Day 3-4: Two Medicine to St Mary

June 24-25; Mile 26-67

Day 3

With only 14 miles to go, we all slept in at the campground. Tripod made pancakes while we all packed our overnight gear into our backpacks at last. No more slack packing for these thru hikers. 

We dropped off a food resupply at Luna’s hostel – and heard about a hiker on trail named Super Noods who was compiling a calendar of photos with naked hikers using ramen noodles to cover certain areas – and then drove north to Two Medicine. Two other hikers joined us in the car: Lost and Tinkle. They had flipped north after dealing with miserable snow conditions in the San Juans. Hikers had been spending all day to go 7 miles, postholing up to their thighs and necks at times. 

After chatting with the CDTC volunteers outside the permit station, we all set off around 11. The views were incredible from the start and only improved from there. 

We climbed up above Old Man lake, the landscape awash in vibrant colors: blue, green, and white shone beneath the striated cliffs of the Rocky Mountains. Glacier lilies and pasqueflowers lined the trail. Sprinkles and I watched a mountain goat scramble along a ridgeline near Dawson Pass, sighing in relief when we realized the path leading up across steep snow fields wasn’t where we were heading. 

At Pitamakan Pass we paused to soak in the soaring peaks and the vertiginous drop down to a lake on the other side. Two little dots jumped into the water far below, their shrieks wafting gently up to where we sat. I asked if anyone knew whether the patches of white were actual glaciers, and Sprinkles pointed out 4-5 little glaciers still clinging to the cliffs, indistinguishable from the snow fields beside them. 

The descent was largely snow-free, with just some small stretches in the trees for us to slog through. The ice axes and microspikes stayed safely tucked away. We paused at the outlet of Pitamakan Lake, dazzled by the views. 

We wound downhill through the valley, paralleling the North Fork Cut Bank Creek. Waterfalls spilled down the cliff faces above us, and the flowers were awash in late afternoon sunshine. We stopped half a mile before Atlantic Creek campground to eat dinner beside a bridge, trying to avoid the buggy conditions at camp. We arrived and immediately hung up all our bear bags before hiking up to the last camp spot, a sad rocky patch barely big enough for two tents. I missed the dispersed camping of the PCT. At least the only visitors to our site that evening were two hares with giant white paws. 

It was going to be rough the next day: we had about 25 miles to reach the Going to the Sun Road crossing – and then we would need to find a hitch back to East Glacier. 

Day 4

My alarm woke me up at 4:45 am. Sprinkles and I started packing up our gear while Handy and Strix started taking down their tent. The campsite at Atlantic Creek had been small, slanted, and rocky – thankfully two of us had 2-person tents large enough to accommodate sharing. 

We made breakfast in the designated food prep area, and then Sprinkles and I started up the trail around 5:45 am. It was bright enough to see clearly without headlamps, and the peaks above us were colored pink by the rising sun. 

We began our day by passing the junction to Medicine Bear lake, where Sprinkles spotted a black bear streaking into the woods as I was looking the other way. The trail led up a steady climb toward Triple Divide Pass, hugging cliffs of shattered rock and affording unobstructed views of the valley below. Sprinkles and I watched two moose saunter across the grassy meadows in the valley before Handy and Strix caught up. 

Dark clouds gathered above the pass as we climbed steadily higher, and I tried not to panic about lightning. “Looks spooky over there,” Sprinkles said, which didn’t help with the not-panicking. The sky started to spatter us with droplets of rain, and we donned our rain gear. Although Strix gave up on hers after the wind flapped her poncho over her head. 

At the pass we crossed from the Atlantic drainage into the Hudson Bay drainage (while the Pacific drainage lay nearby), but mostly the four of us were focused on hiking down out of the spitting rain. We switchbacked down past views of a glacier-fed lake and lingering snow patches, while the path ahead was obscured by thick, gray rainclouds. 

Finally the rain let up and we were able to take in the surroundings. “It’s not often I get to visit the Hudson Bay drainage!” Sprinkles said after we had looked at the map and realized the significance of the pass we had just cruised past. The descent was lined with glacier lilies and other flowers I couldn’t identify, and thankfully the snow patches to cross were short and soft. 

We walked past waterfalls and into fields of thimbleberry bushes and beargrass, after which the trail led through miles of old burn scars. The trees were silvery and littered across the forest floor, but thankfully the way was clear. The day started to heat up as we cruised through the shadeless stretch. 

I stopped at Red Eagle Lake to use the pit toilet, one of the few positives for the NP backcountry sites. The lake looked inviting on the warm day, but the surroundings were just charred sticks. It would have been beautiful and shady before the fire. 

The four of us stopped at a suspension bridge for lunch, dipping our feet into the icy water and hanging out near the shade beneath the bridge. I made a double lunch serving and still had room for dessert. Before setting out I dunked my shirt in the creek, trying to stay cool in the exposed stretch. 

More burn scar followed after lunch, soon followed by miles of overgrown brush. We waded through miles of thimbleberry bushes while playing word games so that we would make enough noise to alert any bears. Soon we got our first view of the St Mary lake with massive peaks rising up above the shore. At our next break spot the sky began to sprinkle, and then driving rain followed. The bushes were soaked, and our shoes filled up with water as we pushed through the wall of green. Mixed into the berry bushes were pockets of stinging nettle, and we all ended up with welts on our legs. 

After twenty-something miles the trail reconnected with a route that many tourists take to St Mary Falls. Suddenly the trail was wide and free of straggling brush, and our clothes had a chance to shed some of their dampness. 

We lounged at the falls, and someone asked what percentage of day hikers we thought would be carrying bear spray. We took bets on the number of groups that would have at least one canister, and the distraction helped on the rocky descent after twelve hours of hiking. Every group we passed was carefully scrutinized, and a running tally was checked verbally once out of earshot. I had guessed one-third before hearing the other bets. Sprinkles said half, Strix chose three-quarters, and Handy went with ninety percent. 

Half a mile from the trailhead I caught up with Sprinkles standing still; a deer was just off trail. And people were petting it. She clapped a few times to try and shoo off the deer, and apparently one of the people gave her a dirty look. Oh, the joys of national parks. Our final total came to eighteen groups and seven with at least one canister of bear spray. 

With close to twenty-five miles on our feet, it was time to find a hitch back to East Glacier. The campsite at Reynolds Creek had been full, and so we had arranged for a placeholder spot on our permit for this night. Sprinkles would stay with her partner in his RV while the rest of us camped at the hiker hostel in town. But first we needed to find a ride toward St Mary. 

Sprinkles and Strix stood at one end of the lot while Handy and I took the other. They found a ride fairly quickly, and we borrowed Sprinkles’ tent ground cloth that she had written our destination on as a temporary sign. A family in two jeeps offered us a ride, and it turned out that the driver had volunteered for the PCT in the Jefferson Wilderness in Oregon!

Once back at St Mary, we skipped dinner in favor of finding our second ride of the night. It was already 7:30, and we worried that there wouldn’t be enough traffic after we finished eating there. Once again we split into two groups, this time with me and Strix near the lodge. Two cars offered rides in the first 15 minutes, but neither were going our way. So I took out my sharpie and wrote EAST GLACIER on a section of my foam pad. 

At last a car pulled over, and a very talkative and friendly guy got out to ask where East Glacier was. He was in his late twenties and seemed excited: “I’ve never picked up a hitchhiker before!” We chatted on the 40-minute drive, and it turned out he had just had a near-death experience while climbing one of the 14ers in Colorado. It had put a lot of things in perspective for him, and he was out roadtripping around the country and making some changes to his life. He had just met PCT hikers in the Sierras a few weeks ago, and he asked excitedly about our reason for doing the CDT and about our trail names. Once back to East Glacier he gave us his phone number and offered to come help out with rides or trail magic when we reached Colorado!

We finally got dinner around 9 pm, and this time as I sat on the deck at Luna’s, I didn’t feel out of place. I’d hiked half of Glacier, I’d done 25 miles on my fourth day of trail. I was back in the thruhiking groove, and I was having fun.