Part Twenty Seven

​     July 20-21                          Bitterroot Range, MT                            (Go to Pt 1)
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Once I regained my balance, I turned around to watch a gaping hole appear that was gobbling up barrel sized rocks all around it.  Within minutes, rocks were disappearing into a void that had grown to 6 ft. in diameter and showed no signs of stopping.  That’s when the danger hairs went up on the back of my neck.
 
How big was this slope failure about to become? And how fast? That was something we did not want to find out and with all the swiftness that sudden panic brings we scrambled across the rest of the rock slope to the safety of the meadows beyond.

We took lunch in the upper valley by a tumbling stream then continued over a shallow saddle, descending to a large boulderfield.  By now large, dark clouds had begun to appear from over the ridge and we could hear thunder rumbling off in the distance.  
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The boulderfield was slow, meticulous going and all the while the sky grew darker and the booms became louder.  Before long, we were in a full-on race to make it across the boulderfield before the storm pounced on us and the jumbled-up mess of rocks was becoming more maddening by the minute because we simply couldn’t rush it, we’d get creamed if we tripped and fell face first into the jagged rocks.

After finally clearing the boulderfield, we raced down the final grassy slopes to the unnamed lake below just as large splats of rain began to hit.  We got the tent pitched in under ten stakes flat and rolled inside with our packs as a gusher of rain proceeded to hose our tent for about ten minutes, then it stopped and that was that.

The air was sparkling after the rain and we sat out on the bank of the shimmering little lake that nestled up against a tall cirque where a large snowfield swept down the southeast face to lap the water’s edge.  We were in high spirits that evening as we chatted over supper about the crazy events of the past few days.  The hiking had been fantastic and all off trail. It was super-cool, really!

Early the next morning, just as we had emerged from the tent, a huge rockslide erupted from high on the east side of the cirque and exploded across a vast swath of the mountainside with tons upon tons of enormous rocks, crashing down the steep face for well over a minute. 
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A massive dust cloud formed obscuring everything from view on the far side of the lake for nearly 15 minutes.  Craig was looking out at all this active devastation going on across the lake when he glanced over at me and offered up a nonchalant “Good morning”, which kind of cracked me up.

So with that wake-up call, we set about the morning routine and got our stuff packed for another day.  

From the unnamed lake at the unnamed cirque we ambled about a mile across a beautiful, alpine plateau then climbed to the saddle of a ridge that connected the Continental Divide to Homer Young’s Peak.

From here we would have to descend into the valley and eventually pick-up a trail that would lead us around a long, razorback ridge that blocked the path to our alpine route.  We dropped to Rock Island Lakes and picked up a jeep track that led us down to Miner Creek. ​

At Miner Creek we picked up a gravel road and started hiking up the valley.  Shortly after starting up the road we spotted a maroon van pulled over at a view point.  As we walked up to the van I didn’t know if there was anybody inside until the driver’s side door popped open and a portly, bearded fellow climbed out and offered up a cheery “Good Day” as we approached.

We stopped and chatted for a bit and when he asked where we were hiking from I replied “Canada” and he about flipped out.  He called to his buddy hanging out in the back of the van “Hey Ray, get out here and meet these guys, they just walked down here from fucking Canada, man.”  

Ray came out from the van with a big grin on his face and pumped our hands “No shit! You guys really walked down here from Canada?  Shit-dang, I didn’t even know that was possible!” he exclaimed. They invited us to hang out with them in the van as they had many delicious food items to offer.  Craig and I looked at each other and Craig was like, “Sure, why not?”  

And thus we got lured into the back of the van with promises of cookies and candy.  Well, turns out they did have quite the assortment of cookies, crackers, various cheeses and chips, licorice sticks candy bars and loads of beer – I mean these guys had it all!  (After we left neither one of us could remember the portly guy’s name so we started referring to him Charles.)

While we devoured the goodies set out on the table in their decked out van and drank their cold beer, they went into a full-on interrogation about our trip and they wanted to know everything, from the equipment we were carrying to a basic lesson in orienteering.  

Finally, they got around to quizzing about what ‘civilized’ items we missed while we were out in the mountains.  Food items were the first things we started to list but then Charles interrupted to say “I mean like items more in the ‘recreational’ department” as he raised his eyebrows to say ‘hint, hint’.

“What, you mean like pot?” Craig finally asked.  And Charles replied “Yeah, like pot. You guys want a toke?”  We looked at each other and Craig was like “Sure, why not?” and Charles beamed from ear to ear as he pulled out a wooden box that held eight different strains of weed. 

“What kind of high are you boys interested in? Do you want to talk to the stars or are you more into a speedball ride?” Well, we figured something in the middle ought to be about right so Ray set about rolling up some joints while Charles took us through a botanical inventory of the various flowers in his box. 

Remember, this was in the mid-seventies in southern Idaho where a joint could send you to prison.  In rural Idaho back then, drunk driving was tolerated where marijuana was strictly not.  That right there made Charles’ collection of bud quite impressive indeed.

We dithered away the afternoon laughing, munching goodies and hanging out with Ray and Charles.  Before we left, Ray rolled up a few joints for us to take and Charles marked two with a red dot to let us know that those doobies were from his ‘trippy’  Columbian stash and to tread lightly.  

Besides the j-boys, R&C also loaded us up with plenty of good-eatin’, quickie-mart snacks and all the beer we wished to carry before we finally left their van late that afternoon.  All in all, we didn’t get a darn thing accomplished that afternoon but we sure did have a good time.  
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We camped a little further upstream at the base of a huge, unnamed mountain in a beautiful grove of cottonwood trees along the riverbank.  After pitching the tent we went down to a deep, clear pool in the stream and smoked one of the red-dots.  We sat on comfortable boulders alongside the pool until sunset, staring at all of the aquatic colors glittering up through the invisible water. ​

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Go to Pt 28

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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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