Day 27-29: The Northern Pintlers

July 18-20; Mile 392-423

Day 27

“This is the wildest trail magic you are going to get on the CDT.”

It was our zero day in Anaconda. Around 5:30 pm Poncho showed up, and five of us piled into his Tacoma: Strix, Lark, Jessica, Sprinkles, and me. We drove 45 minutes outside town to the Ranch at Rock Creek. Poncho was the instructor in charge of the shooting ranges, and we were going to spend our evening shooting clays with shot guns. 

This was the kind of ranch that catered to an upper crust crowd. The restaurant boasted a Michelin star. The minimum cost for one room for one night was $3800. Scarlet Johansen had visited recently, and Russell Wilson? “Terrible shot. His wife, Ciara? Now she’s a killer.”

Poncho gave us all hearing protection and safety glasses, and then he taught each of us 1 by 1. The kickback of the 20-gauge took some getting used to, and I definitely slammed it into my collarbone once or twice by accident. But it was a lot of fun. And by the end of the evening we were leading clays and shattering the discs – even after switching to a smaller kickback 410. 

We drove back past a field of horses, past a herd of bighorn rams, under the sprinkler system and through the gathering gloom back to Anaconda. 

Day 28

After a quick stop at the post office and the Coffee Corral, we were picked up from the hostel at 11 by one of the local trail angels that had been at the Hiker Night dinner. Russ drove us past the 11 miles of highway until we reached the start of the dirt road leading up to Twin Lakes. 

“It’s still four miles to the trailhead – you sure you don’t want me to drive you further?” 

We only had 13 miles to go that day, and we had avoided all the nasty walking on a shoulderless road with a 70 mph speed limit; a few miles of dirt road walking was no problem. 

Russ gave us a bag of flathead cherries before departing, and we passed it around as we started up the dusty track. The grade was very gentle, and soon we reached the little parking area. Day hikers were arriving with dogs, mountain bikers were sailing down the trail back to their cars; it was a Saturday for the rest of the world. 

We passed through forested stretches with flowing creeks and wildflowers scattered across the open areas. At Twin Lakes we paused for lunch, and I brought out my latest food change for this section: spinach. I tore up a few handfuls to add to my ramen – delicious. After four weeks of trail food, I was often stuffing myself with vegetables in town, but it wasn’t enough. 

The trail climbed more steeply beyond the lake, passing a boulder field and leading up to 8700’ Twin Lakes Pass. The darker clouds gave way to patches of blue sky as I descended toward our destination for the night: Storm Lake. It was jarring to hike 12 miles and then see several cars beside the lake, but there was a road that ended at the lakeshore. 

Day 29

After many miles of national forest and state land, we were back in a true wilderness designation: the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness Area. It was our first one since leaving the Scapegoat Wilderness north of Lincoln. The Pintlers towered above us, many of them easily clearing 10,000’. Meanwhile, we would be climbing three passes today, ascending above 9000’ for each of them. 

I started hiking past the sleeping weekenders, traversing the edge of Storm Lake until the trail began to climb. The air was hazy, and I occasionally smelled smoke. High gray clouds blanketed the sky while the sunrise leaked through the opening just above the horizon. 

At Storm Lake Pass the trail wrapped around a rocky peak, climbing gently to the Goat Flats. I meandered through the meadow, my eyes roving for goats and sheep. A lone marmot scampered away, and soon I reached the junction to rejoin the official CDT. 

I switchbacked down, several sections of winding trail visible along the hillside below me. The views reminded me of the Cascades back home: pine forest with a thin brown track snaking along, while rocky peaks with a few vestiges of snow soared above the green valleys below. Burbling streams cut across the trail, and water was no longer scarce for a change. 

I snaked past Page Lake and came to the junction toward Flower Lake. I hiked the 100 yards or so off trail to see if the herd of bull elk were there. Poncho had told us to keep the wind in our face and we would get to see them at Flower Lake, but the shores were empty. 

We began our second climb of the day, this time cresting Rainbow Mountain Pass. The final half mile felt interminable as I switchbacked endlessly toward a ridge that looked tantalizingly close. The saddle was wide and open, with stunning views to the peaks on the other side. The climbs had been steady yet steep, and I paused in the shade of some nearby trees to stretch out my back. Our goal for the day was 19 miles, and so I picked out a creek at mile 11 to stop for lunch. 

On the descent I passed a stand of larches – deciduous conifers whose needles turn gold in the fall before falling off. They were still a bright lime-green this time of year. The trail then led past a mighty talus field, before finally dropping down to Rock Creek. I made lunch at a small creek half a mile further along, and as I was finishing up Lark caught up to me. He said Strix had stopped at the earlier creek for lunch, but he was aiming for the pass to escape the mosquito swarms. 

We hiked up to our third pass of the day: Cutaway Pass. It was in the trees, and I barely paused before descending once more. I was feeling a little spooked by the gathering clouds. 

Another 1000’ of climbing still remained before camp. As I trudged up the crumbly trail, a dark cloud drifted above, and rain pattered onto my hat and across the trail, stirring up the petrichor smell. My back was aching from all the climbing – and a sloping camp spot the night before – and I stopped two-tenths of a mile from camp to stretch again. 

As soon as I reached Warren Lake I set up my tent and dove inside. Mosquitos, flies, and gnats swirled outside the mesh. At dinner, Strix and I both had a cloud of about 100 insects swarming around us. I was in my rain pants and puffy, but I forgot my head net in the tent. Big mistake. The gnats loved to zoom straight into my eyes and up my nose, and I spent half the time swatting at the seething mass. 

Before retreating into my tent, I asked Handy about the next day’s forecast. There had been a few distant rumblings of thunder after I got to camp, and tomorrow promised more climbs. He said it was supposed to rain, but that there were no thunderstorms projected.