Part Forty Two

     August 20th - 22nd           Yellowstone National Park               (Go to Pt 1)
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Sometime mid-afternoon Murry got light-headed and wobbly on his feet and had to lie down. The rain had stopped, so at least that wasn’t aggravating the situation, but I was worried that maybe the cumulative effect of the past week had worn him down to a state of complete exhaustion. ​

Craig and I discussed making camp, but we were in a really crappy, exposed place for that, so thankfully, after about 45 minutes, Murry rousted and said he could go. Dave, Craig and I split up the heavier items in Murry’s pack then we all set off again, winding our way down off Two Ocean Plateau to Plateau Creek.

​The rain came and went throughout the day and by late afternoon all four of us were suffering from the flaws in our rain gear, getting wet from both leaks and condensation. We kept a close eye on Murry as the afternoon wore on and as long as he kept going, we kept moving.  

Click on the map for a larger image

As we trudged down the long, meandering stretch of Plateau Creek, the clouds slowly began to swirl overhead as if undecided about whether to clear out or settle back in.  When the sun broke out as we were dropping down into Fox Park, it appeared the skies might actually clear but, in the end, it was just one, big sucker-hole.   

 As we gathered together in the meadow, Dave, and especially Murry, did not look as though they could hold out for much more of this and I had been certain we’d find easy tent sites once we reached the meadow, but that didn’t turn out to be the case, it was all too marshy and wet.  So, we started plodding across the northern end of the park in search of a site. 

It was right around this time that the clouds sunk back into the valley and started to rain, and it was like ‘Jesus, come on’, the timing could not have been worse.  Now we were going to get a soaking while we wandered around in search of a reasonable place to pitch tents. 

We continued down the trail running along the valley floor when we rounded a bend and I noticed a Forest Service patrol cabin just up the hill from us, tucked in amongst some pines.  My immediate thought upon seeing this little refuge was ‘Woah, wouldn’t that be nice!’  

We all walked on up to the cabin and found the windows shuttered, so I dropped my pack and stepped up onto the stoop to try the door, locked. Well, alrighty then!  “Hey,” I called over “it’s empty!  All we gotta do is find a way in!”  This, of course, was met with the full and enthusiastic support of the group.

No doubt, we were facing federal prosecution by breaking into government property, but I don’t think any of us really gave a rat’s ass as we scattered around the building looking for a weak point of entry. Damn!  It was literally varmint proof.

Going through a window finally appeared to be our only option and the shutters were latched from the outside, so that part was easy, but getting the window to ‘shimmy’ open didn’t go so well and, unfortunately, a glass pane broke in the process.  

Well, there was no turning back now, reaching through the broken glass I was able to get the window unlatched and crawl through to the inside and we were in!  Honestly, given Murry’s exhausted state and the appalling weather, this cabin was a real godsend.

The tiny, woodland cabin was very similar to other patrol cabins Craig and I had visited along the way; a neat, made-up bunk by the window, a picnic style table with two benches near the center of the room and tidy cupboards stocked with a few canned goods.  We got Murry comfortable and hot drinks going on the stove then Craig and I set about getting all the damp and wet gear out of everybody’s packs to dry.

 The next morning saw no change in the weather with more rain.  Dave and Murry remained   burrowed in their bags, feigning sleep, while Craig and I were deciding that to push those two out the door for another death-march day in this weather was probably asking too much.  Besides, there 

would be no extra charge for another night, those felonies had already been committed.

The cabin day lightened everyone’s mood and the rest was more than necessary for Murry and Dave who had practically walked themselves to death without complaint.  A deck of cards was found in one of the cupboards and the highlight of the day (or lowlight depending on your hand) was playing poker for caramels.
 
Now, first off, don’t think those caramels were merely tokens.  Food stuff of any kind out here was valuable, but caramels were like gold, carefully rationed and enjoyed only in moments of quiet repose.  Everyone had been allotted two caramels per day for the trip and by now we were all running low. 

Craig and I figured playing poker with these two high schoolers for their candy would be like, I don’t know, taking candy from a couple of high schoolers, I suppose, and we wanted their caramels. 

As the game gained momentum, scoring a few caramels, or losing a couple, made each hand increasingly edgy and passions began to run high as the greensticks started winning my stash.  By the last hand Dave and Murry owned most of the caramels, leaving Craig with just a few and me with only one; I was facing total ruin.  

Poker-faced Murry beat whatever I had, and I’d have to say that I was just a little bit chagrined when he snatched up my last caramel.  And then, ‘poker-face’ Murry morphed into ‘in-your-face’ Murry pretty darn quick.  Sitting across the table from me, he looked like the cat that just ate the canary, grinning from ear to ear as he recklessly ate a caramel right in front of my face then blatantly offered another one to Dave.  Those little rat-bastards!  

I wanted at least a couple of my caramels back, but no amount of cajoling, begging, or threats of revenge succeeded in getting even one of them back.  The boys had triumphed and simply laughed at my pleas for compassion as they squirreled away my lost fortune, and the thought of going carameless for the remainder of the Yellowstone stretch really chapped my ass. Karma, yeah, I know.

  The next morning dawned warm and sunny and we set about packing our gear and tidying up the cabin early.  But before leaving, we wrote a brief note to the Ranger explaining why we had broken-in (Murry’s plight and the ‘severe’ weather), apologizing for the broken windowpane, and finishing the note with an address where they could send the bill - my parents.  That done, we set off down Fox Park.

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Go to Part 43

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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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