The End of the Bob, more hikers and hard conversations

Cowboys don’t smile

6 men on horses come down the muddy trail. They are all dressed in cowboy hats and outdoor gear, but I can tell instantly who’s a cityslicker and who actually works on a ranch. „Howdy“ the first one says with a hostile look on his face. They all look serious, towering over me on their horses. I can’t help but feel small and intimidated.

One rider was trailing a bit behind the group. He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses even though it’s overcast. He’s the only one that smiles at me with a soft „mornin” before giving his horse the spurs and catching up to the others. For a minute I wonder where they’re going, before my growling stomach reminds me of my actual mission: get into Augusta.

The trailhead isn’t empty but none of the cars are leaving and I walk for an hour without a single car passing. Undecided I stand in front of the ranch gate. I know he’ll be charging me but I also don’t wanna wait up here for hours for a hitch. After another moment of hesitation, I walk towards the wooden buildings.

I hear a generator running but not a soul in sight. The little shack signed „office“ is dark and deserted. Somehow I had pictured the ranch differently, inviting and cozy. Instead everything looks run down, dark and loveless. I wander around trying to catch sight of someone before I hear a truck come down, an overweight man climbs out. Ignoring my presence as if a woman standing in his driveway is none of his business.

„Hi, do you work on the ranch?“

„Yeah“

He looks at me slightly annoyed.

„I was wondering about uhm, getting down to Augusta?“ I ask.

„You mean paying for a shuttle“, the man says. I nod.

„You’re lucky I’m going anyways. It’s a flatrate though, 50 bucks. You got cash?“

I swallow hard. 50 bucks for a drive he’s doing anyways? For a moment I deliber walking. It’s 30 miles though and I got no food. I’ll get there at night.

My growling stomach makes the decision:

„I got cash“

He starts unloading and loading the truck while I stand around and wait.

„All alone, huh?“ „Mhm“ is all I answer pressing my lips into a firm line. He laughs. But not in a friendly way. He gestures me to get into the car and we leave through the wooden ranch gate.

Uncomfortable small talk and his eyes keep wandering over to my thighs while driving. I hike in running shorts, it’s what’s most comfortable. But now I wish I had changed into my leggings. Or maybe better my rain pants. We drive painfully slow. „Road‘s rough, ya know“ he says. I take my wide brim hat off and place it on my lap, pretending to fix my braids.

 

What hikers want

The town is no more than a handful of businesses and bars, extending my a few residential houses left and right. While paying 50 bucks bothered me before, now I was just relieved to hand over the money and get out of the car as quickly as possible.

I walk along the main street towards the building signed with big letters „general store“ when a man comes down the sidewalk. I’m tired and hungry and annoyed, I avoid eye contact and stare at the ground. The last thing I need is another unpleasant person today.

„You’re a thru hiker?“ the man says and I look up. Puffy jacket, trainers, carrying a stuffsack in one hand and a liter of chocolate milk in the other. I don’t need to return the question. It’s obvious.

„When did you get here?“ „This morning. The storm slowed me down and I ran out of food to get to Lincoln“ he says and we update each other about our hike. His name is Daybreak.

„are you going back on trail today?“ he wants to know. I look at the dark clouds brewing over the wooden store fronts of Augusta. I wiggle my wet toes in my wet socks in my wet shoes. No matter how much I suffer, the trail puts a spell on me, calling me, demanding my return. Plus I just splurged 50 bucks that weren’t in my budget.

„I don’t know yet“

„Well, I’m staying in the motel. Take down my number and reach out later if you feel like staying” Daybreak offers kindly.

We part ways and I return to my mission: Food. My body is screaming for calories and I am beyond the patience of sitting down in a restaurant, reading the menu, getting the waiter to take my order, wait for someone to cook it.

I need direct supply of food. Swiftly I move between the well stocked shelves of the store. A pint of ice cream, a box potato salad, peanut butter cookies, blue Gatorade.

Once again I’m sat outside a store indulging in cheap calories. I‘m done with the potato salad and carving a perfect O into the creamy surface of my ice cream, when thick raindrops fall. „Shit!“ I open the sun umbrella of the picnic table and put on my rain jacket. Fuck it, I’m wet anyways.

A new friend

When my titanium spork reaches  the cardboard bottom of the pint and the sad end of ice cream, I wipe the rain from my phone and text Daybreak. „Is the offer still standing?“

It is. And minutes later I‘m knocking at the motel room of a man I practically don’t know. There’s a non logical trust in the thru hiking  community. In no way would I agree to sleep in the same room with a man I met for 5 minutes on the street. But thru hiking doesn’t follow logic. Thru hiking is a whole bunch of madness and a sprinkle of fairy dust.

(Disclaimer: nevertheless there ARE bad apples among thru hikers. Please hike with caution and be safe)

For a moment, nothing happens. „Did I get the wrong door? Did he change his mind?“ Then Daybreak appears and lets me in. Inside it’s warm and smells slightly dusty. Cowboy paintings in faded colors are decorating the walls, the covers of the two double beds have bears on them.

I close the door behind me and to my amazement: outside stays outside. After just 6 days of being exposed to the elements non stop, it’s like I’ve forgotten how houses work.

I drop my pack and peel my wet socks off. „Mind if I shower?“ „no, please“. There are towels. Thick white soft clean towels. A whole stack of them. I suppress a cry of pleasure when the hot water washes over my cold, sore, stinking body. I wash my hair 3 times with cheap motel soap.

 

11 national scenic trails

We spend the afternoon doing laundry, talking about the trail and exchanging life stories. Daybreak left his finance career, an expensive life style and got divorced. Now he has found his passion: hiking. His quest is to complete all 11 national scenic trails. With amazement I am listening to the stories about the 6 he’s done so far. He completed the ice age trail in Wisconsin earlier this year before the CDT. I‘m fascinated.

I point at his backpack: 35 Liter. That’s all. It’s tiny, looks like a day pack. We delve deep into gear talk and I’m more and more engrossed in his purist style.

„The things you own start owning you“ he says and I try to soak up the wisdom.

My gaze wanders to my own pack, in my mind I’m already shedding grams, simplifying, getting rid of stuff. Daybreak has managed to inspire me.

 

5 short days

The next morning we’re both scavenging through the grocery store.

„How far to Helena?“ he asks. „5 short days“ I wink. He’s fast like me, maybe faster.

Bagels, peanut butter, cookies, cinnamon gummy bears, protein bars, ramen, oatmeal, tuna packets, 2 frozen burritos, 1 peach. I look at my basket, I know that’s not really enough. But I also don’t wanna carry more. Food is heavy, heavy backpack means less fun.

To hitchhike back, we stand at the end of town where the road leads to a reservoir which eventually turns into a dirt road back to the trailhead. For 30 minutes we don’t see a single car. „would you be willing to walk?“ Daybreak asks. „Yup.“ There’s a local shuttling hikers, but neither of us feel like splurging on the costs to pay him.

A red pick up appears and I enthusiastically extend my thumb. It slows down and a tall man gets out, knuckles, neck and face covered in tattoos. „We’re just going up to the reservoir. We would have to drop you in the middle of nowhere“

Daybreak and I exchange looks. „That would be perfect“ we answer, throw our packs in the trunk and climb into the car. Tony, his wife Jennifer and Nick, all from Minnesota are going fishing. We chat about the trail, Montana, fish to catch, cattle breeds and which model Tony‘s bear gun is. They’re lovely. And when they drop us off, another car comes up the street and slows down as soon as I give a thumbs up. Tony hollers for our luck.

Alec and his dog Bo are exploring the area for some hikes and are more than happy to take us up. We can’t believe our luck. Bo neither: he’s licking our hands and faces.

 

Post office speed

After some burn miles, the scape goat wilderness turns into a lush, green paradise. The CDT leads past murmuring creeks and sturdy pine trees. It’s so flat and rolling, Daybreak and I crush 25 miles just in one afternoon. „Post office speed“ he calls it. Feeling proud of ourselves. We decide to camp just before the next big climb.

It’s suddenly freezing cold by the Dearborn Creek while Daybreak eats a thawed burrito and I spoon Ramen out of a ziplock bag. He’s easy to be around and I’m glad to have some company after a few quiet days in the Bob.

 

What’s in a name?

Daybreak honors his name and passes by my tent, all packed up and ready to hike while I still sort through my bear can, barely awake.

„See you soon“ he says and disappears between the trees. That was me last year, I think. But this year I‘m having slow mornings and fast days. I hike hike hike and not long after him, I set out too.

Scapegoat wilderness continues to be impressive. The climbs are crueling. It’s hot again. My sweat stained shirt clings to my back. But it’s not just the heat that is breathtaking, the views are too.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of Daybreak‘s pack and his orange foam pad on the horizon But he’s far away and I’m feeling slow and not ambitious enough to catch him before the evening. Later I find Daybreak sitting under a tree, filtering water, an open peanut butter jar next to him. „the famous yurt is coming up in a few miles“ he says. I hadn’t heard of it. The round building is unlocked and furnished. It smells like gas and mouse poop. We end up sleeping up on the ridge.

 

2+2+1 hikers

Daybreak waves me goodbye while I’m still inside my down quilt. I follow him onto the trail shortly after. And we’re not alone on trail today, I run into the two boys from Isreal as well as Mr Beast from Tennessee, known for carrying a 70 pound backpack. It’s a long water carry.

The water abundance of northern Montana had us spoilt and now we’re all thirsty and dehydrated in the afternoon heat. Daybreak and I are faster than the others. And our days are longer.

I catch up to him after 25 miles and we stop to filter water. After eating half softened Ramen out of a ziploc for dinner, Daybreak and I continue. „how much further?“ he wants to know. „There’s a look out tower I wanna go to“ and I start telling the story of the sierra butte tower in California, the most stunning sunrise. The climb up was brutal and it was already dark when I got there. I miss the PCT. I know Daybreak doesn’t care much about the sunrise, he just joins because I want to go.

 

Feeling like a thru hiker

„Sunrise is before 5 am though“, he teases me. I barely manage to wake up before 6.

„I know“ I bite my lip. „It upsets me.“

„I‘m just teasing“

„Yeah but on the pct, I would always wake up before it was light. Nothing could keep me in my sleeping bag. It feels like I’m not loving this trail enough.“ I explain.

For a few minutes we hike in silence.

„Today was the first day I was feeling this trail“ he tells me. „Even though we didn’t see anything special, but I felt like a thru hiker“ I nod. I know what he means and that‘s exactly what I’m missing. I just feel like I’m WALKING. And don’t get me wrong, I love walking, but it’s not enough.

Not normal behaviour

Four buggies speed past us on the steep road towards the granite butte tower. People dressed in hunting gear, holding beer cans and cigarettes, the vehicles loaded with more drinks.

„Looks like we’ll have a party up there“ I say to DB. „Oh they’ll welcome you with open arms“ he remarks and I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic. “Not my idea of fun” I say, “I bet they’re not just drinking”

“You’re not fond of Montana’s liberal drug politics?” – “I just think if someone regularly consumes a substance to numb themselves, that’s kinda problematic and shouldn’t be encouraged” I tell him.

„Don’t we all numb ourselves somehow? Why are you hiking these crazy miles every day? That’s not normal behaviour“, Day break says. I smile to myself, he knows I won’t answer his question. And I don’t think he actually wants to know, he just wants me to ask myself. I look at my watch: 29 miles. 2 more to go.