Moving fast, but going slow (and the Great Basin isn’t so great)

It’s really only been a week or so since my last update, but it feels like a lot has happened so here we go.

Finishing the Winds

I caught a ride up from Pinedale with Re-run, a hiker/trail angel living in town that I met at the grocery store. He’s one of those guys that I’ve somehow kept missing, but that’s always been on trails around me at the same time. We both knew of the other, but had never actually met and it was fun to chat and discover what mutual friends we shared. After getting dropped at the trailhead I began my journey to rejoin the CDT, about 15 miles along various side trails before rejoining the trail itself further up the way. I set up camp that night in the middle of a beautiful stretch of alpine lakes, and was rewarded for that questionable choice with enough frozen condensation in my tent the next morning to make a snowball after shaking it all out. Oops. I’ve got a warmer sleeping bag waiting for me in Colorado, and I’m definitely ready for it.

About an hour after leaving camp I ran into a northbound hiker named Larry the Log. Larry carries with him a log to bring attention to various charities as he hikes, and has hikers sign the logs as he goes. I signed his AT log while working at Mountain Crossings, his PCT log in Chester, and now his CDT log in the Winds. We laughed together about how narrow long trails are, and how often you see the same people. According to him, the Tin Man and myself are the only hikers so far to have signed all three logs. I shared with him the best route I’d found to get in and out of Pinedale, and he gave me all the information I needed about the Cirque de Towers high route alternate I was planning on taking.

As I approached the turnoff for the alternate, I ran into two women hiking the Wind River High Route. We stopped to discuss trail conditions, and after a few minutes realized we hadn’t intruded ourselves. One of the women turned out to be Sauce, who works for Backpacker Radio. Again, we both knew of each other although we’d never met. She told me about how she and Chaunce had just hiked the Teton Crest Trail, largely due to my recommendation. It’s weird how small this community is, but I absolutely love it.

The trail itself was absolutely incredible, and some of the most beautiful hiking I’ve ever done. Texas Pass, Jackass Pass, and a seemingly unnamed pass (henceforth and forevermore known as Moose Juice Pass) were all absurdly steep rock scrambles, but with truly incredible views. It’s been my favorite section of trail so far.

After descending Moose Juice Pass and heading out of the winds I ran into a nobo named megatron and handed him my bear spray, I hope he doesn’t need it. Goodbye Grizzly Country! I’ll miss ya.

The Basin

The Great Basin mostly sucks, and it doesn’t help that I entered it in the middle of a heat wave. The thermometer at the visitors center sat at 99 degrees when I passed it at 11am. Tough. Still, my heart has a special place for deserts after the PCT and I remained optimistic. A friend had recently described the high basin to me as a “wild place full of zombies doing insane miles”.

I set up camp early that night, exactly 100 miles from Rawlins.

I’ve wanted to try this for a long time, and knew this was the place to do it. If it was gonna happen, it was now. I’d debated my strategy on this for the last couple hundred miles. I couldn’t decide if it was better to take a rest day before hand and start fresh, or try it towards the end of a longer carry, when I typically hit my larger mile days. In the end I’ve always felt that town makes you weak, so I left Pinedale with the intentions of skipping Lander, carrying 225 miles worth of food. I think it ended up being the right call, but damn did that heavy pack suck the first few days.

I started my 100 mile attempt at 3am, hoping to finish by noon of the next day. By sunrise I was in high spirits. By noon I was doing fine. By late afternoon I was struggling. I hadn’t considered how much the heat would impact me, and I trudged along trying not to think of how far I still had to go.

Still, I hit my goal of 50 miles by sunset and decided to keep going. Once the sun had fully set and the heat left the desert I came alive. It was a completely moonless night, but the stars and the Milky Way were enough to light the trail ahead of me even without using my headlamp. I found a second wind somewhere around mile 60 and decided to start running. I covered 20 miles without slowing and have never felt so alive. 

It didn’t last forever. Somewhere around mile 80 I began to feel some pain in my right Achilles. It’s an old injury from the PCT that never quite healed, and feeling it hurt again scared me. I stoped and sat down, and decided this attempt wasn’t worth risking my thru hike. I decided to call it quits. 

I woke up just under two hours later, still strapped into my pack with a mouse investigating the half eaten cliff bar in my hand. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep, but it was exactly what I needed. My Achilles felt mostly better and I decided to to push on, finishing half an hour before my goal. A reminder that fatigue makes cowards of us all.

I’m proud of myself for that accomplishment, but it does seem to have come at a cost. 

I took a zero in Rawlins and headed back out yesterday. At about mile 20 I began to feel some irritation in the Achilles, and at mile 25 I had a sudden pain so sharp that I collapsed. Luckily I wasn’t far from a road and was able to get a ride back into town, where I’m now resting. I’m pretty confident that a day or two of rest and ice will be what I need and that I’ll be back on the trail soon, but I’m determined to play this smart.