Dogs barked and cars rumbled late into the night. I slept in until nearly 8am in the platform tent until the canvas walls glowed with the early light. The promise of breakfast drew me out of bed and I hopped across the street to indulge in a massive blueberry pancake. Errands came next; resupply and the post office, where I sent over a half pound of stuff home. A trip to the library filled out the afternoon, and we finally headed to the road to hitch back to trail. Within 10 minutes with a firefighter picked us up on his way to fight the fires just south of us. There was still smoke through much of the air.
Super gentle terrain allowed for easy evening miles. Ranger and I had discovered there was a wildfire ahead, and an alternate route was recommended. We jumped off the trial to start our detour, stopping to pitch tents in a wide grassy field four miles from the flames. The glow of the blaze reflected in the night sky and the stars shone brightly overhead. Coyotes yipped and howled in the distance. It was magical.
Over night, frigid cold air had dropped into the pocket of open fields. Frost collected on my tent and clung stiffly to the blades of grass. It was hard to get moving. The first obstacle on the fire detour was a wide, deep stream through the meadow. I tiptoed across a beaver dam and then waded through thick willow bushes trying to keep my feet dry. I was mildly successful. We popped out onto the road and strode easily for a mile or so. It was difficult to follow the reroute, as maps were crude and directions incorrect, but we ended up navigating a snowmobile trail over countless fallen trees and finally made it back to the CDT on the other side of the fire. I could see smoke pillaring into the sky behind me. I was thankful the wind is in my favor, allowing only a slight hint of smoke to linger.
By the afternoon the sun was hot and the smoke filled the sky, obscuring even the nearby hills. Helicopters buzzed in the distance, trying to manage the fire, which probably had grown with the breeze of the morning. My head hurt from inhaling the smoke. Fire had ravaged that area years before as well; I entered an area scarred with the touch of fire. Wind had knocked the weakened trunks over the trail, but the black skeletons that remained stood proud. I toiled under the hot sun, climbing over countless trees, missing the shade they once provided. The trail did not allow for quick miles so we pushed until little after seven to find a good camping site. Thankful to leave the burn zone, we pitched our tents under live trees in a saddle. The protection of the hilltops around us allowed for a warmer night with clean air.
I woke up well-rested and climbed out of the saddle. Fog lingered in the valleys, along with a lonely pillar of smoke. I wondered if it was a new fire. It looked small, but a mighty plume erupted from the area all the same.
The day was endless ups and down. Thousand foot climbs led to a thousand foot descents, again and again. I was tired by the time I made it to lunch at a lake at 1:15. The inviting scenery and rest made it hard to get moving again. Dayhikers passed us by, offering their greetings, and I realized it must be a Saturday. I envied their leisure.
Clouds moved in and a few drops of rain fell. My pack felt heavier and heavier with each climb. Breathing was difficult and I realized it was because we were at relatively high elevation of 8,000 to 9,000 feet. Still, the last climb shouldn't have been as hard as it was. Smoke had moved in again. We stopped early to camp by a lake nestled against some mountains. Bugs joined us for dinner and I fell asleep with the twinge of smoke in my nose.
It was still smoky when I got up. Would it ever end? Annoyed, I hiked down the mountain. The day had 3 one-thousand foot climbs. I climbed up the first pass, hoping for clear air on the other side, but no such luck. Instead, it was even smokier. Downhill, then up again. Still smoky air. I wearily gasped up the pass. Smoke filled my lungs. My mouth tasted gross. I descended on loose rock and joined some ducks at a lake for lunch.
I made good timing up the final pass, relieved to begin the 15 miles of descent, much of which would be on a road. At this point, many thruhikers choose to take a shortcut that saves four days of walking. While it was tempting to shave off miles, I did not want to endure the long stretches of paved highway the shortcut follows, so I chose to stick to the official route, following trails and low-traffic roads. After 10 miles I got to the gravel road allowing a wide gentle downhill. Every now and again a car would stir up dust as it crunched toward a campground or trailhead. Finding a spot to camp was tricky. While we were surrounded by national forest, the thin trees did not offer much protection from the road and the slopey terrain didn't allow for a good tent set-up. Eventually we found a spot among some trees marked for timber and I cleared out a space for my tent.
The next morning was only three miles along the road until I hit the highway. I met Ranger and we started hitching. A few cars zoomed by until one finally pulled over, and in no time we were on our way to Anaconda. We were dropped off in the center of a town shut down for Labor Day. After grabbing coffee we headed to the hiker hut located at the edge of town in a park. A club provided a small shed with a porta potty, fridge, microwave, Wi-Fi, table, games, hiker box, bikes, and floor space for thruhikers. We grabbed stuff for shower and laundry and rode bikes to a nearby RV park. The owner was way too excited to have a conversation but finally accepted our money and allowed us some showers and laundry.
Only once town chores are complete that I could fully relax. The rest of the day was full of food, lounging, calls to home, and games.
An unplanned but restful and productive zero brought us back to the old dirt road sharing the footpath. It was a hot day, but as evening fell a blessed sprinkle of rain came with it. Smoke dust and ash danced against headlamps as I got ready for bed.
It 6m when I woke, but still dark. I had yet to get used to the late rising sun. Rain started to patter against my tent. I lay there, contently listening to the rain, hoping it would squelch the fire and dampen the smoke. I packed up as rain faded to mist and continued along the double track road.
A cow eyed me against the glowing smoky sky as I merged onto gravel road. Rocks gave way to pavement underfoot as I crossed under the interstate and started up a big hill. I prayed for an opportunity to hitch the 5.5 miles upward but no cars passed. The road dead-ended at the trailhead. I had the trail to myself as I hiked steadily into the evening. Long stretches between water had made for a heavy pack all day, and my fingers froze as I collected water for the night in the fading light. I joined Ranger to hike into the dusk. We set up tents and cooked dinner in the dark. I huddled into my puffy jacket, frigid cold. Fall was upon us, and I feared it would only get colder.
I woke up to frost coating the tent. It was dark and cold outside. We had a big day planned, but the desire for warmth compromised the desire for miles. I was still on the trail by seven, before the sun had fully risen.
Clouds refused to let it shine as it walked across the sky, but a long gentle uphill provided the ability to find warmth from within. It lingered in the 40s low 50s, and rain popped up. I was happy it was probably helping smother the fires, but it was dangerous to be raining in that temperature. I put on my wind jacket and popped up my umbrella. I maintained a warm pace until it finally cleared and the sun emerged.
It was still relatively cool under the occasional cloud. It was a battle of jacket on and jacket off as I charged up the hill trying to maintain internal temperature. I only paused for a moment to refill water. I hadn't come as far as I'd hoped, even though I had been hiking really well all day. I checked my map. 450 miles. Suddenly the end was feeling very real. I stared at the number. Did I really have less than 500 miles to go? I've been so swept up and rushing to get to Canada I didn't realize that I was closing in the miles. That was like to maybe two and a half weeks away. And then I’ll be done. The end of the triple crown. The end of something I worked so long for and dreamt so long about.
Ranger and I ate dinner before committing to the last four miles. I bundled up in my jacket and headed up the hill, legs sore, feet hurting and numb from the lack of movement during dinner. The sun had already set. 7:30. Temperatures dropped again, the sun never having a chance to warm the earth before we spun out of its light.
It was still terribly cold when I made it out of camp at sunrise. The steep climb did little to warm me and my feet grew numb. As I crossed over the shadow of the mountain I was climbing, the sun hit me and chased the chill away. I had a long downhill to the road and miles flew by.
There was a cooler filled with trail magic by the road and Ranger and I indulged in sweet carbonation as we debated on how to get into town. There were no cars at the trailhead so we had to walk the two miles to the interstate on a gravel road. The interstate hitch took about 45 minutes. I zoned out as I stuck out my thumb waiting for a ride. Finally a guy pulled over for us.
Butte, MT was a nightmare for thruhikers. Everything was spread out in a massive town, hitching was near impossible, and everything was more expensive than necessary. In a town that size, the status of thruhiker was not one of pride, but more akin to homelessness.
We landed at a Buffalo Wild Wings so we could eat before hungry shopping mistakes were made. We charged our electronics as I mourned over the pitifully bleak size of the basket of tator tots they served me. Then we headed to Walmart where we continued charging phones under Ranger's watchful eye as I took off to resupply as quickly as possible. I was overwhelmed with options, while at the same time couldn't find the things I really wanted. I wove through the aisles, scanning the shelves and grabbing things. It was going to be a really short stretch of two and a half days, and I didn't need a lot of food so I had to be careful to not over-buy. When you had to carry everything you bought, it was most important to make good choices. Finally I checked out and headed outside to relieve Ranger. His blank face immediately told me something was wrong. He said somebody had threatened to call the police on him. Apparently us charging our phones in the outlets outside Walmart was not cool. To avoid further encounters with angry old ladies we moved inside. Our phones and batteries shared outlets with the handicapped chairs a little less conspicuously. I unpacked my groceries and stood guard as Ranger took off to go get his resupply. If there was ever a moment where I felt like hiker trash, this was next to the top.
We knew hitching out of town would be impossible, so we called an Uber and sat outside the store eating bread and butter as we waited for our ride. Assuming we were in his same position, a guy living in a beat up trashy trailer came over and asked if we had tobacco.
The Uber driver was chatty and friendly. She had given plenty of hikers rides out of town. We managed to cover three miles of CDT on the gravel road via car to the next trailhead, effectively skipping a steep road walk. Evening was approaching and we searched for a spot to camp. We crossed a creek and pitched tents among cow manure. It seemed like the smoke had officially faded away and only a faint hint of it lingered in the air.
The trail was relatively smooth most the day with gentle switchbacks and mild terrain; I was cruising. We had done 13 miles by lunch. We had found out that Guru was doing trail magic just ahead, and we adjusted our intended mileage to make it to him by the next night.
Smoke rolled in again and although it caused a bunch of haze, it didn't seem to affect me as before.
The sun glowed red as I hiked into it and cruised to camp. In the fading light we pitched tents and I joined Ranger for dinner under the beam of my headlamp.
I headed out of camp early and met Ranger at a shortcut opportunity. Directions from other hikers were either vague or over-detailed, and ultimately unhelpful. A steep downhill led to a valley. I tripped and slid as my holey, worn shoes caught on some of the dozens of fallen pines or lost grip on the loose rock.
Smoke smelled fresh. A helicopter buzzed overhead. I figured there must be a new fire, but I was still startled to discover a patch of earth smoking. Immediately my mind raced to discover the best way to extinguish it. It was small and we were by a creek. I imagined the heroes we would be for saving the forest from a wildfire (or maybe ruining the plans for a controlled burn...). But as we got closer I realized it was more than just the small patch. The earth smoked everywhere. Upon further investigation we concluded it was a ground fire. Heat had traveled underground through the rich soil and had surfaced where it was able. Flames emerged from the ash and licked up a tree 50 feet away. I heard a pine crackle loudly as dry needles were suddenly consumed. The next half mile or so held endless smoking, barren pits of ash.
The fire was left behind but smoke followed us as we searched for a junction to link trails back to the CDT. After some cross-country bushwhacking we found another trail that led uphill and concluded our shortcut. We pushed pace the rest of the afternoon; Guru was providing trail magic just ahead.
Three miles out Ranger and I heard a call. I looked up to see Guru standing atop a rock pile. I shouted a hello. We climbed up and gave him a hug and chatted a bit, then continued hiking with him to the van. We caught up, swapping stories in the cozy Sprinter van as we indulged in good food and games until bedtime.
We joined Guru in the van for breakfast and helped chop things up and get things cooking. It was a peaceful morning. We weren't in any rush, but after cleaning up we finally stashed our packs and picked up some day packs Guru handed to us and filled them with some stuff for a 12 mile slack pack. Ranger and I took off on the gravel road and followed the backcountry paths until they merged into trail. Although hiking was easy with light packs and gentle terrain, the miles seemed to take forever. Guru had chips and salsa ready for us when we arrived at the Sprinter parked atop a hill, and after a nice lunch we headed to town.
Having access to a chauffer was crucial in Helena. The capital of Montana, it would have been near impossible to navigate on foot. We drove around the big city, stopping at gear stores, a laundromat, and a grocery store. Guru had an old teacher who lived in Helena that he kept in touch with, and they welcomed us into their home with kindness and humility. Good food and fellowship lasted until late into the evening.
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