Thankfully my buddy Art is able to join me most years to hike a section of the CDT. It’s handy that he lives in North Routt County and his wife Teresa was kind enough to drop us at the modest trailhead near the Seedhouse Campground. She had left us at the same spot a couple years earlier for our southbound section hike on the CDT to Buffalo Pass. We let a pair of already well-conditioned NOBO thru-hikers go by as we started our hike, and we leap-frogged them a few times that day.
About ten miles in I started to get some intense right ankle pain and had to stop every mile or less the rest of the day. I was already wondering if I could even make the 42 miles to Battle Pass, let alone the distance to Rawlins and beyond. We also had a bit more climbing than expected but still managed 14 miles for the first day. Art spotted a nice little meadow to camp at that was mostly clear of widow maker beetle-killed trees. We stopped at a slow-trickling creek about a mile before camp, and I later regretted not having had the patience to fill a couple more liters there. We had met Volcano, a SOBO section hiker from the UK who hinted at trail magic ahead, but we weren’t sure how far that was or what to expect.
The next morning were very happy to see a pair of large coolers with a nice drink selection and some snacks, even my favorite Butterfinger, after the first mile. We each took a single bottle water to go, wanting to make sure we left plenty for other hikers. FarOut comments indicated a still-flowing water source at the Wyoming border.
I’ve been section hiking the CDT in Colorado since 2021 and it felt good to finally cross into another state. That day, August 2, also happened to mark an anniversary milestone in my addiction recovery journey. Unfortunately the only water source we found near the state line was super shallow and muddy, but I was at least able to filter about a quarter liter. The next water source at Whiskey Creek was a couple miles ahead and turned out to be even muddier. We lost probably an hour as I waded my way into the bog and tried filtering from the mud. As usual Art talked some sense into me, worst case we’d just have to hike another 7 or 8 miles for more certain water. Art led the way through the bog, then suddenly stopped and turned around with his signature grin. A couple of wood blocks had been imbedded on either side of the trail, allowing clear water to collect there. We joyfully filled up our water bottles with relief.
Art had already done the math and realized if we kept our 14 mile-a-day pace we could make it to Battle Pass by tomorrow afternoon, in time to meet Teresa on her birthday. He led the way and was out of sight, then marched back towards me with his poles in the air. He and a bear had surprised each other on the trail. We slowly went back up the trail together until I saw what at first looked like a mom & cub in the woods. After taking a good look, we could see it was just one really big bear that was now thankfully walking away.
It seemed like a full day already when we heard some thunder in the distance and could see dark clouds ahead. Then we felt a sudden, familiar chill in the air and decided to set up my X-Mid to wait out the storm. After lots of practice escaping last summer’s monsoon storms in the San Juans, that tent sets up fast. We crawled in just as the heavy rain and a bit of hail started. It didn’t keep up long but we were happy to have stayed dry.
I had started taking ibuprofen that morning and then again early afternoon, and that seemed to keep my ankle pain tolerable the rest of the day. I repeated this daily ibuprofen routine for the rest of the hike, realizing I had skipped my annual series of manual physical therapy ankle treatments this summer.
We were headed downhill with a mile or two left to reach our 14 for the day when we saw a van parked alongside a dirt road. I tall fellow came out and happily waived us over. We met Lorax who shared some fresh cherries and trail insights with us. He’s a trail maintainer volunteer, and said he had built the water collection feature in the bog that we had enjoyed earlier. He let us know there was good camping “just up the hill”, but we started to get skeptical after a hard uphill mile. Then Art saw a good flat spot with nice view of Hogg Park Reservoir. That nice view turned spectacular as fog blanketed the lake the next morning.
Lorax had mentioned that we’d be hiking through a rain forest the next day, and the lush terrain was a nice trade-off for the seemingly all-day climb towards Battle Pass. We meet a trio of NOBO thru-hikers as we filled up water at a shady creek crossing. One of them noticed I carried a St. Bernard medallion on my pack, and showed me the same medallion on a hand-woven yucca necklace that an artisan had gifted her in New Mexico. They were convinced the patron saint of hikers had helped them through some challenges on their hike.
Water was plentiful all day, and we criss-crossed several natural canals winding through the bogs. Some had bridges built across them with heavy wooden beams, and additional piles awaited future construction. We wondered how these had been transported, then we saw horse rider leading a mule, carrying several beams strapped on each side. About a mile later, an anxious little dog came running towards us, then turned around as he obviously wanted to lead us back up the trail. We followed him to his owner, another single rider whose mule had lost his load of beams. He nodded and answered a somber, “Yep” when Art asked if he needed help. He directed us on loading the beams back onto his mule as he strapped them into place.
Lorax met us a couple miles from Battle Pass, thinking we might need a ride to town. He shared some fascinating tales of vampires and the Krill people on the way to the trailhead. Another hiker caught us, and he got a ride with Lorax. We were very happy to see Teresa waiting for us at the small parking lot with some snacks and cold drinks, along with my resupply box.
I rented a room at the updated and comfortable Pine Lodge in Encampment, and they kindly offered me access to their laundry room. The agent recommended the Divide restaurant right next door, and we enjoyed an upscale burger there. Art & Teresa invited me to join them at the nearby Hippy Hot Springs, and I later regretted not going. I had a nice talk with my wife Maria in Mexico who really, really wanted me to get back for us to spend some more time together in her town. That re-affirmed my decision to end this year’s trek at Rawlins.
The 307 restaurant served a nice breakfast the next morning, and I went back for lunch as I procrastinated my return to trail. Local diners grinned knowingly as some trail-ripe hikers came in and were quickly directed out to the covered patio. The hitch back to trail was surprisingly easy, as there was a bench seat at the highway intersection and the first car picked me up.
I usually struggle to get back on trail after a night in town, and I got a late start. The road climbed about five miles towards Bridger Peak. The trail broke off around the summit, then flattened out as it rejoined the road. I didn’t see any hikers that day, just a couple of side-by-sides and lots of sheep. FarOut comments had mentioned some decent water puddles along the road, but I was skeptical with all the sheep. I finally found a little deeper puddle without too much sheep poo and it filtered ok. I managed about 10 miles, and thankfully the last couple were downhill. The FarOut comments accurately directed me to a nice flat camping spot.
I was happy to find a decent creek to fill up water in the first mile the next morning. I could see the woods disappearing behind me although there was a lot more climbing than expected as I entered the Great Basin. After about 16 miles there was a perfect grassy campsite alongside the North Fork of Savery Creek.
The next day was a grind, and I didn’t see a soul that day. I filled up my 3 liter Cnoc bag at the piped spring, and decided against taking the bushwack short cut which might have saved a couple miles. After about 18 miles I camped at a little parking area near Muddy Creek. Someone had made a little dam in the creek with clear water flowing over, so I used that and saved my water from the spring. I realized that night that sleeping alongside a lonely dirt road is way more spooky than camping alone in the woods.
A NOBO thru-hiker named Stix walked by the next morning as I broke camp and it was nice to have a little chat with someone. Later that day I met SOBO hiker Firehusband, who shared the good news that there’s a flowing spring up the hill the from recreation area, about 10 miles before Rawlins. That meant I didn’t need to lug around all that extra water the last day. I think I unwillingly carry the expression of a suffering hiker on trail, and some super nice father & son fishermen stopped on the road to give me a cold water, Gatorade, & spicy McChicken. I stopped at a murky pond to fill up a liter when I saw Stix and met her companion Sky High. When I saw them together I realized they were the same couple who passed us at the Seedhouse trailhead back in Colorado. They might have been better off had I not told them about my lucky trail magic from the fishermen. But that bit of kindness helped get me to 20 miles as I reached another murky pond to camp by on my last night.
I had enjoyed a gentle wind most the of week, which at least psychologically mitigated the heat. I brought a sun umbrella which I quickly discovered is pretty useless in the wind. But when I set up camp that last night the wind became violent, and was not kind to my X-Mid as I tried staking down the corners and doors. The next morning was calm as I got up for an early start, and the murky pond was stunning at sunrise.
Stix & Sky High had camped on the other side of the lake, and they passed me when I stopped to filter the piped spring water I’d been carrying. They mentioned they were taking a shorter route to town on the road, but I stuck to the redline as I would need to refill at the natural spring Firehusband had told of. I was soon very relieved to be alone in the sagebush as I had no cover when that 3-day old spring water attacked my insides without warning. I hiked as fast as I could those next 7-8 miles, with many surprise stops along the way. I had not seen any rattlesnakes and was especially glad to not see any that day with all my detours off trail. I finally reached the vault toilets at the recreation area, and they were clean and stocked with TP. Water in the nearby murky lakes did not look appealing given my current condition.
From the recreation area it’s a steep climb up the trail where it passes the by the natural spring. There’s no marking to the spring, so I had to take a surprise bushwack to find it. But I was pretty desperate for some decent water and was able to collect the water as it flowed out from the rocks. I still had close to 10 miles left to Rawlins, and as a I got closer to town there was no place for an emergency stop. The redline winds through a residential area then into downtown, and I finally made it to Bucks Sports Grill in Rawlins with no time to spare. I was also starving by now and they serve a nice-sized cheeseburger. I settled into the hiker friendly Brickyard Inn for the night. I had planned to take the Greyhound to Denver then the Bustang back to Steamboat. It turned out Art & Teresa needed to take a trip to Cheyenne (I think maybe they just wanted to make sure I had a way back), so I ended up with an easy and fun ride home.
Lone Wolf hiking 