When we had gone to bed, the sun still dominated the sky with only a handful of brave clouds fending for space amid its rays. When we had woken up, everything had changed. What first began with the lightest of drizzles morphed slowly into droplets that sounded a bit more like sleet. By morning, the snow that dusted the ground and our tents told the rest of the night’s story.
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Border Eve
Truth be told, I’m running out of superlatives. Another day, another pass, another dazzling display of mountain pornography that almost defies description. Before we even began any of the hard work of climbing our way back into the high country, I had to rub my eyes to make sure I was seeing accurately the massive shape nestled in the grass 50 yards off the trail.
Garden Wall
Mace said it best when we had reached the crest of Piegan Pass, some 3,000 feet higher than where we’d left our camp this morning, saying: “This is why I do this. It’s places like this that get burned into your mind.” He couldn’t have been more right.
John Muir Would Be Proud
Six weeks ago, as part of a talk titled In the Land of Dust and Fire: Hiking the American West, I mentioned this quote by John Muir which he gave when asked what he thought of hiking: “I don’t like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains – not hike!”
Triple Divide
Well, this is awkward, and frankly, it was bound to happen. Especially here. Just as in places like the Wind River Range, there’s hardly anything I can say about the experience of the scenery found in Glacier National Park that photos can’t already tell you. Under a sky swept clean of yesterday’s gray clouds, a deep blue backdrop conveniently arrived to make those photos all the more stunning.
Hidden Masterpiece
A person could get used to this, even in spite of the weather. The familiar pitter-patter on the roof of our tent at 4am sounded hesitant, almost apologetic, as though it knew that the clouds it brought with it would obscure nature’s masterpiece. The masterpiece we’d so looked forward to seeing.
Reunion
It feels like a long time since we’ve had a hiking day like this, absent a place to be and a schedule to keep. In truth, we did have somewhere to be but with only 11 miles of sweet, sweet National Park trail between there and here, it felt about as leisurely as things ever get out here.
Unfinished
Last year was a weird year. How’s that for understatement? A world away from a world that was tumbling down a spiral it had not seen in a century, we had the good fortune to be strolling through some of the country’s most spectacular scenery as we followed the length of the Continental Divide Trail. Right up until we reached Glacier National Park, at least.
The Folly of FKTs
The 100-meter dash is not for the slow-footed. It is the domain of the rocket ships of the human race and the winners are bestowed the title of world’s fastest man or woman. One simple question though: Why?
Thimbleberry Lane
Late yesterday afternoon while traversing the never-ending burn zone that is northern Montana, a bright sign appeared beside a trail junction. Dated one day before we'd left our last town stop in Lincoln, it detailed the location of a new forest fire burning in the wilderness only a couple of miles due west of the CDT.
A Tale of Fire
I'm on some kind of ride at the county fair, which one I'm not entirely sure. The Tilt-o-Whirl maybe, or perhaps the Scrambler. It might even be the giant swirling swing ride. When my eyes open, I don't see the lights of the midway though, only darkness. Turns out it was only partly a dream.
A Birthday Ode to Ace
Four years ago, I wrote this post sick to my stomach over a tearful goodbye as Ace went home to our house in Seattle and back to work while I continued on my hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. Rereading it now, I can still feel my insides turning over seeing how broken hearted she was to say goodbye for what we both knew would be a long time.
The Bob
The trail beyond Benchmark Wilderness Ranch is not what you'd expect. As the Divide becomes sharper and more picturesque, the CDT opts not for its usual lofty place where it typically follows the physical contour of the Divide itself, but instead it descends and follows the course of rivers far below. Not that it's a bad thing as far as walking is concerned…
The Winter Solstice of Hiking
Anything worth doing is worth doing right. And when you plan to have a short near-o into a town stop, you may as well do it with style and not even hike a single mile. It may not be the shortest day of the year, but it sure was the shortest day of hiking we've had on this trail (any trail?) and with the previous day’s miles having moved by faster than expected to put us here, neither of us was complaining.
Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde
Looking back at the hillside it was nestled into, surrounded by a maturing forest of pine, you have to shake yourself a bit to even wonder: that's an outfitter up there? Even as it shrunk into the distance, I had to assure myself that it had not been a mirage.
The Sun is Not My Friend
It's my fault somehow, that much I know. A punishment for some past transgression, perhaps. A punishment I receive over and over again, my own version of Sisyphus’ fate, stuck in an endless loop. The sun is my kryptonite.
America’s Backbone
Not humid, but something masquerading as that. Close. Like the air had taken on a new quality, one that bound it more tightly around you. My tiny brain sought out some sort of explanation but found none. All I knew was that I was hot, and I had a salt stained shirt to prove it. This is why I guzzle electrolytes like I own stock in Gatorade and Pedialyte.
Feel the Burn
Fire, as it turns out, respects no boundary. Early in the morning, we entered into the Anaconda-Pintler Wilderness, marking a new range of peaks that I'd been looking forward to since our return to Montana. Passing by the wilderness boundary, it's almost reflexive to think that there's some imaginary dividing line beyond which the landscape will instantaneously change into an idyllic wilderness.
Big Hole
Prying apart a seemingly endless expanse of emerald green forest, a bright golden sea of grass cradles a hardy stock of ranchers and a lazy, winding river that courses through it. Late summer stacks and rolls of bailed hay dot the fertile land by the thousands. It's the kind of place Monet would have come to paint had he not found haystacks closer to home. That's the Big Hole Valley.
A History of PUDs
It's the dirtiest of words out here: PUDs. Pointless Ups and Downs. It behooves you not to complain too much when you've signed up of your own volition to walk from one side of the country to the other, but PUDs are like the proverbial thorn in your side, the pebble in your shoe, the tiny thorn entangled deep in the fibers of your sock that you just can't shake…
When Montana Met Idaho
To an outsider, they seem the same. Those are probably fightin’ words to the locals. Returning to the land where this trip had all began, I'd forgotten how challenging it can be to know which state you're in at any given moment. High atop the divide, the trail is more often than not the line of demarcation between Idaho and Montana.
A Parting of Ways
We're missing something. Well, two somethings. Two someones, to be precise, and it hasn't felt the same without them.
Mental Endurance
The moon was bright and clear in its corner of the sky as it rose above the shoulder of the mountain we camped high upon last night, but it didn't last--it too was soon swallowed by the clouds that cast a light but cold rain down on my tent overnight. When I woke this morning, little had changed and it was off again in full rain gear once more, hoping for the best.
John Muir Trail 2015
An image gallery of photos from the John Muir Trail—the jewel of the High Sierra, running 210-miles from Mt. Whitney to Yosemite Valley. Start Point: Yosemite Valley, CAEnd Point: Mt. Whitney, CATotal Length: 211 miles
Cove Mt.
Nice comfortable day to walk the flat miles of the Cumberland Valley, though it rained on and off for much of the day. Having left the north end of the Blue Ridge, the valley was about 15 miles of flat walking through fields and farmland--something entirely new for me on the trail so far. It was a nice change despite the poor weather on this Memorial Day holiday. A wonderful smell of honeysuckle lingered in the air all throughout the day.