[Day 96] Burn & Bones

Looking at my map last night, I concluded an early rise was a practical idea. I had some 23 miles and 7,500 feet of gain to Chief Joseph Pass and Highway 43, where I’d hitch to whatever full-service town my ride might get me to. Unfortunately, I passed up my 6:00am rise for 7:30am. Oh well. I was tired I guess — so much for a half day in town.

A steep slippery descent brought be below 6,000 feet. I haven’t been below 6,000 feet since New Mexico. A few berries — it seems just huckleberries — stopped me occasional. With the warmer temperatures and wetter valley of the lower elevation, I figure the berries might be early relative to where I’ve been hiking. I am excited for the fruity flavors ahead.

I pulled off the trail before my first significant climb to do… well, some business. In my jaunt through the forest, I came across an elk skull with a full rack. There wasn’t a chance I was going to pass up this piece of trail memorabilia. I’ve never macerated bones before, but this things going to need some clean up before it’s household attire. Ideas to commemorate the trail with this piece were abundant today.

I numbered my climbs today — four in total. Climb one was 2,000 feet over a couple miles. Check. I entered burn area after Big Hole Pass. Climb two, part A gave me a steep 500-foot lift. Climb two, part B was… well, nonexistent. New trail not reflected on my map wrapped the side of mountain instead of climbing. It saved me 1,000 feet. Sweet! Climb three was well graded and enjoyable. I took a side trail at the peak to a spring for water and lunch-breakfast. Climb four flew by — I had service and was on auto pilot moving through the burn zone. Dirt road rolled the rest of the day through more… you guessed it… burn to Highway 43. After it was all said and done, the climbing was only a mile of vertical today — a couple thousand less than projected.

My hitch. Where do I begin. First, I knew this would be difficult — I had an elk skull on my back! After about ten minutes on the side of the highway, a 1980 Ford van came speeding by, but quickly hit the brakes and pulled off a tenth of a mile down the road. Is this for me? I trotted down the road. Keith had pulled off for two reasons: to pick me up and to allow his steaming, overheating engine to cool. He was about to throw water on the engine, but I seriously warned against it. He opened the radiator cap, let the pressurized steam spew out for a few minutes, then dumped a gallon of whatever drinking water into the coolant system (distilled water is quite critical with proper coolant ratio, but I guess what does it matter when your vehicle is on 400,000 miles). We hopped in, fired her up, and Keith, his bulldog Walter, and myself were flying down the road. And, I mean flying down this mountain pass — 85mph plus in a 1980’s Ford. Keith, while lighting up a joint and drinking a Twisted Tea, was passing cars on a windy mountain descent at easily 100mph. Might I add in a 1980’s Ford van. To conserve fuel, Keith killed the engine on the descent — we were near empty. Never have I been in such a dangerous position, yet was so unbothered. It was ludicrous to the point of amusement and exhilaration. After a quick stop at the Conoco down the hill and a dousing of Walter to cool him down, we rolled on to Darby and Hamilton. Keith was an electrician, and he did jobs on a bunch of big wigs houses out in this part of Montana. There was a lot we talked about: the 350,000 acre Spade Fire of 2000, polygamy and inbreeding in Pinesdale (a community just outside of Hamilton), the filming of the hit show “Yellowstone” at Chief Joseph Ranch in Darby, 15 missing teenage girls on the Flathead Reservation.

I decided to skip Darby. It was a quaint tourist town. Hamilton had the goods — a UPS store to ship my elk skull, a Safeway for full resupply, and a McDonald’s so that I might come across another crazy old white dude who wants to yap my ear off. I grabbed a shake and donuts at this spot called Freestone, and I think some of the polygamy gang walked right in the store. What the hell.

I chowed my donuts and booked a spot at the Quality Inn. I was not about to walk into a hotel with an elk rack on my back (do note, some flesh remains on the skull) and ask for availability. I checked in and slipped through the back door, fleshy elk skull in tow.

After a bit of chores and a shower, I toured town, only to find most restaurants closed. But, trusty Taco Bell was open with indoor seating and a working cola fountain. I ate up, went back to the hotel, and bummed out until bed.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)