CDT2025 Book 2 Chapter 1 – MacDonald Pass and the Helena tarpit

Day 1 – Escaping Lincoln

None of us got up particularly early. Partly, nobody wanted to leave, and partly there were no cars on the road. It was Sunday of 4th of July weekend. I met a few people at the gas station, and we had a hiker trash breakfast ( coffee, blackberry ‘pie’ in a box, stole a few mayo packets for later) while debating how much to hike today, and when to hike out.

Eventually we had to get going. We all made our way towards the edge of town and staggered ourselves along the road. There is a code of hitchhiking where if someone is already out there you need to go farther down the road. Otherwise you might get picked up first and that makes you a douche.  There was a nice sort of hiker parade on the edge of town.

Casper ended up being the ‘ride bride’ (a much more polite term than ‘hitch bitch’) and scored a bunch of us a minivan. The lady was super nice and asked pointed questions about our relationship with Jesus Christ. Frito, who was in the front seat, did most of the talking for us and took a bit of a beating.  When he told her that he was raised Baptist, she kind of quieted down.  A super nice lady though.  She kept a hiker register in her car so we all signed it.

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If it wasn’t true that 25-year-old blonde girls get picked up with greater frequency than 53-year-old bearded dudes, then there wouldn’t be a term for it.  I can’t claim credit for either term.

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Up we went.  And up.  We took a break at a public picnic area. Since I had water, I cooked late lunch there so that I could dry camp and just eat snacks for dinner.  Kate and Frito napped in the sun.

It was only a few more miles to our intended campsite. However, it was in a burn area, as someone described “charred toothpicks”, because of the tall skinny Lodgepole Pines. They had been burned down to the trunks leaving a forest of tall skinny spikes. So we pushed on another 2 miles making 19 for the day and found a safe place to camp.

Zen and Ice Cream dropped back earlier in the day, and we never saw them again. They are the slow and steady type. And they love their weed.

We hit a couple of milestones today, the 300 mile mark, and mile 311, which is roughly 10% of the whole trail if you are doing the whole thing.  Kate is kind of struggling, so when I said that her reaction was a typical Ed reaction, oh geez 90% to go.

Feeling good.  Did not roll either ankle.  Feet taking a beating.  had a ibuprofen chaser for dessert. As we call it, Vitamin I.

Day 2 – Llama Drama and the Marathon

There was a known good spring in five miles from our campsite. We woke up early, thirsty, and pushed on.  Casper and Tool Man had camped at the spring the previous night. Shortly after, we had a decision to make. We came down to another pass where a dirt road would take you all the way down into the valley to a Llama Farm. The place was known as a refuge for Continental Divide cycle riders, and recently CDT thruhikers as well.

None of us were going to stay on the so-called Red Line which went around the entire valley, because there was no water on the ridge. The question was whether or not to take the first road option and go directly to the llama farm, or to continue on the CDT up and over another mountain before dropping into the valley. The advantage of staying on the CDT was that you got to go to a fire tower. Kate pointed out that if you are on a ridge, how much more view are you going to get from a tower anyway?

They took the road, I took the trail. It was kind of a grind uphill most of the way and when I got there, the tower was locked. And for some reason, the summit of this mountain was swarming with small black biting flies.  But the view was awesome.

Down I went to the road. It was in pretty rough shape, which caused my ankles and knees no small degree of consternation. But it soon flattened out, and I was joined by Frito, Zen, and Ice Cream. Of course, they quickly passed me, their chrome domes gleaming in the early afternoon sun.

At mile 19 for the day, I finally arrived at the llama farm. There were a bunch of people there all hanging out, charging their phones, and drinking sodas, which the owners provided. I asked one of the hikers where I should put all my stuff because I didn’t want to make a mess and be in the way. At the edge of the horse paddock, there was a handful of packs, so I added mine to the pile.

I hung out for a little bit, talked to some people, and tried to figure out a place to sleep.

And then things got weird.

I think it was a slow boil. Normally, the place is only open for cyclists, and there’s maybe 5 to 10 a da.  In recent days, there have been over 20 hikers each day showing up. The owner of the house came out the front door, and launched into a tirade about how people were blocking the front door, and saying things like why do you people think you can just leave your packs everywhere?

Yes, you people.

It went on for a period of time during which most of us started packing up our stuff. When all was said and done he asked one of the hikers to come back into the house with him, and burst into a tearful apology, asking that we not leave negative comments on the hiking phone app.  But then after she left with us in the first wave. He continued to ‘you people’ the remaining hikers.  Zen offered a suggestion like having a sign that read, “no packs on the porch”.  “OH, so I have to write every little rule?  You people should know better!”

I and about 10 other people left at about 6:00. Before long EVERY other hiker also packed up and left. I think the poor folks lacked a plan.

So we all pushed on, following the roads down the valley and up the other side towards the trail. Everything seemed annoyingly private property, so we kept going. Worst case, we knew we could hit the CDT in 9 miles. Nobody wanted to do that after hiking a very long day in the first place. A guy driving down the road stopped and said we could camp in a particular field so about half of the group did that. The rest of us, led by myself and Casper, pushed up Lost Horse Canyon Road. We weren’t really sure what we were looking for, but a lady hiker named Fruit Fly noticed a nice flat spot alongside a stream, which we all immediately took advantage of.

We were all so tired, we cooked our dinner right there between all of the tents. Technically, a No-No in bear country. We still hung our food safely.

My normal mediocre hiking speed was further hampered by chase. I think it’s a combination of the heat and the sweat and salty clothes. I asked Casper if she happened to have any Vagisil:

Sorry, no.  What’s wrong?

I have a … hole … chafing issue

Oof.

It ended up being 26.5 miles for me that day. Anything over 26 is known as a “marathon”, so I got a quick round of applause from the other hikers for my first marathon of this trip.

Day 3 – 13 or 19 miles or whatever

Because it was 19 mi from there to the highway, and there was no water, we all decided to do a road walk down USFS roads to the highway instead.  Except that when we woke up in the morning, two other hikers came up to me and said they were going to do the red line. I think most of us were only semi comfortable with skipping the distance in the first place. Once people had a chance to sleep on it they realized they wanted to power through. Shamed, I agreed to do the same.

My back was all spasmy when I got my pack on, and it took a little bit before I could catch my breath properly. I started up the hill, using Casper as my rabbit. In this context, rabbit is sort of the same thing as the lure on a dog track. You need someone or something that is just slightly faster than you to help pull you up the hill. The opportunity for conversation and joking around made the extra effort worth it.

Once we got to the top of the ridge, I hiked alone. By mid-afternoon I was getting low on water, having rationed it all day. The heat became oppressive. I read on my phone that Helena, down in the valley, was supposed to hit 95°. Finally, I reached the top of the last hill, where some guys were doing maintenance on the radio towers. I begged some extra water off of them.

I was at the road by 4:00. Frito was already there trying to hitch. He was out of water. The highway is one of those high speed, 70 mph, nobody stops sort of roads. We were not hopeful. I said if we waited an hour I was going to call for an Uber. Our hopes were briefly raised, then dashed, when a Cadillac SUV pulled over. However, it was somebody who had driven past us earlier and returned with apples and religious pamphlets about freeing yourself from the bondage of sin.

15 minutes later or so, somebody did stop. Neither Frito nor I were in any real condition to tell the person where to go, so he dropped us off at the grocery store. I think it must have been my repeated comments about looking for something cold to drink.

Helena is pretty gross and spread out and paved. While we recovered in the cafe section of the grocery store, both of us got on our phones to try to find a place to stay. In the end I found a cheap hotel near the interstate. On a normal day, I would have walked the mile and a half there. This was not a normal day, so I called Uber. En route to the hotel, we passed a clock which read 96°F.

I got to my crappy hotel and took such a long shower that my fingers and toes were prunes.  The hotel had no working laundry so I washed all of my clothes in the shower with me. AKA shlaundry.

Day 4 – logistics and maildrops

It was weird to sleep in a bed. Plus as soon as it got light, I woke up thinking I had to get going. It was a weird morning. Back was still sore. On the plus side both ankles feel better, the feet are good, and the elbow seems to be okay.

The goal today was to get my new tent poles from FedEx and pick up my mail drop from the post office. After an hour walk, and repeated assertions from FedEx that the package was sent incorrectly, they managed to produce it. They admonished me repeatedly to next time fill out the paperwork differently, even though Shana had spoken with the person at that particular FedEx office for details on how to do the paperwork.

Then the bad news. Despite mailing the box 5 days ago Priority Mail, it wasn’t here. No mail drop. Weak.

Staying over at a different hotel tonight, more central.  The CDT really sucks in this regard. The logistics are so much more difficult and the towns are so much farther away from the trail. Every time you leave the trail it’s this incredible vortex derailing your forward progress. Maybe more mental than physical. It’s difficult to focus on the trail when you are standing at the intersection of two different three-lane highways waiting for the lights to change while walking a mile through a Beat industrial park towards the grocery store to get your food.  Then, on the way back, you have to wait for a 200-car train to pass through town, so you end up sitting on the ground with the garbage next to the train tracks. 

The other trips I’ve done have been much more immersive. You’re in the woods, you’re doing your thing, and maybe once in a while you pop out to buy food. Here you have a 20 mile hitch on an interstate where no one will stop. Just getting in and out of town takes a day minimum.

 

The plan tomorrow, after wasting an entire day here, is to finally go get my package from the post office. I’m also going to mail my old broken tent poles home, along with my winter gloves and some socks I don’t need. But that’s another three mile walk, an asphalt, in 400 mile beat up shoes which have seen better days. The whole thing just kind of sucks.

Ideally I’ll get out of town before noon and put in at least 10 mi. That would get me to Butte, or at least the trailhead there, in 5 days. There, I’m expecting another box, so we’ll see if the US Postal Service can get that one right.

A lot of this nonsense could be mitigated by scrupulous (over?) planning.   For instance, the cheap, central hotel I’m staying at tonight also holds packages for hikers. Knowing this, and planning to be here ahead of time would have made everything so much easier . But doing that requires that you get some return on the investment of time. When you’re not sure you’ll ever make it this far, it seems like there’s little point in doing this level of planning before the hike. I guess it’s a pay earlier or pay now type situation.

On to Butte!