CDT Day 83 (8/9/23)

Miles 1994.7 (Red line 2257.4)- 2026 (Red line 2288.7) (31.3 miles)

Verbatim

Well. I’ve arrived to a disappointing end to what was a pretty great day. I saw a Black Bear! I hit 2000 miles! There’s likely less than 600 miles left!

But at 7:30, on the last climb of the day, thunderstorms rolled in. It was infuriating. I yelled “Fuck!” or “Damnit!” several times. And I meant it. I was mad! Still am, actually. Though now that I’m under my tarp and have at least a semblance of a promise of a “dry” night I’m considerably less mad. My gear just can’t handle much abuse. My ground sheet is the old dyneema fabric from my plexamid. It’s supposed to have a ground sheet underneath it, not be a ground sheet. It has so many miles on it. It’s almost completely shredded in the middle. There are dozens of dime sized holes. The only water barrier, then, comes from my little foam pad sitting on top of the holed sections. My tarp likewise has holes, although they’re tinier. They only let in little tiny droplets of water. No biggy, haha. In fact I would say the tarp does better at shielding me from water now then it did back when it was a tent! Because-

I just met some SOBO’s and they said they just saw a Mountain Lion .7 back!!! Luckiessss..

Because the ground cloth/ bathtub isn’t connected to the tent by bug netting. The bug netting, when my tarp was a tent, was foolishly connected right at the edge of the tent roof. Water dripping down the tent roof would drip onto the bugnet and then follow the netting down to the inside of the bathtub floor. It meant that water would accumulate in drops all night long. Now it just falls off the tarp and onto the ground.

My sleeping bag is also old and not water resistant. The down picks up the moisture and clumps, leaving empty space and cold cold air. It’s damp now, despite not having any direct contact with water.

The fact it rained at 7:30, rather than say 4, means there’s no time for the ground to dry once the storm has passed. No sun, it’s behind the mountains. And it's rained so much recently that the ground is saturated. There will be no sucking away of the surface moisture by a dry underground.

Looks like Salmon + Starburst have come to camp! That makes me happy. It will be nice to have company. Before I start chatting with them, and while they set up their camp, I’ll write about the Bear!

It was about 5:30 and I was up high on the divide. I was just walking. Pretty contented, and saw a small black furry body. The Bear was really dark and beautiful. It couldn’t have been more than a year old. It was really small! Like a dog sized Bear. I could have picked it up and cuddled it. It was just up high flippin rocks for moths. It was pretty content flippin those rocks. It couldn’t see me, Bears have bad eyesight, but it could smell me. The Bear turned up its nose twice to sniff and smell me. It knew something was up, but didn’t have the experience to know a human. This is my guess at least. Eventually I stepped forward and called “Hey buddy. Hey Bear!” The little guy started ambling away. He was a cutie and there he went. It’s amazing how Bears are like a combination of dogs and humans. Walk like dogs but have the body and muscle structure like humans.

Today’s walking was very pleasant until the storm. It’s beautiful here on the ID/MT divide. There are sections of forest as well, which I like. The trail is sort of mellowing out. So the climbing isn’t intense either. I just wish I had packed more food…

It feels good to have hit 2000 miles today. Let’s end this trip. Final phase.

Post Note

Ah man that Bear was so cool. Favorite Bear on trail for sure. Bear.

I was really jealous of Salmon and Starburst. They’d seen a Mountain Lion! They had each other. They were both from Seattle and so that made me feel anxious and sad. Yeah. There’s actually a lot here I could write about. It’s amazing what sort of things can trigger one’s wounding. Completely ridiculous and irrational things. I guess it just seems sometimes like the pain you feel is trying to find a way to reawaken itself. Trying to find a way to ache. It’s actively trying to get your attention. “CARE FOR ME. I’m not done yet”, the pain says. But suffice for this sharing; both Salmon and Starburst were really kind to me. Salmon (I think it was Salmon? I’m not sure which face had which name anymore) chatted with me in the rain while eating their tuna couscous. Super kind thing to do. They saw that Lion. Dang that’s cool.

I really didn’t have time to mourn, or be angry while I was walking on day 83. I’m sure there were some moments on day 83 when I did think about L. There wasn’t a day when that didn’t happen. But my memory of the day, unlike many others, isn’t characterized by any sort of specific angst. I was too busy being enthralled by the scenery.

I do think this was my favorite part of trail. One of my favorite parts for sure. But “one of” the favorites in a unique and special way. A way other parts just don’t measure up. By the time I got to Darby the specialness of this favorite part was gone. At least that’s what I’m remembering now. It was THIS section, and the one before it, which were so beautiful and unique to me. I was loving being up high! I was loving the moodiness of the cool cloudy days. Obviously the 7:30 storm was all part of the package deal which I loved so much. Screw that storm. But, I guess it’s ok. It was worth it for the cloudy and evenly lit and mysteriously windy and alive days.

Having a favorite part of a trail is such a personal and unique experience. There are certainly “best” parts of every trail. On the PCT, as a cliche, it’s the Sierra Nevada. That’s the “best”. There’s Northern Washington. That’s also the “best”. On the AT there’s the Smokey Mountains and Whites in New Hampshire and Katadhin. Those places are the “best”. On the OCT it was the headlands of the Oregon Coast. Every time I climbed up from the beach I was ecstatic. It’s a universal best to be up high. But having a favorite; that’s way different. A favorite part of trail one year (for those of us who re-hike these trails) can be completely different than in another year. “Favorite-ness” is so contingent on mood, weather, strength and hunger, sickness and health, company, overcoming adversity or a meaningful challenge, and the uniqueness of certain moments. It’s my favorite part of the trail because that’s where I met her. It’s my favorite part of the trail because it’s when I knew I didn’t have to hike any more because I’d finally gotten a job. It’s my favorite part of trail because that’s where I ate a tub of ice cream and had never felt better. You see?

But that storm. Man that storm sucked. I’d been so wet. And my feet had been so irritated. And then day 83 had been completely clear and fresh and dry. And then at 7 I could see the clouds roiling overhead. I could hear the distant thunder. I knew I had to run from the oncoming storms. But I couldn’t. I was climbing a pass. So, instead of making distance from the storm I just zigzagged back and forth up some switchbacks to an exposed ridge. And, it’s not like you can out-walk a storm anyways. The clouds up there are huge and wide and moving in your direction at like sixty-mph or something. You’re going to be consumed. But at least when you’re moving in a straight line you feel like you’re making progress. When you’re zigging back and forth you get to 180 every two minutes and check over your shoulder to see just how much closer the storm has come since the last turn. It’s depressing!

And then the rain came. And then I put my fluorescent orange rain jacket that was supposed to keep me from getting hit on my bicycle in Portland, and keep me from getting shot in the woods, and which is supposed to help me get rescued when I’m waving it at helicopters flying a search overhead because my mom’s called in because she’s so worried I haven’t texted her in three days since I’ve been mauled by a Grizzly, and which is supposed to keep me from getting wet. Except it’s never done any of those things. It probably never will. But I keep putting it on each rainstorm anyways. Yup. My rain jacket soaks through. I sweat underneath. I climb. The rain continues to pour. Eventually I crest the pass at which I’d intended to enjoy a leisurely dinner. I walk down instead of up. Then I get cold because I’m wet and am walking down instead of up. Then all the fronds and branches and all the tall grasses start kissing me with their freezing coating of rainwater as I pass. And there’s nowhere to camp because I’m walking down a pass. And the ground is getting wetter. And I have holes in my groundsheet which I plug with a 1/8” closed cell foam pad. And I start swearing. And then the trail provides and I make a spot to camp out of a couple of open feet between a few pines. If I’d kept walking I would have seen a Lion.