[Day 104] Helena

My Ursack bear bag was undisturbed this morning. I’m supposedly back to dense bear country, but the signs have been minimal. My rock bag for bear hanging was lodged snug in the notch of the tree I attempted to hang in last night. I did not try for it; I’m headed for Helena.

The forests were uneventful much of the day. I spooked a moose around a corner and it went dashing off the mountain. Eventually, the woods turned to exposed dirt roads bringing me to Bullion Pass. The forest service was conducting some fuel mitigation efforts along the CDT up to MacDonald Pass at Highway 12, and CDT hikers were ordered on a reroute — either east or west road walks depending if the destination was Helena or Elliston. I took the route to Helena, and I was bored along the half dirt, half pavement road walk. However, I managed — I made Highway 12 in 20 and a half miles, and I got a hitch to Helena within ten minutes of standing on the highway.

Aviator, as he was known on the Appalachian Trail, gave me a ride in his jolting, new Chevy truck as he took tokes on whatever concoction he was smoking. He had the truck engaged in some engine braking mode, and I guess he might have been a bit too high to notice. The marijuana use has surprisingly only seemed to increase as I’ve gotten further north, at least regarding my hitch drivers. Aviator came upon his father’s cattle ranch after his death, and it sounded to be quite the inheritance. He dropped me at the main post office in Helena, where I waited an hour in line to pick up my resupply box and new shoes (thank you yet again mom).

After, I hiked down to Shellie’s Diner and got a heaping of late day breakfast. There isn’t much a meal more fattening than a country fried steak with the other breakfast fixings. I followed it up with some Oreo chocolate creme pie. On a full belly, I paid and booked myself a room at the Budget Inn in downtown Helena. I figure Helena will be my last opportunity for a cheap hotel option, so I’m taking my chance. My Uber ride let me know I was in the “bad” side of town, and the bad side of town is a rundown motel vibe with harmless hippy homeless. This felt similar to what was once found in North County San Diego — specifically Encinitas — so you can imagine it’s a tame scene. One block down the street, the bars are hopping with the dressy, ritzy weekend crowds.

I got my chores done and booked a ticket to see “Oppenheimer” in what will be an empty theater. I attended a restaurant called Old Salt — it’s one of these boutique, open format, simple menu, spots that was coupled up with a bar. The burger left me wondering why I didn’t just drop $15 at McDonalds for seven McDoubles. Oh well. Thus is the nature of the modern downtown artsy rip off.

I had a 257-occupancy theater to my lonesome — odd for a Friday night. I enjoyed the movie. It’ll will definitely give me some themes to ponder as I finish out my hike.

After, I headed for my hotel room. As I was taking my socks off to get into bed, the itch started. Oh no. The itch quickly developed into an unstoppable, uncomfortable rage. I could not risk scratching. The skin of my shins is thin from previous scratching and covered with small, unpronounced scabs that bleed vigorously when opened. I downed allergy medication, rubbed my legs with cortisone, and yelled curses aggressively as I fought the urge to scratch.

I headed out for a walk — my remedy to this itchy predicament. Ridiculously, I found myself walking a couple miles through the dead ambience of downtown Helena at 3am drinking a Dr. Pepper, all to suppress an absolute urge to rip the skin off my legs. I returned to the hotel with a lingering mild itch, so I tasked myself to chores before finally climbing into bed around 4am. These town stops are truly the enemy of my hike.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)