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Random Thoughts from the CDT (1999)
Occasionally when we were in town during our 1999 hike, Jim would write some ‘random thoughts’ about the trail or life or – whatever. For what it’s worth, these are the ones that pertain to the trail. These are personal notes and there’s nothing overwhelmingly important here for anyone but us, although there are some points of interest for future hikers. But you’ll have to see those things for yourself. As Louis Armstrong once said to a man who didn’t understand jazz – “If you can’t feel it, then I can’t tell you about it.” Those who can’t see the lessons here may either not need them or not be ready for them. Not my call.
August 14, 1999 --- We’ve been on the CDT for 2 ½ months now – over 900 miles. I haven’t really kept a journal – and probably won’t – but it’s time to write down some thoughts about what we’ve seen and done and experienced.
- Spirit Eagle – originally consisted of Jim & Ginny Owen and Dave Fleischman. We’ve all thruhiked the AT at least once, Ginny hiked the John Muir Trail, Dave thruhiked the PCT in a “high-snow” year, and Jim and Ginny have logged over 4500 trail miles during the last 6 years – most of those on Pennsylvania trails (the significance of which will become apparent later). Dave taught us a lot about snow travel and ice axe use. I won’t comment on what we taught him. Dave is a faster hiker than we are – and in better physical condition. He’d planned to hike with us for the first month so we could all get through “bear country” as a group. Then the plan was to separate so he could do higher-mileage days. As planned, we separated at Chief Joseph Pass – that way we could each go our own way and “Hike our own hike” without the compromises necessary to hike as a group. Dave is more than a friend – “Brother” would be a better word. We miss him and wish him safe and h appy trails. Unfortunately, we recently learned that Dave had to leave the CDT because of stress fractures in his foot. But Spirit Eagle flies on.
- The plan – was to start at Warm Springs, Montana and walk north to the Canadian border, then to return to Warm Springs (site of the Montana State Mental Hospital) and walk south to the Mexican border. The purpose of this ”flip-flop” was to hike the lower elevation (6,000-8,000 foot) mountains of northern Montana before trying the 7,000-10,000 foot mountains of southern Montana. The hope was that the snow levels would be better at the lower elevations. In a ‘normal’ snow year it would have been a good plan. But this was a 155 – 200+ % snow year with a 3 to 4-week late snowmelt. So our first 6 weeks consisted of 5 to 10 foot snowpack on many of the trails and ALL of the passes. Lots of ice axe practice. Glacier National Park, the Bob Marshall and Scapegoat wilderness areas, the Anaconda-Pintlar range – were beautiful, but WHITE. The snow didn’t disappear until Goldstone Pass. We finally sent the ice axes home from Leadore, Idaho in mid-July.
- The trail – yesterday someone said “The CDT – that’s like the AT, isn’t it?” How do you answer that kind of ignorance? Comparing the two would be like comparing a house cat to a mountain lion. Not that the AT is ‘easy’, but the CDT is an entirely different world. The trail itself varies from easy, brand new sidehill like Elk Mt in the Bitterroots to rocky scree slopes to apparently un-maintained sections of old trail to jeep tracks which haven’t been used for 20 years to sections which have never had trail and are your basic bushwhacks. We just spent 2 days bushwhacking through the Bridger-Teton National Forest. Bushwhacking is a good way to spend twice the time and four times the energy to cover half the distance.
August 22, 1999 --- My writing is sporadic to say the least – but I’ve been busy. Back to the trail –
- Trail marking/blazing – We’re at South Pass City, Wyoming and we saw 2 CDT markers today. They’re the first we’ve seen since Green River Lake on the other side of the Wind River Range over 100 miles ago. The type of trail marking also varies – it may be wooden CDT signs or carsonite posts with paste-on stickers or axe-cut blazes or International orange metal tabs in the trees or rock cairns (or ‘ducks’) or any combination of the above. Or none of the above. For several sections in the last two weeks there have been what we call ‘ducklings’ – rock cairns that are 2 to 6 inches high. Today was a 24 mile day along jeep tracks with no indication whatever that we were on trail – or what road we were on – or where we were. It was strictly ‘dead-reckoning’ navigation by map and compass with a few hints from Jim Wolf’s guidebook. The 2 CDT markers we saw showed up in the last mile and we have no idea what relationship they actually have to the trail – nor does it matter.
- Injury – let’s dispose of this one so we don’t have to dwell on it again. We’ve had the usual blisters, sore muscles, aching backs, etc. On the second day we were post-holing in waist-deep snow and I twisted my left knee and tore tendons in my right leg. That took over a month to heal and slowed me down considerably. Then there was the phlebitis that developed in my right ankle. That slowed us down to 12 to 14 mile days and didn’t get better until we stopped in Salmon, Idaho due to Ginny’s accident. Both Ginny and I have had problems with boots – Ginny with old boots that dried out after all the stream crossings in northern Montana – me with new boots straight out of the box. In both cases, they tried to cut off our feet at the ankles. The only other problem for my part is the 2 compressed discs that I acquired on the AT – the pack sometimes hits them wrong and provides my daily ration of agony in the form of extreme pain running down my right leg.
- The major injury, though, was Ginny’s finger. So here’s my side of the story – we were climbing over the 9200-foot pass between Little Lake and Rock Island Lakes. The pass was snow-choked – as every other pass had been for the previous 5 weeks. The trail consisted of switchbacks up to the pass, but the switchbacks were covered by several feet of ‘rotten’ snow – meaning the snow was soft enough that walking on it meant post-holing. So we were working our way up the exposed rocks just below the pass when Ginny touched the ‘wrong’ rock and triggered a rock-slide. I was less than 10 feet in front of her and by the time I could get to her the snow, the rocks, Ginny and I – were all covered by bright-red arterial blood. One look at her finger told me that we were in trouble – the meat on the last joint of her middle finger had been sheared down to the bone and was attached by only a small flap of skin and muscle. My first thought was that she could bleed out, go into shock and die up there. The first thing was to stop the bleeding, so we tied it off with a bandanna. Next was to get her the last 100 feet up to the top of the pass (actually – off that rock face) to someplace where we could safely do some real 1st Aid. I managed to get the bleeding stopped, put a pressure bandage on the finger and get some Tylenol into Ginny. It wasn’t the best 1st Aid job I’ve ever done, but it was apparently adequate.
The next step was to get her off that mountain and to a hospital – much easier said than done. The closest trailhead was 7 miles down the other side of that pass and there was a Forest Service campground another three miles beyond the trailhead. Worse – the descent was extremely steep, snow-choked, and at one point was a narrow, 45 degree snow chute for about ¼ mile. After negotiating a descent – with one hand and a heavy pack – that was challenging for me with two hands, she then got to walk another 5 miles until we met some people.
A comment here – at no time through this whole ordeal did Ginny complain, whine, get hysterical or otherwise show anything but the highest level of courage. I think I was far more afraid than she was – and this over an injury that for most people would have instantly ended their thruhike. I’m proud of her.
Back to the story – Mike & Michelle Palmer and their son Zeb were the first people we’d seen in 5 days. They were out for a Sunday afternoon drive to explore the eastern side of the Bitterroots. When I flagged them down we were still a mile from the Forest Service campground that we were headed for in an attempt to get help. But they took one look at my face and knew we were in trouble. When they were told what the problem was, they immediately turned the truck around, got us in and told us that they’d take us to the hospital in Hamilton, Montana – and that was 100 miles from where they picked us up. When we got to the hospital, they waited for us while Ginny was poked, prodded, X-rayed, cleaned, stitched, bandaged, etc. They went to Burger King and brought back food for us, and they offered to let us stay at the church that Mike pastors in Salmon, Idaho. Seems the church was in the process of a building project with about 60 volunteers from all over the country (Tennessee, Ohio, Texas, etc.) working there for a month. They offered to feed us along with the volunteers and let us ‘camp out’ in the church as long as we needed. After some discussion, Ginny and I decided that we didn’t have a lot of options and that there was more to this whole incident than ‘coincidence’. So they drove us another 80 miles back to Salmon, put us up in one of the Sunday School rooms and pointed us to the shower (yeah, we needed that, too). This all happened on the second Sunday in July.
On Monday – and for the rest of the week – we took care of Ginny’s finger, ate with the volunteers and participated in their activities – and I joined the construction crew as an additional volunteer. I was a ‘gofer’ for that week. I had no tools and I’d promised Ginny to not mess with rotating machinery until the thruhike is complete – so there were a lot of things I couldn’t do. But there were a lot of things I could do, too. So I did them - happily. And Ginny gradually got a little better – so we started planning to get back on the trail. What we didn’t forsee was that during that week we’d develop a relationship with some of those people that would make it VERY difficult to leave. And that I think (NO – I know) will affect our lives in the future. This developed into a first-class spiritual experience. I won’t expand on that except to say that anyone who believes this is all ‘coincidence’ hasn’t been paying attention here. It’s been 6 weeks now since that ‘accident’ – and the people, the relationships, the lessons, the experience – are still on my mind (and, I think, on Ginny’s as well) every day. We were touched by “Trail Magic” of the highest order – by those whose Christianity is real and alive and expresses the very best that one human being can offer another.
I’ll repeat this – Ginny is back on the trail after an injury that would have ended the thruhike for most people. That is courage and determination. And I’m proud and happy to be married to the lady.
Enough – back to the trail.September 6, 1999 --- We’re in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
Over the last couple weeks we’ve gone from the stark harshness and extreme beauty of the Wind River Range and the Popo Agie Wilderness to the 90+ degree heat of the relatively waterless Great Basin (Red Desert) of Wyoming and then to the thunderstorms and nine days of rain in southern Wyoming (the Huston Park, Red Mountain and Mt Zirkel Wilderness areas). We went from summer to dehydration to hypothermia weather – kinda like the PCT, but more dramatic. Now we’re in high alpine country again – and we woke to a heavily frosted tent and a frozen water filter this morning. Hopefully it’ll warm up again for at least a couple weeks.
A few more stray thoughts ----
- Desert water sources – a few of them were piped springs – really good. A couple of them were fenced BLM Recreation Areas – but one of those was infested by amphibian livestock that required either a filter or boiling (in which case it became some extra protein in the meal). Some of the other water sources (few) were streams that hadn’t been totally fouled by cows, antelope, wild horses, etc. And some were open stock ponds – which means that if you find the nastiest, muddiest pothole on your local dirt road, add a quart of motor oil, 15 pounds of cow manure, 10 pounds of fresh duck shit, 15 pounds of fresh antelope and quail droppings and stir vigorously for several hours – you’ll begin to get a vague notion of how appetizing stock ponds are. One of the best sources was a brand-new solar well 38 miles north of Rawlins, Wyoming – good work on the part of the BLM. And I didn’t even mention the dead cow in Bull Springs or the rabid coyote.
- Weather – we were spoiled by long stretches of clear skies and high temperatures. Nine days of thunderstorms became really depressing. Waiting out a couple thunderstorms each day also has a depressing effect on mileage – between that and our re-entry to the mountains (and big climbs) we only did 17 miles a couple days.
- Water – is always a concern. When miles of the trail are on the Divide, water sources are few to non-existent. So we’re always looking and planning ahead for water sources. That’s not just a desert problem.
- Food -- is a different problem – we can’t get enough. We left Rawlins, Wyoming with 8+ days of food – and we got to Steamboat Springs, Colorado with 2 dinners, 1 breakfast, no lunch and 1 Pop Tart. After 6 ½ days. Ginny isn’t as bad as I am, but we both amazed people at the restaurant tonight. I’ve lost 35 –40 pounds and have the appetite of a starving rat. We can’t carry enough food to keep from starving.
- Relationship to Pennsylvania trails – I said this would become clear, so I’ll try to make it so. We’ve hiked and maintained trails in Pennsylvania for the last 6 years. It’s helped us to cope with the CDT. Many of the Pennsylvania trails are what might be called a ‘blow-down rich environment”. So are parts of the CDT. PA is famous for its ‘pointed’ rocks. The CDT has some of these, but generally it has millions of little round rocks (especially on steep descents) that act like ball bearings under your boots. PA has trails that have no treadway – just blazes. The CDT treadway (when there is one) very often disappears in high-alpine meadows or wet ‘parks’ – and doesn’t always reappear in a ‘logical’ place. Just like Pennsylvania.
- Mileage --- depends on a lot of factors. Waiting out thunderstorms or meeting another thruhiker (a VERY rare occurrence) tends to depress the daily mileage. As does climbing 12,000+ ft mountains (Parkview) in whiteout conditions. Lately our normal daily mileage has been 18 – 20 miles per day with a 14 and a couple 17’s thrown in to keep us humble. In the snow, we were lucky to do 15.
- Town visits/re-supply --- are necessary. Our appetites require more food than we can carry. Six days food now weighs more than 10 days food did in Montana. And we still run short at the end of each section. After 5-6 days on the trail our bodies start screaming for more fat – so we go into town and eat big, juicy hamburgers, ice cream, steak and double breakfasts. And then spend massive amounts of time in the bathroom because our bodies are no longer (and probably never were) accustomed to that much of that kind of food. But it refuels us for a few more days on the trail.
The worst part of town visits, though, is that we just don’t sleep. Too much noise, too warm, too many people, too much activity --- and the air is too thick. The towns we visit now are at 7,000+ ft elevation – and we’re used to sleeping at 10,000- 12,000 ft. The air is too thick. I’m not sure how - or if – we’ll ever be able to readjust to ‘civilization’ again.September 17, 1999 --- As I predicted 4 years ago, my 60th birthday was on the trail.
We celebrated with a steak dinner when we got to Grand Lake, Colorado two days later. And then Lynne Whelden caught up with us that night and we talked trail for 3 or 4 hours. The next morning we had breakfast and talked trail for a couple hours, then did the video interview (another 3 hours). Then we went to lunch and talked trail for another 3 hours. We walked out of Grand Lake at 3:30 PM and only walked 8 miles that day.
Now we’re at a motel in Winter Park, Colorado – an unplanned stop – after one of the most frustrating days we’ve had on the trail. Twelve miles in 9 hours is frustrating. So is one 1500 ft per mile climb after another. So is mile after mile of scree and talus that make Pennsylvania look like a playground. So is walking through some of the most wild and beautiful country in the US on what’s supposed to be a crystal-clear day, but instead is overcast, windy, with occasional snow bursts. So is having your body tell you that it WON’T go any further because it has no reserves left – that you’re running on empty. So we’re in Winter Park – a very expensive little town. We’ll go back tomorrow, but for tonight we’re in a feeding frenzy. And we still can’t sleep even though we’re both exhausted. And I didn’t even mention “The Notch”.
I recently told Kahley that we’re in a ‘race for the border’ – in this case, the Colorado/New Mexico border – so we can beat the snow (and hunting season) in the South San Juans. Then we immediately took an alternate route out of town which was at least a day and a half longer because it was more interesting. Conflicting requirements. We’ve done this several times. We may not win the ‘race for the border’, but we’ll keep on truckin' as long as possible.
Created: Fri, 09 Jan 2004
Revised: 23 Jan 2007Copyright © 2007 Spirit Eagle