Part Thirty Four

     August 6                        Beaverhead-Deerlodge NF                   (Go to Pt 1)

By late morning we had reached the long, extended, west ridge of Baldy Mountain.  We had planned on crossing over the top of Baldy but now, as I looked up and across the endless ridge to the distant summit, I started to get anxious.  ​

The ridge itself was four miles long and on the horizon the west summit rose-up another 1,600 vertical feet.  After crossing over the west summit, there would be another ridge traverse to the main summit, which we could not see, with the descent to water being far-off down the east side of the mountain. ​
​
To be honest, there was nothing exceptionally difficult about traversing the ridge crest or climbing up the elevation, it was the lack of water and exposure to the sun out on that miles-long ridge that was starting to raise an alarm in my head.  ​

Water sources in these mountains were either dried-up or drying-up and my internal thermostat was already running hot; continued exposure to the sun at 9,500 ft. of elevation was going to be intense and the chances of finding any water out there were as probable as catching a jackpot, lottery-ticket blowing across the ridge.
​
I was starting to balk at continuing the traverse and Craig wasn’t helping me out, he just wasn’t that concerned, so I called for a break and dropped my pack.  Having second thoughts about this whole plan, I pulled out the map and sat down, looking for another way out.

My anxiety stemmed primarily from what I call ‘hydrologicalsieveitis’, meaning I sweat like a lawn sprinkler.  When hot and thirsty I can drink a half quart of water and literally feel it exiting my pores within minutes.  We had already suffered empty canteens on a couple of occasions and I’d found myself to have a low tolerance for thirst and feeble self-discipline when it came to rationing my water. 
​
If we went over the top of Baldy Mountain, my water supply was going to run dry well before we hit the next ‘probable’ water source and I already knew from experience that bumming water off your partner in the middle of parched country was really bad style. Plus, there was no guarantee water would be found on the far side of Baldy before dark.

As we sat on our packs going over the map, I finally proposed descending to Cottonwood Creek and going around Baldy Mountain to the south.  We didn’t have maps covering this proposed round-a-bout route but it pretty much guaranteed water in the valley and I figured there would be a good chance of finding a road or trail that would quickly take us around the base of Baldy.  
​
Of course, I didn’t know that, maybe it was a 3-day trek to get around this monolith.  The ridge was 

certainly the more direct line but either way, ridge or valley, it was a gamble. Craig was prepared to cross over the ridge but knew I couldn’t hold my water, so he acquiesced to the speculative valley route. ​​

After we had descended Cottonwood Creek to the point where our maps no longer covered the ground we were on, I still felt good about our chances of picking up a pack-trail or dirt road leading around the southern base of the mountain.  And sure enough, along the valley floor at the base we found a dirt road heading our way.  

Thinking we were on the expressway around old Baldy we followed the road for about 45 minutes before it inexplicitly turned north again and began to climb back up the mountain; and continued to climb. Now my head was in a real quandary as to what to do, this climbing back up the mountain was not good. 

The road, which by now had turned into a pack-trail, had all the appearances of simply retracing our steps back up an adjacent valley and for all I knew it might even double back to where we had started.  So, when the pack-trail turned back west, the way we had originally come, I thought we were screwed.  
​
Then a fork in the trail appeared.   The fork taking off to the right was just a thin path through the brush, clearly less traveled than the left fork, and continued to climb up the valley but at least it had an easterly direction to it, so we were kind of like ‘what the hell, let’s see where this goes.’  ​

The day was wearing thin and when we came across a creek in the woods, we called it quits not knowing where the heck we were, once again.  Camp was nothing to speak of and there was no conversation that evening about what was looking to be another misadventure.  But hey, at least I was able to refill my water supply throughout the day.

---

Go to Part 35

---

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.

---