Last night I became pretty concerned I’d run out of power, so I wandered the campground and found a man tenting and hanging out at his picnic table with a book.
I asked if I could charge my HPS and phone, and he pulled out a double and set me up while we chatted at his citronella candle, one that gave off a good amount of smell but was totally ineffective against Montana mosquitos.
I wake up better than the night before, ready to roll, and head straight off on the wrong trail. I figure it out within a half mile, but it’s a half mile back up the hill – which somehow set off my tachycardia of fast beating heart and heavy breathing.
All right on schedule to enter the blowdowns. I was warned of seven miles of blowdowns, like pick-up-sticks, and that’s exactly what it looks like. Massive trunks laying directly across the trail on top of each other and with sharp, pointy branches.
I meet John in the first pile and he’s decided to go back because of a sprained ankle. We talk for a while as I eat my cereal and I begin to wonder if there’s an alternate, like maybe the trail I took by mistake.
And this is not a flat trail, rather it’s steep up and down and all out in the relentless sun. I can’t really jump off the logs, but I can climb up and straddle and find a creative way to drop down to my foot.
But there are holes I fall into and sharp edges that rip my pants and shred my skin. Many of these logs are burned and leave black char on my pants and hands.
Sometimes I have to go under, which usually means going down on my knees and shimmying as low as I can go. The logs catch my backpack and shred the big pocket, then pop out the bottles threatening to launch them out of reach.
The only consolation is the mosquitos aren’t especially horrible in the blowdown. It’s only when I stop at water do they buzz in, especially biting flies which happen to be easy to kill with a satisfying slap. The others arrive as I try to increase my electrolytes and bring down my heart rate.
The others fly through the blowdowns and are far ahead as I struggle, each new pile of logs a puzzle to figure out. It’s empowering trying to get over and under each new challenge, but utterly exhausting and confounding.
The views are nice from the burn area, to high rounded mountains in gray and small bits of snow. But my focus is on moving ahead without breaking a bone. I almost fall several times, and get caught by branches or hung up on my pack.
Suddenly, I’m heaved into a wood where the trail is easy, wide and shaded. Could this be the end? The light slants in through the trees, birds sing and butterflies flutter from flower to flower. It’s Eden – for a very short moment before I exit back into a burn area of more fallen trees.
The work is absolutely exhausting. My strategy is to walk to each stream and stop for water to rest and hydrate. There are so many about two miles apart, but this time, I crawl across some of the worst dead fall with sharp branches and seemingly no way through. I hear a stream ahead just as I ask the goddess for some sign that I will make it through. When i arrive? the others are sitting in the shade eating and tell me they’d heard the blowdowns end at this stream, nine miles in.
I woot with joy and also with surprise that I managed to walk so far in spite of crossing so many dead trees. I linger after they leave, eating, drinking and killing flies. It does seem the next section is clear – for a bit and then I’m right back in it.
I’ve perfected a technique of stepping over, lifting my leg straight up or straight back, or using other logs to stair step over. But I’ve just about had it.
I come to a campsite on a river I ford up to my shins, the cold so relaxing on my tired legs. I lose the trail for a moment, and my composure. But what I notice is the trail junctions with one I recognize. Of course, the trail I got lost on at the beginning of the day!
That might have been a smarter move to take it because as I walk it now, it’s completely clear of blowdown, wide for horses and easy walking. I no longer have the distraction or variety of my wood puzzles to cross, but it’s a straight shot to the ranger hut, where we eat on the porch with a stunning view deep into The Bob, then set our tents (illegally) on the lawn after a bit of yoga.
I struggled today and it was damn hard going over that massive number of blowdowns over nine miles worth. But i did it and kept moving through, making good decisions and staying injury-free.
This is a huge section and it makes me feel panicky uncertain I’ll make it through, but Andrea tells me to think of all the factors logically: I have plenty of food, I have shelter and I have others going through too offering perspective and groundedness.
I had thought they were walking together super fast and leaving me alone to fend for myself, but that’s not the case. They all walk each step on their own and manage the hardships as best they can. Knowing that makes me feel less lonely even though I walk alone.
A big climb awaits tomorrow and the weather is changing as the wind picks up and clouds move in. Another adventure, and this time I hope without blowdowns.
