CDT: Border Hopping and Getting My Trail Legs

Leaving Chief Joseph Pass the trail begins the bottom part of the “S” it began around Butte. Strange how the Continental Divide turns back on itself. I’m excited because I got to open a new map pack on FarOut. Northern Montana and the Montana- Idaho section make up almost a third of the CDT; hitting the border feels like a milestone. My hiking ability hit a new milestone as well- my trail legs came in.

I left Chief Joseph Pass energized by food and human contact. The trail took me through burn areas in forest and meadows on the sides of mountains. The views were fabulous if a little hazy because of a fire to the northwest. But the haze and a steady breeze kept the heat and more importantly, the flies and mosquitoes away. I passed through a trailhead in two different national forests; it had been split in half by the state border. No one was around so I shadow-boxed the sign and gave myself a high five. It’s the little things.

No walls here

The next morning I descended to a creek. Near it was a cabin that had clearly seen better days. As I came closer I saw a fire ring surrounded by chairs and an ATV. Strewn about were beer cans and half-empty liquor . bottles. I froze; the back of my neck prickled. “Yikes,” I thought. This looked like a scene from a horror movie set in the mountains. Presumably the imbibers were sleeping off their late night in the cabin but I heard no sounds. I tiptoed past the cabin lest I wake the occupants. The previous night I had deliberated on whether I should keep hiking and set up camp vicinity this creek. My stomach dropped thinking how close I’d come to stumbling on this party last night. I quickly and quietly walked anxious to be away.

Fortunately I didn’t camp near this creek

It might have been lingering adrenaline but thirty minutes later I found myself moving steadily up a series of switchbacks.

Me: you’re still feeling the adrenaline from the “The Cabin on the Creek”

Also me: you’re right. I’ll likely start slowing down any sec

This climb was 3.000 ft in seven miles. I had been dreading it knowing it would take me forever to get to the top. A SOBO hiker passed me and we commiserated on the climb. I kept hiking and I didn’t feel the urge to stop and rest like I always did on climbs.

Me: what’s going on? Why do I feel so strong?

Also me: well, your daily mileage has been slowly increasing…..:

Climbing for days

It was true. Over the last 10 days I had slowly gone from miles nearing low 20s to consistently hiking 25 miles. Was it possible…??

“Omg,” I squealed. “I think my trail legs are finally coming in! I wonder what they’ll look like” (like I was a caterpillar wondering what my butterfly wings will be.)

“Trail legs” is a term commonly used to refer to the adaptation your body has made to walk all day, every day. A hiker can walk further or faster or both. For me getting my trail legs also means that my mental and physical abilities are working together. My body recognizes it can do more and my mind agrees instead of throwing up roadblocks.

I kept climbing carefully poking around my brain for signs of protest at the hard work. Nope- all seemed fine. Having trail legs didn’t mean that hiking would be super easy from now on. But, I would no longer look up at a big hill with despair and bang my hiking poles on the ground or cringe from a 25+ mile day.

I climbed out of the tree line and began switchbacks on the rocky slope until finally cresting the slope and admiring the views. I descended back into the tree line; for the rest of the day the trail followed contours on the mountainside with occasional views through the trees.

Back into the trees

Later in the day I saw my first MT-ID marker. I’d be hiking the border for the next 200 miles. I camped by a lake that night excited that my body had finally accepted I was thruhiking.

Me on the fence

 

 

 

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