As unsexy as it is, thru-hiking a major trail in the US is mostly a mindless activity. A phone app guides you to water, camping, and resupply points, so there is no need to read topo maps or plan more that a few days ahead. A hiker can focus on walking and know that the majority of the logistical challenges will be easily sorted out by a few clicks and swipes on a smartphone.
The Morgan Creek fire threw all of that complacency out the window.
Sitting in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express, Ohm, Fraggles, .3, and I are trying to find a reasonable work-around for the 30 or so miles of closed trail. We’ve commandeered the business center computer and have spread maps out on all available surfaces. Maintaining continuous steps from Mexico to Canada is one goal I hope to accomplish on this thru-hike, and figuring out how to get around the fire is proving to be a challenge. In the end, I decide to walk a combination of CDT, Forest Service Roads, and a paved highway paralleling the divide. The re-route will add a few miles and by the time I get back to the trail, I’ll be in Wyoming. It isn’t my dream scenario but I’ll try to make the best of it.
A final round of town food, in this case gyros from a Greek spot, and it was time to hitchhike back to the pass with Fraggles and Ohm. Point 3 decided to catch a ride around the road walk, so we’ll have to catch him further up. Back at the pass, we spend a few miles talking about mindfulness and the carpet of wildflowers now in bloom. The talking stops when the mosquitos descend on us. I don my headnet and squish the thirsty insects by the score.
The next morning, we leave the official CDT at Buffalo Pass and begin the first gravel Road walk of the detour. I’m thankful for the company, the audiobooks, and good air quality so close to an active fire. The three of us dodge an afternoon thunderstorm under an awning near the busy Strawberry Park Hot Springs. As bathers in bikinis strut by, I eat my lunch of rice and beans and try to psych myself up for the miles of paved road that will cap off the day.
My trail runners greet the asphalt and I know I’m in for a beating. Two more hikers, Squashy & MacGyver, join us on the road we decide to make the best of it. As we count down the miles, there are dance partys, sing-alongs, and lots of stories told. We enjoy shade and snacks at a local general store, and find our way onto dirt roads before the end of the third day. When I set up my tent for the night, it is in the State of Wyoming. The 70 days it took me to walk here have been harder that I anticipated. The end feels nearer and yet there are still a thousand miles to walk.
It’s 5am and I’m back on the trail. The plan is to meet my family in Lander, Wyoming in 5 days but between here and there are 200 miles and a long stretch of hot exposed trail in the Great Divide Basin. I walk until dark and cover the first 37 miles through heavily logged forests and rolling hills. The next morning, glad to start the day with a lighter food bag, I set out on the long road walk to Rawlins. My goal for the day is 43 miles, of which about 30 are on pavement. The lack of water & shade have me roasting inside my sun hoody. A few kind motorists stop to offer encouragement and water, while cyclist on The Great Divide route fly by at 12mph.
In the hot and thirsty hours before I finally walked into town, I drooled over the menu of the Thai restaurant and kept my feet moving to dance music. As soon as I could see Rawlins on the horizon, I called the Thai spot and placed my order. At 7pm I walked into the restaurant after 43 non-stop miles, the three dishes waiting for me didn’t stand a chance. I hoovered up the calories and made my way to the cheap hotel room, shared with 3 other hikers, where I’d do a quick round of shower laundry and get to bed ASAP.
In the morning, I resupply and am walking North by 7am. Ahead of me lies 120 miles of sage brush, sand, and sunshine and I’m going to cover the distance in 3 days. The first day I’m rattled at by a juvenile snake, watched by an army of beef cows, and regularly reminded by my feet of how far they’ve walked in the last 72 hours. Day two north of Rawlins brings more of same terrain. The breeze smells like sage and my constant application of sunscreen mixes with trail dust to form a layer of mud that clings to my calves. In the distance I can see a black SUV and I quicken my pace.
Waiting at the car is Mark, a friend from Madison who recently moved to Wyoming, he got word of my whereabouts and asked if he could meetup to provide some trail magic. The cold beverages, crispy bacon, and fresh fruit were like mana in this desert waste and an opportunity to see a familiar face, after so many weeks away from home, was a huge emotional boost. I had another 25 miles to walk, but the miles felt easier after Mark’s oasis.
A little after 9pm, I make my goal for the day and set up my tarp near a tepid cattle pond. Every muscle in my body is sore and as I crawl under my quilt my feet and back are already protesting the 5am alarm. When dawn comes, I start to visualize the soft hotel bed that awaits me in Lander. That thought, and the fact I’ll have two whole days off with my parents and sister, helps keep my feet churning along the flat two-track road. It is so hot, my appetite is non-existent and I struggle to get calories in. I catch up to some other hikers on a gravel road. Their company and conversation make some miles disappear and by the time 8pm arrives, I’ve managed to cover the final 40 miles to the highway.
My feet feel a bit like they have been run over by a tractor but otherwise my body has held up well through the self-impossed flagellation of five consecutive 40 mile days. When I get to the road, lack of cell service and poor communication on my end, means it takes a while for me to meet up with the family. In fact, I end up hitchhiking to Lander, where we are reunited in front of a Pizza Hut. The reunion may not have gone as we planned, but it doesn’t change how happy I am to see them. I’m ready for some time off my feet and a few Spotted Cows, maybe see if I can beat my sister in a game of cribbage.
