Part Six

     May 24 – May 25                           Kalispell, MT                             (Go to Pt 1)
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We spent two nights in Kalispell resupplying our food, fuel, toilet paper, etc. but on this first night in town we went straight to the Roundup Café and chowed down like a couple of hyenas.  After the cherry pie a la mode was gone, we stopped by some honky-tonk to have a few beers but didn’t last long before hitting the wall.  Sleep, indoors, on a mattress, with a pillow sounded like heaven on earth to me.  We got rooms at the motel 6 on the east side of town where I crashed into bed and shattered.

This being our first resupply stop we didn’t have a routine down yet but there were a lot of things that needed to get done the following day.  The first thing was to call our folks back home. When I talked to my parents they were genuinely excited to hear from me and full of encouragement; it would be long after the trip was over when I came to understand what a nail-biting and anxiety-burdened time this was for them. After the phone calls, we went to breakfast then returned to the motel to deal with are still unpacked packs. ​

Click on the map for a larger image

We set about cleaning out the packs and getting all of our damp gear and clothes strung out to dry. The tent needed a good cleaning and airing out so we popped it up in the parking lot to breath.  Obviously, being on asphalt, the tent wasn’t staked but didn’t need stakes to stand as it  was a brand new North Face Oval Intension - one of the first, successful, free standing dome tents on the market.  It had performed admirably through Glacier and I really liked the tent.

With the phone calls made and everything laid out to dry and the tent airing in the parking lot, we decided to buzz down to the Shop-n-Hop, just a few blocks away, and get some sandwich stuff for lunch.  From what I could tell by looking around the parking lot, we were probably the only ones staying at the motel, so I wasn’t particularly concerned about leaving the tent and being gone for fifteen minutes to get lunch food. We loaded in the Jeep, Brian behind the wheel, who, after pulling out of the parking lot, proceeded to use all of the pavement available, on both sides of the road, piloting us down to the mart.  Fifteen minutes later we pulled back into the motel parking lot, bread and baloney in hand, to find our tent gone. “Where’s the tent?” Brian asked. 

We all scrambled out of the Jeep and ran around to the backside of the building – why the backside of the building I don’t know, there was nothing back there but weeds. Then Craig goes, “The office!” So we all ran back around the building over to the office. I burst through the doors and blurted out, “We had a tent set up over there in the parking lot,” pointing through the window to where the tent had been, “and now it’s gone.  Did you see anyone out there take it?”  The guy behind the counter paused for a moment and looked at me as if to say ‘idiot tourist’, then asked, “Was it blue and yellow?” “Yeah,” I replied slowly. “Then maybe that’s what I seen blowing across that field out there,” he said, pointing to a desolate stretch of Montana landscape beyond the motel.  Damnit! The wind!  We hauled back in the Jeep and spent an hour looking in vain for our lost tent.  Poof, just like that, our tent was gone.

To say we were deflated by this outcome would be to say the Hindenburg deflated on landing.  We did have a back-up tent with us but the thought of using it made my disappointment even more acute. In the back of Brian’s Jeep was an old, Gerry Year Round tent that I’d had and knew to be cramped, prone to condensation and, in my mind, questionable with regard to its wet weather, storm resistance.  My mood went dark but there were too many other things to deal with for me to brood about it; although, the thought of us losing that spacious dome tent to this cramped, low rent, stake intensive, A-frame shack-of-a-shelter ate at me for weeks.

​As far as Brian was concerned, the tent problem had been readily solved and it was time for us to get on with resupply and preparations for the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area. Brain had brought with him boxes of dried food: Oatmeal, Cream of Wheat, hot chocolate mix, tea, tang, granola bars, chocolate, soups, rice, potatoes, Mountain House dinner entrées, pudding and dried fruit. To this we would supplement from the grocery store cheese, nuts, sausage, a few cans of tuna, Ziploc bags, TP and more white gas for the stove; three weeks’ worth of provisions would be necessary for this next section.  We made a detailed list of everything we needed, gathered up our laundry and headed back into town to visit the laundromat and grocery store.

The next step was to organize the food and evaluate our equipment needs for the next stretch. Equipment wise, I knew exactly what was getting ditched first, those goddam Peuterey boots.  My trusty, old, Fabiano Mountain Masters were also in the back of Brian’s jeep and while they were well-worn, they weren’t worn out; I had no more use for those Peuterey boots.  

The next thing to go was the climbing equipment since the mountains ahead wouldn’t require it, then we pared down some of the winter clothing and such but elected to take the Bear Paw snowshoes.  The Paws showed some pretty serious signs of wear and material fatigue so I made sure we had plenty of baling wire and duct tape in the kit for repairs.

The balance of the day was spent repackaging and organizing the food stock, making sure cook equipment was in order, all loose items back in their assigned stuff sack, resealing seams on rain gear, stitching up torn clothing and snow-sealing the boots.  We did our final pack in the morning and after breakfast Brian drove us back out to the Continental Divide.  We pulled over at Marias Pass and Brian shut off the engine. The weather was not at all motivating; cold, grey, and snowing with a biting wind. We sat silently in the Jeep and watched the snow blow across the road.  From here, Craig and I would start walking south and Brian would start driving east, back to St. Louis.  I glanced over at Brian and there was no Cheshire grin, just a look of disenchantment.  

​Over the past year, Brian had made somewhat of a hobby out of following and contributing to our planning process and doing whatever he could to help from the earliest stages of the trip.  He had been a third party to all of our raucous bluster and resolute determination to walk the Divide for over a year. But now, having done everything he said he’d do to help us lift-off on the Divide, his role was coming to an end. In a stinging wind, by the edge of the highway we said our ‘good-lucks’ and parted ways. I felt a wave of melancholy as Brian’s jeep pulled back onto the highway and disappeared down the road.

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Go to Part 7

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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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