Part Fifty Five

     September 19th - 21st           Great Divide Basin, WY              (Go to Pt 1)

The butte John had pointed out was so distant as to appear only as a wavy, mirage-like feature on the horizon and out ahead of us stretched a ruler-straight ribbon of gravel road that vanished off in the distance long before reaching the butte.  Looking down that barren road, I felt like we were wandering out toward the edge of the earth; the desert marathon had begun.

Although the gravel road we were on appeared flat it was actually pitched slightly toward the desert and, from the toe of the foothills, the grade continued to descend over the next fifty miles.  This was full-throttle terrain for us except as I pushed to maintain a 4mph pace out to the butte, Craig had to back-off the near jogging tempo because it was too much of a jolt to his joints.

By late in the day I had reached the distant landmark and sat on my pack waiting for Craig who was but a speck in the distance behind.  Climbing up into the foothills from Lander, Craig had hiked with the determination it was going to take to carry-on through the desert but the moderate, uphill grade of the foothills was also about the only terrain left that Craig could hike without aggravating his knees.

​The afternoon sun was growing late and Oregon Butte, where we planned to camp, was clearly in sight.  From where I sat it looked as though we could short-cut off a big chunk of road by taking a more direct line through 

Click on the map for a larger image

the sagebrush.  When Craig finally joined me, I pointed out my sagebrush-shortcut route across the wasteland but the look of resignation on his face pretty much said ‘yeah, so,’ so I turned and started out through the stunted sage.

​The shortcut saved us a couple of miles before rejoining the dirt road just north of Oregon Butte.  Another couple of miles brought us around to the east side of the butte and down to  Edmond Spring.  Oregon Butte and Edmond Spring sat at the northeastern edge of the Red Desert and beyond our camp lay desolation as far as the eye could see. The clatter of cookpots around sunset was the only noise to be heard as we prepared our dinner and ate in silence.  Afterwards, the meal did not seem to settle well.

My apprehensions were growing, mountains I could figure out but this vast emptiness with but a single dot of water two days distant had me worried.  And Craig had me worried; his determination to push out into the desert was a gamble, to say the least, and so far, things did not look promising.  His gait was off with a slight limp to the right that could no longer be concealed.  
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The following morning we loaded our packs which would have been wonderfully light were it not for the 2 gallons of water we were each carrying, water we would need to last us through the next two days.  From Edmond Spring we made the long, gradual descent into the Red Desert.

The Red Desert was certainly not hot this time of year, cool even, with an ever present breeze which made for perfect hiking weather.  The flawless strip of gravel road we were hiking eliminated any need to think and the only game to be played was speed walking with a pack. 

​Oregon Butte and the north rim of the Divide Basin receded behind us as we hiked out to the desert floor.  The road we followed ran along a string of crumbling, honeycombed bluffs that was the Continental Divide until the bluffs eventually crumbled and melted into the desert sands.  If there was a high point here marking the crest of the Continental Divide, I couldn’t see it.

As the day wore on, the walking distance between Craig and I grew further and further apart. Later in the afternoon, as I was starting to wear down, I stopped to give my achy feet a rest.  Then, about an hour after that, I stopped again because my feet were really starting to ache, taking an extended break this time and even untying my boot laces.  I looked back in the distance to where Craig was out there trying to catch-up, I hadn’t seen him stopped even once during this protracted afternoon.

After 30 plus miles and with the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon I decided it was finally time to stop.  There was still daylight enough to go another 3 or more miles but my feet ached so bad from the relentless road pounding that I didn’t think they could take any more miles.  I dropped my pack, sat down and pulled off my boots, ahhh…  
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Then I looked back up the road, scanning then straining to see Craig who was at least a mile away.  I just shook my head in deference, realizing that no matter how much my feet hurt, Craig’s misery had to be twice as bad.

When Craig finally did limp up to the campsite, his look of dejection was total. He had nothing to say and I just pretty much sat and watched as he unloaded his gear.  I really should have said something; I should have been consoling or encouraging or at least acknowledging that we were in this together, no matter the outcome, but I didn’t, I was lost for words and instead the silence crystalized.  

There wasn’t much of a moon that night and the stars were about as dense and brilliant and dazzling as I’d ever seen.

The next morning we broke camp and resumed our march, casting out into the heart of the Red Desert.  Around midmorning a small land feature appeared and after hiking around to the other side I could no longer see the road behind me.  I hadn’t seen Craig since leaving camp, so I figured I’d better wait where I was until he came back into view.  I propped my pack against a rock and sat back to wait.

I must have dozed-off because the next time I looked at my watch nearly an hour had passed, although it didn’t seem like I’d had been waiting that long.  Now I was a bit alarmed and decided to walk back up the road to where I could see if Craig was coming or not.  

I had only just gotten up to start walking when Craig came limping around the rocky outcrop beyond and hobbled down to where I stood. He dropped his pack in the gravel and sagged to the ground clutching his right knee, “I can’t go any further.”  The only surprise here was that he had made it this far.

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Go to Part 56

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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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