Day 33-35: The Idaho/Montana Border

July 24-26; Mile 476-538

Day 33

North Fork had been a whirlwind stop: picking up boxes from the post office, showering, doing laundry, eating before the little store closed at 5:30 pm. Dov had mailed me two coveted items: new shoes and a town dress. The extra weight was worth it for being able to shower and change into fresh clothes before rounding everyone up to do laundry. Plus my old shoes had almost 750 miles on them by now; it was time for new ones. Lark’s shoes had torn a bit, too, but his replacements were 120+ trail miles away in Salmon, ID. 

Handy found some people with room in their car to take 2 hikers back to the pass; it was a couple from Poland on a monthlong trip to several national parks: Glacier, Yellowstone, North Cascades, Rainier, Olympic. 

We got to the turn-off for Highway 43 and walked a mile to the actual CDT crossing. It was a wide forest road with some trees but not much shade. I paused after 2 miles to stretch, and two people from the Anaconda Hiker Night walked by: Steamy and Panty Pirate. 

I caught up to them when they stopped to chat with Handy, and then I hiked with Steamy for a handful of miles until the spring. I had an early lunch since water was available for cooking; it was a 12-mile carry until our next spring. 

Lark and Strix showed up as I was leaving, and then it was off the forest road and onto trail. Miles of burn scars awaited. The trees were still charred black, so they appeared to have been recent fires. The ground puffed up a mixture of ash and dust with each step, and the sun beat down through the shadeless stretch. 

Flowers waved in the breeze, the balsamroot long past its prime, the fireweed just starting to bloom. The breezes helped keep the temperature bearable, but the section was starting out on the rough side. I leapfrogged with Strix, Lark, and Steamy all afternoon until the final two miles before camp. I paused to pick some huckleberries, enjoying the cool shade from being among living trees once more. 

Our campsite for the night straddled the Idaho/Montana border; the other two hikers twenty feet from us were technically camping in a different state. The nearby spring was cold and crystal clear, and I chugged water after the hot, dry afternoon. 

Day 34

The previous night I had tallied up all my miles for the trip so far: 497.73. This trail didn’t have established markers every 100 miles since everyone’s routes were so variable, and so I made plans to stop after 2.27 miles and make my own marker. 

And then I left at 6 am and in my sleepiness missed a turn off the forest road onto trail. Thankfully I noticed before going half a mile, but the backtracking was fueled by rage as I descended the super steep road that I had needlessly climbed. I stomped along the trail, cursing myself and all the forest roads and the CDT in general. I stopped in a patch of huckleberries and foraged until my mood improved. 

The morning was all forested, and the views to the south showed slopes covered in green trees – thank goodness. After a steep downhill to an abandoned cabin, the trail paralleled the creek for a while before the start of the next big climb. At times it felt like I was walking up a ski run. The steep slope made my back hurt, and I had to stop a lot to stretch. And also to eat more huckleberries. 

I emerged from the trees at the top of the climb to a rocky outcrop with thunderheads building on the horizon in all directions. It was going to be an exciting afternoon. I ate lunch with Strix in a tiny patch of shade as the clouds gathered and darkened in the direction we were headed. 

The views of the mountains were stunning. Peaks jutted above me, the forests along their sides interspersed with gashes of rock where the avalanche slopes lay. The trail was a jumble of talus with a thin dirt path wending its way along the high ridge, across the shoulder of the nearest peak before dipping back down toward the trees. 

Another grouse family roved along the route, exploding into flight as I came upon them. A concerned hiker said there was someone up ahead whose shoes were falling apart in case I had anything to help. I found Lark with his shoes in shreds, wrapped in leukotape and floss. We still had almost 100 miles left in this section. I offered him a plastic bag to use as additional wrapping material, mentioning that Handy also had cord for a bear hang that he might be able to use. 

I next saw Strix as she was putting away her rain fly. It had begun to sprinkle a bit, but it appeared to be letting up. She was optimistic it was over. I looked up at the dark clouds above and said there was still plenty of time for rain. 

Ten minutes later the rain began to fall, and I hiked down toward the creek where I had read about potential camping. Thunder was rumbling overhead. I set up my tent on a side trail in a terrible pitch, and Lark showed up soon after, saying Strix had stopped further back. 

He put on his rain gear and huddled under his umbrella while I climbed inside my sagging tent. 

We waited until the rain let up, and then made dinner. Thirty minutes after the last rumble, the sky was lightening and the sun was trying to break through. I packed up my wet tent and decided to go another 2 miles to the next camp spot and reassess. 

The sky was gray but quiet, and I decided to hike onward. Climbing up over the creatively named Mountain Pass was a little scary, but there was some tree cover and Steamy was just ahead of me. 

Over the pass the trail continued to climb, when all I wanted was to descend away from the steely sky. I jogged a bit whenever the trail flattened out or descended, hurrying through the open areas and eyeing the lake below. Finally I turned downward and reached the actually creatively named Slag-a-melt Lake. 

Handy was alone eating dinner, and I quickly set up my tent in the gathering gloom. Strix showed up an hour later, and Lark was right after her – he had accidentally gone to the lower lake and then backtracked. The tape on his shoes was already in tatters, and Handy got out his bear hang cord for him to try out. 

Day 35

I started hiking as the lake was reflecting the first light of morning. I spotted a deer crossing the path maybe ten minutes later. Not five minutes after that, I came across an elk – it promptly turned around and bounded away, its white rump bright against the greenery. I took a few more steps and a second elk bolted across the trail to join its friend. They were the first elk I had seen on the CDT!

As I passed Lena Lake, I thought about all the wildlife I had already seen, and how in over 500 miles I still hadn’t encountered a bear. I had seen a glimpse of a grizzly through binoculars and a black bear on a forest road while riding in the bed of a pickup. But I hadn’t seen one while hiking (this isn’t dramatic storytelling, it’s actually what I was thinking at that moment). 

I paused after 2.5 miles to get water and make breakfast; first I needed to stretch. I was on my hands and knees arching my back when I heard a thud on the hillside above me. I looked over, expecting to see another deer or possibly an elk, when a black muzzle and ears pushed their way through the bushes. I scrambled to my feet and yelled, “Whoa!” – mostly because I was unbalanced and teetering around. In any case the bear immediately dashed back into the bushes and away up the hill. I moved my pack and sat facing the hill in case the smell of cold oatmeal brought it back for a second look. 

The trail led out of the thick tree cover and up to a saddle beside a peak with a massive glacial moraine. I stared in wonder at the remaining parallel hills of rock debris below the tiny patch of snow where a glacier used to live. 

After that I passed through meadows resplendent with glowing wildflowers and sparkling streams cascading through. The tall granitic peaks reminded me of the Sierras, and it wasn’t long before I came across two marmots. It was turning into quite the day for wildlife sightings. 

Strix and I had lunch beside Rock Island Lake before the long descent past day hikers and horses coming in from Miner Lakes trailhead. I passed an older couple telling other hikers in awe about the man they had met who “hiked here all the way from Canada!” 

The thunderheads were already building in the afternoon heat, and as I reached a bridge over a wide creek, I dunked my hat and shirt in the cold water for a reprieve from the afternoon sweat fest. We started up the hill, which thankfully had been regraded from 1000’ per mile to about half that. The downside was that our maps still used the old trail for mileage estimates; it was the longest “1.5 miles” either of us had ever hiked. 

At the top of the climb we were treated to threatening dark clouds and rumbling thunder. Strix and I paused at a creek and made dinner while the storm moved on, avoiding rain for a change. The last few miles were thankfully mostly downhill, but my feet felt bruised from the rocky trail. I got to camp and set up my tent on the flattest spot I could find: inside the remains of an old cabin. 

Steamy and Panty Pirate passed by on their way to a spot 2 miles further. They hadn’t seen Lark all day, and neither had any of us. We wondered how he was doing with his tattered shoes, and if he may have opted to hitch from the trailhead. Twenty minutes later he walked into camp, his shoes strung together with Handy’s bear hang cord, saying he felt like someone from the 14th century. 

The next three days would take us high onto the Divide with little water and daily thunderstorms in the forecast. I hoped we would have good tree cover.