As I get closer I realize I am looking at a herd of wild mustangs,
perhaps 60 in all. They are grazing on desert grasses alongside
pronghorn, mule deer and coyote.
Part SixLast month, Blister Sister was still in Colorado. She left us at the Wyoming border, where she picks up this month.
Waking up in Wyoming for the first time brings anticipation for what lies ahead. Packrat and I leisurely break camp and leave together. Not long after hitting the trail we begin to hear some unusual sounds, almost like screams and laughter, only slightly distorted. We come across a small group of sheep. A couple of more appear and the noise becomes louder and quite eerie. Just a few steps further, the trail is suddenly blocked by hundreds of sheep.
We hear a couple of shouts and see two shepherds who motion to us to move on. When we do, the sheep part down the middle as we walk through. A first for me, walking amidst 800 of these woolly animals. Accompanying the herders are two dogs that are larger than a great Dane and fully white. I had never seen such a breed. For a minute I thought they were wolves.
The trail is quite pleasant, though there are no signs of an actual footpath. We keep our eyes peeled for cairns and posts guiding our way. It rains most of the day as we head to Highway 70. Finally, we reach an abandoned jeep road. While discussing our options, a CRACK of lightning makes us jump and we immediately run for cover.
Setting up a tent in pouring rain is never fun. By the time I have secured the rain fly, my gear and the inside of the tent are soaked. Sleep comes slowly, as the storm seems to have stalled on top of us. I can see lightning through my closed eyes while tucked in my sleeping bag and thunder shakes the ground.
The rain has stopped by morning and I use every tree branch for a drying rack. Finally, we pack up our damp gear and head out for the next Wyoming adventure. The scenery is transformed since leaving Colorado. We leave behind the forested green mountains; hillsides covered with sagebrush take their place. Pronghorn antelope have entered the picture by the hundreds. We see so many of them that we soon become bored with them.
The trail turns to road as we approach Rawlins and the terrain flattens out quickly. I often look back over my shoulder just to watch the mountains become smaller and smaller in the distance. We stop for lunch along the roadside of County 401 and the clouds, which have been teasing us all morning, begin to weep on our heads.
Walking in the rain, we come into Rawlins. Once we have finished all of our re-supply duties, Packrat and I begin to look at the maps for the upcoming section - Wyoming's Great Divide Basin. While in town, Five Gallon, a fellow hiker, presents us with an offer: his wife will be stashing water through the desert and if we are interested, she will leave an allocated amount for us as well. A plan is made, with absolutely no work on our part, and there will be one gallon of potable water per hiker every ten miles.
The next morning we head out as early as possible, taking advantage of cooler temperatures. As promised, we find hidden water every ten miles. "This is great!" we repeat with each gallon. The scenery remains relatively flat and we hike on at maximum speed. I can see in the distance along the sage plains a group of moving objects. As I get closer I realize I am looking at a herd of wild mustangs, perhaps 60 in all. They are grazing on desert grasses alongside pronghorn, mule deer and coyote. What a sight! What else could make this day any better? Trees! Shade! As quickly as the trees appear they are gone and the blazing sun beats down on us. Although the open sky is harsh during the day, sunsets are wide and beautiful along the horizon and the night's stars are amazing.
We are getting closer and closer to South Pass City (population 2!) and the traffic has picked up considerably. We arrive to see a town transformed back in time a hundred years. A baseball game is in progress and a mountain-man festival is in full swing. A barbecue starts my stomach turning but they do not take credit cards and my cash flow for this adventure is done. All I can do is smell the food.
The next morning we head out, leaving the Great Basin behind us. In front of us waits the Wind River Range. Last year I hiked numerous trails through the Wind River Range and I am excited to be back. This country is filled with lakes and magical views. Thunderclouds build above us and small waves of rain showers force us to pull out the rain gear once again. We rarely make an early camp, but Packrat, who has been ahead of me, saw lightening strike and I do not argue the decision. Just in the nick of time I settle in my dry tent before the downpours begin.
The next day we make our way up to higher elevations where the temperature is quite comfortable. The trail throughout the day is well maintained and follows axe blazes on trees and cairns in open meadows. We refer to maps occasionally when signs are missing at trail junctions - the posts remain, but the signs either have been stolen or destroyed.
The Wind River Range is one of the most popular areas along the Continental Divide. Outdoor enthusiasts are everywhere. Hiking, biking, horseback riding, rock climbing and amazing fishing all lure people by the masses. Last year I tried my hand at trout fishing with my Leki trekking pole and actually caught a fish!
We have been experiencing beautiful weather the last couple of days in the "Winds." Soon we arrive in Pinedale, which seems like a new-age mining town. Just a few years ago they uncovered one of the largest natural gas supplies, resulting in a mining-town-like boom. While in town, we accomplish many tasks. At the local
outfitters I purchase the special detergent needed to wash our down sleeping bags. Nothing feels better than a clean down sleeping bag! With our groceries and maps in order, we once again pull ourselves away from civilization. Heading north we are again on trails I hiked last year.
Exiting the Wind River Range, the northern section of the CDT winds along the Green River and Green River Lakes, with magnificent views of Flattop Mountain to the south. The waters churning along the trail are vibrant emerald green. Walking just minutes from our campsite towards Upper Green River Lake, we spot a moose and her calf rambling through the willows along the shores of the river. Packrat stops and takes some video footage and I quietly slip by.
The next morning we head further towards Dubois, WY (pronounced Doo-boyz). We need to find a pay phone and make arrangements for our permits through Yellowstone, just to the north. The permit process is effortless and we are set to enter Yellowstone National Park.
I have made the tough decision to wait up for Homebrew and Simply Seeking, those friends we started hiking the CDT with months ago, but who have been behind us for quite awhile. Packrat and I have been bickering for days, so time apart will be good for us. The weather is dreary, cold and wet, matching my mood. I wait throughout the afternoon at a remote little lodge and become more depressed as the day presses on. Finally, while writing in my journal, hiding from the rain, through the doorway a backpack hits the ground. It's Homebrew and Simply Seeking! We make plans to head out together in the morning, and since today is my birthday, Homebrew treats me to a birthday beer.
The weather holds out and we have wonderful picture-perfect hiking days. We avoid all the tourist traps and swarms of people. Most of the hiking through this section is ridgeline and above treeline. In good weather it is spectacular, in bad weather it could be deadly. Already I miss Packrat. Although it has been refreshing hiking with others for a short period of time, I miss the routines that my old hiking partner and I were used to. I feel as though hiking with new people takes more effort or energy than when I was with Packrat.
Reaching Bannack Pass I say farewell to Simply and Homebrew, who have headed to Tendoy to re-supply. After a day and a half by myself, I'm in sight of the small town of Leadore, where I will re-supply. The valley floor where I am walking is so flat I can see the small town ahead of me for several hours. In town, there are
two restaraunt/bars, a post office, a small store and a campground. I head for the campground and as I take off my backpack register, I spot Packrat's backpack.
I caught him!
Next month: the Tetons!
- Login or register to post comments
- 519 reads
- send to friend
