[Day 97] Hamilton

I woke up around 7am after a night of four hours of half decent sleep. This why I typically try to skip on hotels. What’s a $100 hotel room worth if your sleep is mediocre anyway? Add to it that I despise hotels after living out of one for an entire summer while working in the Bay Area. After hotel breakfast, I started my main objective for the morning — ship home the elk skull. The UPS store was pricey for packaging and didn’t have a simple fit, so I shimmed together two 24” by 24” by 18” moving boxes from Ace Hardware and fit the antlers on the diagonal.

After showering and checking out, I returned to the UPS store to be quoted $344 to ship this box to San Diego. I seriously started to rethink whether I wanted this rack. My aunt runs a logistics company, so I called on her expertise. Using her Fedex account, we got a label printed at the UPS store and I dropped the box off at Walgreens bound for home. The cost is yet to be quoted, but I am crossing my fingers the Fedex account saves me some cash for many more miles and hamburgers ahead.

With a hike like this, I often do not recognize those in support in my endeavors. My worrisome, loving mom sends me timely resupply and care packages at a whim to keep this boat afloat. Without her, I’d be a starving, shoeless bum living in a tent (or Tacoma) down by the river. Similarly, I’m so fortunate to have a down-to-earth, tenacious aunt who is there for me at a moments notice. I supposedly have three other aunts, but each is a unique and apparent mental case that I luckily have no connection to!

The trail is the teacher in many ways, and, not to be cliche, family is one of its biggest lessons. For one, I realized blood connection matters very little. Some of my greatest bonds were made on the PCT with people of all ages from across the country. The trail, though mostly a solitaire experience for hikers like myself, still has deep roots in brotherhood and sisterhood. The greater lesson of family comes as you remove yourself from immediate communication with your network. Who do you think about on a daily basis? Who do you contact when you have that bit of cell reception at the top of a mountain? Who thinks of and contacts you? Coupled with self reflection, the trail quite rapidly narrows the quality from the quantity — who matters in your life. The trail has identified the cornerstones in my life, both family and friends.

The last two chores were to bum out at McDonald’s and resupply from Safeway. It was a nonchalant, gloomy Montana day in Hamilton. Around 4pm, on my way to the ATM to grab some cash, a truck pulled over and offered an unsolicited ride to Chief Joseph Trailhead. That was easy!

Randy, who had done the AT, hiked much of the PCT, and was preparing for the Te Aerora Trail, picked me up in his flatbed truck and hauled me up to Chief Joseph Trailhead. At the moment of drop off, the rain broke out. I was drenched and quickly got into the privy at the trailhead. I changed out of my wet town clothes into my unwashed trail attire. After about 30 minutes wait, the rain calmed to a gentle sprinkle, and I started into the forest.

The Idaho-Montana border made its split from definition by the Continental Divide line at a cabin in the woods. North to Canada, the Idaho-Montana border is defined by the crest of the Bitterroot Mountains. I, however, head east deeper into Montana along the divide. I said goodbye to Idaho — thank you for the many days of dry feet, exposed ridge walks, and the elk skull (well, I might have found that in Montana).

I cruised the combination young and burned forest to camp for a short day. Rain pattered my tent all night. I feel it’s going to be a wet stretch of trail.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)