Reaching Anaconda

Helena was a welcome break. I spent the night in a hostel only a mile from the outfitters. There, I got new shoes and new socks, which is always a wonderful day for a thru hiker. The day I headed out was a Sunday, and so I visited a local church before leaving. There, a sweet woman named Christy took me to Walmart for something I needed and then all the way back to trail.

Town is nice, but after coming off of trail, the persistent beeping of crosswalks and revving traffic between you and your Safeway resupply is overwhelming.

Road magic

The hike out of Helena was hot. Ridiculously hot. The trail followed gravel roads, meaning there was no shade and I felt myself melting away. We also walked through the newly reopened Jericho Mountain burn. The ground was coated black, the trees still smelled of charcoal. I didn’t see any animals. Walking through it under the heat of the sun felt apocalyptic.

I’d underestimated how much water I would need to get to the next water source and, with three miles left, was nearly out. It didn’t concern me–I knew there was water coming soon, but on hot days, water is always nice.

At a junction in the road sat three cars, and some people were out with their dogs, enjoying the scenery. We struck up a conversation and one of them noticed I was low on water. “Do you want any?” He asked.

I was relieved. Even a bottle of water would be so nice on this stretch. “That would be incredible,” I said.

Suddenly, all three trunks were open and I was surrounded by six people pulling out each of my SmartWater bottles (1L each) and filling them to the brim. Another lady was measuring out old-fashioned candy into a plastic bag for me. They completely filled me up.

I walked away in tears. People are so incredible.

The Anaconda Cutoff

The CDT is the trail of alternates and one big one was coming up. Take the redline into Butte, where I’d have to hitch into town, or take the Anaconda Cutoff and walk into Anaconda? The cut off was also shorter.

I opted for Anaconda. While it made for a longer road walk, the shorter distance would hopefully give me a chance to catch up to some hikers who’d gone through Butte.

More exciting, I heard from some people walking north that there was a group of hikers just a little bit in front of me! I pushed hard, hoping to catch them and to get to town. The day was cloudy and overcast, drizzling, but that helped the temperature cool off.

33 miles later, I still hadn’t found the other hikers. But I did find a trailhead where I could pitch my tent, and I did: weary, disappointed, and sore.

The next morning when I woke up, there was a thru hiker sitting there! Whiskers had pushed a similarly big day yesterday, starting just behind me that morning also with the hope of catching some hikers ahead of him and getting to town.

We finished off the road walk together into town. And there, oh my gosh, were more hikers.

Anaconda sets up a Hiker Hut, letting hikers camp for free in the park next to a shed that only hikers can access full of electricity, loaner bikes, and more. As you can guess, the hikers happily congregate there.

I also found out there was a free hiker dinner in town the next night–and so I hatched a plan. I stayed in town an extra night, and the next day, hitched out to a trailhead and walked back into town from the other direction. That way, I still made progress on the trail but I also got to go to the hiker dinner.

Weatherman’s tent

After the dinner, I was back at the hut with several hikers when we noticed a tent in the hiker box. “Is it any good?” Steamy asked.

A note was taped to the tag on it: “Bomber tent but tiny inside. – Weatherman”

“There’s poles and everything here. We’ve got to set it up,” said Steamy. And so the four of us hurried outside and started staking it out.

Weatherman was right. It was a bomber tent. Since it was an Exped tent and I had an Exped mat, we pulled it from my tent and slipped it into the tiny tent, then all took turns sitting in it.

“This is an amazing tent,” Steamy said. “We can’t just let it sit here. Someone needs to take it.”

We all sat there in silence, looking at the tent and then back at our own tents. After a long silence, I spoke up: “It would be nicer than carrying around my two-person tent.”

All eyes drifted to Aggie and then back to the Exped tent. “It would fit in a lot more places and be a lot easier to set up.” My green Exped mat and green quilt were already inside. “And it does fit the color scheme,” Steamy added.

“I guess it’s mine then,” I said.

Kismet and Beekeeper, two ’23 hikers who’d just happened to be driving through during the hiker dinner offered to take me back to trail. But first, we stopped by the outfitter to try yet another pair of shoes (my Helena ones were giving me yet MORE blisters) and then the post office, to send Aggie home.

Reaching the Anaconda Pintlers

The Anacondas have made my list of places to come back to after my thru hike. The high lakes and ponds, the beautiful mountain range, the wild, rocky ridgelines that I wanted to follow and yet didn’t: I’m sure it won’t take long for me to come back.

I met Charcuterie and Resi coming out of Anaconda, and hiked with them to the same campsite that night. Even more hikers had gathered there, and I gleefully greeted Raspberry and Wrong Way as well.

The next morning, I ate breakfast along the lake shore and then hiked onwards into the Anacondas. If all went to plan, it would be another day and half to town.

Reroute

“It smells smoky,” I’ll Be said. Sniffing the air, I agreed. I’d ran into I’ll Be and Heaps at the last water source before camp and we realized we were all headed to the same place that night. Now we were all hiking together, pushing through the last five miles and the last two climbs together. We were on the last climb now, almost at the top. It was a 24-mile day for me, a 27-mile day for them.

As we crested the ridge, we saw it: a plume of smoke rising up from the saddle where we wanted to camp that night.

We stopped there on the ridge, watching the smoke and debating the options. I’ll Be called 911 to report the smoke and we were informed that firefighters were working on containing it. However, it was close enough to where we’d need to pass on the CDT that they weren’t comfortable with us hiking onwards. Instead, they rerouted us six miles down a side trail to a nearby lake and campground. From there, we’d be able to get a hitch out the next morning.

And so, at nearly 8 p.m., we started our next six miles. Thankfully, they were downhill miles and we followed the easily graded path of white pebbles along the mountainside. The sun set behind us, casting the sky in hues of pale blue and pink. Then it dropped behind the ridgeline and darkened. We pulled out our headlamps and kept walking.

The smell of smoke had faded by the time we reached our darkened campsite and by the time I pitched my tent and crawled inside, it was 11 p.m., well past hiker midnight.

The next day was all hitches. We had to get 42 miles from Mussibrod Lake (gorgeous, by the way, highly recommend visiting) to Hamilton, Montana.

A sweet couple who were camping at the lake took us 17 miles down the dirt road to Wisdom and the highway. After a delightful breakfast, we tried hitching again and a massive pickup truck took us to Darby, where we also collected Pyro. Another pickup truck took us halfway to Hamilton, and we all four crammed in the backseat of a SUV the remaining way to Hamilton.

Hello Idaho

After this resupply, I’m headed back on trail. The Idaho border is coming up soon, and then Yellowstone!