Part Fifty One

     September 8th - 10th               Wind Rivers, WY                     (Go to Pt 1)

September 8
The night was dark and cold and somewhere in the pre-dawn hours it began to snow.  When I awoke in the morning and heard nothing but silence I thought ‘Great, no wind!’  Then I looked out the tent door and saw four inches of snow on the ground and large flakes falling from the sky.  I glanced over to where the trail had been but in the rocky tundra, four inches was all it took to completely erase its existence.

In a way, this was a good thing, our travel in these conditions would have to be slow and meticulous, working to Craig’s advantage, and it would require our full attention to avoid slipping into a face-plant or getting lost, which would keep my mind busy.  The snow letup as we struck camp and looked almost to be lifting just before the clouds engulfed us again in a foggy blanket of wet snowflakes.

The rocky trail buried somewhere under the snow was not only difficult to discern but every single rock surface hidden by the snow provided no traction at all and slipping was not just inevitable, it was constant.  And, indeed, this made for very slow and meticulous travel.

It was a good thing the terrain wasn’t difficult and the intended route of the trail easily defined by the landscape, because we were having one heck of a time trying to actually stay on the 3ft wide path, where the traction was best.  ​

Click on map for a larger image

When we went astray, which happened often, our tracks in the snow behind us looked like a couple of dopes wandering to and fro until we could feel the trail gravel underfoot again.  It continued to snow as we worked our way down and around Elbow Lake then up into the snow fog to reach a saddle above the lake. 
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We completely lost track of the trail in near white-out conditions going over the saddle from Elbow Lake into the Fremont Creek drainage but were able to pick it up again once we got down to Upper Jean Lake.

We followed Fremont Creek down to Lower Jean Lake, then the trail veered away from the drainage and wandered off across a knobby plateau of rocks and tundra where we again lost its track in the snow. We ended up flying blind across the plateau and eventually wound-up at a lake named, what else, Lost Lake.

From Lost Lake we found a trail that led a couple of miles down to Seneca Lakes where it intersected us back onto the Highline Trail.  By now it was getting on in the day and the slicked over conditions mixed with the sketchy route finding had us both pretty frazzled, so when we got down to Seneca Lakes we decided to pull over and make camp.

It had snowed on and off during the day and after the sun went down it was wintertime cold.  We cooked supper in the vestibule of the tent and chit-chatted about the slick trail conditions but, more solemnly, wondered in low, barely audible tones if more snow would come in the night, like the weather was a terrorist about to take us hostage, which was pretty much true.

September 9
The following morning was too cold to eat breakfast outside so we fixed oatmeal and hot chocolate in the tent and did most of our packing before stepping out into the cold.  Snow fog still hung in the sky but it had not snowed in the night and, if anything, the clouds looked as though they were moving out. ​

 From Seneca Lakes we climbed up and over Lester Pass then made a long, gentle descent to Pole Creek, first through sparse trees then back down into the forest.  At these lower elevations the snow dwindled and it became easier to make out the trail until we eventually found ourselves on the first stretch of easy hiking we’d seen since Yellowstone.  Once down to Pole Creek Lakes I dropped my pack to wait for Craig.

The sun was breaking through and blue sky could be seen out to the west at the tail-end of the snow clouds. Since coming down from Lester Pass I had held back my pace so Craig and I had stayed pretty much together but from Pole Creek Lakes we decided the trail was straightforward enough that we could each move at our own pace.
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The Highline Trail continued down along a string of spectacular lakes, taking us through miles of craggy and interesting terrain.  When I reached Horseshoe Lake I dropped my pack, figuring this was probably far enough for the day.  

Craig was still a ways back up the trail so I scouted out a good tent site then went back to get my pack just as he was arriving at the lake.  He didn’t offer up any excuses or complaints when he arrived and we got busy with the camp set-up and supper going on the stove.  We didn’t talk much, but then, being worn out will do that.

September 10
If Craig needed or wanted to get out of the mountains this was the place to do it, we were an easy day’s hike from getting down to the town of Pinedale, but in the morning Craig was up and out of the tent, business as usual, so we ate breakfast, packed-up camp and headed back over to the trail. It was a beautiful day with crisp temps and even though snow still covered the mountainsides, it was no longer a hinderance to our progress.

The topography was mostly lumpy, rocky and interesting to navigate, since the trail was faint and a little random in places. Craig and I ate lunch together and after that I saw very little of him until late in the afternoon.  ​

I had dropped my pack at Dream Lake and was pacing around thinking hard about Craig’s situation, then about my situation, and the two were not at all the same.  I had spent the better part of the day gearing my mind toward carrying on the trip solo if and when Craig was forced to drop-out, but now I was feeling guilty about having written him off in my head like that. 

​It wasn’t like Craig was all that much slower on the trail, because he wasn’t and he was doing his damnedest to keep pace, it was really just the fact that he had slowed down at all, and for the past two weeks, ever since Lava Mountain, I’d seen him favoring his right leg, which wasn’t quite a limp yet, but... ​

We would be in Lander in a few days and I wondered if, once we got there, Craig was going to admit to the knee damage going on?  Was he going to acknowledge the likelihood of his ending up crippled in the mountains if he continued?  Thus far, I sensed that ‘throwing in the towel’ was something he wasn’t even considering.  
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And regretfully, almost remorsefully, I was coming to see Craig as a liability, to both of us, even as he was out there tenaciously hanging onto this adventure of a lifetime.  Tenacious, just like the old wrestling days.  A short time later Craig arrived at the lake and we quietly set about making camp.

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Go to Part 52

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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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