After a month of fattening up at various birthday parties held on opposite sides of the planet I got back on the trail August 1. Where I left in Rawlins, Wyoming at about mile 1600.

Now on August 20 I’m at about mile 2200. The trail has presented its usual combination of mindlessness and mindfulness as I make my way to the Canadian border hopefully before any serious snow arrives. Visually the trail has progressed from wide-open sage deserts full of wild horses and antelope into the mountains and forests of north western Wyoming. Where I passed through the gorgeous Wind river range before arriving in Yellowstone. Now I’ve crossed into Idaho where a wildfire has closed the trail in front of me. So right now I’m figuring out ways to hop the fire.

Have a little time on my hands hoping the fire which is in 130 miles goes away by the time I get there. So I’ll ramble a bit. I’m on the continental divide trail. The continental divide, which I did not know before I got on it, basically means that rain that falls on the eastern slopes ends up in the Mississippi River. And rain that falls on the western slopes of the continental divide ends up in the Colorado River. There’s even a lake that is centered directly on the continental divide whose eastern outflow ends up in the Mississippi and whose western outflow ends up in the Colorado. I am basically hiking along the crest of that divide.

A few highlights of the trip since August 1.

One morning I woke up in the middle of the great basin desert and went to get some water out of a stream. Suddenly I heard an animal squeal at me from about 6 feet away. I went over to see what all the commotion was and the squealing moved another 6 feet away. So I jogged over to that 6 feet and it immediately removed itself another 6 feet away. The strange thing was the animal was invisible as I couldn’t see it. It took me about 10 minutes of chasing to figure out that my invisible animal was actually a prairie dog in its tunnel underneath the earth who was responding to my ground vibrations. The squeals making their way up to the surface through cracks in the desert.

Moving through bear country now. Both grizzlies and black bears. I’ve seen one of each so far. The grizzly but 15 feet away from me on the trail. But once he got a look at my ugly self he immediately fled in the opposite direction. It’s quite fascinating to be moving along trails alone where you are possibly prey. Especially at night. Every lamp outside the scope of my headlamp a potential/certain bear. It makes one feel quite feral and completely focused on survival.

Sometimes I move through forests that have burnt down and only the skeletons of trees remain. When a high wind gets up in these forests  the dead trees moan and groan in a deeply melancholy way that is painful to hear.

I found Ike! Ike is a renegade llama who supports backpacking trips. Apparently 99% of llamas stay in their group and follow the rules. And then there’s Ike. Who prefers a solitary existence far from the herd. Wandering the back country. Where he escapes to every time an opportunity presents itself. Which has happened a number of times apparently. An APB was out and the entire Yellowstone park service was searching for Ike, who was to be banned from the park if he was caught before he was eaten by a grizzly. It was the talk of the park. And around the corner I came and there was Ike. Of course I had no reception, so I couldn’t call anyone with my discovery. So I tried to catch Ike and, hopefully, have him carry my pack for a while. At this I was unsuccessful and Ike and I parted ways. Good luck, my friend.

Took an alternate over a mountain pass called Knapsack Col. Which had one quite tricky 10 minute technical rock climb on the last upper slope of the pass crossing. It must’ve been a fresh rockslide as the rocks were quite unstable. I found this out for sure when I kicked a small rock which knocked over a suitcase size boulder over onto my shin. Once it slid down my shin the boulder settled on top of my foot. Initial attempts to remove my foot failed. As the first waves of panic arrived I recalled the guy in Utah whose arm was pinned by a boulder which forced him to cut off his arm with a Swiss Army knife. Having only a razor blade I couldn’t imagine trying to cut my foot off. As no one else was coming some more panic waves arrived. Finally after multiple attempts of rocking the boulder I managed to slip my foot out. And continue on my way, fortunately with both feet.

 

And finally, one evening I was pushing hard for extra miles. Coming up on 40 miles and darkness in some high Idaho mountains I rounded a bend. Not expecting for anything much to happen as had been the case for the last couple hundred miles. But
lo and behold there was all kinds of stuff going on. First a dark shape presented itself in the dusk. And then a small black shape darted out from behind the bigger black shape. Immediately my thoughts went to a mama bear with her cub. Which is almost always an unpleasant encounter as Mama Bears tend to be defensive/aggressive. As I got closer the shape reformed into a horse with a homemade saddle. And the small black shape was an Australian Shepherd dog running about. The horse was on the move but had no rider. I searched for a downed rider but couldn’t find one. A couple of miles on I came across a bunch of sheep so I figured the horse belong to a Basque sheepherder who run the sheep herds in the area. So I kept my eyes out. And instead spotted an owl sitting in a dead tree. I went over to say hello. As I love owls. The owl took one look at me,  gave a hoot and then turned his head. Once again I continued on. But the owl wasn’t done with me as for the next 3 miles he flew directly over my head and then swerved left or right hunting for what I was stirring up. The owls acrobatics endlessly entertaining. The owl only departing when two white howling mastiff sheep dogs came running out of the dark with intent to devour me. A few choice rock beanings saved my legs from being dinner. I never solved the mystery of the riderless horse. But it gave me something to think about as I hiked into the night. And of course in the next hundred miles nothing  happened at all after all that condensed action.

Happy trails all.

Steven “Blast” Halteman, on the CDT