Journey Day 347 | CDT Day 10
Tiny wildflowers in the Bob Marshall Wilderness,
6/21/87
On the first day of summer, our usually sunny skies grey. Only sprinkles over most of the day after a good rain during the night that forced us to wrap in our ground clothes under the porch overhang.
Rain has been falling since we all decided to tent in a soggy forest atop or near Beaver Pass in The Bob (Marshall Wilderness).We start out in gaiters and rain jackets, but the gear only shed some of the wet and mud in the path.
It was tough leaving the Ranger Station spot, but we did, on a muddy road. Did a couple of tricky creek fords, but never had to wade. I get ahead at one, they stop, so I jump onto Elbo Creek Trail and do jumping ford of creek. I climb up to the Divide, keep going back down. Finally sun breaks through and I munch in flowery field, wondering what the brown bird with giant wingspan was: golden eagle?
Hard at the peanut butter and bread when Leonard and Carl show, then Laurie. Another tricky rock hop and time to climb again. Switchbacks up to the ridge, then ridge walk beside barren peaks, looks like ski resort across the valley. Check high, inaccessible Blue Lake from above before final ascent to Muskrat Pass. The mud was amazing!
Muskrat Pass, Continental Divide Trail, 1987.
Long break, finally others show up, but the sun goes in, I get a yearning for camp and head out for it - I thought it was an easy 2.3 miles away.
The trail nearly disappears. I'm wandering in a field when Carl catches up. Then I spot a trail up the ridge from the hunters' campsite. Soon it's nothing but a drainage, complete with blowdowns and an on-and-off trail. Carl makes me angry slowly following uphill with irritating comments. Eventually I get to trail/quagmire. When Carl gets there, we continue uphill. But find only grizzly or brown bear scat and muck. Up to sign welcoming us into The Bob again (as happened at Muskrat Pass). Decide we're farther than we should be, head back down. Still can't make sense of guidebook vs. location. So Carl watches packs, I head back down against my better judgment to find the Adkinses.
The road leads to Beaver Lake, which the book said to avoid. I walk around, through marsh yelling. Eventually I hear them yelling back and I walk to sound, spotting them through trees. We walk back up past lake to road-trail of muck and scat. Up to Carl's locale, cursing Wolf (author of the guidebook series). Up to water, then to this less than idyllic camp spot, where we put up tents and stow gear in the rain.
Cook when it stops, only to increase as stoves kick into gear. Eat in rain quickly and ravenously as cold dulls keenness of appetite. Carl and I manage bear bag quickly with water bottle as rock (thrown over limb). Head for sleeping bags, warm at last! Then I write these words. A little reading and off to sleep.
