Part Ten

​      June 7                              The Chinese Wall, MT                          (Go to Pt 1)

For the next seven miles we traversed south along the base of the expansive wall on a high, narrow plateau, very similar in nature to the one we had just crossed along the Trilobite Range, only to a grander scale.  The feeling was one of pure wilderness; a feeling of being so completely isolated from all humanity that the aloneness and oneness was shockingly stark.  We had traveled through some pretty remote areas thus far but this place took that feeling of remoteness to a whole new level. Matched with the fantastic terrain and vistas surrounding us, I felt a mix of vulnerability and heightened awareness.

Click on the map for a larger image

The entirety of the trail along the Chinese Wall was buried beneath lengths and swaths of disintegrating snow that had us on our Bear Paws the entire way, even on open trail, because the change-over from snow to rock back to snow was happening far too often to waste time putting on and taking off the Paws.  ​

The trail also demanded more of our developing skills to read subtle terrain.  We were at the scruff level of tree line and on a rock and boulder strewn plateau where the trail’s sparse, rock cairns were exceptionally hard to find given the constant snowdrift interruptions; innocuous mistakes could lead to cliffs or other unforeseen complications as we had discovered in Glacier. We managed to stay with the route all day, eventually dropping down to Burnt Creek where we descended out of the snow for good.

​Burnt Creek soon became the South Fork of the Sun River and as we dropped in elevation the slushed snow from the upper plateau now became melt water streaming down the trail, creating a tributary of its own.  Our boots, socks and gaiters got completely soaked as the trail became a streambed of flowing water eight to 

ten inches deep in places. As we followed this happy, little mess toward the valley, clouds that had been gathering all afternoon finally decided to rain, no big thunder-banger just a steady rain that settled in.

Then, just before reaching the valley floor, the trail veered right into the raging, South Fork River where it was momentarily erased by twenty yards of thrashing whitewater before emerging on the far bank.  And there would be no wading or rock-skipping across this crazed torrent; we were stopped cold at the riverbank.

We dropped our packs and began scouting out a viable crossing, finding a giant, dead tree spanning a narrow chasm a little further upriver.  The tree had fallen across the rapids to land at the top of a higher, rock wall on the opposite side.  At a glance this looked doable, so we went back to retrieve our packs but upon returning to the crossing, the log suddenly looked a whole lot sketchier, now that we were carrying loads and actually committing to crossing it. 

​Smooth and wet, the snag was completely de-branched and, from the look of it, had been there for eons.  The timber was also wide as a horseback, laying over at about 60 degrees and steep enough that we were going to have to straddle the log and shimmy.  Once I started, I could see that the only way I was going to 

get up this fat post was with a lot of leg power, squeezing and pushing my way up the log’s back while my arms wrapped around the trunk, desperately hanging on.  And shit be gone, it was desperate! ​ 

The explosive roar of the rapids was deafening and the ferocity of the water below was terrifying and as badly as I wanted to sprint up that log to the other side there was nothing to be done but claw and hump for every inch. Craig followed with the same, pained look of uncertainty that I’d felt right up to that last pull-over onto solid ground. 

​By the time we finally made camp along the Sun River, I was soaking wet, my boots were completely waterlogged and a steady rain continued to fall.  We pitched the tent on the driest piece of saturated ground we could find and, bears be damned, we cooked supper in the vestibule of the tent and did not hang our food out in the rain overnight.

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Go to Part 11

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The CDTC was founded in 2012 by volunteers and recreationists hoping to provide a unified voice for the CDT. Working hand-in-hand with the U.S. Forest Service and other federal land management agencies, the CDTC is a non-profit partner supporting stewardship of the CDT. The mission of the CDTC is to complete, promote and protect the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a world-class national resource. For more information, please visit continentaldividetrail.org.

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