Day 19-22: Dry Camping 

July 10-13; Mile 270-327

Day 19

Sprinkles eventually hitched toward Helena in order to hike the Big Sky alternate with friends she had met on other thru hikes. Dad was staying in town to let his dog, Dixie, rest. And Anna wanted to camp with us for a night, but also wanted a short hike out the next morning. So Strix and I drove out around 1 pm to Flescher Pass trailhead to meet Handy and Anna. They were 13 miles in, and we all did the last 5 together to reach camp. 

About 2 miles into our very short day, we came across a herd of cows sitting on the trail. They didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea of moving, and people clacked their poles together while I tried calling “Cush Cush Cush” from ‘All Creatures Great and Small.’ The cows reluctantly sidled off to the side, pausing every few steps to stare at us before moving a little further. 

We reached camp before long: a nice spot in the trees with room for 5 tents. Anna had brought gin and cherry fresca, so we had a little cocktail hour before dinner. This was our first night without a nearby water source, and the next few days promised to be full of climbs and low on water. 

Day 20

I started the day in pants that Dov had sent me in Lincoln. The black fly bites were ballooning into massive welts 4-6 inches in diameter that were incredibly itchy and warm to the touch, and I wanted some protection. One bite had swelled so much that my ankle looked like it was sprained the next morning. 

Unfortunately, the pants I used to love from REI had changed their design. After an hour they were rubbing so badly that my thigh was bleeding, and I tossed them back into my pack and grabbed my shorts once again. 

The trail was in the trees until Stemple Pass, and we missed a poorly-marked turn and had to bushwhack back to trail. As I climbed away from the nice little privy at the pass, the trail seemed to turn a corner and suddenly morphed into grassland. The path was lined with coneflowers full of butterflies and buzzing bees, and thankfully the strong winds from the day before had mostly abated. 

Strix and I stopped for lunch beneath the Granite Butte lookout tower – unable to go inside since someone was renting it. It was actually chilly in the shade, and we stretched out in the sun as some people arrived on ATVs. I had cell service and called Dov during his lunch break, but soon it was time to continue on. 

Strix and I followed several forest roads up and down the ridge, reminded of several areas of the PCT at once: the lack of water sources near Agua Dulce, the crisscrossing forest roads in NorCal near Shasta, the signed XC ski routes in central Oregon. The trail led through forest lined with strawberry plants, and I finally found a few teeny berries nestled among the leaves and runners. 

We reached the turnoff for Nevada Creek trail, our off-trail water source to split up a 20-mile carry. And then I did something stupid: I poured out the murky water I still had from our previous source, about 3/4 of a liter in all. I headed downhill to the first marked spot; the creek was dry. I tried following it through the trees a bit before giving up and walking back to the trail. I went further to the next cairn; still dry.

By now I was getting worried. It was 11 miles to the next water source, and I had about 8 oz of water left. I cursed myself for pouring out the excess before seeing actual fresh water. I kept going, hoping to see water coming down the next drainage to the right. Instead I found mud, and followed it to a wet area where I was able to scoop up 3 liters while the black flies swarmed and bit my poor, exposed calves. 

Back at camp I rapidly set up my tent in our little treed area and hid from the flies. The itching was already ramping up, and I spread some Benadryl gel on the bites, glad I had found some in Lincoln. 

Day 21

My tent was buffeted by wind all night, flapping near my head after one of the stakes was pulled out. By 6:30 I was packed and ready to go, and I set off up the steep trail just as Lark was starting. I was in my rain pants and jacket, but immediately warmed up on the brisk climb. The next several miles were a dance with my zippers; the wind would howl over the exposed ridge, and I’d be zipping up my hood and arm vents. Back in the trees and still climbing, I would overheat and unzip everything again, until the next big gust started it all over. 

High up on the bare saddles and peaks, I kept thinking how terrifying it would be to get caught in a storm up here. Thankfully the clouds were high and wispy, providing just enough cover to dull the sun’s heat. 

The trail began a steep descent on an old forest road covered in rocks, and I felt like I was descending a scree field. Everything shifted randomly, and the rocks were eagerly waiting to roll the ankles of passerby. I delicately made my way down, reaching the flat section just as Handy and Strix caught up. 

The next several miles were thankfully less steep, but we had entered a wandering survey of all the nearby forest roads. Endless junctions and shadeless roads filled the miles to come. But first, I came to a meadow that stank of cow shit. I didn’t see any cows nearby, but there were fresh patties glistening in the sunshine. Half a mile later I reached the turn-off for our next water source, right near a small herd that eyed me as I gave them a wide berth. 

Dana spring fed into a mucky trough surrounded by trampled ground and more shit. I grabbed my rain pants despite the bright sunshine; flies swarmed everywhere. After filling up, everyone was quick to leave. A few cows snuck closer to the trough as we were finishing up, staring at us and tentatively picking their way over to the opposite side of the trough. 

I had already gone 12 miles, but we didn’t stop for lunch for another 4 miles, heading off trail to a different trough with a nearby campsite where we reclined in the shade. I was feeling beaten down by the blazing sun, the monotony of the dirt roads, and a new pain that had started stabbing at the bottom of my shin every few minutes. I lay there chatting with Strix and Lark, dreading the last five miles before camp. And then Lark said he had made me something after seeing me in my bugnet pants: a sage bundle. He said it was supposed to help keep the flies away, and happy to try anything, I tucked it into my shirt pocket. 

When I finally set out with my pack weighed down by water, the sun still blazed above, but some of the shadows were starting to lengthen. Two miles later the track started to ascend again, and my shin hurt so badly that I limped over to some shade to try and massage it. I was able to hike the last three miles to camp, but it felt like I was crawling along.

Safely inside my tent, I examined the massive red patches on my legs and feet from the fly bites. My other ankle was now swollen on both sides, and the areas I had scratched in a frenzy were stinging. I was definitely ready for a town day. This day had been the first strike – if I ever got seven in a row, I would go home. 

Day 22

Eager to hike in the cool morning air, I was packed and on trail by 6:15 am. The sun was an orange ball just cresting the nearby ridge, and the meadow was aglow with slanting light. After a small climb, the trail led into rolling pasture land full of yellowed grasses dusted with purple lupine. The nearby hills had a dark green stubble of trees along their crests, with sloping fields leading down to faraway buildings. 

I stepped off the trail to dig a hole in a wooded area, and as I was putting stuff back into my pack, another hiker came near. I was still a bit upslope, and as he heard me rustling around he stopped and called out loudly “Ho there! Hoooo!” 

“Hello,” I called back, and he visibly relaxed and said he’d thought I was a wild animal. “Just a thru hiker,” I said as he started to hike on.  

Unable to wear my long pants, I hiked in shorts and bug net pants all day. They seemed to work alright, though I was still determined to get something different when I reached Helena. I passed through more grassy meadows before stopping for another break. The trail was the only flat spot in the wooded section, and just as I lay down to rest my feet, a biker and trail runner appeared. If you’re ever feeling lonely, take a break lying down in the middle of the trail, and someone will inevitably show up and cause you to scramble out of the way. 

I had decided to push on past the off-trail water source, rationing my 2 liters for the 12ish miles until the spring beside the trail ahead. I was 9 miles in and feeling pretty good, and then I reached the last big climb for the section. Thankfully the trail was in the shaded trees, but at the top it led back onto sunny forest roads for the descent to the highway. 

I took a long break beside the spring, making a quick lunch and wolfing it down. There was only a mile or so to reach the highway, but I didn’t know how long it would take to hitch, so I took my time filling up on water after scrimping all day. 

A truck rolled slowly by, the window coming down as I stood out of the way. “Do you want a brownie?” The driver handed over a styrofoam plate with a Saran-wrapped brownie the size of a piece of cake. Trail magic! 

Full of sugar and cold spring water, I was ready for the last hurdle of the day. I met Handy at the road and walked the 3/4 of a mile along the shoulder to MacDonald Pass. Strix and Lark were close behind, and as we all convened at the pass, I got out my foam pad and wrote HELENA in sharpie. 

Less than five minutes later, a car offered a ride for two of us, so Handy and I piled in. The couple had been up at the pass to look at butterflies, and often gave hikers rides into town. 

We got a room at the Budget Inn motel, where the clerk was nice enough to give us the biggest room since he knew we were hikers. Then we headed to the Basecamp outfitter, where someone helped me find a great pair of lightweight pants. Town days were always a whirlwind, and this was no exception. But this time we had help; my coworker lives in Helena and had often asked me when I would do the CDT after I got back from the PCT. He drove us to the grocery store, saving us all a long, hot walk in the 95 degree heat. And then we all went to dinner and spent two hours laughing and sharing stories about the trail, Microsoft, and Montana. It was so fun to see someone I knew from the “real world” while in the middle of hiking a long trail.