I was being too dainty in my steps. I was tired of being passed!

In fact, I caught all these people and ran passed them in the next two hours.

Approaching Brooks Lake in sopping, marshy, flooded trail and meadow.

At one point, the trail turned into an absolute mud-rink...icy and slippery. I left the trail and stormed across a meadow. In reality, it was a shallow lake. Sloshing along for a mile in here, I actually gained ground on a person slipping and sliding their way along over on the trail on my left. Grr! I wanted out, out, out!

Cory and friendly fetch-playing dog at the Brooks Lake Lodge, sorting out our resupply.

There was a final river crossing where I alarmed a young women with the violence of my sloshing, slapping yet grinning assault on the river. I tripped, became covered in mud, but just didn't care and kept going. I caught a fellow and used him to distract me by making conversation. I passed him, and pressed on to the Brooks Lake Mountain Lodge.

Once there I calmed down again and became civilized. A nice young woman inside found my package and directed me to a table outside where I could open it, drink water and charge a phone. I only had to wait a couple minutes for Cory. He arrived agog at my mad dash into the sopping valley!

We played fetch with a dog and slowly digested our resupply. We were going to town though, anyway. So we lifted up our packs and walked the road a couple miles to a turn off down to Highway 26 after another couple of miles.

We got there and, to our dismay, there was very little traffic. Worse, a man and woman came out and wanted to hitch too. After they saw how little success Cory and I were having (me, covered in mud), they went in front of us, and the woman made sure that as much skin showed on her legs as possible.

Sigh. So we'd have to wait for them to get a ride, then maybe we could get one.

Meanwhile, Cory tried to find some numbers for a shuttle, but that didn't work.

In the end we were saved by a bear attack.

A surveyer had been stalked by a grizzly a mile up the highway earlier in the day. A truck came by and loaded up the young man and woman ahead of us. Then, mercifully, they pulled over to pick us up too and we piled into the bed of the truck. The woman in the passenger seat said the grizzly was coming down along the highway towards us, and that's why she picked us up.

Okay. Cool. I can live with that. Muddy and wet, and just worn out, I was happy to be zooming to Dubois.

To go forward to days 129 and after, click here.