Day 62-64: Through Heaven and Hell

August 22-24; Mile 896-959

Day 62

A gray haze had descended over Pinedale during the night. The fire near Green River Lakes had grown to almost a thousand acres overnight. I spent the morning flipping through my options. Many hikers rated the Wind River Range as their favorite part of the entire Continental Divide Trail – but if I couldn’t see it for the smoke, why do it?

The drive out to the trailhead almost made me rent a car and drive to Steamboat Springs. Houses only 50 feet from the road were hazy, and the sky was yellow-gray. Everything smelled of burning. There was no way I was going to hike through that, even with a mask. 

Thankfully as we headed further east, the smoke cleared a bit. At the trailhead I said goodbye to Dov, donned my pack and my mask, and then the four of us hiked out into the sunny morning. We skirted around New Fork lakes, passing large groups of backpackers headed back to their cars. I asked one group how the smoke was further up, and the leader said it wasn’t “bad enough that I was going to die.” What a low bar to clear. 

The trail was low on shade, and my face dripped with sweat beneath my mask. But at least I didn’t have a headache from breathing smoke. Strix and I hiked together, eyeing the massive smoke plume the fire was coughing up into the sky. It felt like we were walking toward the apocalypse, and I kept wondering when the trail would turn east and head away from the fire. 

After lunch we reached a decision point. There were two routes to connect back with the CDT, but if either of us wanted to hike the Knapsack Col alternate the next day, we would have to take the northern route – and keep walking toward the smoke. In the end we did just that, but the air was beginning to clear around us, and I was able to take off my mask. 

The trail turned upward, and the climb was tough with a heavy pack. We switchbacked up through the forest, leaving behind Porcupine creek and heading toward the alpine. I met two hikers that had turned back from attempting to summit Gannet Peak and were now wondering how to get their truck out from the Green River Lakes trailhead. Other backpackers had been out since before the fire started and asked what we knew about the massive smoke plume. 

After several miles we reached the land of granite and flowers, sparkling creeks and towering views. Blue sky shown above, radiant against the deathly pallor lurking nearby. 

I saw Strix at the top of the climb and called out to her, and we both began descending. We met an older hiker with a fishing rod, and when I asked if he had caught anything, he said he’d caught the woman behind him back in the 80’s.

The descent along Clark Creek trail was beautiful and mirrored how I remembered the Winds: alpine meadows full of tumbled granite and clear blue lakes dotting the landscape. I was grateful I had come this way instead of driving down to Colorado, that I would get to walk through this slice of heaven with my friends. 

The shadows began to lengthen as Strix and I descended past Lozier Lakes. We still had several miles to go before camp, and a long rocky descent lay ahead of us. Pikas called out from between the talus, and the creek burbled nearby, just out of reach from trail. Finally we crossed the water near Clark Lake, and I stopped to gulp down some water while Strix continued toward camp. 

The final hour was a hurried walk through the gloomy forest as the wind blew the smoke our direction. I could see the wispy edge of the haze creeping its way across the sky, and as the trees filled with the smell of charred wood and ash, I took out my mask again. By the time I reached camp it was getting dark, and after a quick dinner in the gloom, I had to set up my sleep system by headlamp for the first time on trail. 

Day 63

When I woke to a world of gray, I was glad I had slept in my N95 mask. The valley was filled with smoke and everything smelled strongly of burning forest. The trees outside my tent were blurred, and if I had had any doubts about skipping the optional climb up Knapsack Col, they were gone. I could barely see 50 yards ahead of me; these were not the conditions to be climbing up high for views. 

As I ascended through the valley, the trees thinned out and the land transitioned into alpine meadows. I reached Summit Lake soon after, and looking backward I could see the thick wall of smoke that had settled in the low areas overnight. The air up here was definitely clearer, but nearby peaks still appeared wrapped in thin gauze. I kept on my mask. 

The trail led past a series of little pothole lakes before reaching the arcing Elbow Lake. Sheer granite towered above, while nearby a marmot paused to gnaw at a patch of flowers. My face was dripping under the mask, and breathing was already difficult above 10,000’. But each time I took it off to drink or snack, my nose wrinkled at the smell of burning wood. 

The CDT led past upper and lower Jean Lakes, and I got my first views toward the peaks lining Titcomb Basin. Handy, Strix, and Lark were somewhere up there scrambling over loose, massive boulders. Meanwhile I walked across the bridge spanning Fremont Creek and passed groups of backpackers out for the weekend. 

I paused at a small lake for lunch, and as I watched the mountains above me sharpen into focus, I realized that the wind was blowing away the smoke. I took off my mask; no smell. At last! The clear air felt heavenly against my sweaty face, and the views opened up into the distance. The horizon was layered with jagged peaks recently hidden by haze. 

The hiking was slow-going with a heavy pack. The trail led steeply up and down, and where the topography was flat, the ground was littered with rocks and loose dirt that slid beneath my feet. Near the junction toward Island Lake I found Lark sitting with a pile of food spread around him. He said he had had a boulder give way on the descent from Knapsack Col and almost pin his leg. I had been scanning the trail for signs of Strix’s footprints, and Lark confirmed that they were still somewhere behind him. 

I hiked onward toward Lester Pass, leapfrogging with two backpackers on the way up. Lark caught up to me on the other side, and we hiked together for the last few miles. Just before camp we found a ziploc bag held down with a rock – it was full of granola bars and had a note addressed to CDT hikers. An interesting choice in bear country. 

At camp we were joined by Steam Engine, and as we ate dinner the peaks behind us glowed pink in the fading light. 

Day 64

The dark was broken by the howling of coyotes in the morning as I was packing up. The trail had three steep up-and-downs to begin the day, and mostly I leapfrogged with Steam Engine and his friend Stew. 

As I was descending a steep gulley of rocks, I heard bells jingling down below. It was a pack train, and the hikers had pulled off to the side to let me finish descending. As I got closer, I realized why the group had looked odd: it was a pack train of goats! I had seen many horses and the occasional llama, but never goats before. They stared intently at me as I hiked past. 

The next time I ran into Steam Engine and Stew, I asked if they had seen the goats. Actually, Steam Engine had chatted with the hikers for a bit, and they had given him a bag of their homemade elk jerky! He brought it out and shared it with me and Stew – delicious. 

As I passed Pipestone Lake, the glittering water was too inviting to pass up – despite the occasional stiff breeze. I had been hiking past lakes the past few days and hadn’t swam in one; now was the time. I stopped for lunch and was soon joined by Stew. There was a nice gentle ledge leading into the water, and as I waded out into the chilly water, the wind of course picked up. It took some mental fortitude to plunge in, but the water was cold and refreshing. 

After the morning climbs the trail flattened out into alpine meadows again, and I could cruise a bit past the other lakes. Strix had caught up after lunchtime, and as dark clouds were beginning to build she paused for a break in the trees. I had just stopped, and so I pushed on. I made it maybe another mile or two before the rumbling started. I skirted around a lake and found a spot up in a clump of trees to shelter. Based on the sky, it was going to be a big storm. 

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked overhead as I sat on my backpack to insulate myself from the ground. Strix caught up just as a massive lightning flash struck over the next ridge. Suddenly the air grew hazy and everything smelled like smoke. Wind was howling across the grassland, and the sky was glowing orange near the horizon. 

Strix looked around for a new fire, and we panicked a little bit about whether to stay or move on if there was a fire nearby. We didn’t see any flames, and so we hunkered down to wait out the storm. In minutes we were drenched – I honestly don’t know why I didn’t set up my tent. We sat in the downpour, through near-constant thunder, laughing about my ideas for a gender-swapped Phantom of the Opera production. 

About an hour later we headed out after waiting for the thunder to subside. The sky was filled with smoke, and we looked around for any new fires. Three planes flew by in formation, doing the same. 

We were dripping wet, and it took me two miles before I began to feel warm again. I grabbed water from the creek, and more thunder began to rumble off to our right. The first camp site had a lot of widowmakers, so we continued past it to the next spot. Mamacita and Lark hiked by not long after, and she continued on through the gathering gloom. Everything was soaked, and the three of us sat together beneath the trees eating dinner in the dark.