Together in the Snow and Smoke: CDT Days 124-134

The hike from East Glacier to Benchmark through the Bob Marshall Wilderness flew by in good company despite challenging conditions. When a fire closure took us out of the Scapegoat Wilderness sooner than expected we got some much-appreciated extra town time in Helena, as Mellow prepared to make her exit and Saint returned to trail. It was a week and a half of joyful reunions big and small as we headed southbound toward the heart of the NOBO bubble. 

Day 124–On the Road to the Bob

We packed up our tents from Luna’s back yard nice and early, and Mellow cooked us both a delicious breakfast of eggs and spinach using the leftover salad ingredients from last night’s communal dinner. Our plan for the day was to drive her car to Benchmark trailhead near Augusta and to hitch back up to East Glacier so we could hike south. We both had internet work to do first. Rather than lingering around East Glacier where the WiFi is spotty we decided to head down to Augusta to find a coffee shop, figuring that hanging out there might also set us up for an easier hitch. (You never know who will offer a ride when they hear what you’re up to.)

The drive to Augusta took just under two hours and soon we were enjoying oat milk lattes and free WiFi at Lightning Bug Coffee and Boutique. 

In a prime example of going “stupid light” in my gear choices, my phone charging cable is only a foot long, so I had to sit on the floor in a windowsill to use my phone while it was charging. This was already much longer than the four-inch cable I had carried before my brief visit home. I had decided the extra 1/4 oz of weight might be worth it after all, but the idea of doubling that and carrying a cord so luxuriously long that it could be used while sitting in a chair was apparently out of the question. We spent a couple of hours quietly working. 

As lunchtime approached we headed out for the trailhead. Benchmark is only 30 miles from Augusta but the trip takes about an hour thanks to the dirt and gravel roads. About 20 miles in we realized we had failed to get gas in Augusta as planned—fortunately the 30 mile warning light didn’t come on until we were almost there, so we’d probably have enough fuel to get back to town five days from now. Probably.

The trick now would be to get a hitch back to Augusta and onward up to East Glacier—a total distance of 152 miles—and to get there in time to hike at least a few miles tonight. We fully expected this to require a series of hitches and were prepared to camp or stay in a hotel along the way. 

We parked the car at the Straight Creek trailhead, not understanding there was a larger Benchmark trailhead nearby because the adjacent campground was called Benchmark. This would turn out to make our return to the car extra challenging; for today it meant we’d chosen a trailhead where there weren’t many cars. One of the four or five parked there had a note in the window saying its driver would return today; we mused about how long we should wait before walking out to the main road for a better chance at hitching. 

We ate some lunch from Mellow’s cooler and made our final choices about what gear and food to carry and what to leave in the car—such a luxury! Ten minutes later we had barely packed up when a young man appeared, unlocked the car with the note, and quickly agreed to drive us back to Augusta. (He was going on to Great Falls from there, the wrong direction for us.) He was about to start his senior year of high school and is planning an eventual career as an orthopedic surgeon. He had spent the weekend visiting his aunt who is staffing the fire lookout tower for the summer. We asked him all sorts of questions about the land, the towns, and about his life in Great Falls. He refused any gas money and dropped us at the grocery store where we grabbed a few final resupply items.

Outside the grocery store we used part of a box to make a hitching sign (“CDT HIKERS TO EAST GLACIER”) and headed up the street toward the highway. We were almost to the intersection when a truck coming the wrong direction drove past us and then turned back around. Inside were Jeff and Ruby the Dog.

Jeff initially offered to drive us just ten miles up the road to Depuyer, but as he drove he talked himself into driving us all the way back to East Glacier. It wasn’t safe, he explained, to be dropped off any further north than Choteau, and we’d be unlikely to get a ride there. He warned that Browning was a dangerous place—not that he thought two “girls” like us should be hitching at all. (It eventually emerged that he was no older than we are.)

Jeff made several entertaining calls on speakerphone, including one to a friend with whom he had pondered hiking the CDT years before, and one to his wife Laura explaining that he had picked up some hitchhikers and was going to be very late. She drolly advised us that Jeff’s life insurance was all paid up, but asked that we please not hurt her dog or her truck. We liked the sound of her. 

Jeff and Ruby dropped us off at Summit trailhead 15 miles south of East Glacier. We sat on a concrete slab between two pit toilets and cooked quick dinners. A man who stopped there to use the toilet interrogated us about bear spray, insisting that a grizzly was likely to appear and attack without any warning. We promised him we were prepared. 

We started hiking around 7pm and made it about five miles before dark, mostly walking through a burn area where camping was impossible. We arrived to woods and to a sufficiently clear bit of forest floor just in time.  We decided not to set alarms but to play it by ear—it had been a tiring day and we both had sleep debts to clear. 

Day 125–You Take the High Road, I’ll Take the Low Road

We hiked together in the morning, separating around 10:30 when I felt like taking a longer break. I definitely took my time due to all the berries.

After we both had stopped for lunch we messaged each other; I said I would take the lower elevation, more shaded, and significantly shorter Kip’s Creek route while she opted to walk the higher ridgeline trail. I was full up on views after Glacier, but this was her first full day back on trail and she was eager to be on the red line and at elevation. She’s faster than me, so it seemed likely we’d arrive to our chosen camp about the same time. 

The Kip’s Creek alt was lovely rolling trail, mostly under tree cover but occasionally revealing tremendous views of the surrounding peaks. Water and thimbleberries were amply supplied. After rejoining the main trail I encountered a couple of NOBOs whose names I’ve forgotten—we hadn’t met before and they were quite occupied with each other, which was just fine. They said they hadn’t seen Mellow go by, and warned there were miles and miles of bushwhacking ahead.

I found zero need for bushwhacking, just some slightly overgrown bushes along the very well groomed trail. I reached our chosen campsite about half an hour before sunset and put my tent up quickly before following the trail another tenth of a mile to the creek to make dinner. I wanted to be sure Mellow would know I was there when she reached the tent site.

Looking at the longer, tougher route she had chosen and calculating from her last known location and time I realized that even if Mellow hiked at her top speed the whole way it would be at least 45 more minutes until she would reach me. When she still hadn’t arrived by 9:00pm I hoped and supposed she had camped elsewhere—one of the best things about carrying all of one’s own gear is the flexibility it affords, and we’re both confident alone in backcountry. 

 

There was still some tiny chance she had been eaten by a bear, but odds were pretty low. There was nothing I could do about it now in any case. 

Day 126–Questionable Intel 

I slept in a little and took it easy in the morning in case Mellow was close behind. I sent her a message by Garmin proposing a destination for the day, just past the start of the Spotted Bear alternate, about 20 miles from where I had camped. 

When I still hadn’t seen her by late morning and hadn’t had a reply by Garmin I started to wonder if she had lost her Garmin or phone, or maybe had been injured. I messaged her that if I didn’t hear from her by the end of the day I’d seek help. No reply.

As I was nearing the highest point for the day I encountered a group of NOBO hikers I didn’t know. I explained I was a NOBO who had flipped but they didn’t seem interested in chatting except to say,

“Oh, we should probably let you know, we saw a grizzly back there.” 

I took my bear spray from my side pocket and held it in my left hand as I hiked. I also sang a special song to the grizzly to assure her or him that I was neither threatening nor tasty. In the midst of this drama I failed to notice that the trail was climbing when I should already have passed today’s peak. I was a mile off course when I checked the map and realized I’d missed a turn. Where? 

Turning back and moving quickly as I could, I suddenly saw Mellow ahead, walking toward me. She had also missed the turn—and revealed two important facts. Her map app on her phone was malfunctioning, so she couldn’t see the trail, just herself as a dot; and she hadn’t received any of my Garmin messages. If I hadn’t made the wrong turn she would most likely have continued on the wrong trail until it exited the wilderness to the east. Sometimes two wrongs do make a right.

When I had messaged her the day before it had gotten to her by text rather than through the Garmin app, and I didn’t have her actual Garmin contact number in my phone. She had indeed camped with the other hikers the night before, just three or four miles from where I camped. 

Mellow had also gotten the grizzly warning from the group of NOBOs, and unlike me did see the bear in question. He turned out to be a juvenile black bear, minding his own business in the brush and completely nonplussed by Mellow’s air horn. 

We laughed at how so many hikers out here have thousands of miles on their resumes but have never been in true backcountry and as a result are unreliable reporters. I am sure that group will tell everyone back home about the enormous grizzly they saw, just as the young couple will claim they had to “bushwhack” through the Bob Marshall when in reality they just got whacked by a few bushes. Bushwhacking means you are crossing brush-covered wild land where there is no trail, and the only times I’ve had to do that on the CDT was when I chose to take my own stupid alternate path.

Likewise the comments in FarOut throughout the Bob Marshall talk about “bog” and “swamp.” I didn’t find a single instance where the trail crossed either, just some spots where my feet got wet because the plants along the trail were wet.

We headed onward past the start of the Spotted Bear Pass alternate and made camp between piles of horse poop beside the Gooseberry guard cabin, which had a spacious covered porch where we staged our gear. Misty rain turned to showers just as we finished putting up our tents. It continued all night. 

Day 127–Cold Rain and Snow

After a cozy breakfast (we brought our quilts to the cabin porch to enjoy hot coffee out of the rain), we packed up our wet tents and headed toward the pass. The rain slowed now and then but never quite let up. A grouse hen and chick walking on the trail were unbothered by me, a delight after scaring so many of them over the years.

Mellow pulled ahead, and the rain turned to tiny sleet. I stopped to put on my cheap fuzzy gloves from the Reserve mercantile. Then as I started up Switchback Pass the sleet turned to snow. At first this seemed like good news—it would bounce off my rain jacket instead of dripping, right? But as the trail rose the temperature dropped and high winds kicked up. I finally reached the top of the first side of the pass, hoping there would be better weather on the other side but finding only a wall of white.

It was so cold that when I stopped walking for five minutes to pull out a snack my soaking wet socks started to freeze—even the parts under my feet. Snow brushed from plants onto my Alpine Fit leggings and clumped on my knees and thighs. Brushing it off helped, but soaked my gloves which already needed constant wringing out. I wanted to go faster to stay warm but the overnight rain had turned the trail to slick mud. Mellow messaged that she was safe and moving as fast as she could; I was grateful we had resolved the Garmin contact issue the day before.

After a few more miles I was finally over the far side of the pass and moving down its many switchbacks. The snow continued, eventually turning back to rain as I descended once more to berry bushes and wide creeks. I wanted to catch up with Mellow ASAP but reluctantly stopped to have some food. Lunch took forever. My hands were so cold it was difficult to open my pack, let alone operate the toggle on my food sack or the ziplock bags inside. 

When I had about six miles left to camp I reached a cabin, shed, and privy all wrapped in thick foil to forestall fire, giving them a ranger-futurist, outer space look. The space privy was blessedly unlocked and stocked with TP and hand sanitizer. 

The rain slowed, but tall thimbleberry bushes along the trail acted like giant car wash rollers and by the time I reached camp I was soaking wet everywhere my Montbell rain jacket didn’t cover. As a final insult to dignity, in the last half mile was a blown down tree at just the perfect height to require me to straddle it while climbing over. Brrr! 

Mellow had just gotten her tent up when I arrived to our campsite; nearby was another hiker in a big REI tent with a tarp draped over it to block a leak. As with lunch, putting up my tent was painfully slow thanks to my cold-swollen hands. Finally I was able to walk a bit away from our tents to eat a few cold snacks, and then fetched M’s bear vault for her so she could make herb tea for us both. 

Walking in the wet and cold all day had left my thighs and butt very cold to the touch—fat doesn’t have blood running through to keep it warm. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until I got past my Cold Butt Syndrome. My gloves were too wet to wear so I put my extra socks over my hands and made snow angel motions under my quilt to warm up. 

We consoled each other about this anxious and difficult day (who ever heard of an August snowstorm??) and cheered ourselves up a little with the Garmin weather forecast for tomorrow: 62 and sunny. Just hold on, it’ll get better! 

Day 128–Wall of Sun 

What a difference a day can make. Our camp mate who turned out to be called Crime had said that the next several miles would be “bushwhacking,” but as with other such reports there was no such thing. After only a couple of miles of brushing against wet berry bushes we were climbing into dry forest with bouncy pine needles under our feet. Patches of snow lingered here and there from the day before.

 Then all of a sudden we had reached one of the most lauded features on the Continental Divide: the Chinese Wall.

This 12-mile-long escarpment was more grand than I expected. Most photos I’ve seen of it are taken quite close to the wall, so I always had the impression it was rising out of flat ground. It turns out to have a tree-filled, sinuous valley below so that as we hiked we came in and out of view of the wall at various angles. (My photos also don’t do it justice—any further away and trees would block them!) 

As I approached the wall for the first time a prairie falcon cried out and came swooping down in pursuit of a smaller bird; various birds sounded the alarm and their calls echoed through the valley. Quaint little footbridges crossed and recrossed a burbling creek, and the sandy soil held many interesting wildlife tracks including black bear and mountain lion. The sun was out but not oppressive—62F with a pack on feels like 75F without. Perfect! 

We had lunch on a big flat-topped boulder and set out our tents and quilts to dry. We took off our socks and shoes and placed them in the sun. A few hikers came by and chatted, and we swapped stories about where we had been when the storm hit. We learned that some hikers had waited a day before entering the Bob, and we learned that the snow had been so fast and heavy up in Glacier that it caused a 2-hour traffic jam. I thought about all those unpicked berries and hoped they made it through for the bears to enjoy. 

The day stayed perfect. We decided to be ambitious and hike to a point where we’d have only 8 miles left to reach the car in the morning—which meant we needed to cover 7.5 miles more after 5pm. The trail grew wider and easier, and we were met with warm breezes and air pockets that reminded Mellow of finding a warm current when swimming. We reached our intended mile marker before sunset only to realize that a commenter in FarOut had confused north and south and that the spot we sought didn’t exist. We continued on into the dusk and after another mile or two found a place where an old path of the CDT branched off toward the creek into a flat area under big trees. 

We marveled at how one of our best days of the whole trail could follow one of the worst, and noted how much our moods and outlook depended on air temperature and sunlight. How do the wild animals do it, living out here every day and continuing their work, raising their young and preparing for winter no matter what the skies deliver? I suppose a thick oily coat of fur or feathers makes a difference. 

Day 129–Benchmark by Brunch 

We sailed from our campsite to the trailhead like a couple of milkweed seeds on the wind. On the way we encountered many horses and their people, including an older woman who was riding a horse, leading two more, and had a goofball yellow lab bounding ahead of her. Comparing notes later Mellow and I both decided we want to be her when we grow up.

We also saw many hares, some of them more curious than frightened. The terrain cleared out and flattened, with more open space between the tree-studded mountains and buttes. 

We reached Benchmark and now realized we hadn’t left the car here, but at Straight Creek about two miles south. Strangely the campground beside the Benchmark trailhead is called Straight Creek and vice versa, and there are no road signs for the Benchmark trailhead until you’re already so close you couldn’t miss it. No matter, the extra walking made up for the bit of trail we’d missed by parking elsewhere. We were thrilled to find our Kerrygold butter and fancy seeded gluten free bread still fresh, and feasted on these and other snacks all the way back to town. We had intended to stop by Benchmark Wilderness ranch to pick up my box but missed it and with gas running low couldn’t risk doubling back. We’d be here again either before or after hiking the next stretch and could swing by then. 

Jeff had told us the food was good at the Buckhorn Bar, so we headed there for burgers and beers while we decided what to do next. We could either stay here in Augusta for the night and drive back out to Benchmark to hike south to Helena, or we could hike north from Helena. In the first case we would need to get a ride from Helena back to the car later; in the second we could leave the car at the Helena airport for Saint Todd to retrieve, and he could come up to get us at Benchmark. 

Given how long it had taken us to get back to East Glacier by hitch despite amazing luck and generosity, we decided it was better to stick with the sure thing and a faster return to trail. We booked the last room at the Wagon Wheel Motel. 

At the hotel we ran into Mashed Potato and Beaver, did our laundry, and ate a hearty dinner. When we left trail I felt sure I needed a zero day in town to recover from the Very Cold Day, but by dinner time we were both feeling a hundred times better. This was partly due to some treats from Mellow’s car: clean town clothes and fancy shampoo and conditioner. 

Day 130–Augusta Nearo

Mellow and I both again had internet tasks to complete, so after a leisurely breakfast with Beaver, Mashed Potato, Kitchen Sink, and Coco we headed again to the Lighning Bug for lattes and WiFi. Kitchen Sink was already in the little sitting room there, and thanks to his overstuffed technology bag had a three foot cable to spare so I could sit in a chair like a person. 

We gave KS a ride to the trailhead, first stopping at Benchmark Ranch to get my box and dig through the very well supplied hiker box. Mellow paid it forward by cleaning up some protein powder that had spilled inside and organizing the rest of the contents. I snagged a couple of caffeinated bars and a bag of chia seeds, the perfect addition to my bag of granola to make it better for cold soaking. 

At the trailhead we lived like queens: we set up the folding table Mellow carries for merchandise booths beside the car and made decadent roast beef sandwiches with supplies from town. Then we laid all of our resupply food out on the table to “shop” the perfect menu for the stretch ahead. We had 125 miles or so to Helena, which we expected would take five full days of hiking; having been quite hungry on the last section, we both added more than we thought we’d need and set out with heavy packs. We were delighted to see we were still in the Bob.

The Straight Creek route chopped off a few miles of hiking versus the red line; by nightfall we’d be at a creek where the two trails intersect. When we arrived there the two best spots under tree cover were already taken by other hikers so we camped in the open near the water and crossed our fingers that the condensation would be minimal—we had only just gotten everything dry again! 

Day 131–Turning Back & Moving On

We woke by the creek well rested, having slept to the sounds of water. Consulting the map, the best bet for today would be to hike just over 22 miles, taking us to the last reliable water before climbing to a dry ridge where we’d have to carry water for a long stretch. First we needed to cross the cold creek to return to trail, which we did in bare feet so we wouldn’t have wet shoes. 

We emerged through bushes back to the trail and back to the burn area we’d been hiking through for the last few miles yesterday. The day quickly grew hot, made more intense by the lack of living trees to give us cover. Charred half-trees looked like black bears from a distance. On the bright side we could see all of the mountains around us, and weren’t at risk of sneaking up on a grizzly. At least, we could see well until wildfire smoke started to accrue. 

I got a message via Garmin from Todd sharing a CDT alert: the trail was closed about fifty miles ahead due to a new wildfire at Marsh Creek. We looked at the map and tried to figure out what to do; without signal we had to do a lot of guessing. Should we go all the way to Stemple Pass where the trail officially closed, and bail down to a remote road there? Or would it be better to leave the trail by an earlier pass (Flesher or Rogers perhaps?) where we could reach a larger road with an easier hitch to Helena? Or, would heavier smoke get to us long before the closure, making it better for us to turn around and go back to the car now? We decided to continue on for now and see how it went. 

 

After a few miles we inadvertently walked onto a side trail, but it was a fun side quest: we found a ranger cabin, an extra cabin with salt and hay for horses, and a brand new privy. Mellow took the opportunity to do a photo shoot for Symbiosis; I had fun walking in and out of the horse supply cabin modeling my pack. The smoke in the air gave the light a golden cast as if it were already late afternoon.

We hiked back to the actual trail and soon were heading gently uphill. The smoke ahead grew thicker and now we could smell it strongly. Our throats started to itch. We weren’t sure what to do—maybe being on a high ridge would offer respite from the smoke. On the other hand, Mellow had learned from a firefighter friend that because fire always goes up it’s best to stay low if you are trying to navigate around it. The area we were hiking through had burned unexpectedly when the Canyon Creek fire suddenly flared up after several weeks of containment—the same could happen again. 

We encountered long lost friends heading northbound: Chopsticks and fellow Trek blogger Lookout (Al Marriott). We took a break to chat, congratulating them on their home stretch to the end and gathering intel. Lookout shared that he’ll be soliciting photos and stories for a CDT yearbook and will have some hard copies printed for anyone who’d like a coffee table memento. What a great idea—thanks, Lookout! 

Lookout also suggested we could continue past the closure on a road route to an alpaca farm we’d heard about. The owners provide food and water to bikers and hikers, and we had already considered that route because it shaves a few miles off the route to Helena. But just because a route is legal and possible doesn’t mean I want to hike it in thick smoke—we’d still have to wait and see. Breathing wildfire smoke while exerting your body is very unhealthy, and it can take days or even weeks to fully recover. 

We continued on to Welcome Creek where we stopped for water and took a break on a log. The smoke was growing denser and our eyes were beginning to burn. We could even see smoke back the way we came—the fire was still a good bit south and west of us, but smoke was winding through the narrow valleys and gulches of the Scapegoat wilderness and hanging low to the ground in the hot, stagnant air. 

Mellow went to filter some water and noticed that there were bugs and other floaties in her clean water bottle. Had she accidentally confused her dirty bottle for the clean one? Had there been some debris in the mouth of the filter? Or had her filter perhaps frozen when we hiked through snow and wind on the Spotted Bear alt a few days prior, and she hadn’t noticed because the water since then had been so clear?

She dumped her water and gathered more so we could find out, making sure the dirty water had some visible debris. Sure enough, the Sawyer let it through. Her filter had frozen, breaking its nanotubes and rendering it useless. We used my Steripen to get water for her.

This new development put a heavy thumb on the scale toward heading back to the car: better to get to sure transport than to hike onward in the smoke over a particularly dry stretch while having to use one Steripen to laboriously treat water for two people. The smoke grew thicker still. Our decision was made. We turned around with about 13 miles to get back to Straight Creek where we’d parked the car. If we didn’t dawdle we could be on the road before dark, and could figure out what to do next once we reached phone signal—depending on which way the smoke was moving we’d head east to Great Falls or south to Helena. I’ll have to make up this section in the future under clear skies, easily done by accessing Welcome Pass from the east or walking in from the west via Lincoln. 

As soon as we got back to Augusta we checked the smoke map and headed to Helena. On the way we called Michael at the Montana Inn to make sure he had room for us tonight instead of four days later as planned—when Saint would arrive from Michigan to rejoin the hike. We could figure out next steps in the morning, including whether he should change his flight to an earlier day. 

We arrived around 9:30pm and Michael kindly met us to give us the tour of the hostel, which occupies the back half of an enormous house built in 1887. We took showers and crashed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately and not waking until the sun was up. 

Day 132– Lewis and Clark and Mellow and Swisscake 

I woke early and tiptoed out to the kitchen to make a big pot of coffee. Firecracker and Kaboom appeared, and shared that they had hung out the night before with a group of women we hadn’t seen in a while who were all now hiking together: Bus Driver, Hamilton, fellow blogger Double Dip (Katie Jackson), Hailey, and Livvy. The whole crew had stayed out late playing pool, and now the others were already headed north. Godspeed you badass women! 

We had breakfast at a diner and hit the grocery stores for ingredients for a healthy dinner: big salads with chicken, avocado, and all the veggies. I called local outfitter The Base Camp to confirm that my new shoes would be waiting for me there in a couple of days. 

Mellow was ready to head back to Denver to focus on her work, a little sad that the fire and smoke had prevented us from completing the section from Welcome Creek to Helena but glad to have gotten back out on trail this year and to have made it through the Bob Marshall Wilderness. She’ll be doing some more hiking this fall to grab a couple of small missing sections and then next year can hike from Steamboat to Welcome before a triumphant finish in Glacier. It was such a privilege to hike with her in the Bob and beyond, and I’m looking forward to our future adventures together. 

In light of our early escape to town Saint had moved his flight up a couple of days and would arrive tomorrow; Mellow would leave the following day so we’d all have some time to hang out.
Tonight after our fantastic homemade dinner we headed over to the Lewis and Clark Brewery to reflect on our hike and to plot and scheme about all sorts of future possibilities both recreational and professional while listening to Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson. (I’m a fan of country music as played in Montana—nary a “cold beer, red truck” song to be found, just the good stuff.)

Day 133–When the Saint Comes Marching In

After two rounds of breakfast we picked Saint up from the airport, his retransformation to a thru hiker having happened, he said, sometime on his flight from Detroit to Salt Lake. He has put ten pounds back on since he went home from Steamboat, and is excited to hit the trail again. 

We all headed to our new hotel for the night so we could hang out in Helena’s historic downtown. The Montana Inn is a fine hostel but its location isn’t ideal—now we were at the Budget Inn, right next to the post office and close to the outfitter where I would get my shoes tomorrow. Being downtown also meant we could properly celebrate Mellow as she prepared to hit the road, and nobody would have to drive. In all the hullabaloo and joy, I didn’t take a single photo this day. So glad to have him back on trail!

Day 134–Sleeping In and Setting Sail

We slept in past 8:30 for the first time ever on trail, waking to a text from Mellow about breakfast. Michael had told us about a hippie spot downtown that only takes cash, and No Sweat Café was indeed just what we wanted, with veggies, brown rice, feta, Ezekiel bread, and so on.

When we were back at the hotel packing up we got another text from Mellow saying to come outside. There we had a fun reunion with Energizer, Knee Deep, and Mash, whom we hadn’t seen since Ghost Ranch. They have also been hiking with Logman, who had already returned to trail. We shared intel and compared notes—everyone is tired and ready to be done, even though we’re still enjoying every day. 

We said goodbye to Mellow and wished her well on her journey south.

Next it was time for the post office, where I sent my tent and sleeping pad home to our neighbor Alicia in case I need it again on this hike—safer and easier than trying to guess which post office to send it to. 

We picked up my desperately needed new shoes from The Base Camp, grabbing a couple extra hiker meals as well. Somehow we were already hungry again, so we feasted on falafel and chicken fingers (more like chicken hands? So big!) at The Hopper, where we got free beer for being thru hikers. 

Finally it was time to get on trail. Oh, but wait—we needed to replace Saint’s Smartwater bottles. In our search for a shop that carries them we walked into the Mercantile, and the wonderful Indigo offered to drive us to the trail south of the reroute for construction, down by Rimini. We would just have to wait a couple hours for her son to get out of school. Thank you, Indigo! While we waited, some iced sage tea…

After an entertaining and informative car ride—Indigo was born in Butte, and is the person who has been cleaning the old schoolhouse bathroom in Rimini that all the hikers have been using—we were dropped on a dirt road that would eventually take us back to the official trail, in about five miles. 

Saint was so excited to see a CDT blaze again, and we were both thrilled to be camping out under the stars together again. The night was clear so we didn’t bother with the fly. 

Next time: Helena to Butte, aka Come On, Let’s Flip Again!