At the lake below the pass I chatted with Hike-aholic, a thru hiker having his lunch break. After traversing another pile of boulders, I found trail tread past more lakes and had lunch at Shadow Lake. After that, it was just straightforward trail walking gently downhill to reconnect with the CDT.
“It wouldn’t be the CDT without fording rivers every day.”
RockStar had left her trademark stars drawn in the trail dust, so I knew she was ahead. After loading water, I forded the river, upped the umbrella and donned my rain gear for a hard shower. I walked up to the campsite RockStar had chosen. We were glad to reconnect. We can both hike solo, but we also enjoy each other’s company.
It was unpleasant to put on wet shoes in the morning, but they dried as the day went on. The trail was evenly graded, though rocky, over a high, open plateau near many beautiful lakes through meadows dotted with granite chunks. After meeting a couple of hikers and a group with horses, Bobcat, a NOBO thru hiker, passed us moving much faster than we could.
I managed to keep my feet dry all day, but wouldn't you know it, a mile before our destination we had to cross a very broad creek with no rocks. So I again had wet shoes for the night. We fell asleep listening to the falling of soft rain. (Wet shoes are quite annoying when making a middle-of-the-night potty run. You have to take bed socks off to stick bare feet into wet shoes, and then come back and reverse the process with the addition of having to dry your feet before putting on dry bed socks.)
The weather had been warm so far, in the high 40s when we woke up. By afternoon we were baking under hot sun before clouds gathered to give us shade and rain. Coming to more rugged country, peaceful and quiet, lakes reflected mountains and trees.
Views from 10,848-foot Hat Pass were glorious and flowers were quite showy most of the day. We forded one river, but I managed to find just enough rocks to rock-hop across the last one of the day, and my feet remained dry for the night. Yay.
It rained all night until miraculously stopping right after my alarm went off in the morning. Thank you, God. I hated packing up in the rain. We had two climbs of 500 feet or so in rugged, rocky country, where the views were superb, making climbs worthwhile even if we were slow. We walked by flower shows, picturesque lakes, and spectacular rugged ranges with snow on the peaks.
Creeks and rivers were beautiful, too, although I could have wished for a way to pass besides wading. It didn't seem that it would be the CDT without fording rivers every day. Turning at the trail junction before Pole Creek, we listened to water music as we climbed up and down the trail beside it, rockier than we had anticipated. When we did have to ford Pole Creek’s wide and fairly swift current, the water was above our knees.
One of the hikers we met during the day was a priest in habit, muddy to the knees. I’d met priests before on US Wilderness trails, but never in habit. The long slog to Mary’s Lake was more uphill than topography lines had suggested and slowed our already slow pace. We did not pass the lake until 4:00.
From the ridge above Eklund Lake, we had a picture-postcard view encompassing the lake and Wind River Mountains. Wow. Spectacular.
After getting water and one last snack break near Eklund, it was nearly 5:00. We pounded down the trail, which was, mercifully, better and mostly downhill, but it was long, and went through a generous amount of mud and standing water. We dubbed it The Mud Pits of Wyoming.
I should have remembered when planning this hike, that I was 73-years-old and just couldn’t reasonably accomplish what I could have done more easily even a couple years previously. We did make it before dark, barely, arriving at the trailhead at 8:15, with umbrellas up.
Tailwinds had walked out to meet us. What a sweetie. She drove two very tired and scraggly hikers back to Cora for our blissful showers and fed us before we went to our lovely guest rooms and collapsed into heavenly beds.
Our planned rest day in Cora had very little rest in it. We organized the next three food boxes, did the laundry, and made our shopping lists for equipment and food. Then we were off to the Outdoor Store. I was able to replace the Steripen, get Aqua Mira, and a new platypus (water bag), so I was in business again with water purification and storage. We had lunch with a Camino hiker, who had arranged to meet me, peppered us with hiking questions, and brought us chocolate chip cookies and two palm crosses to bless our hike.
After that it was on to the grocery store. I found my one item and made phone calls to find out my daughter had just gone into labor. Back at Tailwind's we had more organizing and packing. Yellowstone (the hiker) and her two friends came by to pick up my car, which she would take to Yellowstone (the Park) after their backpack trip in the Winds.
After a quick shower, RockStar and I took Tailwinds and Fred out to dinner. Well, of course, they drove, as my car was already gone with Yellowstone. We wanted to reciprocate at least a little for all the incredible trail support they gave us. After dinner, still more sorting and packing needed to be done. We didn’t do anything we didn’t want to do on that busy day. It's just that we had much to accomplish. Rest days are not always restful. Well, we were not walking uphill with packs, so it was more restful than hiking.
The biggest news of the day was that my daughter had twin boys - 6 pounds and 5 pounds, very healthy weight for twins. Mommy and babies were doing well, and I was Grandma once again, make that twice again.
The Central Winds
Up early, we left Pole Creek Trailhead by 7:00, and Yellowstone and her friends behind by five minutes, quickly passed us. We did pretty well on the trail—for us. After the gradual climb to Eklund Lake, we chose to take the trail to Seneca Lake instead of returning to Pole Creek and going over Lester Pass. That saved us a few miles and gave us a lower campsite in case of thunderstorms. We passed Barbara, Hobs, and unnamed lakes, the trail gradually becoming rougher.
There were numerous backpackers. We played leapfrog with an older couple, Nonnie from Nowhere and Peter. Nonnie was a 73-year-old Triple Crowner. Let's hear it for us old ladies.
Seneca Lake was a large, granite-sided lake, my favorite lake of the trip. We camped above the north end in a secluded spot, and the view from above our tents was amazing. The water was almost as deep a blue as Crater Lake, and it was surrounded by granite reminiscent of Fontanelle and Aloha Lakes in the Sierra. I wanted to gaze longer, but the desire to be horizontal called me to my sleeping bag.
On a frosty morning, Nonnie and Peter caught up with us, and we all made our way past Little Seneca to the Highline Trail. (CDT) At Island Lake trail junction, we said good-bye to Nonnie, Peter, and their cute little dog Anza, an amazing hiker for such a small dog.
The trail was rugged most of the day; incredibly convoluted contour lines on the map depicted rough and rocky bumps over which we hiked up and down, between or around, moving at our regular snail's pace. The terrain, though difficult, was above timberline the whole day, beside numerous high and rocky peaks of the Wind River Range.
Besides spectacular mountains, there were numerous lakes of all sizes, named and unnamed and beautiful, rushing mountain creeks. Field after field was filled with flowers of yellow, red, purple, pink, and white. I’d never seen that particular combination of bright red paintbrush and purple asters with a pinkish cast. Elephant heads were a little past their prime but still noticeably fragrant. Bright, hot pink alpine primroses grew in a wet spot at high elevation. All of that color for foreground and rocky peaks for background surrounded sparkling blue lakes. Glorious. We took pictures of ourselves among the flowers at Upper Jean Lake, tall peaks in the immediate background, a favorite memory captured.
We didn’t meet hikers until near the end of the day when we met Montana, hiking from his home in Bozeman, a 2008 PCT hiker. We searched for a campsite above a river crossing as I was getting pretty tired and had a small headache. With such a spectacular day, I didn’t think a little headache was much of a complaint.
While crossing Pine Creek on an assortment of logs and rocks, I stepped on what looked like a very large and
stable rock. Only it wasn't. It was a roller. I juggled to stay upright losing one foot to the creek. Initially I thought it was funny, but then I realized I’d tweaked my left knee, the replacement knee.
I quickly put on the knee strap to get some compression and then I babied the knee as we walked past Summit Lake to the Pass. Fortunately, the trail was smooth, but I was concerned as memories of a serious knee problem in Spain were quite fresh in my mind. I elevated the knee during break and lunch, took my regular pain killer after lunch, and walked gently and carefully.
The trail was smooth downhill the rest of the day as we descended to the Green River. It really was green, the color mixed to a light green by glacial silt and white rapids. We camped somewhat illegally close to the river but could find nowhere else to put a tent. We left no trace of our campsite, but previous campers had left two fire rings.
The next day, smooth and easy trail took us along the Green River, continuing to be a lovely green, sometimes mixed with white and sometimes darker green. Squaretop Mountain was impressive behind Green Lakes’ dark green water.
We were rather impressed with ourselves when we reached the trailhead at 12:30. Having no cell reception to tell Tailwinds we were early, we waited and lounged against our packs. Eventually back at Cora, cell reception brought me pictures of my newest grandsons.
Weather Change and a Bailout
I woke a couple times in the night thinking, "What a lovely bed." In the morning Tailwinds took us out to the trailhead. Fresh and clean, we hit the trail. Entering deep fog through grass soaked with the night’s rain, in less than five minutes, we were soaked from wet bushes and muddy from the trail. Our feet would be wet all day.
Climbing a thousand feet through gradually lifting fog, we listened to coyotes howl in the distance. After an eon, we reached the top of the ridge and descended a few hundred feet to Roaring Fork, where we met four people taking fish samples for the forest service. Besides going up at least another thousand feet, the trail insisted on going down every so often, so we climbed some of the elevation twice. Even crippled slugs eventually get to the top, and we finally crested Gunsight Pass and went down the other side.
Stopping to get water, Hawkeye, a NOBO, came by, and we chatted briefly. Our luck crossing creeks ran out towards the end of the day. I slipped in at one crossing, and we both ended up wading through a couple, so by the time we made camp we had really wet feet.
A beaver was swimming in a pond near our far-from-ideal campsite as we squished into tiny spots between two swamps, nothing else looking any better. We barely got tents up and dinner ready before it started to rain.
It rained and the wind blew the trees all night. We were not under widow makers, but I wondered if the charming beaver we had seen would come out at night and chew a live one down on us. We survived the night, and mercifully the rain stopped to let us pack.
Needing raingear and umbrellas the whole day, the rain wasn’t a passing thunderstorm, but an extensive cold front with solid dark clouds over most of the sky. And RockStar's sleeping bag had gotten wet in the night.
We popped into the pretty open meadow of Fish Creek to share the scenery with cows. Herding cows was not on our to-do lists for the day, so I talked a reassuring line of steady chatter in hopes they wouldn’t just run down the trail in front of us for miles. Two legged critters with umbrellas no doubt looked strange to them. We were not making good time with constant rain, wind, and a cold 50 degrees, good hypothermia weather. Body cooling and wetness at 50 could potentially be a problem if we stopped moving and lost heat provided by exertion. Then we had to ford the creek. Already soaked, I just waded through. After grabbing some water from the creek, we went on, feet wet and cold.
Before we left Cora, we had heard the cold front was coming, forecast to be even colder over the next few days. We had hoped we might be lucky and the forecast would be wrong. We weren’t that lucky.
As we came to the only likely bailout spot for the next three days, we knew we were in a potentially serious situation, especially for RockStar, with a wet sleeping bag and no way to dry it out.
Standing on a dirt road, we wished for a car, but all we saw were fairly fresh tire tracks. We hemmed and hawed for close to an hour wondering what we should do. Continue on the trail? Walk down the road? Which direction? Standing in the rain staring at our GPS's wasn't getting us anywhere, and we were chilling from inactivity. As we were about to continue on the trail hoping for the best, a big SUV came around the corner. We bailed out thanks to two very kind and generous fishermen from Michigan.
For a 2 ½ hour drive on a bad jeep road, we bounced on the floor of the van, thankful to be going out. We returned to Tailwinds' house, joking about bad houseguests, who refused to leave. Tailwinds and Fred were very gracious and glad we were safe; we were glad to be warm and have dry feet. I’d lived through such weather before, but at 73 I was content to have both the good sense and good luck to get off trail.
Alternate Plans
I made everyone a pasta dinner, and in the evening looking at maps I made an alternate plan from Brooke's Lake to the Highway in Yellowstone with a bit of a slack pack before Brooke's Lake. We needed to keep our schedule going into Yellowstone as we had lodging reservations. The alternate plan gave us an extra day to make up for our continually slow pace.
We made a good call to get off trail though I hated to skip a section. It rained all night, and the following day was stormy and cold, even in Cora. RockStar and Tailwinds both thought the proposed change in plans looked good. At any rate, it was the best we could do.
Yellowstone called when she and her friends came out of the Winds. They’d seen fresh snow and said it was very wet walking out. When Yellowstone got home, she posted a winter-weather advisory in Montana. It was only August 23rd, but I was chilled in the house thinking how cold I would be on the trail. We hit the outdoor store for extra gloves and socks, and it was good to have two zero days to rest. Hopefully, we would have adequate gear and enough energy to carry out our revised plan.
Tailwinds drove us up to Togawotee Pass and dropped us off for a bit of a slack pack from a mile below the highway up to Brooks Lake. Below the highway was a pleasant walk; after crossing the highway, we were glad to have our GPS as the trail was indistinct, if it was there at all. We only had to walk a mile and a half through meadowland, but the tall, very wet grass, along with boggy marsh, wasn’t pleasant. Our shoes, dried for two days in a house, were waterlogged again. Reaching the jeep road we found a sea of mud 6-8 inches deep. That wasn’t pleasant to negotiate either.
The mesa above the lodge was pretty, with fresh snow in the cracks and below the sheer rock walls. The horses in the corral didn’t look happy, standing mud-splattered in the cold. It felt like winter, and, of course, it rained. Tailwinds, patiently waiting for us at the trailhead past Brooks Lake Lodge, took us to a motel in Dubois. The weather forecast promised two more crappy days to be followed with nice weather.
“I think we’re gonna die tomorrow.”
The day we left Brooks Lake was better than expected but full of muddy challenges. Tailwinds drove us to Brooks Lake, and we said good-bye to our friend and wonderful trail angel. She and Fred had been extraordinarily hospitable.
Setting out in fog, we were not expecting good weather. Surprisingly, fog lifted before we got to the end of the lake. Although the day was overcast, it didn’t rain. But the trail, a soupy mess of mud churned to slop by horses, was extremely difficult walking. We picked our way along, slowly balancing on the grassy edges of trail when there were grassy edges of trail. Walking on the trail itself risked skidding severely or falling in mud and standing water. Mud caked on our shoes oozing out to the sides, like wearing tugboats or tanks.
Needless to say, we didn’t make good time, though the trail would have been easy on a good day without the mud. We were glad we had rearranged our schedule to give us an extra day, even though we were carrying seven days food. We forded two creeks in our water shoes (I brough
t my sandals for this stretch.) and our feet almost dried out as we walked until, after the last ford, thunderstorms turned all the grass and bushes wet, so we again had wet feet.
Grizzly bear prints in the mud were all going in the opposite direction, and we hoped the bears didn't decide to come back. Smellables and food were in our big bear cans, and a few things like bug repellant and sunburn cream were in odor-proof bags and away from the tents at night. Bears like anything that smells, not just food.
The mountains had changed from the Winds, resembling the Sierra or Rockies to the Absarokas, shaped more like mountains in Glacier National Park. The only campsite we saw all day was fortunately near our water source for the evening.
In the morning there was ice on the bear cans, and right off the bat we had to ford an icy river. But the sky was blue. The trail was still mud, but icy cold mud was firm and much easier to walk on than squishy warm mud. Coming to a fork in the trail, we left the horse path, a relief to walk on a trail not chewed by hooves.
In a canyon thick with monkshood, a deep blue-purple flower and one of our favorites, we took an extended break to dry out wet tents and gear, and I sewed up a split seam in my pants while enjoying bright sunshine. The Tetons were visible through the Buffalo River gap as we forded the South Fork of the Buffalo River. Walking through burned timber in the afternoon, we saw 3-4 elk, as well as deer and bear tracks. Reaching the locked patrol cabin by 6:00 we set up our tents.
I left RockStar to defend our tents with bear spray should a bear appear and took our containers to the river for water. Worry about bears was then overshadowed by worry about tomorrow's river crossing. The riverbank was washed out, and trees lay tossed in a log jam. Walking back with our water, I told RockStar, “I think we’re gonna die tomorrow.” I was really spooked.
Old Lady on the Trail- Triple Crown at 76 Page 39
