CDT2025 Book 2 Chapter 2 – into Butte

Deep Thoughts by Smokebeard

I’ll get to Butte in a second.  First, some things I’ve noticed/realized/thought of in the long, pensive hours stomping along.  There’s a spectrum from insightful to maudlin to lachrymose.  We’ll see where we end up.  Sometimes it’s all three every day.

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I’ve gotten some feedback that these posts are long.  I’m not offended if you skip to the pictures.  Or to the end.  It’s a product of having a lot of time on my hands, mentally, and a lot of time in town.  That part will change in the next few weeks.

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This time on the CDT I’m going to do about 1500 miles. More or less, give or take an alternate. When I hit the side trail into Butte tomorrow, I’ll be at mile 452. Which means I will have done 30% of my goal. That went by really quick, damn.

Every day is probably the last day that you’ll see a hiking buddy.  All it takes is one person deciding to average 30s, or digging in an extra mile or 10, and you’ll never see them again.  You might be an hour behind them for the next 1000 miles. Enjoy the friendships while you have them, but don’t build your hike around them. 

It’s been really interesting to see the landscape change between Helena and Butte. Helena still had some of that high ridge walk, post-Lincoln spacious skies going on. This section is a lot more lodge pole forests, little streams, mosquitoes, and dragonflies. Presumably, to eat the mosquitoes, although the dragonfly to mosquito ratio is disappointingly small.  The rocks have changed, too. I forget my grade school geology, but I think the Northern parts were a lot of old sedimentary rock. Now we’re getting into some big gray boulder stuff, not granite, it seems too soft.  Gneiss?

Hiker hunger is definitely a thing now. Jokes about second breakfast aside, I’m definitely eating a lot more food and burning through my snacks faster than planned. I might have lost some weight, my pants feel pretty loose. But there’s plenty of meat still on the bones, so to speak, so there’s a long time before I’m skinny.

People say there is no such thing as bad luck. I find myself oscillating between schlemiel and schlimazel. I’m either a victim of my own bad luck, or the cause of it.  Can you ‘schlemiel’ yourself??

I seem to be getting into town either on a Sunday or some other inconvenient time where the US mail is not working. In desperation, I shipped a package two towns ahead. I really want the stuff in that box, but if I am forced to leave town without another box, I’m going to lose my mind. At the time of this writing, the box that went out priority mail on July 5th is still scheduled to be picked up on the 15th. 10 days. I thought I would be clever and ship a box to a business in the next town, but I read that they are closed on Mondays. I would be calling them on a Monday to make the arrangements, except now I can’t. Schemiel? Or Schlimazel?  I suppose I could have called them earlier today when they were open, but that would have required phone access. And a plan.

I’m camping in a pseudo-legal church and chapel area on a mountain outside of Butte. I had the entire place to myself, I could have camped anywhere. I pitched my tent and got everything ready, and then at 9pm flood lights came on, pointed right at my tent. Note that there are only two lights in the entire area.  Exhausted, I pulled my hat over my face.

Trail magic is now a thing. I think it was the same guy, a hiker named Weatherman. Two days in a row, there has been a cooler full of soda.  I am hoping this trend continues. When you come across a cooler in 90° heat and it’s fillef with cold cans of Coke, well, that’s just the best.

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Day1 – Jericho Fire Closure

My package, mailed on the 5th, was now wandering the back roads of the upper West, somewhere between Great Falls and Denver.  Very Dean Moriarty.  In a rage, I decided to leave Helena.  The trail was closed, opening “soon”, and there was a forest road reroute.

Packing up my food at the grocery store, I walked put to the 4 lane highway running through Helena, and put my best thumb out.  The full Monty; the smile, the hat up off the face, the sad Banner/Hulk hitchhiker walk.  Nothing for about half an hour and a mile of gradually diminishing commercial district.  The upper Plains were nibbling at the edge of town when a van stopped!  Some folks heading to Glacier in their campervan were happy to give me a ride.

The first part of the road closure was a paved road.  Yuck.  I endured for a few miles, then put my thumb out. “Hitchhiking is still hiking,” said some dude in NM last year.  It’s an unofficial trail anyway.   An older guy, very reminiscent of Fred Gwynne in Pet Sematary, picked me up on a beat-up old truck.  He said he’d drive me up the dirt roads too.

Wolves?  Prolific in Montana.  I saw a couple last year when I was bow-hunting.  I had a wolf tag, so I howled at them.  They started coming down the ridge, howling.  It was getting pretty dark, and then I heard a 3rd wolf about 50 yards BEHIND me.  That’s when I knew I had to get out of there.

I couldn’t help think, “clever girl”.

https://youtu.be/GBgL5EE0wd4?feature=shared

I walked the dirt roads, saw an elk, got lost, and then rejoined the CDT.  Phew, back on holy ground.  Camped solo, which is my new thing.  Gorgeous lodgepole grove.

Day2 – the Leadville Cutoff

An easy day, I thought.  The smell of warm, dry pines, cool early morning light, and the usual no-humidity pointed to a good day.

Except for the PUDs.  Pointless Ups and Downs, sometimes inevitable, other times bad trail, or reused mountain bike trail.  “It’s flat”, except for the 50-100 foot climbs and drops.  Over and over.

And blowdowns.  Generally, the trail is amazingly maintained, but trees fall.  And sometimes lots in a small area.  Did a lot of gymnastics and weaving in and out of brush to get around big trees across the trail.

By midmorning, Heaps, I’llBe, Beans and Pyro all caught me.  Of course.  These longstriders bang out 30 mile days all the time.  Plus they’d spent 2 days off in Missoula ( the Berkeley of Montana ), so they had fresh legs.

I caught them later when Heaps’ pack broke.  A strap just tore off.  Old stitching?  She later managed to patch it up with floss and tape.  Note: she’s already ahead of me again.  We talked about the “Leadville Cutoff” which left the trail, went through an old mining community, then rejoined the CDT.

The Leadville Cutoff sucked. It was all bad ATV road, and no drinkable water ( either lead-y, or full of cow manure).  It was 3 ruined cabins and some rusty metal mining ‘things’, whose purpose was no longer clear.

But I crossed mile 400.  I camped at mile 402 between some spring-fed water troughs and buzzing high voltage power lines.  Thanks ranchers!

Day3 – Double Magic

A 25 miler.

The trail was “cruisey”, meaning low elevation changes per mile.  And it was really true, with few PUDs.

Woke up to elk on the ridge above me just before dawn.  No bugling, sadly.  Just big horns.

Water was now a thing.  As in, you planned your day around it.  First check, phone app says reliable water at miles 2, 12 and 20.  10 miles is about 2 liters, and you roll in a little thirsty.  It’s a gamble, is the source reliable?  Will you be sad?  Check the date on the last comment; if it seems reasonably recent, roll the dice.  You don’t instantly die from dehydration if you can’t get a drink when you want one.  But it’s a long grind without water.  Except, the little voice whispers in your head – water is so heavy, don’t carry more than you need.

A few miles after the first water source, at a road crossing, actual Trail Magic!  NOT a hiker feed, where the guy is there, and you make awkward conversation while sucking down a soda.  It’s just a cooler in the woods full of goodies.

I hiked solo all day, and didnt see anyone until dinner time.  It was a sort of elvish day, magic dreamy weather, hot pines, light haze, low wind, silent.  Like you were the last person on Earth.  Or at least the only person for miles.

Late afternoon, around mile 20, I got to a dirt road, water empty, but a mile from a USFS campground, which had water.  I couldn’t find the water, so I asked some campers.  “We have 10 gallons, and we’re leaving tomorrow, so we’ll just fill you up.”  Classic “yogi”.   Remember, you can’t ask.  Or even transparently suggest.

Would you drink a beer?

Yes, you know, I would.

Lager or IPA?

Dealer’s choice, man.  You’re talking to a guy who eats the same noodles for dinner every night.

I’m a cheap date, or massively dehydrated.  IPA hits hard.

Trailwise, I’m losing people to the Anaconda cutoff and upcoming Big Sky Cutoff.  Ketchup and Soulmate are taking that to save about 300 miles and time for the Tetons.  The Tetons are not on the proper CDT, but a lot of people navigate through them into Yellowstone from the west.

After I cooked dinner in the campground and sobered up, I pushed on another 4 miles.

Day4 – root beer and Our Lady

Another 25 miler.  Half a mile after starting, I ran into more Magic.  This time root beers. And there was 1 left.  For me.

Then a 7 mile roadwalk down out of the hills, across/under I-15, and back up into the hills.  The CDT curves around Butte.  Imagine Butte is a clock face, this crossing was at 1 o’clock.  My exit was at approximately 3 o’clock.  The day was full of trashed mountain bike trail and PUDs.

Fried, at about 5pm I got to the side trail up to Our Lady if the Rockies, a giant statue plus chapel, complete with power, well water, and bathrooms.  Literally dripping with sweat at this point, I made it up just ahead of the cloud of mosquitoes.

I took a few pics of what I call the “Butte Hole”, dodged bugs, drank lots of water, and called home.  I had planned to cowboy camp, bit the mosquitoes and flies made that impossible.  I ultimately pitched my tent.

Right under a floodlight that kicked on at 9pm.

Dozing with my hat on my face, I heard what I dreaded; vehicles.  It wasn’t exactly permitted to be up there.  While I practiced my best Ron Glass/Harris “cmon Man!” speech, a group of local dudes came up in the dark.  Presumably, to spit over the edge of the cliff, or rough-house, or whatever kids do these days.  They either didn’t see my tent, didn’t care, or were somehow intimidated.  They left me alone.

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Into Butte

3 miles to the side trail, and 4 miles to the road.  It was a very southern California desert vibe, compete with the sight, and smell of juniper!  Took me back.

I ran into a few people on the local trails, very promising.  And Trail Jesus provided – 100 yards from the parking lot, a trail runner.  “Hey are you doing the CDT?  Need a ride into town?”

10am, eating an omelet, toast and pancakes.

Noon, mailing my next town food box, and picking up packages.

1pm, drinking a giant smoothie in a parking lot like a loiterer.

3pm, checked into my hotel and clean.

7pm, ate dinner and found a coffee shop to blog.

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Tomorrow, mail 4 boxes of food to:

Wise River, MT

North Fork, ID ( yes, Idaho! )

Leadore, ID

Lima, MT

And them maybe Uber or a taxi to the trailhead.  Frito waited 2 hours for a hitch, albeit on an empty spur road near I-15.  This area goes from over developed and unwalkable, to empty ranch land.  I kind of need to be on trail at a certain time, so in 4 days I’m in Wise River at a certain time.  I can’t wander the roads waiting for a hitch that will never come.

Frito, Toolman and Zoe are headed back up the I-15 to rejoin the red line.  Zen and Ice Cream are taking the Super Butte/Big Sky Cutoff, to make time for family in Colorado.

On to Wise River, and Idaho!  Service will be sporadic, so blog updates might be delayed.