Starting on our 2,000-foot climb north of the overlook, we saw peek-a-boo views of pointy mountains between the trees. Foam flower, bead lily, purple fleabane, and pearly everlasting made appearances beside the trail. More prominently, the trail was thickly lined with ripe thimbleberries. As we gained elevation, thimbleberries changed to huckleberries, and we proceeded to munch our way up the trail with breakfast fruit.
Reaching the Siyeh Bend Junction, our solitude and berries came to an end. Siyeh Bend was a popular trail that avoided the thousand feet we had just climbed. Everyone passed us: families, tourists, hiking clubs, and serious hikers. Lots of people were on the trail, and we were the slowest. RockStar had challenges going uphill, and I’d become old somewhere along the years. We might be long-distance hikers, but we were definitely not fast long-distance hikers.
No matter. We chatted a bit with Nancy and David from Portland. They had guessed we were backpackers from our packs, though we didn’t have most of our gear. Learning we were CDT hikers, Nancy asked if we had done AT and PCT, too, and were working toward Triple Crowns. Cool. Rarely did anyone know what that was, but Nancy was a long-distance-hiker wannabe.
We were slow for more than age or the state of our bodies. We were slow because we took a billion pictures. Stupendous, spectacular, awesome, jaw-dropping pictures. Glacier's mountains require all the superlatives. Towering mountains formed by glaciers carving immense cliffs surrounded us. Everywhere we looked was another view, flower, or field and hillside covered with flowers. Hanging glaciers clung to the mountains, and waterfalls plunged down the canyons.
Glacier had been the carrot ever since we bailed in 2014 due to bad weather. Sheer sides of Glacier’s mountains reached to the sky and lured us back on the trail after first seeing their grandeur. RockStar had hung in with me for the other CDT hikes for the chance to hike in Glacier. Climbing to Piegan Pass lived up to our expectations and then some.
Emerging from trees to the meadows of Preston Park, we saw even more flowers. The early bloomers were mostly done, but substantial numbers of others made an adequate show. Yellow Daisies were the dominant flower, especially in the high country. But valerian, yarrow, harebells, paintbrush, gentian and others chimed in.
It was a long walk above timberline to the top of the pass. The changing views of mountains and layers of cliffs laden with snow patches and glaciers were breathtaking. A ranger-led group passed us, and the ranger explained the bright turquoise color of the lake below the summit to the north was a result of rocks ground to powder by glaciers.
Descending opposite craggy cliffs and mountain walls with more hanging glaciers, we eventually stopped for a very late lunch as we reached scrubby, nearly wind-flattened trees. I fell and sat on one of the trees, and the fragrance of crushed needles was so sweet, I didn't mind falling.
Two girls from Taiwan, almost as slow as we were, passed us when we stopped for lunch. Watching them walk, I thought they were having more fun than the speedy hikers we had seen earlier. Our languages were different, but our enjoyment was the same. As we came to Morning Eagle Falls, which we’d first seen in the distance downhill, I took way too many pictures of it tumbling over maroon-colored rocks. I was afraid each view would be the last one, so I had to capture it. After the falls, it wasn’t far to the valley floor past bushes loaded with huckleberries. How could we make any time when we were being tempted by luscious dark-blue goodness begging to be eaten on every step of trail?
Passing Lake Josephine after a long, nearly level haul through the bottom of the valley, we took the short cut between Josephine and Swift Current Lakes on a bridge. The view of Many Glacier Hotel across the lake was classic.
That day was everything we could have hoped for. The only mar besides our slowness, was a paucity of blue sky; it was cloudy and cold all day. No rain fell beyond a few half-hearted spitting drops. Walking in such gorgeous scenery made it hard to complain about anything.
We made it to Swift Current about 7:30, not a great time speed-wise, but we had a great time. The cabin at Swift Current was cute, the beds superior. We exhaustedly fell into them and slept like logs.
After breakfast at the Swift Current Restaurant, we caught the hiker shuttle to Saint Mary and RockStar's car. After looking at campsite information for the next year, RockStar drove me to the St. Mary Falls trailhead so I could walk up to Jackson Overlook. Slack packing that short hike would change our last day of hiking from 15.1 miles to a more do-able 12.6.
I enjoyed pretty Deadwood Falls while munching on trail snacks and an apple. Back at Jackson Overlook, I found my car and moved it down to the St. Mary Falls trailhead. I and all food and gear we needed for the next five days were loaded into RockStar’s car, and after a stop for a late lunch, we headed to East Glacier for the night.
In the morning we picked up our backcountry permits and watched the compulsory bear/park rules video. After our late breakfast, lunch for me consisted of two very big cinnamon rolls while doing our laundry and writing a few notes about age records for a Triple Crowner.
Records are made to be broken. Having joked the last couple years that I was trying for the old lady record for completion of the Triple Crown, it looked like I might actually achieve that. Many caveats accompanied that statement. To begin with, no one keeps such records, and for all I knew, an 80-year-old woman might already have received the Triple Crown.
I was basing my sort of claim on the fact that Susan Alcorn, who kept an unofficial record of women’s age of completions for the PCT, had told me I was one of the oldest to do that, completing the PCT a week before turning 71. I assumed no one older had come along since then. I further assumed the CDT would be the last trail a Triple Crowner would complete. I also assumed I would have heard about an older woman, or man for that matter, on the CDT. If all those assumptions happened to be correct, I might turn out to be the oldest, if I was able to complete the CDT in 2017. Those were a lot of assumptions, the truth of which I had no way of knowing. Who knew?
Any musing about being the oldest was theory anyway, until the trail was complete. At 75, a failing body part could complicate life. With two shoulder replacements, one knee replacement, and another knee close to needing a replacement, plus various other age-related problems, I was quite aware complications were possible.
I had a rival for the supposed record. Barbara was a 74-year-old CDT section hiker, who had completed AT and PCT. Pretty cool. I am all for old ladies still on the trail. One of us may be the oldest woman Triple Crowner in a year or two, and any supposed record would be likely to stand only briefly, as increasing numbers of older women and men are doing this crazy thing of long-distance hiking. Pretty cool, that. Yay for the older set. I would be quite OK with being one of the oldest hikers to complete the Triple Crown.
Our dinner at Glacier Lodge was less than stellar, but we rescued the culinary adventure by getting huckleberry pie back at Luna's. Best huckleberry pie in town.
After breakfast at Luna's, having walked the half-mile from the Ranger Station to the trailhead the day before, we began at the trailhead for an uphill sort of day. Crossing the creek above Pray Lake we walked around Rising Wolf Mountain up the Dry Fork Valley between Rising Wolf and Red Mountain. Flinsch Peak and Mount Morgan were in sight most of the day.
Some of the ground cover was turning red. Berries were abundant: red Thimbleberry, orange mountain ash, red kinnikinnick, purple Oregon grape, and green to purple juniper, decorating the trail with color. And, of course, huckleberries asked us to munch them as we walked, leaving me with a purple mouth.
We had 1,500-feet elevation gain, and the last 500 feet seemed to take forever. Not a high-mileage day, we reached Oldman Lake about 2:30. A couple and their adult daughters camped at Oldman, too, and we enjoyed talking with them. The lake, at 8,700-feet elevation, was beautifully set in a large cirque comprised of Flinsch and Morgan's shoulders. There was plenty of grand scenery, though not quite as breathtaking as Piegan Pass. Debating Glacier scenery is quibbling o
ver hairs.
After dinner and a few chores, we snuggled in our tents for a chilly night. I’d brought my leg warmers and fleece, as well as my down jacket and extra gloves, not liking the extra weight, but glad to have the warmth. The wind roared all night long, waking me several times.
Oh well, up and at 'em. We started out with a 1,000-foot elevation gain as we climbed the walls of the cirque to Pitamakin Pass. In spite of the wind, I was in a good mood, and the climb went well. Spectacular mountains, valleys, and lakes on both sides of the pass, we said good-bye to Oldman Lake and Flinsch Peak, starting down toward Lake of the Seven Winds and Pitamakin Lake. I misread the name on my GPS as Lake of the Severe Winds. Severe or seven, the wind was fierce, nearly blowing me off my feet and trying to hurl me into the lakes below us. I was glad for the weight in my pack and often crouched low, hanging on to my poles to brace against the wind. We finally made it down to tree line.
Descending 2,277 feet, we had a very late lunch before Morning Star Lake. Our campsite neighbors from Oldman Lake passed us to camp there. Our trail wound through foliage composed of yellows, browns, and a few reds. Although the flowers were few, strikingly bright red king’s crown was on that very windy trail above Pitamakin and Seven Winds Lake.
We met a Back Country Ranger, who had been a thru hiker on the PCT. He thought Mother Goose, an 81-year-old woman, had to get off trail in the Great Basin in Wyoming, but would probably finish next year. Wow. Huzzah. Huzzah for Mother Goose. I could settle for being one of the oldest women Triple Crowners. (Later in the year while talking to Billy Goat, he said didn’t think Mother Goose was that old. Maybe there were two hikers named Mother Goose. Huzza either way, for all older women, and men too, who walk long trails.)
Turning up Atlantic Creek, long, wispy waterfalls fell on the sides of mountains beside us and a bigger, close-up one at Atlantic Creek just before we reached our campsite. Campsites in Glacier National Park are often a communal affair, all eating together in a kitchen area near a food-hanging bar set between trees. Not enough privacy for Ziploc baths, so cleanup was sketchy. I was going to be really dirty after four days.
Best Ever
The next day we had a 2,000-foot climb, the most incredibly grand and glorious climb ever. It was 2,000 feet up with a view at every step. The ranger had said it would be "a slog, but pretty, though." We thought it was spectacular, our new favorite day in Glacier. "Best ever," said RockStar.
The nicely graded trail cut through red/maroon-colored rock, a sedimentary rock with streaks of white, sometimes tinted blue or green. The rock alone was interesting. Across the grand valley were towering mountains, and at the head of the cirque was Medicine Grizzly Lake below more towering mountains, whose snowbanks released water tumbling down to the lake. A smaller lake was higher up across the valley. Everywhere we looked were amazing views.
Flowers covered the color spectrum even though late in the season: blue harebells, yellow daisies, cinquefoil, and suffer flower, red paintbrush, purple asters, penstemon and unopened gentians and white yarrow, bedstraw, angelica, and pearly everlasting.
As we approached Triple Divide Pass, clouds boiled over down into the bowl on our side. Standing on the pass, we were suddenly in thick, foggy clouds with no view.
Water falling on Triple Divide Peak separates three ways. One way becomes Atlantic Creek, eventually making its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Another becomes Pacific Creek headed for the Pacific Ocean, and the third becomes Hudson Bay Creek, flowing to Hudson Bay and the Arctic Ocean.
We headed down through the fog, and the mountains teased us with fleeting views of their tops behind moving cloud banks. Eventually the sky cleared and revealed Triple Divide Peak, Split Mountain, and the craggy ridge between. We ate lunch with all that splendor laid out before us. We saw marmots, too. I’d discovered, on an interpretive sign near Swift Current, that the marmots in Glacier came in a very small variety. They looked more like oddly shaped squirrels, coats flecked with white. We glimpsed a mountain goat from a distance, as a white dot moved up one of the mountains.
It was a long way down. 2,500 feet and 8 miles. It took us a long time, walking through an old burn, silver trunks contrasting with the yellow and orange foliage of spent thimbleberries. The trail seemed to go on and on, broken only by a bit of excitement of crossing two bouncy suspension bridges.
Eventually we reached Red Eagle Lake. Our friends from Oldman Lake had passed us on our descent and stopped at the head of Red Eagle. It looked like it would be difficult to get water there due to a big mud flat on that end of the lake. We reached our camp area at the foot of Red Eagle in a fairly open area of old burn. But the water was easily accessible, and a group with Glacier Guides provided company around a fire while we ate our dinner.
On our last morning, it felt colder than the thermometer said as we packed up and climbed the little hill by the lake. We had no major climbs that last day. I wanted to hike to sunshine in the cold morning, but the temperature quickly passed from cold to hot. Another suspension bridge swayed side-to-side, as well as bouncing up-and-down as we crossed. Fun, as long as it was only me on the bridge.
Fall color seemed to have as much to do with dryness as season or altitude. Valleys and hillsides with southern exposure had the most fall color. Reaching St. Mary Lake we encountered more green. Mirrored mountains in the peacefully calm lake were stunning, but vegetation overgrew our trail. RockStar said pushing through bushes was worse than going uphill. Willow and alder added to overgrown thimbleberries and guaranteed scratched legs. Four guys passing us had camped at Red Eagle Head the night before. They’d seen two moose as a reward for having a mudflat for a water source.
It took us a long time to reach Virginia Falls, and we passed many more short falls as we proceeded down the trail toward St. Mary Falls on a broad tourist trail, which was quite a contrast to the overgrown trail before the falls.
After St. Mary Falls, we trudged to the trailhead and passed a young deer losing the spots of fawnhood. One last pull to the shuttle stop and I walked down and got my car. CDT was finished for the year.
After dinner at Rising Sun, we drove to RockStar's car at Two Medicine. On the way, weather drastically changed to a thunderstorm with black clouds. We thought about all the hikers we had met, who were being pelted with the cold rain trying to be snow hitting our windshield. Our timing to get off the trail had been perfect. Reaching RockStar's car, both of us drove to our little cabin at East Glacier. The day was done. The CDT for 2016 was over. The next day was a long drive home.
2016 had included some relatively boring parts from Rock Spring to Highway 15 and some of the section to Targhee Pass from Yellowstone. It also included unexpected flower shows on Lion's Head and Mount Taylor, great high country with beautiful lakes from Big Hole Pass to Miner Creek and the sublime hikes of Piegan Pass and Triple Divide. We had not been chased by forest fires, although fire had prevented from us from finishing Wyoming. We had not had horrid weather. We had not quit early. It was a great year.
Chapter 46 Fall and Spring 2016-2017
Grandma Again
September 15, the day I started hiking the GR65 in France, my tenth grandchild was born.
Total hiking on long-distance trails in 2016 had been 1,256 miles. I enjoyed all three hikes, but three hikes in a year were a bit much for a 75-year-old grandma. I met my newest grandson on the way back to Washington and looked forward to doing less in 2017.
Faceplant
Indeed, I did do less in 2017, even less than I planned to do. My spring hike was on the ADT (American Discovery Trail) in Nevada, and I took the only serious fall I have ever had. Don’t fall downhill. Always fall uphill. You build up momentum exponentially as you fall and even three feet from a standing position straight down a steep hill means you hit with considerable impact.
I skinned my face, broke my nose, scratched my glasses, smashed the nosepiece into my nose and cut it, got two of the most amazing shiners ever, and tried to dislocate a rib. Then I walk
ed another four days, not because I had to, but because it seemed like I’d done everything in first aid than anyone else would do. Caveat on my behalf, the rib didn’t start hurting until 30 hours after the fall. In retrospect, I probably had a concussion, too, but as far as I knew I’d not lost consciousness and was making reasonable decisions. When asked by the ER Doc four days later about possible loss of consciousness. I answered, “If you are alone, would you know?”
I was cleared to continue hiking but told the rib would continue hurting. I threw in the towel and decided to hurt at home as I healed there instead of on the trail. So ended my spring hike.
RockStar and I again applied to Glacier National Park for permits to finish the CDT. Again, I was turned down, but RockStar awarded the much sought-after permits. That set the end dates for our 2017 hike. I just had to plan the other assorted sections to work out before we were in Glacier. RockStar reminded me the Eclipse was coming, and it would be ideal to be in Wyoming then. Well, OK then. I included the eclipse in the plan.
RockStar bought a car camping tent, as she definitely didn’t plan on hiking every step with me. She was having trouble with a knee had started rounds with Docs and physical therapy.
I decided on the Anaconda cutoff to enable me to complete the trail in 2017. It seemed a good idea to start off with a mostly level four-day walk for both of us to get in better shape.
After reflection on my age and recent fall, I purchased an inReach device. It clipped on my chest strap just as my Garmin Oregon had done, and the inReach had an even better GPS map with the CDT already indicated on it. Not just replacing my older GPS, it would record my progress in real time to anyone to whom I gave the connecting information. Every 10 minutes a little dot recorded my location.
Old Lady on the Trail- Triple Crown at 76 Page 46
