I snoozed my 7:30 alarm several times. I was never more upset for the dumb sound my phone was making; if I had a rock I probably would have blasted it to silence. It was hard to emerge from my cozy tent into a world under cloudy skies, but once I got moving the trail unleashed beauty with every step. In the valley below, dead trees poked up from new growth and Aspens had started to change color. The Bob Marshall Wilderness was stunning.
In the afternoon I made my way over a pass along a massive wall of rock and followed it for miles. It was magnificent.. contrasting colors of black, gray, and white, with sharp edges of overhangs and little trees that grew on the upper slopes. It started to get dark and cold but we kept going to get in as many miles as possible until we found a campsite sheltered by the trees. It was cold and a bit breezy, but a gem of a spot. It started to rain.
It was still raining when the alarm went off. I quieted it with the intention of a 15 minutes snooze. It faithfully buzzed again. I predictably snoozed it again. The rain coming down outside made it harder and harder to be motivated to leave the tent. I delayed until I decided I couldn't delay any longer. I sighed and started packing up as drops of rain peppered my jacket. It wasn't as bad as it had sounded on the tent wall (it never is), and soon I was hiking along on easy terrain. The miles came and went slowly.
It seemed for a moment that the sun was going to come out but then the clouds took over the sky again. I managed to find a dry-ish place for lunch and the rain held off as I ate. It came at me off and on all day as I cruised through the trees and finally popped out into open hills with cliffs in the distance. It seemed like the perfect spot to see a grizzly bear; burnt skeletons of trees allowed for easy viewing of hillsides and valleys.
The rain picked up as I met up with Ranger and we turned to parallel the Chinese wall, a massive wall of rock that went on for miles. It would have been beautiful but for the cold, rainy mist that soon started to mix with snow.
I shivered under the tall cliffs as the rain fully surrendered to snow. I didn't have a lot of layers on, just my sun hoodie and a wind breaker. I didn't bother popping up my umbrella but instead accepted the precipitation, a foolish mistake that could have been costly. Ranger and I picked out out a campsite three miles away; an hour more of hiking in those conditions seemed doable, if not miserable. We were entering an exposed area and wouldn't be able to stop early should we want to escape the weather. We committed to meeting at there and I set off. Ranger was walking at a slower pace so as not to sweat through his rain gear, and I was walking at a quick pace so as to stay warm in the rain. I cranked up some music and followed the bear and wolf tracks as the trail rolled over more burnt, scarred land along the cliff wall. It was windy and cold but I stayed warm enough as long as I kept moving.
The miles went quickly enough but at the same time seemed to take forever. Finally I was descending into a small, protected crevice between hills where the campsite lay. But it wasn't as protected as I hoped. The wind still cut through the thin line of trees, swirling with snow. I quickly surveyed the tent options with the fading light and settled on one, pitching as quickly as I could. With gear secured in a dry tent, I started boiling water for dinner. I fantasized about eating around a hot, crackling fire so with numb hands I worked on building one. It caught with the help of my stove, but the snow and rain picked up and I decided it wasn't worth the hassle to maintain in that weather.
I returned back to the chore of cooking dinner as I spotted Ranger approaching. By that time I was starting to feel my core temperature drop. I had been fine in my meager attire while I hiked, but the minimal movement in camp was not enough to keep me warm. I couldn't change into warmer clothes because I needed to keep something dry for the night. Anything I would put on would soon be wet. If it hadn't been for grizzly country I would have changed and sheltered under my tent vestibule to cook and eat. But I was in grizzly country, and I had seen a lot of evidence that day that they were around. So I huddled under a skimpy tree, tucking my knees against my core to stay warm as best I could while my dinner finished cooking. Wind drove the slushy snow into my face to ensure I was thoroughly wet. I downed a granola bar to activate an internal furnace until I could eat something more substantial.
As my dinner finished cooking, Ranger arrived slightly frustrated and found a spot to pitch his tent. With surreal coldness I started eating, using his tent as a wind break and hoping the hot food would warm me up. It did little to help. I was drenched in near-freezing temperatures with a significant wind chill. The risk of hypothermia was real. When I started to violently shiver and my sentences grew choppy, I decided hypothermia was a more immediate threat than grizzlies, and concluded eating in my tent was the best thing to do regardless of bears. I grabbed my stuff, ran over to my tent, and started the process of warming up, peeling off my wet clothes and putting on my driest things. I crawled into my sleeping bag, frustrated that the down was not evenly spaced and clumped up on the ends. I ate food to warm my core. My feet were numb so I hovered them over my stove on full blast. Once I was finished eating I curled up in a ball and only then started to feel warmth seep through me. I boiled water in my dirty pot to make a broth and was amazed at how rapidly the hot drink topped off my core temperature.
Once I felt like the risk of freezing to death had minimized, my attention turned to setting myself up for long-term comfort. I made the journey into the freezing rain to secure my food bag, go pee, and tighten my shelter against the wind. By the time I crawled back into my tent my core temp had dropped again, though not as bad, and I rolled up into my sleeping bag. It was a slow process to get warm. My feet took the longest but they slowly regained the circulation that my cold shoes had sucked out of them. Once I was finally warm enough for comfort I tried to get some sleep. The rain battered the tent outside. Hail and snow mixed in with the wetness.
Wind blasted the tent in steady gusts, ripping a tent stake out of the soggy ground. The tent collapsed on top of me. As badly as I wanted to ignore it, I knew that wasn't an option. Stepping into wet shoes, I ran outside to fix it, stealing rocks from the fire ring to pile on top of the stake. Back inside, I had to restart the warming process yet again, although it was quicker. "Good enough" was the mantra for the night. I wasn't that comfortable, but I was comfortable enough. I wasn't really that warm, but I was warm enough.
Just as I finished settling in another tent stake ripped out. Once again, I journeyed into the thrashing wind to fix the tent. I piled rocks on all the corners and took time to ensure they were secure. I didn't want to get out of my tent again no matter how much the wind blew.
Unable to send me to a deep sleep, my body took me to a doze. I had a lot of dreams an woke up multiple times that night to reposition. At some point the rain died, leaving the wind to blow through my tent and dry out my damp sleeping bag. I heard an animal scream, but nothing disturbed me. The night seemed to last long, but also not long enough as I struggled to find sleep and comfort in the less than ideal situation.
Finally the sun started to rise and my alarm went off. I told myself I was going to sleep in but I had forgotten to turn it off. I immediately silenced it. The wind was slowing down and it was getting bright outside. Clouds were on the horizon which delayed the appearance of the sun, but finally it popped up and hit the tent, warming me with its radiance. I briefly popped out to lay out my wet things to dry in the breezy daylight. I wasn't going to leave camp until my clothes were dry. Facing a windy, cloudy day in wet clothes would be dangerously foolish. Ranger had an equally terrible night, and it wasn't until 10am when we decided things were dry enough to head out. We packed up carefully, thankful that the weather had turned for the better. The clouds battered the sun and the light faded in and out as we climbed up a hill to incredible views. More grizzly tracks adorned the trail, some old, some fresh and new; all were massive.
By 1:30 we stopped at a creek after only making it fourish miles and had lunch in partial sun. After eating and warming up with tea we took off again, this time in different directions. I had decided I wanted to hike a thousand vertical feet up to the top of the wall to join an alternate route that promised views and adventure. It would cut off to three miles of the route but I knew the terrain and elevation would not allow for less time. Ranger was worried about the wind and keeping warm on an exposed cliff, and so he opted for the longer stretch of CDT that descended gently down a valley. We agreed on a meeting spot. I took off up the steep hill and immediately was greeted with sweeping views. I panted in the cold air, allowing many brief stops to take in the incredible landscape. The wall had shattered at the base and rocks lay at the bottom. The valley below was a lush green. I could see where a fire had stopped by a tree line. Knowing mountain peaks stood tall in the back, a turquoise blue lake nestled in their cavities. I was in awe.
I finally crested the peak and was making my way along the ridgeline when I saw a brown blob move in the distance, maybe he 200 yards away. I stopped dead, noticing the familiar hump that showed in all the pictures of Grizzlies. I was facing an encounter I had dreaded since the beginning: a wild grizzly up close, with nothing but a bottle of condensed peppers to protect myself. Even though I had been playing an audiobook aloud, he hadn't heard me, consumed with foraging. Only when I started to take a quick video he turned, startled. He took two steps toward me, trying to figure out what I was. I raised my voice to identify my humanity and he bolted away. Relieved, I cut off the trail to give his flight a wide birth.
The trail continued to be gorgeous but clouds threatened to spill some more snowy rain as I continued down the trail into a burnt area. The fall colors were popping in the bushes and the high cliff rose up to my left in a continuation of the wall.
Dusk set and massive pine trees towered above, blocking out the remaining light and casting the trail into darker shadows. I hiked quickly to try to make it to the meeting point before it got dark, aware of potential bear and mountain lion encounters. I crossed a wide creek on a pile up of dead branches, playing balance beam as I hopped over and under a tangle of branches above the rushing water. Safely across, I grabbed some water for the night and threw my headlamp on. The trail skirted the side of a hill as I neared camp. A fire had turned trees to poles so I was able to see relatively well in the dim light of the after-glow sunset. I had about a half mile to go when I saw a headlamp in the distance at the foot of the next mountain. I figured it was Ranger; it was going to be a race to the junction.
I won. I made it to the meeting spot first and turned on some music as I start to cook dinner. He joined me 15 minutes later. We felt really good but decided to camp there, and finding the best tent spot under the skeleton trees I went to bed.
The next morning it was relatively warm and dry outside. I had slept well without the worry of tents collapsing or things getting wet or freezing to death. I finally started to stir and leisurely made it out of camp by 8am. Ranger and I hiked together for a ways through the burn zone, the distant mountains clearly visible through the black trees. It was incredibly gentle terrain and easy going, but by lunch we only come 10 miles.
My longest day on the Appalachian trail was 30 miles. My longest on the Pacific Crest trail was 50 miles, and with the Continental Divide Trail almost at an end, I wanted to get in a 40 mile day. I didn't want to rush through Glacier NP which meant if I wanted to push myself it would have to be this day or the next. The terrain showed this to be the best day to go for a 40, but the clock reminded me of a late start so I wasn't sure if that would be possible. I decided to hike steadily all day and see where I was at by the evening.
I was low on food. When we stopped for an early lunch I took stock of my rations; they were very bleak with no wiggle room for extra snacks, anywhere, at any time. I'd survive for sure, and I have plenty of calories, but I would be hungry. Gnawing hunger was something I hadn't experienced much on this trail, and I wasn't looking forward to feeling it now.
The trail was overgrown as I worked away up the hill. I got irritated with the stiff bushes slapping my legs and sharp grasses threatening cuts. Finally the trail descended and cleared out a bit in the valley. It got cold rather quickly as the sun headed behind the mountains all too early.
We took a shortcut that would save four miles and hiked along a wide, pine-lined trail. It was beautiful. We were at a decent enough mileage to go for the 40, and when we paused for dinner I quickly cooked up my mashed potatoes and scarfed them down, trying not to take too long as the light decided to fade.
The trail ascended a hill and faded. It was hard to tell where the faint path was in the dimming light, even with my headlamp on high beam. It took some help of the GPS to get back on track. We rejoined the trail on top of a bald hill with tall grasses. Stars shone brightly overhead. It would have been a beautiful place to camp, but we still had 12 miles to go. We reconnected with the CDT and continued along, hiking and talking as the darkness started to grow.
Ranger and I had agreed to stick together after the sun went down. We chatted for a while, keeping bears at bay and spirits up, until we heard a voice up ahead. A human voice. We shouted hello and approached the still figure waiting for us. He wore onesie pajamas resembling the cartoon character Stitch. I immediately liked him. "I thought I was the only North Bounder out here still," the hiker, Otter, said. He hadn't seen anyone for seven days. We hadn't either. We chatted briefly and then pushed ahead.
Hiker midnight came and went as the miles passed underfoot. It’s incredible how tough it is to stay awake once darkness envelops you. We struggled to find some conversation to pass the time; it seemed like we had talked about everything. There were a few random questions I managed to round up but didn't last long. In the end we just listened to music. I turned my old pop playlist on and blared it loud, needing some sort of noise to keep bears at bay. A little less tasteful than it had been in high school, at least the music was upbeat and kept us at a good pace. The trail climbed and descended small hills through overgrown areas and burned zones. I could see the silhouette of the mountains against the starlight through the lines of dark trees. I got a second wind the last four or five miles or so. As my phone was about to die I turned off the music. Ranger and I started shouting random words into the blackness every now and again to warn bears of our presence.
The end didn't come easy. The last mile of the 40 was a mile of blowdowns. Trees littered the trail. We climbed over, under, and around hundreds of fallen trees. Our pace slowed significantly. Parkour was not something you wanted to do at 11:45 at night on tired legs and weary eyes.
The fallen trees thinned out and with one last step over a small branch, we were in the clear. We had succeeded in achieving a 40 mile day. However, we were still in the middle of the burn zone with blackened life-size pick-up-sticks and no potential for camping. We continued on to find somewhere that would offer proper tent sites. We descended a hill, crossed a creek, and then headed up a short steep hill. A half mile later we topped out among some living pines and found a spot to set up.
It was nearly 1am. Physically the 40 miler was not tough at all. On the AT and the PCT when I did my big record days I struggled to keep pain at bay. But I felt really good, and aside from a little bit of soreness I easily could have kept going. For all I knew I could have gone 10, even maybe 20 miles more on easy terrain. What got me in the end was sheer sleepiness. I could hardly keep my eyes open in the darkness. Weary, I curled up expecting a good nights rest. No such luck. Only then my body rebelled against what I had put it through, and pain started to set in after I lay down.
It had been a cold night. In the morning I flipped to my stomach and lay on top of my hands to stay warm and that helped get me the last few drops of sleep. I set my alarm to 9am but snoozed it every 15 minutes until 10:00 when I decide I should probably get up. Town was 17 miles ahead, and I wanted to get there early enough to enjoy it.
The trail was incredible in the morning; wide and smooth as it descended to a road crossing. With a foggy sleep brain I started to get sentimental as I entered the last stretch of trail: Glacier National Park.
The miles went quickly until they didn't, and the last few hours turned into a chore. I was feeling dirty. I just wanted to shower. And hungry. I just wanted food. My pack was light and the trail was downhill but town just couldn't come quick enough.
Finally we made it as afternoon turned to evening, and we cruised to a hostel filled with lounging thruhikers. It was an incredible, lively atmosphere... An old restaurant converted into a hangout spot for adventurers. What might seem tacky to some was heaven to us. Backpacks and their contents were spewed everywhere. A massive restaurant kitchen was available for use, along with the lawn for tenting, a bath house, and a room fully dedicated to a hiker box. A large table hosted some hikers having dinner. Outside some hikers had already finished the trail and were on the way back to their homes. Some were about to head into Glacier National Park. Reunions were celebrated with folks I hadnt seen in months. End-of-trail vibes was palatable.
I was gross and exhausted, and all I had wanted to do before we got there was take a shower and then a nap before jumping into chores and planning for post-trail life, but the atmosphere energized me. I eagerly cleaned, sorted, restocked, and refueled to set myself up for the last stretch of trail. Things mostly in order, I decided to not worry about the top priority tasks of finding flights and backcountry permits. I soaked in the bliss of the last trail town, and headed to bed early.
Some hikers had informed me that there was a 24-hour rule with Glacier NP: you had to sign up for backpacking permits 24 hours in advance. I hadn't heard this rule and was surprised by the news, but the wheels started to turn. We could slack pack 10 miles the next day in order to still cover ground while allowing for that 24 hour buffer time so a day wouldn't be lost waiting. We went to bed with the plan of hitching up to the Glacier Park, getting permits in the ranger station, hiking south back to the hostel, and spend another night in town. The idea of a second night at a gem of a place sounded pretty good to me.
The next morning was leisurely. Otter joined Ranger and I for the hitch up to the park and a fun couple pulled over to give us a ride. They happened to be heading to the same trailhead we were, but dropped us off at the Ranger Station. I waited in anxious anticipation as we gave our agenda to the ranger. Like all National Parks, Glacier posed an unfamiliar challenge to thruhikers. We had to figure out exactly where we were camping every day, carefully weighing good campsites and decent mileage against the campsite availability and the amount of days we wanted to spend out there. We were aiming for 20-25 mile days through the park, and a finish on October 1. We were able to get all the camp spots we wanted, which was a relief. That's the nice thing about being in the back of the pack: you don't have to compete for good spots, do less than ideal mile days, or wait for two days as campsites clear out.
Permits secured, we took off south. I hiked at a brisk pace with a near-empty pack. It was incredible. I climbed 2,000 feet and then descended. I kept wondering what it would be like to have hiked north this section, to climb up and see glacier park materialized as I neared. I think I would have preferred it but it was kind of unique to be hiking south, as I could look towards Mexico and reflect on all of the things that happened on the trail. (Not that I could spend a whole lot of time thinking, for the hill was pretty steep and I mostly focused on breathing.) I paused quite often to look back into the beauty.
By the time I got back to the hostel, Ranger had been there for an hour and a half (he had run the whole stretch). Most of the other thruhikers had cleared out, on their way home or already on trail. We went out to eat one last time as thruhikers and grabbed some celebratory snacks for Canada. The end was near.
I had leftover potato chips and tea as I packed up my stuff and then waited around for Ranger to get his stuff secured as well. It wasn't until 1:00 or so when we walked out of the hostel for the last time. As we stepped onto the grass a car passed, and we stuck out our thumbs before we even got roadside, begging for a ride on a low-traffic highway. The car pulled over... less than five seconds. That was the quickest hitch I'd ever gotten. The driver eagerly drove Ranger, Otter, and I to the park, amazed at our stories. He took a picture with us as he dropped us off and then bade us luck as we wandered into the end.
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