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Idatana

(Idaho/Montana)

Adventuring with my friends

I had spent 5 days off-trail with some friends and by the time I returned I knew I would be at the back of the pack. By my calculations, the majority of thruhikers were over 200 miles ahead. It would be a quiet trail from here to the end.


 

Back on trail

I felt energized from the time spent off trail, though I had still hiked with my friends most of the days. I worked my way up a massive climb, the trail welcoming me back in the way it knows best. I pitched my tent near a cliff's edge with epic views of the lakes below and starry skies above.


I planned on hiking separate this section, as I hadn't gone solo much this trail. I wanted to see what I would do without the influence of others. But hitching into the next town was supposedly incredibly difficult and dangerous, so Ranger and I had planned on meeting at the road in 3 days time.


 


I packed up the next morning before the sun rose red in the sky. I had slept pretty poorly; it seemed I had picked up a cold, and the smoke lingering in the valley had probably exacerbated the sinus congestion. I wasn't sure where the fire was, but the wind was blowing in a thin layer of haze over the distant mountains.



The trail was hilly and sections were overgrown; the grasses brushed against my bear legs. I had a hard time walking under the hot sun. I stopped early for a nap and got in a good 20 minutes, then ate some lunch and kept going. I had wanted to use this solo stretch as a time to really push myself and hit big miles but my body rebelled at such an idea.


I had hoped for a better afternoon but the sun was worse in the exposed fields. The thermometer on my phone read 85 degrees. I assumed it was inaccurately high, still all I wanted to do was sit in the cool shade. Miles don't walk themselves though. I kept moving. My head pounded and my throat burned. I took some meds which proved a bit helpful.


Eventually, friendly clouds covered the sun as I joined a road, thankful I didn't have to battle the tall grass anymore. The clouds continued to build until they spilled over. I watched streaks of rain reaching the earth a few miles away, but the storm was over by the time I reached it. All that remained was a muddy mark.


I pushed until evening. Arriving at a flat spot by a creek, I debated setting up camp. I checked my map and realized I had only done 27 miles so far. I wasn't able to take that number as an acceptable amount, so I kept going until 8 o'clock. The trail dipped into a canyon with a rush of water, and I managed to find a patch of grass near the shore to pitch my tent. I was in bed by 8:30, swept into sleep with the help of Benadryl.


 

I woke up around six but it still felt a little dark to be hiking in grizzly territory, so I slept in until six twenty or so. I'd woken up a few times at night but felt really well rested. I quickly packed up and hobbled to the trail. My left Achilles tendon pulled painfully; injuries from previous thruhikes reigniting. Soon my calf muscle warmed up, and although still stiff, walking wasn't painful. After a mile I passed Ranger taking down his tent.


A while later I saw a big black bear in the distance and paused until he ran off trail. A hill followed. It was long and hot and 2,000 feet tall. I had to pause many times to catch my breath, but the brief ridge walk that awaited me at the top was incredible. The red dirt and rock accented the lush green hills spotted with blue lakes dark trees. I filled up water in some old mine pits filled with water and hiked to a stand of shade trees for a lunch of leftover mac and cheese.



Some days you have to work for the miles and some days they hike themselves. Thankfully, this day was the latter. I occupied myself with audiobooks and podcasts as I cruised down the hill. I pushed myself, delighted to be feeling so good. I decided to have dinner at a lake and then go three to five more miles to camp. The lake was busy with weekenders, but I found a space to cook my mashed potatoes and eat some cereal. Thick berry bushes lined the trail, and I talked aloud as I walked so as not to startle any feeding bear until the trail ascended. Elk scattered on the hill ahead and I reached the saddle just as the sun was dipping below the earth. Although I felt good enough to keep hiking, I figured I should probably call it a day so I could get some good sleep, still stuffy from a cold.


I slept off and on. The crickets bouncing against my tent forced me to put ear plugs in, or else I knew I would be awake all night long listening to the rustling. Lightning danced against the distant mountains for a solid hour, but the stars were bright above.


 

A bird fluttered to snag a cricket in front of my tent. I woke and I packed up groggily to get moving. The sun was still hidden behind clouds, slow to fully rise. I was in a burn zone with little water, and I loaded up on 2 liters when I had the chance. It was 6 to 10 miles between water, and sources that were available were often murky ponds shared with a herd of sheep and their guard dogs. I could hear the animals in the distance.


I climbed up the second 1000 foot hill of the morning, tired and unmotivated, and plopped down at the top for a ten minute lunch break. A long exposed downhill followed, and finally a nice dirt road led me the remaining seven miles into town. The clouds obscured the sun. They had been building all day and I figured it would rain. I was surprised it held off for so long.


I met Ranger at the road and we climbed over the fence to the interstate. I was really nervous about hitching along such a fast track and there were reports that police sometimes caused trouble, as it was technically illegal to hitchhike in Idaho. But still, we stood there with thumbs out and fake smiles on our faces. We were at the mercy of strangers. I was a little delirious from walking and quickly gave up as car after car refused to stop. Defeated, I sat on my pack. With every car that passed I popped up and stuck out a thumb half heartedly, but had little hope. No one would pick us up along the interstate. We would be there for hours or have to use the one bar of service to call for a ride or maybe even have to walk to town. I played in the gravel as I moped.



It really didn't take long... About half hour, maybe, and a guy pulled over. Excitedly, we walked over to greet him. "You need anything?" he asked. "Just a ride... We are trying to get to town 15 miles up the interstate," we told him. "I don't have a lot of room," he glanced into his back seat, "but you could maybe squeeze." After a pause he uncomfortably added, "but with all the stuff that is happening in the world, do you mind if I peaked into your packs to see if you have any weapons?" "Oh yeah, of course," I tried to put the man at ease. We needed this ride. Ranger pointed out that we had bear spray and we told him a little about why we carry it. I mentioned we could keep those in the trunk if that made him more comfortable. He liked that idea, and after stashing our bear spray in the overloaded trunk he introduced us to his mom in the front seat. We made conversation for about five minutes until he seemed to be comfortable enough to allow us in, and we crammed into his backseat, jumbled up in the mess of his car. We told him about the trail and asked him about himself. He seemed to get more comfortable as we continued up the interstate, and within 10 minutes he dropped us off at the gas station in Lima, Montana. I thanked him greatly and promptly headed inside to grab a pizza.



The town of Lima was incredibly small. Resupply was in a gas station, camping was in a large patch of green grass called the town park. There was a restaurant and a post office and a few houses, and that was about it. If it hadn't been for the interstate, I doubted the town would exist.


We spread our stuff out in the park pavilion and got electronics charging. I ate my pizza, washed things, and called family as a thru-biker came by to chat. The Great Divide is a route commonly used by bikepackers that parallels the CDT. I had seen bikers every now and again along the trail. We briefly swapped stories and information before tucking into bed.


 

I woke up at 3:20 to a train roaring by, then again at 5:57am when I heard sprinklers pop up. I should have known that lush green grass meant trouble. The sprinklers sprayed water in a wide arc as they rotated around. I hoped I was out the line of fire but within 30 seconds the water hit my tent. Ranger had been in the pavilion cowboying and I heard him yelp as he got a face full of water. I let it circle around to me a few times as I readied my stuff and timed the intervals. I braced myself as I waited until the spray passed over, then jumped out of my tent, ripped up my stakes, and drug everything to a safe spot. I re-pitched my tent and crawled back in, everything slightly damp, and got a few more mild hours of sleep until the sun rose.


We headed over to the post office shortly after it opened and got packages to help with the meager resupply options, then to the restaurant for breakfast, and finally the gas station to get snacks. With everything done there was nothing to do but hitch back to trail. We walked up the interstate ramp and nervously stood roadside as traffic passed at 70mph. In surprisingly no time, a RV pulled to the side and a woman waved us over. We were welcomed into a homey, messy RV with an elderly lady driving, a massive dog in the front seat, and a mom taking care of two young children at the table. They were an incredibly friendly family and we chatted as we picked up speed. They had been on a road trip up to Alaska and were headed back home.

Dog in our hitch

We were dropped off at a seemingly random spot along the interstate where we hopped the fence to start a five mile dirt road walk. The road twisted through cattle fields, offering little protection from the hot sun. When road finally met trail we paused to collect brown, smelly water before a long exposed climb into the hills. I wasn't enthused about drinking from a stream that was infested with cow poop, but such was the reality.


I was about ready to head out but clouds appeared from nowhere and rain started to fall. Thunder rumbled. In no rush to make miles, we pitched a tent and waited for the storm to pass. After an hour it cleared up, and although it was getting late I wanted to make a few more miles. We started the climb into the steep hills. It was cold and windy by the time I joined Ranger in a saddle between hilltops, and I eagerly climbed into bed.

Camping on the ridge

I woke up again at one or two in the morning to some sniffles and snorts outside. The wind flapping my tent masked much of the sound. I figured it was just a cow, as bears would have no reason to be that high on an exposed hill, and put in ear plugs to go back to sleep. I was about to drift off again when I heard Ranger curse. He had heard a snort right next to his tent and something walking away. I searched for my headlamp frantically in the blackness. Locating it, I grabbed my bear spray and got out of the tent. We peered through the darkness, staring down the hill as the snorts receded. Usually animal eyes reflect back but there were none to be seen. As a precaution, I moved our food away from our tents for confidence of safety and went back to bed.


 

I woke up again at seven o'clock, but even though I deflated my sleeping pad I lay there, thinking as I dozed. We hadn't seen any Northbounders on trail for five days, and I was certain we were at the back of the pack. Some folks were warning us of an early snow in Glacier NP that would thwart our finish and I was worried we wouldn't make it in time.


I didn't leave until 8:30, moving up and down the rolling ridgeline along the Idaho/Montana border.

I had only drunk a liter of water by the time I got to the next water source at lunch. I dumped out the cow water and got cold, clear stream water. It still had cows in it but at least it was little cleaner. l found a place to eat in the shade. My lack of motivation grew with the heat, but finally I set out to tackle the next set of hills. I put on some podcasts and made my way up the next 2,000 foot climb, slowly but surely, and hiked well until evening.



I kept pushing miles until 7:00 and I stopped to make some dinner by a creek. We had planned to go three miles further that day, but it was late and I was hungry. Ranger showed up as I dug into my noodles. We agreed to make it one more mile before camping.


We tented on the edge of the meadow and watched the sun set casting and mountains into a warm orange glow.


 

I didn't sleep too well. I was hot and then cold, and I felt sticky and dirty and gross. I had to reinflate my sleeping pad halfway through the night and my thoughts were racing. I pulled my hood over my eyes and slept until six when I heard Ranger unzipping his tent. I was frustrated that it was that time already. The sun hadn't even risen yet. It was getting slower and slower to rise which made getting up harder and harder. I crankily packed up, a little bit angry at the world but laughing because of it. I hiked out as the sun slowly rose. Much of the trail followed dirt roads.


Lunch break
Laundry

Around noon, we stopped at a lake to do laundry and I took a wilderness shower. As the accommodations in the recent towns were meager, opportunities for cleanliness were rare. I had to resort to the old ways. The "shower" slowly pouring out of my water bladder was cold yet amazing, and I came back refreshed. I swished my laundry around in a bear can and laid it out to dry while we ate lunch. A southbounder joined us for a break and told us all about the trail coming up over the next few miles. He recommended taking the road route; it would shave off about four miles. I studied the map and figured I could take the trail and possibly shave off the same distance by cutting two massive switchbacks. I was kind of keen on sticking to the trail but in the end agreed the road would be the easiest.


Even as I hiked up the hill for the first shortcut, I was unsure if I should cut over to the trail again. By the time I had decided I wanted to do the trail after all, I was too far out of reach for it and was forced to continue on the road. I churned out the miles.


The clouds grew dark. I crested a small bump and the wind hit me with a couple of raindrops. It looked like it was going to storm pretty hard and exposed fields lay before me, so I backtracked to a protected area and pitched my tent. But the rain was slow to come, and I was conflicted if I should pack back up. I had been hiking really well and making smooth miles. I wanted to take advantage of that while I could.

The rain didn't come so I headed back into the hills. I listened to a book the last mile to camp. We ate dinner. I was starving and dug into extra food I had. Although we only covered 25ish miles by foot we had done 29 trail miles. It was nice to cut that chunk off, and would allow for an early town stop in two days time.






 

It was dark in the trees and hard to get up without energizing sun. I was sleepy and packed up quickly. The miles brought a numerous long, steep ups and downs, and rolled over a beautiful ridge line. I was thankful to be hiking in the cool of the morning, for afternoon exposure would have been rough. I skirted the wall of a mountain, then strolled atop the trail-less mountaintops. No visible footpath had been worn so I liberally walked in the general direction I thought I should go. The occasional trail markers assured me I was indeed going the right way.


I picked up a trail as I descended among cool pine trees. I was bummed it was too early to stop, as the air was cold in the shade, a creek trickled along the wooded border, and soft pine needles invited me. I pulled myself away and continued on until I found Ranger under a tree in the middle of the field to eat lunch.


The afternoon brought big hills on a two-track dirt road. Clouds had moved in. Thunder roared overhead as we neared an exposed ridge. I eyed the clouds. Precipitation would be coming fast and thick. We took cover under trees as the clouds unleashed hail.

Taking shelter from the storm

After it died we crunched over the ice droplets and continued on the exposed hills. It wasn't long until a second storm rolled in, but as no lightning was present, I kept hiking through the hail. It stung my skin like hundreds of pebbles. Head bowed, wind came in from behind and the air turned cold. This was one of those moments in thruhiking where, if you allow it, misery can sweep over you until you to collapse into a spiral of self-pity. But that doesn't get you anywhere. With great effort I kept my headspace positive and pushed through. The hail cleared away within 10 minutes.



I covered the last three miles facing yet another storm. This one held thunder in the clouds directly overhead. Lightning danced above me as the clouds spit the last drops of rain in effort to defeat me. The safest thing to do was to keep hiking, so I charged forward until the trail dipped below the hilltops. I cruised into a campsite protected by massive pines.


 

It was cold in the morning and dark in the trees. Three miles of well-graded up brought me to the top of Elk Mountain. Along the way I stopped for water, filtering as I watched the elk graze. I felt good, and charged along. The downhill pulled me along, not steep enough to make my knees hurt but down enough to send me at a quick trotting pace.


We had arranged for a shuttle and arrived with an hour to spare. Hitching was notoriously difficult on the back gravel roads, but a local angel was kind enough to give rides to hikers for a small fee. It was a 12 mile drive to Leadore, population 102.


We sat at a deserted bar and destroyed a basket of tator tots, then relaxed in the lobby of the "visitor center," which turned out to be an enclosed entryway to the town hall and library. But it had everything we needed: outlets, bathrooms, wifi, and climate control. We settled in and took turns running to the grocery store to grab food. I picked through the limited resupply options and tried to piece together 3.5 days of food. I settled for some untraditional items, and with a box full of goodies I went back to the visitor center to repackage and organize my resupply. We had taken complete ownership of the space. Although we had tried to keep our stuff tidy, contents of our packs were dispersed throughout the area. The stench of hikers wafted in the air. We were a friendly welcome to the occasional visitors who ran in to use the restroom.


One of the few buildings in town

As evening set in, we walked down to the campground. It was a simple little place but had more than we needed, and I took a hot shower before settling in. The highway sounds faded away as I drifted off to sleep.


 

The next day, Ranger and I walked to the road where we could hitch back to trail. The gravel road was deserted. I prepared myself to be there for hours, but it only took 15 minutes til the third car picked us up.


The trail was incredible, winding through trees along a sturdy wooden fence that must have taken years to make. Wind whipped above and clouds darkened the sky, but there was no rain. We stopped for a late lunch at the edge of a meadow, then left the trees for the grassy hills.


I battled the 40 mile an hour wind gusts as I walked along the exposed ridge. The trail met a road and I put my head down. I ticked off the miles via water sources... Five miles from lunch and then five more miles and then finally three or four to a spot where we could camp. We found protection among some trees. The wind tossed the leaves above and brought in more smoke.





 

It was cold outside but I enjoyed walking in the dawn light. I explored a new footpath until I reached Lemhi pass and took the quarter mile side-trail to water. Long water carries and off-trail sources were the norm at this point. I studied the historical signs before moving on. The spring was supposedly the head waters of the Missouri and the pass was the same one that the Lewis and Clark expedition had traveled over on their search for a passage from the Missouri to the Columbus River.



The trail from there was exceedingly beautiful through soft pine forests. The sun was warm but the breeze was cold and miles and time went by quickly. The next water source required a long, unguided bushwhack over grouse berry shrubs. My sense of direction led me straight to the water souce and I filled up in the narrow creek. I left lunch early, feeling like walking. I rejoined the trail and made my way through scraps of burn area.



I was brought to a rocky ridgeline and then faced a super steep up of pure rock scree, followed by a stupid steep down. My knees were not happy with the situation. I finally made it to the next water source and dug into future food rations. I was so hungry. After I grabbed water I climbed back to the ridge top, stopping in a saddle to camp. It was lovely. Smokey still, but less so. The cold drove me to my warm sleeping bag.


 

It was cold when I woke up and I waited until it was light enough to start hiking. I was frustrated with how I couldn't leave as early as I wanted because hiking in the dark was dangerous in grizzly territory (at least that's I told myself). Thus I had to sleep in until at least 6:30.


The trail cut down and then up and then a massive down. I cruised along effortlessly, stopped for lunch at an old cabin.



It was hard to stay motivated to hike with my knees and feet hurting from the hills and rocky ground. The day ended with a massive climb... the 2,000 feet of elevation gain started out gentle but then climbed up the mountain steeply to the pass. I struggled to keep going in the smoky air but I stubbornly hiked until I hit nearly 29 miles for the day. I stopped to camp by a stream as the light faded. Ranger hadn't felt good that morning and I hadn't seen him all day, so I assumed I would be camping by myself. I was surprised when he appeared a half hour later. We ate dinner as night fell and crawled into our tents exhausted.


 


I set out as soon as it was light enough. A lot of rolling ups and downs was the theme of the day, as the trail went over countless passes paralleling the continental divide. The day was rather uneventful, just another day of walking. I went to bed, excited to go to a real town the next day.


When I woke I was appalled it was only midnight. It was one of those rare times where I felt rested and wanted it to be earlier in the morning. I was ready for real food and a bed. My hips hurt and my knees hurt and my shoulders hurt and my hands hurt. I couldn't get comfortable on my inflatable pad. A couple times I thought I heard rustling in the grass which, even if I had managed to doze off, jerked me awake again. It wasn't the best night's sleep.


 

When I woke up at 6:45 I was alarmed at how late it was and ripped my tent down to get hiking. Thirteen minutes later I was on the trail. Sixteen wooded miles of trail brought us to a road where we snagged a hitch to Darby, MT.


All my daydreaming about good food was pointless. I was not very hungry when we were seated at an outdoor table; it was 95 degrees. I managed to consume a burger. Footsore, we walked over to a campground and checked in. I decided to splurge an extra $5 to upgrade to a platform tent. I took an amazing shower and did laundry, then headed to the grocery where I loaded up on good foods. After the last few resupplies at gas stations, I rejoiced over the options a grocery store provides. The sun set, taking the heat with it, and I lay back on my bed for a good night's sleep.



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