[Day 93] Smoked Salmon

Jenn, a local teacher in town who shuttles hikers, offered me a free ride to Bannock Pass since she was picking up a hiker from the top anyway. She picked me up at 7am this morning from the Stage Stop, and we had a kind conversation on the ride up. Upon dropping me off, she was picking up some southbound hiker with a bizarre trail name — something that sounded like tarantula, but it wasn’t. I forgot the name the moment he said it; you could tell his pride in the bizarreness of the name. I told him to enjoy town, best of luck on his trek, and I wouldn’t be seeing him since I was heading north. He smirked at me and said, “Unless everything goes catastrophically wrong.” What is wrong with these southbounders? Even Jenn seemed disheartened to give this guy a ride after that remark. I don’t mean to speak poorly of the entire population of southbound hikers, but a substantial portion are unfriendly or give strange impressions. I have definitely met some characters — people I wouldn’t mind hiking with myself if we were moving the same direction.

Jenn gave me a parting gift of some grapes, and I decided to take an oatmeal breakfast at Bannock Pass before walking. It was pleasant — cool with clouds and dead silent. There was a day ahead of me, and my gut feeling promised a good day.

From the get go, trail was phenomenally manicured as I entered Salmon National Forest: no blowdowns, excellent grading and switchbacking, regular and clear signage and postings. The trail only lasted maybe ten miles before it turned to dirt road, but I was nonetheless grateful for some PCT-like manicured single track.

I made the push of 18 miles on a single liter of water to a great piped spring. USFS will often pipe and fence off springing water sources to prevent animal contamination. I took lunch, watered up, and stripped out of my pants to free the legs. It was a fairly cloudy day and under foliage was minimal, so I didn’t have to worry about sun burn or plant oils. Since the relative air humidity had a chance to drop with the rising heat of the day, the air became smokey from the smoldering Hayden Fire northwest of Leadore. I was in the northernly wind path of the smoke. The PCT had far worse days of smoke, and I didn’t even see the significant fire season on that trail.

I got back on the horse and moved another seven miles to Lemhi Pass. Lemhi Pass is where the CDT intersects the Lewis and Clark Trail, the route which the two explorers took seeking portage to the Pacific in the American territories gained from France after the Louisiana Purchase. As Lewis and Clark would discover exploring the river systems towards the Continental Divide, the rapidly descending gradient of the mountains west of the divide did not promise a navigable river system by boat like the Mississippi-Missouri drainage to the east did. Hence, the long-founded idea of a connecting northwest passage to the Pacific Ocean was thwarted. I love the Continental Divide — what a feature.

I climbed up on clean trail again north out of Lemhi Pass. I enjoyed a laugh over some of the odd habits I often ignorantly practice. This thought was triggered by a skill I have developed and it’s become somewhat second nature — the ability to urinate while hiking. I won’t provide details, but I manage without any leakage or wetting of my personage. Some other odd developments from the trail include:

• Walking 15 to 20 miles on less than a liter of water consumption with negligible thirst.
• Forgetting to brush my teeth almost daily.
• Drinking a liter of water in less than 10 seconds.
• Regularly skipping breakfast and walking 10 to 15 miles before eating.
• Practicing a ritual of stirring my fecal matter in its cathole with bacteria-rich dirt and water to aid in decomposition.
• Eating upwards of 1,000 calories in candy a day.
• Contemplating rejecting all connections to the civilized world.
• Consuming absurd, unhealthful amounts of food in town.
• Talking to myself and avoiding human contact.

Please consult your health care professional before partaking in any of these listed practices.

I needed water for the end of the day, and my maps made it apparent trail wouldn’t provide any. I cut through the forest for over half a mile to an adjacent lower dirt road where my map suggested there was a seasonal springing creek. It was barely flowing, but barely was enough. I cooked up dinner as I filtered the algae- and bug-ridden culvert water.

Following my maps and eating dinner simultaneously, I walked my way back up to trail and camp to end a 35-mile day. A wonderful sunset of darkened smokey-orange clouds lit up the sky. I pitched camp, hung my food, and reminisced on another classic day on the Montana-Idaho border.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)