If I’m honest, Dubois wasn’t the best spot for a day off. Hotel rooms were priced like the place was under siege but restaurants didn’t seem to get the memo and most of them were closed over the weekend. I may not have had my choice of eateries but I did manage to get off my feet, take in some soccer, and take the edge off my appetite. I can now also cross, ‘Ride a giant fiberglass jackalope’, off my bucket list.
Leaving town felt like a fresh adventure. Half a day of hard rain and a soggy morning stroll to the outskirts of Yellowstone National Park, .3 and I left the official CDT, the comfort of App-guided hiking, and struck out on our own. The Trail Creek Fire on the Idaho/Montana border is the primary reason for our detour. A desire to avoid long road walks and to see some beautiful scenery the official trail avoids, also played a part. We are following a version of the Big Sky Alternate that will take us through the Absaroka range in eastern Yellowstone, then work into Montana along the Gallatin range and the Sky Rim trail. From there we will pass near Big Sky and walk Northwest into the Spanish Peaks and Tobacco Root Mountains, eventually wiggling into Butte, where we will rejoin the CDT.
In many ways this doesn’t feel like thru-hiking, since I can’t put my head down and grind out 30 mindless miles. There will be more time consulting maps, more guess-work on food & water, and far fewer hikers, as most folks are opting for direct routes to Butte. Like the high-route in Wind River Range, it’s a chance to step outside the confines of this mostly-defined trail and take control of my direction for a while.
The rolling hills north of the Winds give way to wide river valleys wrapped in tree-covered mountains. Pairs of Sandhill cranes squawk as I encroach on the snacking grounds. The trail is muddy and water is abundant, and so is the voluminous excrement from untold numbers of equestrians. As I dodge horse manure, grizzly tracks remind me to yell, ‘Hey Bear’ as often as I think about it.
Shed elk antlers litter the hillsides but few hikers are on the trail. We crest Eagle pass at 9,486ft and follow a marshy river until my feet meet the pavement of highway 20, just outside the National Park’s easternmost entrance. As I walk along the road, the countless RV’s, vans, and family sedans that pass me by are stuffed with people and camping gear. I think about the adventure they are on and wonder if they’re doing the same?
It’s breakfast time and the protein bar in my hip belt pocket is doing it’s best to attract the attention of my uninterested stomach. The battle is lost when I spot a roadside lodge serving breakfast. We squeeze in to a booth and order like we haven’t eaten in years. The pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, and ham steak don’t stand a chance. Nor do the 4 cups of weak coffee I slurp down to bolster my interest in walking the last few miles of the day. My stomach full, I bumble down the road a few miles to a blip on the road called Pahaska Teepee, where I spend the next 3 hours trying to thumb a ride into Cody, Wyoming. When, at last, a kind soul pulls over, I feel sun baked and am as enthusiastic about the prospect of a shower and laundry, as I am about getting off the road and out of the sun.
A long ride into a spread out town made chores feel rushed. I hurried through laundry, a shower, and resupply and through a stroke of good luck we got back to the trailhead before dark. PCT thru-hikers and current Pahaska Teepee employee Cy, grabbed us in downtown Cody and made sure we had a ride back and stomachs full of Dairy Queen. It was dark when we got back to the trail and with rain in the forecast, .3 and I set up camp under a nearby bridge. Not the most glamerous spot, but it was sheltered and the deer who came to check us out were well intentioned.
A lack of overnight traffic meant I slept well, but the rain looked like it wasn’t going to blow through anytime soon. We grabbed breakfast at the Pahaska lodge and lingered over coffee. Then we lingered over lunch. Finally the rain stopped, so we set out to cover a few miles before the heavy overnight showers could set in.
When I wake up, my right side has gone completely asleep. Camping options had been limited the night before and the storm was blowing in as I searched for flat ground. Just as I fell asleep hard drops started to hit the paper-thin ceiling of my Dyneema tarp. Each time it rains, I’m amazed at my 10oz shelter’s ability to repel rain. Now I just need someone to invent a self-leveling tent floor.
Yellowstone is not a place I have ever been drawn to visit but I’ll admit the wide valleys, abundant wildlife, and lack of visitors in the backcountry have changed my mind. Bear tracks litter the trail but I have yet to bump into one. Bison are everywhere, like massive roving boulders, and they have little interest in where I want to go or even that I exist. One morning I even got to see a young grey wolf bound up a steep hillside like it was an afternoon stroll.
Three days after leaving Pahaska, we walk into the tourist hub of Mammoth. We grab a hiker/biker site in the main campground and get lucky with a speedy hitch to the nearby town of Gardiner. Resupply is easy, laundry and showers are enjoyed, and I make short work of an Elk burger and fries. A van-dweller gives us a lift back to Mammoth and I enjoy a beer on the patio of the Hot Springs Hotel. Tomorrow I’ll cross the Wyoming/Montana border; the last major landmark before Canada. As I inflate my air pad and tuck in for the night, memories of the last three months replay in my mind. It’s been one hell of an adventure and can’t wait to see what the last month will bring.
