Saturday, August 21, 2004
Twice Badgered, Once Bulled
08/21/04
Dawn brought light to my sleeping location, and after a walk through dew-soaked, knee high grass, I was back on the CDT. So much for an easy cross-country shortcut.
I had less navigation this morning than yesterday morning, so the miles came easily. I stayed in the trees on the Divide for a number of miles, following the Continental Divide snowmobile path and blazes.
Walking from the headwaters of a stream, I found Apple Pie and Spur having lunch at the crossing where we would leave the stream.
I knew I'd catch up to Spur and Apple Pie at some point on this leg, and probably sooner than later. Hum, what do I do?
I decided to be polite and ask if I can join them for lunch. Spur said yes, Apple Pie nothing.
Apple Pie left as soon as she could, and Spur, in his mediator role, and I spoke, rehashing the south Yellowstone stuff.
When I say that I can't read minds, I really mean that I can not meet unspoken expectations. That's one of the things we uncovered by going through it all again. When Spur had said by the lake that they would catch up, he had specific ideas about where or when, but didn't convey them to me or convey what I should do if they didn't catch up 'in time'.
The second thing I learned is that my note in the register (I'm headed to 8C5, see you there, or sooner) had created the impression that they were to catch up, that I expected it. Ugh.
Because of the differences in our hiking paces, we are not going to hike together. We don't hate each other. It's just not working out.
Then we had the awkward circumstance of leap-frogging each other for the entire afternoon. I take longer to do all the navigation tasks, and I choose not to do them with my pack on, which makes a GPS check even longer.
I saw a badger today! He or she saw me first, and started running. I expected that it would quickly duck into a burrow, but it didn't. It was far from home.
I'd lose sight of it in the sage, then see it again. I went off the trail to see if I could get a better look, but it was gone. When I returned to the trail, I saw it crossing the trail ahead of me. When I reached that spot, I saw its face for the first time. It was looking out for me. It took off running.
It was so cool.
At one point today, I could see the Breccia Cliffs, the Tetons, and the Wind River range with a turn of my head. This view came as part of a spectacular plateau area that I really enjoyed walking through. It was mostly grassy, had views in all directions, and was relatively high.
At another point later in the evening I was walking with earphones on as I approached a cluster of cows around the trail. I decided to sing to let them know I was there. Krishna Das was on my music player, so that's what I sang. Little did I know that singing Hindi music would cause the cows to follow me. Cows must know that they are sacred in the Hindi tradition, but HOW?
I have seen cows on most of my hikes, long and short. Sometimes they are just cows, but on this trip there have been lots of cows with calves. I guess I'm in beef country. Imagine my surprise then when, at dinner at a ratty campsite along Lake of the Woods (WY12), I looked up at the progress of the cows and calves grazing toward me to see a bull, with horns and all. Nothing came of it, but I was a little more cautious with the herd. I guess those calves have to come from somewhere.
As the sun set I was leaving the forest on the edge of a vast cowed park, Fish Creek Park (WY12). I had about an hour of lingering light, so I decided to go for it. My goal: the trees on the other side.
I set out on a general south/southwest course following an old jeep track. The landscape was open, no trees were in the middle, just grass and sagebrush. What was before me was by no means flat, but it wasn't rolling hills either. It was certainly formed by water and possibly a glacier.
I crossed one river by rock hopping and picked up the trail again quickly. As I started walking, I first heard, then saw two sandhill cranes flying low. Very cool.
I sped along toward my goal, the trees a few miles across the way. I came to a steep bank. This time a oxbow river emphasized by the reflecting the light of the sky was before me.
I didn't want to get my shoes wet. I could cross a little part with a jump, but the main flow would be a challenge. It was all sand and gravel. No rocks to hop. I meandered the banks looking for a narrow spot with no luck.
OK, shoes off or shoes wet? I didn't want wet shoes because these new shoes don't dry very fast. Plus the sandy river bottom and shores would be easy on my bare feet. Shoes off.
The only bummer about shoes off is the amount of time it takes. Darkness was closing in, and I had a ways to go. I didn't feel like sleeping in the middle of this open space with stupid cows wandering around. It's not my vision to have a role in a bovine trampling.
The cool water was comforting to my feet, which are suffering an adjustment period with a new kind of shoe. It took longer than I expected to put on my shoes because I stopped several times to watch pug-faced owls fly above the river looking for, uh, if owls are nocturnal, I guess it would be breakfast they were looking for. I enjoyed watching them, and they didn't seem to mind me; they flew quite close a couple of times.
Moving on, I struggled through the cow mangled landscape, stumbling several times as I worked my crooked path through the sage. I was trying to find the jeep track. Finally, I looked back at the big bank I'd descended, mentally recalled the angle of the jeep track, followed it out with my eye, and soon was back on track, so to speak.
The sage was light in the darkening night, and so was the dry dirt, so I could move a little faster. It also made it easier to see the cow poop, which stood out as dark patches to be avoided.
Earlier, I'd made a general mental note that this park was dotted with ponds. What was happening was that I was walking into pond central. To this backpacker, a pond meant one thing: mosquito factory.
By now it was pretty much dark. The light from my headlamp helped me walk a safe path. As I approached the trees, I had to leave the jeep track and begin a cross-country jaunt that quickly lost its pleasure as I continued to see the night sky reflected in the landscape.
Aside from not wanting to camp near ponds, I had the added tasks of night navigation around them and the boggy places they can create.
Luckily, the cows seem to have the same goals as I. Following cow paths around the trickiest spots, I soon found a reasonably level spot on top of a hill.
Yes, I was surrounded with ponds, but bugs didn't seem to be an issue.
I'm cozy in my bag, and I will sleep well.
