Day 107: From Mammoth to my first night in Montana

Mileage: 26 miles (1951.7-1977.7)

We woke up around 6:30am but didn't get going until 7:15am. A nice IT Lady in the park gave me a ride back to trailhead where I got off and roadwalked into Mammoth, which was a bit of a demoralizing way to start the day. I got it over with and returned to pack rest of my stuff, worried the campground hosts might enforce a Draconian checkout time.

I got a general store lunch including a chicken sandwich, a package of bolgna, and lovely Huckleberry Ice Cream sandwiches I found everywhere in the park - these ice cream sandwiches were maybe the highlight of Yellowstone.

I started hiking on the hot, clear day baking in the sun past the Mammoth Terraces and was underwhelmed by the hot springs - they were interesting, but you couldn't have spent more than an hour or two there as there wasn't a whole lot to see. 

Mammoth the town was almost more interesting with its history as an Army base back before the establishment of the Park Service in 1916. Back then, they were tasked with keeping the poachers at bay and built a lot of the infrastructure (including backcountry patrol cabins) that are still around today.

There was a lot of uphill on the Sportsman Lake trail. I met two young hippy women at the Cache Lake junction and was tempted just to camp at the lake with them on the hot day when I was already so tired, but needed to keep pushing. I pushed nearly ten more miles to Sportsman Lake and asked a horse party if I could camp with them.

They not only obliged but offered me their leftovers too. And I'm not talking nasty leftovers either - I basically had a whole steak dinner, complete with salad, green beans, and cookies for dessert. I couldn't have imagined the night working out better. We hung out by the campfire and I helped with a couple camp tasks because I wanted to do something for them. I then headed to my tent by 9pm, realizing I'd made it to Montana and was staying there for good. My last state of the trail, wow, it feels good!

Day 106: Tower Junction to Mammoth Springs via the Black Canyon of theYellowstone

Miles: 31.1 miles (1920.6-1951.7)

Deanna and her husband, the campground hosts, gave me coffee, cookies, and bag of nuts. We talked about the park's wildlife and I told them about my wolf encounter. They were blown away and then told me a few of their own experiences with Wolves, including one where they watched an alpha pair try unsuccessfully to take down a cow elk for eight hours. 

They were good people and I enjoyed sitting and having coffee with them, pretending I was a normal person for a second. Moments like this were always too short, so I cherished the interaction all the more.

Entire herd of hundreds of Bison were blocking the trail, so I skirted around. I entered a volcanic area which reminded me of rock in San Juan's in southern Colorado. Then into some mellow pine woods and a big raven took off from below a tree. Immediately, I came to attention as a raven on the ground usually means carcass and carcass means Grizzly. Then I saw the bear. Just laying under the tree some fifteen feet off the trail. I heard some scrambling in the tree above me and saw two Cubs crawling frantically up the tree. So, it was a momma bear. But, as I glanced down again my worst fear subsided - they were Black Bears, not Grizzlies.

 I still had to be careful as mother bears of any kind are unpredictable and can be aggressive to protect their young. But, this momma just looked up at me and put her head back down.

She was a pretty small and skinny looking bear, perhaps from providing nourishment to her cubs. I took a few pictures and left, not wanting to push my luck. I walked away with the cubs looking at me, paws hanging over the tree like I was some sort of spectacle to amuse themselves with. They were extraordinarily cute, but I forced myself to keep moving and make sure not to disturb the lazy mother, who obviously had seen her share of people.

Walking towards Hell Roaring Creek Cedar Waxwings with their yellow tails flitted about. After crossing over the suspension bridge and heading down near the Yellowstone River I saw a helicopter drop two huge cargo loads from a long line in a meadow below. They scared two Bald Eagles who flew upriver right past my perch perfectly positioned looking across at them and down valley. 

A father and his eight year-old son I passed earlier caught up while I was watching the helicopter and eagles and I hiked with them for awhile and we chatted. They were from Seattle and the dad was a traveling hydrologist. He asked if I really had a tent and sleeping bag in my pack and I told him, "I sure did", though my pack was feeling lighter than usual. I shrugged it off and kept walking with them until the son needed a break and we said our goodbyes.

I kept walking witheautiful views of the Black Canyon. After noon I pass a waterfall and the river began widening out. I sat down for a break and then I realized why my pack had felt so light earlier: I had lost my tent. I rummaged through my pack frantically turning it upside down before I was resigned to the fact.

Sitting there in the sun-drenched pine forest I felt like such a dumbass. The dumbest thing of all was that I was contemplating leaving a $500 tent because I didn't want to walk an extra ten miles. I just hate backtracking and I was so close to the hot springs.

But I did. How ironic I actually didn't have my tent when the guy asked earlier in the day. I couldn't remember where I left it, but I thought probably at the place where I saw the helicopter and Eagles.

I walked back quickly, though I was thoroughly demoralized, just hoping it was still there. I walked around one bend and it wasn't there. But I wasn't sure I was in the right spot. Then I kept heading uphill and rounded another. It was the moment of truth. I searched longingly. And it was there, sitting exactly where I left it. At that moment, a group of three passed and I started talking with them and we all hiked back to the junction together. They'd all worked in the park together ten years ago and this was their reunion.

We talked about the park and their lives and I said goodbye at the junction so I could get to Mammoth and a hot meal. I wolfed down some good food Chili cheese fries and double bacon cheeseburger at an Ice Cream shop after hitching a ride with an Asian couple who had come back for me after realizing I needed a ride.

I then met some nice gay Australian guys who said they'd take me to the hiker/biker spot. We couldn't find it in dark and lightning was lighting up the sky. They said I could just camp with them. I was halfway through setting up my tent when the overweight campground host in his mid-sixties pulled up in golf cart. He said, "You can't camp here." I told him the Aussies said I could and his own rules said six people per sight. He said I wasn't with them and I had to move or he'd call the ranger. Meanwhile, there's a lightning storm and it's about to dump rain. I called him ridiculous and he said again, "You want me to call the ranger?" 

"And tell him what? That I said you were ridiculous?" 

He responded, "You're being an unruly camper!" 

"Oh god, I walked thirty miles today, are you serious?"

He said, "Move or I'm calling the ranger ... and I need five dollars right now!" 

I moved and we repeated process. He said this time I was on the wrong pad. I needed to move my fully setup tent fifteen feet. That would setting it all up again during the electrical storm. "Are you kidding me?" Same response, except this time his wife was with him and she kept saying, "You want me to call him honey? I'll call that Ranger!"

The Australian dudes saved me from getting thrown in park jail by literally moving my tent for me. Without them I probably would have stabbed the campground host with my trekking pole just so I could sleep. The biker next to me had same experience. I commiserated with him and went to be, the obese campground host driving his golf cart around the camp until nearly 11pm.

Day 105: Down the Lamar Valley and over Specimen Ridge

Miles: 27.9 miles (1892.7-1920.6)

Today was probably my favorite day hiking in the park so far. I started out around 7:15 after some coffee and getting all my stuff together. I had my poptart on-the-go, trying to not spill crumbs all over the trail.

Heading down the valley, the trail undulated up and down green and copper hills on the east bank of the Lamar River. I startled a few Mule Deer and was thankful they weren't a family of Grizzlies. I'd taken to making plenty of noise wherever I hit a blind spot (e.g. over a hill or into a thick clump of trees) to startle any bear before I actually got close. The Lamar River Valley is known as home to a lotta Grizzlies and wolves, and is perhaps one of the wildest valleys in Yellowstone.

I ran into a couple Backcountry Rangers at Chalfee Creek Ranger Cabin and we talked for awhile, making fun of other park visitors, what it was like in the winter here, and other parks they worked at. It was nice talking to people on the same wavelength.

I got all the way down to end of valley and then started up Specimen Ridge, a brilliant trail with 360 degree views. The tread itself was faint and marked with Elk antler cairns almost the whole way. I actually found quite a few antlers myself when I got off trail by accident for a little while. They must be up there hiding from wolves or other predators while they shed their antlers in late autumn. It's the perfect spot to keep lookout because there aren't any trees and you can see for miles. 

The rolling hills peaked at 9,600' at the summit of Amethyst mountain, where the largest pile of Elk antlers I'd ever seen was laid. I'd climbed 2,600' up from the Lamar Valley so I savored the views on my way down towards Tower Junction. I'd miscalculated the mileage and realized I actually had ten more miles than I thought, so instead of a late lunch I was going to be lucky to get dinner at all.

I was treated to sights of a large buffalo herd on my way down, as well as getting closer to Pronghorn Antelope than I ever had. The mountains were covered in green and gold grasses which sustained the buffalo and pronghorn through the long winters. Up close, the Bison looked almost like Sumo wrestlers: huge and hulking upper bodies, but very small backsides and hindlegs to support them.

Finally making it to the road, the only guy I passed on the trail all day drove by and picked me up with his wife. We'd been heading opposite directions on the ridge and I had wondered how he was going to get back. Lucky I stopped and talked to him. He didn't seem too friendly at the time, but now I saw his true colors. He was an older, gruff fella, but when I saw him smile I knew he was a good guy.

They dropped me off at Roosevelt Lodge where I got a meal consisting first of two ice cream sandwiches and a beer as an appetizer and then a Bison burger, fries, and some chips and salsa. I spilled half my chips on the ground and a nice bartender went and grabbed me a whole new box. I inhaled everything except the huge amount of chips and set out to hitch over to the campground 2 1/2 miles away. Probably 50 cars passed me as it started to get dark and pour rain - literally from one passing cloud - but finally, the campground hosts picked me up and delivered me right to the hiker/biker site. I thanked them and they invited me down for coffee the next morning. I talked to Laura for a bit and headed to bed after some writing and reading.

Day 104: North to the Lamar Valley

Mileage: 28 miles (1864.7-1892.7)

I slept in until 7:15 am and Will's girlfriend, Margaret, made some great eggs, toast, and coffee after I took a shower and we chatted for a bit while we ate. She also did outdoor education type stuff and seemed cool. I was glad she and Will were together.

She dropped me at Fishing Bridge General Store and I hitched from there with a nice, young woman who worked in the Park. We talked about the recent Grizzly mauling in the park (the guy lived literally across the street from Will) and I hoped I didn't encounter any. The man who was killed was a park employee and he was found cached about a 1/2 mile off trail. A momma bear and her two cubs had been eating his remains. She told me what I should do if I saw a bear and I thanked her even though I'd heard it all about 100 times now. Still, I appreciated the reminder as when a 600 lb bear charged you, I could imagine one becomes forgetful.

I started the morning hearing the bugling of young Bull Elk and saw a herd of does and some babies just north of the highway. It was a hot day in the sun and I ran into a number of hikers early in the day and even a former Park ranger who'd worked in the park for 35 years. He told me about the fires, whose scars still are left on the landscape. From the 80's, 90's, and today: it sounded like he was reciting a radio station slogan.

It was unfortunate, but a necessary part of forest renewal and regeneration. What wasn't natural was the scale these fires happened on - just incredibly huge swaths of forest were burned, probably tens, if not hundreds of thousands of acres in the last thirty years.

I crested over Mist Creek Pass and was treated to great views back towards Yellowstone Lake and to the Northeast. Some grizzly sign here and there, but mostly just horse hoof prints. I came down to the Lamar River and crossed through the nearly knee-deep River. 

Then I followed the valley up towards my campsite as the sun was setting, making plenty of noise with my hiking poles and clapping my hands along the way to alert bears of my presence. I saw horses in the meadow across the way, but the campsite itself was out of view.

I ate a couple fingerfuls of peanut butter for dinner with some Oreos, then hung my food, and headed to bed. 

Day 103: Nero in Canyon Village

Mileage: 4 miles (1860.7-1864.7)

I had breakfast with Pat and his family and said goodbye rather abruptly as they had a plane to catch in Bozeman. I was glad I'd pushed to see Pat as it had been awhile and it's always fun to see an old friend in a new place. I was going to take a zero that day and went to do my laundry and used the internet to update my blog. I sat around the lounge and ate salvaged Bison burgers from the night previous, and generally hung out.

The lounge was in classic 80's style and like Mark, Patrick's dad, had observed the night before, it felt right out of a Bond movie like Goldfinger, with its huge fireplaces and tacky ceilings, furniture, and other decor. After being a lazy pile, I walked down to Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, figuring I should take advantage of being in the park. 

Minus all the people it was pretty incredible. Unfortunately, not really accessible to get down in there and it appears forbidden to go down and explore. I walked to a couple lookouts and then down to the brink of Lower falls, which has a paved trail all the way down to a spectacular waterfall that drops 400 ft right out from under you. Again, besides the hundred or so other people there it was pretty cool. The canyon itself is of grand proportion: at least 1,000' cliffs, with steaming springs at its edges adding to the grandeur.

I could also see Upper Falls from there, the smaller, but equally interesting sister of the Lower Falls. Each was formed by thermal activity which weakened the rock below the falls, allowing the water to erode it away over the years. I then hitched back to the lounge with a guy in an old Mercedes. He worked construction and had to be in Vegas the next day, but was killing time. He dropped me back at Canyon when I got two Huckleberry ice cream sandwiches at the gas station and then headed back to the lounge.

I talked to Laura for a bit and then my friend Will, who I also knew from high school, picked me up. He works in the park as a fish biologist and had been hiking with his brother that afternoon. 

We endured what he called an "elk jam", followed by a "bison jam" on our way back to his place in Lake Village. These animal "jams" are just traffic jams caused by crazy tourists who pull over anywhere on the road they see a wild animal and then take selfies, pictures, and god knows what else. What caused the jams are that when one car stops, others follow suit, very similar to the dynamic of when people see lines somehow they are drawn to join them even if they don't know what they're waiting for. I don't blame the Bison which have already gored five people in the park this year. That's way more than bears by the way. If you're dumber than a bison (e.g. think taking a selfie four feet from a 700 lb wild animal with horns is a good idea) than maybe you deserved it.

Anyways, we eventually made it back to his place, a beautiful and historic log cabin on the North shore of Lake Yellowstone and had a dinner of homemade pepperoni pizza and some beers. We talked for awhile and then headed to bed around 10pm after his girlfriend got home.

Day 102: Into Yellowstone National Park

Mileage: 34.5 miles (1826.2-1860.7)

I woke up at 4:30 and it was raining. I slowly gathered my things together hoping it'd stop. It subsided briefly and I retrieved my food from the bear locker and packed everything up. It wasn't quite light as I left the campsite, and the drizzle had returned. The trail was muddy and and all the grasses and shrubs were wet from the rain and hung about knee-level on the trail trail, so my pants immediately became soaked. 

It stayed gray and rained on and off all day. I crossed the Yellowstone River and its tributaries many times, keeping my eyes peeled for wildlife. I had a big day trying to meet Pat, one of my best friends from back home, and I couldn't doddle.

I spotted a Sandhill Crane early morning flapping by in the meadow and it reminded me of Laura and home. Each spring we'd go to see the hundreds of thousands of cranes that gather in the Platte River to fatten up before heading North to breed. Now I was alone, just like the crane. It was the first time I'd ever seen just one. Maybe it was a sign of our solidarity. When he saw me he took off and made the squawking call so unique to the crane.

I took lunch on a log under some trees to hide from the rain. As I cooked up my Teriaki noodles something extraordinary happened. A huge, wild-looking dog came over the hill. He looked up at me and I thought, "oh, there's a dog, but where's his owner?" And then, "wow, that's a very big dog." And finally, "holy shit, that's not a dog - it's a wolf!" That's when he pretended not to see me, turned around slowly, and  gently pawed back the way he came. I followed his perfect and massive prints along Yellowstone Lake for the next five miles.

The high of seeing the wolf only lasted so long before the aches and weariness came back from the endless mud and rain, but I kept pushing. After a few more hours, seeing some grizzly prints and singing to make any aware of my presence, I finally got to the trailhead where I was meeting Pat and his family. Looking back where I had walked I couldn't even see the other side of the lake where I'd come from, only seeing dead and tangled trees of the forest which had been ravaged by fires years ago. 

Pat, Katie his wife, and his mom and dad pulled up and I gave them all a big hug. I'd gone through high school doing homework at Pat's house almost every night, with his mom providing us with endless snacks, and nothing had changed. The second I got in the car Renee, his mom, gave me corn nuts and a bottle of water and after a shower they took us all out to dinner at the restaurant in Canyon Village. There was soup, salad, hot bread, quesadillas, bison burger and fries, and beer. It was amazing.

I went to bed, Katie fashioned an ice box to save leftover burgers since there was no fridge (or TV for that matter) in the room. It was probably a good tactic to get people to actually go outside and interact with one another. I went to sleep around ten in my own, dry bed, so good!

Day 101: North to Parting of the Waters and just South of Yellowstone

Mileage: 30.5 miles (1795.7-1826.2)

I started out by crossing the frigid South Fork Buffalo River, kicking myself for not crossing it the night previous. My feet felt like ice cubes as I quickly shuffled across the stream, too deep to allow me to hop across rocks. I kept my shoes on as it would allow me to move faster across the icy river, though it would mean sopping wet feet for a couple hours. These are the tradeoffs of long distance hiking.

After crossing I took a little detour to the South Fork Buffalo Falls, a dramatic 40 ft waterfall that has carved a serpentine canyon in the otherwise flat and open terrain. I was in awe as I crept up to the cliff's edge and realized you could literally jump across the slot canyon, it was so narrow at the top. But I certainly wasn't going to try as it was at least 50 ft down to the river below and you probably would end up pretty battered by branches and rocks before you ever reached the canyon floor.

I took a few photos and headed back towards the trail ascending and then heading down through Nowlin Meadow and its defunct one-room Ranger Cabin. I met the first Southbounder of the day there and we chatted for awhile about the upcoming trail north and south.

From there, I wound my way up and down through meadows and across streams, most of which didn't have bridges, but I'd hop rocks when I could, desperately (and failing) to keep my feet dry after I'd taken such care at lunch to dry them out. The trail was like a horse super highway most of the day, very wide and full of horse shit. I saw a couple horse camps along the way and wondered if they had permits or how the operations worked right within the wilderness. Again, someone was making a lot of money on what was supposed to be 'a place untrammeled by man.' But horse crap everywhere and trails that are so deeply rutted that the mud is a permanent fixture, is okay. I don't get our land managers sometimes - but it probably has something to do with money. Horses should be like dogs - if you're gonna take 'em out on the trail, fine - but you have to pick up their shit.

I met a couple section hikers and then a flipper with what I assumed was his wife and daughter. Another flipper walked up as we were chatting and I left soon after as I needed to get close to the Yellowstone National Park Boundary if I was going to meet my friend Pat the next day 30+ miles north of the line near Lake Village.

I walked into the Two Oceans Valley and then made a quick trip to Parting of the Waters, where Two Oceans Creek literally splits and one way goes to the Pacific Ocean and the other, the Atlantic. Pretty neat! I took a bath in the Pacific side and ate my dinner of Ramen noodles. I got going again around six, leaving the "official trail" to start my 350 mile sideroute up towards Yellowstone and then Montana. In the end, it would save me 150+ miles and I'd get to see a part of Yellowstone most never see - the remote Thoroughfare Trail (misleading, I know!) and the eastern side of the park.

I passed through a couple more huge meadows and eventually into the Yellowstone River drainage, following a horse trail along the way. It started raining and I started seeing Grizzly sign everywhere - huge, fresh prints and lots of scat.

 It was getting dark and it was muddy from all the rain so I couldn't move nearly as fast as I wanted to and I just kept imagining every bush as a bear. Luckily, I made it to the horse camp I was aiming for right before dark and setup my tent. I met a couple guys from North Platte, NE there and we talked for a bit. Funny who you run into on the trail. Time for bed.