The thick clouds and sporadic rain delayed an early town exit. It wasn't until evening when we hitched out of town as the rain started to die, and were dropped off as cloud started to build again. The trail was undefined and wet until it joined a road, saturated with rain. We squelched along, getting as far as we could with the impending rain until we found a unsaturated place on some gravely land to pitch tents.
We ate dinner as rain started to fall. I hid under my umbrella, my feet getting cold and wet as I downed the last of my food. I cleaned up as quickly as I could and cozied up inside my sleeping bag, thankful to have a warm dry shelter to retreat to. Outside the rain picked up and the wind attacked my tent. The weather receded with the last of the evening light.
The next morning, the inside of my tent dripped with condensation and the sun was slow to rise. I didn't want to get up. It was cold outside and everything was going to be wet. 6:30 came and then 7:00. I avoided making a lot of sound, for fear I would wake Ranger and stir him to action. When hiking with someone, oftentimes when one person gets up that spurs others to start to move as well. I didn't want to be the one to start that cascade. I lay there, waiting for the sun to emerge from behind the mountain and dry things out. But it was taking a long time, and in a burst of maturity I deflated my sleeping pad to start the process of breaking camp. The shadows receded as the sun slowly rose and light hit our tents. I moved slowly, avoiding putting on my wet shoes until the last minute. But it was inevitable, and finally I emerged from my tent, packed up my semi-dry tent, and headed out.
The trail was incredibly muddy and going was slow. Lines of horses had torn up the trail as they carried tourists through the country, and the hoofprints had filled with water and churned into mud with each consecutive horse. Every step sent me squishing through the soft and slippery mud. A few times the ground nearly sucked my shoes from my feet. I slid backwards on the gentle hills. It was infuriating. What should have been quick, easy miles took forever, and I had places to be. It wasn't until mid-morning when the CDT departed the horse trails and everything was dried out enough to make good tread. I was able to move a little quicker, though still lazily along the trail. I spent my half hour lunch break drying things out as much as I could in the afternoon sun.
Wide creek crossings forced me to step in the water, but the swift current carried off the mud caked to my shoes. As the day went on, I was less willing to jump in, and I managed to cross a few streams on sketchy logs. The waving water under my feet made me dizzy.
According to my pace and some southbound hikers, I guessed Ranger was a good three or four miles ahead of me and I didn't expect to catch him that day. I stopped for dinner just as the sun set over the hills, intending to keep food smells far away from camp. Five minutes down the trail I found a good spot to pitch a tent. I wasn't too stoked to be camping alone in grizzly country, but I didn't want to evening hike in grizzly country either.
I took extra precautions to keep all scent away from the campsite, tying up my bear bag well away and ensuring anything scented was inside. I wasn't taking any chances. I took comfort in the fact that there were probably campers strung every mile or two along the trail, as I seemed to be camping in a popular area for hunters and weekenders, and the next person was probably closer than appeared.
I was pulled from my dream with a rush of sound at 11 o'clock. It sounded like a ripping fabric or a tree being scratched. I froze, listening hard. It was coming from the area up the trial where my food was tied, or maybe even a little closer, but by the time I had regained full consciousness from the grip of sleep it had nearly stopped and so I didn't get a good listen. My heart beat fast as I fumbled for my bear spray and gripped the cold metal can, waiting for the sound again, but there was nothing. I lay frozen for about a half an hour, listening to every every twig snap or leaf drop. I heard a beaver slap its tail upriver far away. Every sound sent my heart racing. I peaked out from under my tent but couldn't see anything. Finally I calmed myself down and managed to start to drift off again, but then I heard it again. A scratching sound was definitely coming from the tree next to my tent. I peeked out from under my wall and saw a small blob descending down the trunk. It was the size of a medium dog and moved like I had seen bears move on trees. I didn't shine my headlamp on it cus I didn't want to startle it or it's mother. If it was a bear it was rather small and was probably a first-year cub. I had heard moms usually stashed their cubs while they go hunting sometimes, and I thought maybe this was the case. When he heard me rustling he paused and then continued to downclimb. When it hit the ground it waddled off into the distance. I waited to hear the sound of my food bad being messed with but it never happened so after little while I finally managed to go back to sleep again. It was a restless sleep, and I was wrapped in dreams about bears and other hikers.
It was cold the next morning. Something rustled under my tent as I woke. When I looked up I saw a bunny rabbit who hopped promptly away. I checked out the tree I had seen the mysterious shadow on but saw was no claw marks or poop. The trail was free from footprints and my food was just as I had left it.
Everything was wet with thick dew. Patches of fog hung in the valley over the river. I made a lot of noise hiking as the sky lightened. I didn't want to startle a large animal. I had been expecting relatively easy terrain so I was not mentally prepared for the 2,000 foot climb up and over mountain ridge. I found Ranger at the top and learned he had left his bear spray somewhere. Yellowstone would be the most densely populated grizzly country we had hiked through thus far, so it was not particularly the best spot to lose bear defense. We decided we would hike together in the early mornings and in the evenings until he got some new spray.
We set off and stopped for lunch as the watch hit 12. I tried to eat as quickly as I could; we had to make serious miles in order to make it to the Yellowstone campsites on our permits in a few days. I'd only come 13 miles that morning and still had 20 to go. I lay my stuff out in the sun to dry, gobbled down some tortilla wraps, packed up and headed out. Time went slowly as I engrossed myself in an audiobook, and the miles seemed to pick up. I entered the park. The trail leveled out and rolled over tiny hills, following the snake river below.
I found Ranger by a creek and paused for dinner. As evening set in we started the last five miles together to camp. As darkness set in, we debated stopping at a beautiful empty campsite but continued a half mile up the trail to get to the campsite on our permit. It was a pretty lame campsite, and it was difficult to find a nice spot among the other tents in an overgrown field. It was dark by the time I crawled into my tent, exhausted.
The unmotivation was great. It was really cold and everything was overly wet with dew. My alarm clock vibrated. I ignored it. Vibrated again, and finally shut up. At 7:35 I woke up with a start. I'd slept in way too late and packed up as quickly as my lazy self could, complaining the whole time. Although the sun had fully risen, the trees had kept my tent in wet shadows.
It was a long 12 miles to Grant Village, Yellowstone. We didn't particularly need snacks or town treats, but it is hard not to jump at an opportunity to go into civilization for a few hours. The miles seemed to take forever. A pebble beach walk worked my calves at a quick pace. If I hadn't been in a rush, the morning may have been pleasant. Beautiful colored hot springs boiled out of the ground. Steam billowed out of geysers in the distance. But ice cream was calling. I slapped mosquitoes the whole way to the top of a thousand foot climb under a sharp sun and then impatiently pushed pace down the hill.
Finally I got to the road where I found three other hikers already trying to hitch. I joined them and watched car after car pass. Nobody stopped. A few people waved and many people shrugged as if they didn't know what we were doing. Eventually a kind soul pulled over and let us all pile in among camping gear.
We got dropped off at Grant Village. Ranger and I took turns shopping while the other watched our packs and charging electronics. I strolled through the air-conditioned store, debating food choices. I settled on a bag of chips for the trail and a hot pocket for lunch with two scoops of ice cream for dessert.
We spent a few hours there delaying the inevitable, but finally we put our packs on headed back out. I was cranky as we walked down the road, trying to hitch. With car that passed I looked up hopefully as it approached and slumped defeatedly as it passed. Finally a off-duty park ranger picked us up and drove us to the trailhead.
The trail was smooth and flat but I was at the epitome of misery. The mosquitoes were big and annoying and the sun beat down between the shade trees. I met Ranger at a lake to go for a dip. The water was cold but not unbearable, and I floated around for a little while, scrubbing off the sweat. We laid out to dry.
When we had made reservations for camping in the National Park, a few campsites along the CDT were full which forced us to take a small alternate around the opposite side of a lake to stay at a designated campsite. The detour added 3ish miles. I was bitter to be adding miles due to permit issues. Thruhikers are used to camping when they want and where they want so the forced mileage to get to designated spots frustrated and annoyed me.
Mosquitoes were thick and the sun was bright and hot; I could hardly take it. I wanted to complain in rage and throw a tantrum. But I kept going along the alternate, trying to push through as I hit another long pebble beach walk. I was sweating hard when I joined Ranger for dinner. We ate as the sun set. I was tired and exhausted, and felt overall defeated. The stress of having to be at certain campsites was not fun. Tomorrow will be a better day. I hosted myself up and kept walking among the buzzing mosquitoes as the sun released its grip on the world and allowed the cool air to set in. The moon peeked out over the water as lake reflected the pastel sky.
Ranger jumped ahead after dinner. I stopped as it got dark. It was clear I would not make it to the campsite on my permit unless I hiked late into the night. I settled on joining a few other campers, four miles shy of my destination.
I got up early, rather motivated to get miles in the cool of the day. The rising sun had turned the sky a pastel palette and everything was dry (to my surprise). I packed up quickly and hit the trail, hiking in morning shadows. It was cool in the trees and I made good miles. I arrived at the junction where the alternate met the CDT, dropped my pack, and headed South. The alternate had skipped me around a neat geyser basin along the CDT and I was determined not to miss it, even if it added miles.
I could smell the sulfur as I approached and soon saw steam rising from the earth. Beautiful colors and bubbling pots of water scattered the landscape. Small geysers spouted their boiling water skyward. This was an area in Yellowstone that not many people took the time to experience, and only a few other thruhikers wandered among the tumultuous path. I found Ranger and we headed back north for the remaining 10 miles to Yellowstone Village.
Traffic sounds interrupted the birds. I took a shortcut that led to the hustle and bustle of Yellowstone Village. It was chaos. People everywhere. Tourists everywhere. I checked my watch; it wasn't even a weekend. I went into the bathroom and then walked outside, trying to figure out what to do next.
A thruhiker waved vigorously at me from a table and I made my way over. You are always are excited to see one of your own kind into place like that. He introduced himself and some other hikers, and passed on the secrets of the Village. It is difficult to function in a natural place so flooded with humans, and even though it should be expected to see backpackers in a national park, we stuck out by a sore thumb. The Village was geared toward wealthier tourists, not filthy long-distance hikers, and hikers sometimes struggle to find areas where they aren't considered nuisances. Therefore there were some basic things that thruhikers managed to discover through the months and passed on by word of mouth: where to snag a free shower, the best store to resupply in, where to get the best/cheapest food, where the outlets and the least-crowded hang-out spots are, where to stealth camp if necessary, and where the staff won't give a stink for laying out dirty wet hiker gear. Pretty soon I left my pack with my new friends and went over to a top secret place to take a shower. I snuck up the stairs, pretending like I knew what I was doing, and found a bathroom with gleaming clean tiled showers inside. The shampoo was glorious smelling and I came out clean and happy.
I had a few days until the next resupply and needed to get a few trail dinners, so I wandered the aisles of the general store and settled on mac & chees, ramen, and some snacks. My tummy reminded me it was lunch time but the line for hot food was almost out the door. When I couldn't stand it any longer I committed to standing in line for a half hour and ordered a burger and two sides of fries, which I proceeded to scarf down. Ranger and I decided to check out the visitor center and relaxed as the park movie played, read about some stuff, and then went to watch Old Faithful geyser erupt. It was the same as it had always been... just some water shooting out of the ground. I was more amazed at the horde of people sitting on the benches, waiting around for nature to do its thing and cheering as it erupted. Humans had turned this natural wonder into a spectacle show; it struck me odd.
As much as I complain about crowds and tourism, part of me enjoyed the excitement of the stop, and we didn't head out on trail until evening set in. I ate an apple as we walked along the boardwalk, pausing at the geysers to learn about them and their history as the people thinned and development fell away. Soon we were wading through thick grass again on the CDT. There was no way we would make it to the campsite on our permit, so we ducked into a grove of trees to stealth camp.
I had a hard time falling asleep. Wind made the trees roar overhead, but my tent hardly rippled secured in their protection. Then the rain came, confused and sporadic, and didn't last very long. I heard some hoof beats through the clearing next to our site and figured a few deer had been startled by something. I heard a twig snap. Finally I managed to drift off.
In the morning the rain had stopped and things were semi-dry. The big hill wasn't too tough in the cool morning air and soon I was cruising along the ridgeline. I felt like I was flying. The trees were young, as it seemed like the area had been cleared by either fire or beetle kill years ago, and the clouds shaded the sun above. I made it to a lake, the last good water source for 16 miles, and stocked up. Based on reports from SOBOs, I expected longer water carries in the future.
Soon I was crossing the Wyoming/Idaho border. I danced across happily, excited to have another state done. Although I had felt like I was moving quick all day, I had to only covered about 15 miles by the time Ranger and I stopped to eat. We took an hour and a half for lunch in the cool of the shade. The clouds had parted and the sun was getting hot over the small trees. I had slipped into low motivation during the long break, but as I got moving again I fell back into step. The trail merged onto an old gravel road so it was smooth underfoot. Miles passed.
The next water source was a murky pond full of bird feathers and dead bugs, but it could have been worse. At least it filtered out relatively clear. The next source was 10 miles away, so I filled my bottles full of the brown-hued liquid and hiked into the evening. We set up tents on the side of the abandoned gravel road.
I allowed myself to sleep in for a little bit before I got moving, hiking along the wide road for many miles. I had one Liter left of water when I made it to the next water source. I debated if I could cover another 12 miles on so little, but figured I should get more as it was going to get hotter through the day. I committed to walking the quarter mile or more off trail to find the clear cold stream.
ATVs zoomed past along the road, whining and bumping. I was thankful when the trail departed from the road, and I followed it into the woods as I crossed the Montana border for the first time. The trail would be following the Idaho/Montana border for the next 400 miles. I joined Ranger for lunch in the cool shade. It was hard to get motivated to hike again, though we still had quite a few miles to go until town. For some reason the call of town was not strong enough to pull me away from the comfort of shade into the sun.
When we got moving we saw a big black bear peering at us through the bushes off the trail a good distance away. We paused to watch him until he seemed to get agitated, and swiftly left his area. Blueberries lined the trails which slowed me down as I paused for a snack. We got to the road and hitched in to West Yellowstone, MT, loaded up on groceries, and attempted to hitch back to trail, as all accommodations were exceptionally expensive in the tourist town.
We waited road-side with thumbs out for an hour as evening fell. A storm was moving in. No luck. "We should just stealth in those trees," I pointed to the edge of town, getting desperate as rain started to fall. We looked at a map and discovered it was a huge expanse of land on the outskirts of the National Park. But the storm was upon us, and we cowered under a pavilion in a town park as we ate dinner and waited for the storm to pass. The rain came down hard and fast. Lighting darted across the sky.
As the rain died down and night set in, we snuck a few blocks to the treeline and buried ourselves in the woods.
I paced around with nervous excitement before the crew showed up. Some tramily members from the PCT were road-tripping to see me and hang out for a few days. Ranger and I had gotten up early and gone to the laundromat to get showers and laundry done. I fed quarters into the showers and quickly rinsed off in 2 minutes. My friends were going to be there any minute. I hadn't seen some of them since the PCT four years ago. When they arrived, I ran over and we joyfully exchanged greetings. Trails bond people together like nothing else, and it seemed like no time had passed. The following days were filled with shenanigans and adventures in Yellowstone and the Wind River Range. Just like old times.
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