Walking through the Bob Marshall Wilderness

My shoes and my heels are currently at war with each other, and both sides are losing. It’s been a couple of long days walking through the Bob Marshall Wilderness, as my feet continue to collect blisters and the heels of my shoes disintegrate. However, even with those challenges, “the Bob,” as we’ve been calling it, has been a beautiful place to spend a week walking through.

A crown of beauty for ashes

I’ve been walking through a lot of burn scars lately, and they’re beautiful.

The trails through the scars are often unmaintained or in bad shape. Husks of trees rise around you, charred, dead and blackened. You crawl through, over, under, and around trees blocking and crossing the trail.

Your heart sinks: “There’s so much devastation. There’s so much damage. There’s so much hurt.”

But between the charred logs, there’s green. A small tree growing. Grass and plants covering the once darkened dirt. More small trees stretching up. Flowers blooming everywhere.

Ground squirrels dart among the trees and chirp at you. Birds flutter overhead. Butterflies and moths dot the logs and drink from the flowers. Small creeks babble through the ruins.

It’s tangible. It’s hope, healing, restoration, redemption. And it’s beautiful.

Maybe I’m not only talking about burn scars right now. Maybe I’m also talking about you and me.

Finding little moments

As I mentioned in Glacier, the beginning of a thru hike is hard. You’re starting off a big hike with lofty goals. You’re finding your pace and building your trail legs. You’re meeting and passing and being passed by so many different hikers of other skills and abilities, and you’re trying to find your trail family. If you’re me, you’re also adapting to the elevation, to the different climate, to new ways of hiking.

Leaving Glacier, I ended up in a little bit of a quiet spot. I haven’t seen many people between Glacier and Augusta. A few nights, I’ve been able to share with other hikers. A few nights I’ve camped on my own. During the day, I didn’t see many people at all.

It was me, the ground squirrels, the blisters, the trees, the sore knee, and the flowers.

It’s an interesting combination, but a good one.

I’ve been learning how to take breathers. How to pause by mountain ponds. How to not worry so much about getting ten or twelve miles by lunch.

I’ve been learning about stopping early when my body says stop, and pushing on when I know I need to challenge myself. It’s quietly watching a fox trot by and experiencing the joy of reaching the top of a pass. I’ve been playing a lot with my camera, stopping by a lot of flowers, and learning to feel more comfortable with myself.

I’m learning a lot about myself, and doing a lot of thinking, a lot of remembering. I’ve lost a couple good people recently, and so maybe there’s been a little bit of healthy reflecting and mourning as well.

Solitude is not bad; it’s simply a gateway to yourself, if you let it be.

And then when you do meet people again, you have an even greater appreciation for them.

Trail magic

Coming out of the Bob to the Augusta trailhead, I was tired. I’d been pushing miles, with my longest day being 24 miles and then hiking a 20-mile day to the trailhead.

When I got to the trailhead, I was limping, out of water, and tired. It was quiet: the parking lot was full of backpackers’ cars but no one really seemed around. Augusta was a 30-mile hitch, but it didn’t look like there was anyone to hitch with.

And then a thru hiker walked by, spotting my CDT tag, and waved me over. “There’s trail magic over there at that camper!”

And that’s where I met Tripod.

Tripod had Triple Crowned last year on the CDT and was looking for a way to give back. So he loaded up a camper with supplies, came to a trailhead notorious for being difficult for hikers, and set up camp. That night, he fed us chicken burritos. He opened up his spot for our tents, and anyone who stayed got pancakes the next morning. (You bet I camped there that night.)

Then the next morning, the campers just across from Tripod came over as we were eating breakfast. “Hey! We’re headed out in about an hour. If anyone needs a ride to Augusta, ride with us!” And so I got to hitch out with a super cool couple who’d just finished a week of horse camping. We talked horses, cowboying, camping, and everything else on the drive down to town.

Once in town, at the motel, suddenly a black truck pulled in. “Sparks!” Someone yelled.  I looked over and it was the father and son I’d camped with the night before coming into the Augusta trailhead. They were on their first extended backpacking trip, and let me hang out around their fire that night. (That was the first time I’d even seen anyone in two days!) While in town, they’d spotted my backpack and stopped by to say hello.

Happy 4th of July!

Augusta has an Independence Day festival every year that I and a couple of other hikers are staying in town for. It’s a cute little town here: the motel, bar, casino, and restaurant is all one building, with the RV park and rodeo grounds out back. The general store has just about anything you could want, from hiker food to fresh fruit to cowboy boots to ammo. Our hitch out of the park took us through miles of cowboy country, and I spent half the drive fantasizing about what it would be like to cowboy out here (it would be incredible, just in case you were wondering).

It’s 120 miles to Helena from here, and then I’ll be picking up some new shoes, new socks, and hopefully find another trekking pole in a hiker box. But until then, enjoy the fireworks, y’all.