Lets do Christmas this year

Posted on November 21, 2025 by sheraaaa

*The days when I was strong…skiing the CDT.*

I’m writing this as much for me as for you. I strive to understand how to be in this body now, and it is constantly changing. But one thing remains the same: I am fragile now. I do have moments when I forget what I’ve been through in the last year, but those are really just fragments of moments. I don’t get to forget for long.

I get head rushes almost every time I stand up; the black spins and pounding at the base of my skull are dazing, so I make sure to go slowly or hang on to something for a few seconds before moving. When I forget and jump to my feet, I meet the errors of my ways: speed. I have to be a slow turtle these days.

The same goes for yoga; I’ve been back at it since August. In the dark morning, I roll up my mat and walk a few cold blocks down to the studio. The 90-degree heat feels delicious. After a slow half hour of movement, I can usually make my way into a true downward dog. I still get dizzy a time or two during the classes, and it’s almost always when my head is below my heart. To recover, I reverse the position and make my way to child’s pose. I think holding the downward dog pose alone could help everything. My glutes and hamstrings have been incredibly tight since returning from the Camino almost two months ago. I can’t fully stretch my legs without gently coaxing them loose for half an hour. Deep twisting of any kind is a no-go.

My spine is stiff with multiple tumor scars, but I am healing, and each scan shows more bone growing back. The name of the game is patience. I’ve never had to have this kind of patience with my body before. I’m looking at years of healing to slowly re-engage with my physical self.

I plan to cross-country ski this winter, but need to be careful because I still have a fracture risk. Downhill skiing is off limits, so is skate skiing, so I plan to immerse myself in pillows of white on blue diamond cross-country ski trails. I’ll visit the ones that don’t have too many big hills to lessen the chance of a fall. The trails at Ray Benson near Hoodoo Ski Area are perfect. That’s where I go to ski on the Pacific Crest Trail. The terrain on the south side of Santium Pass is ideal for what I’ll want and need this winter.

But balance, though. Feeling solid on classic cross-country skis (that is, scaled skis without a metal edge) is a tremendous help if you have good balance. Alpine touring skis, the narrow metal-edged ones, are perfect for someone like me, and make you feel stable overall.

You know what helps develop your balance? Yoga. A regular yoga practice has helped me stay young over the 15 years I’ve made it a part of my life. And balance is what has kept me skiing confidently in the backcountry. Do you remember when I skied part of the Continental Divide Trail in homemade shoe bindings? I had the added risk of skiing while wearing a full backpack in low-top trail shoes; my exposed ankles were the weakest part in the whole setup. I became incredibly cautious by taking safe lines, especially when I was solo.

How else do I feel fragile? There’s the head rushes, weak bones, and oh yeah, the thought that every little ache or pain could be a new tumor. There’s that.

What I mean by every pain, is every single pain. From a headache (at diagnosis, I had 27 tumors around my brain and in my skull) to shoulder and neck aches (those aches are almost constant – I live under my heating pad). Every new or recurring twinge could mean a new growth.

Why am I this touchy? Well, I attended a virtual conference for EGFR19 last weekend. EGFR19 is the lung cancer gene mutation that I have. The sessions were sobering. None of the information covered was new to me, but it was information that I hadn’t fully absorbed. The facts are that Tegresso, my daily med that targets the EGFR receptor, blocking the signaling of the gene to suppress cell growth and induce programmed cell death in cancer cells, has only been around for 10 years and has changed our survival rate drastically. Now over half of patients live for four years.

And I’m eternally grateful for that time. The med works, until it doesn’t. The med is so new, that the data is new, and we don’t know long-term survival rates…it’s anyone’s guess, but I choose to believe I’ll live longer than four years. I’ve been on it for eight months now, and it’s still working. Missy, my best friend in high school and college, was only on it for a few months when it stopped working. It chills me to be reminded of this. I’ve stayed closer to the living side of this narrow path I’m on, but find that the closer I can walk to the center… keeping in mind the fragility of it all…the more alive I feel. Everything is very simple now, and for that reason, I like it on this side of getting sick.

I repeat myself so much these days, but I do feel like shouting it from the rooftops: “It’s all going away all the time. Live now. Live hard. Go big.”

Example? Kirk and I have never really done Christmas. I might put some lights up and hang a few ornaments on one of our bigger plants, but that’s it. Oh, and maybe I’ll make some gingerbread cookies, but this year I want it. I want it all, because last Christmas is where it all went down for me.

I was visiting my parents for the holidays last year. If you remember, it was on that trip that a sports rehab and chiropractic doctor advised me to get some imaging done at an urgent care when my body wasn’t responding as expected after a few appointments with him. It was at the urgent care that we discovered my neck and spine were covered in tumors, and I was at risk of my spinal cord snapping. I was immediately taken to the hospital and had emergency surgery to cut out the tumor that had completely consumed my C4 vertebrae and pressed into my spinal cord. That gap in my spine is now a titanium screen, and I will most likely feel its unnaturalness in my body for the rest of my life.

So I’m grateful. Grateful and immediately sobered again to the real fragility of it all. My physical container could go away soon. And then?

So we are doing Christmas. This weekend, we’ll head to the deep forests along the Cascade Mountains with our tree permits and saws to find a little scamp of a tree to bring home with us. It needs to be small to fit the room, but we’ll be sure there is room for presents. We don’t usually do Christmas presents because spending the day together or having an adventure was always more important. But this year I want presents, especially ones that are wrapped up combinations of little things we already own: like a gadget with fresh batteries in it, or a silly wrapping of everyday objects.

Laughter is key to a good Christmas. We are going tree cutting with some dear friends and their Great Pyrenees puppy, Remy, this weekend. They are a silly bunch – we are a silly bunch together, and that’s why I love them so. There might, just might, be a dusting of snow. The air is cold now, so there could be a nip of spirits in someone’s pocket flask, and there will most definitely be lunch at a mountain lakeside resort. How much better could that be? Then, we’ll go home to put the tree up with lights and ornaments. My mom always gave us an ornament each year at Christmas. Oh we did it big back then. We made gingerbread houses and strung popcorn and cranberries on thread, and made paper chains to hang on the tree. Mom gave me an ornament of a little reindeer standing on a soccer ball to commemorate the years I played soccer in high school. There is a hiking related one, and a running one from when my Dad and I trained for the Chicago Marathon together. The tree decorating will be accompanied by music (I am partial to the Nutcracker Suite or the John Dever and the Muppets Christmas album) And there will be cookies. Yeah, most definitely cookies.

Then I’ll watch my favorite Christmas film: The Snowman. It’s about freedom and death. No matter how old I was when I watched it, I always felt pangs of longing and sadness at the closing credits when the boy experiences loss for the first time. Maybe I’ve always been closer to the center of the line than I knew. Living big has always been my path forward, and in that way, I haven’t changed.

I was admitted to the hospital after that urgent care visit on December 18, my mom holding my neck and C-collar steady as the ambulance raced us to the hospital. Each bump on those terrible roads sent electric shocks through my body, and we cried harder. Kirk flew in to Louisiana on the 19th, my surgery happened on the 21st, and my discharge from the hospital on the 24th. Yes, I’m gonna celebrate Christmas this year.

Continental Divide Trail Video – Thru-hike 2015 (rough draft. really rough)

Posted on August 10, 2017 by sheraaaa

I haven’t touched this video project in a year and a half, but who knows when I’ll get to working on it again, so here we go!

Here’s a rough cut of a rough trail.
Epic in so many ways.
CDT, I love you.

And yes, the video ends at 2:11, unless you love the Gorillaz, and then listen to the end of the song.

Continental Divide Trail Movie 2015, part 1 from Renee Patrick on Vimeo.

Lessons Learned from a CDT Thru-Hike

Posted on June 17, 2016 by sheraaaa

I wrote an article on my CDT thru-hike last year that was published in the current issue of Passages, the CDTC’s newsletter. Click on the image to read the whole magazine.

Lessons Learned from a CDT Thru-Hike

“If the Pacific Crest Trail is a purring kitten, then the Appalachian Trail is an angry house cat that still has its claws, and the Continental Divide Trail is a mountain lion about to take your face off with one wrong move.” – Day 3 on the CDT

Thru-hiking the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) has always been a difficult endeavor. Yes, the trail isn’t complete and crosses terrain that is strenuous and/or paved. Yes, the weather can throw down the gauntlet, and the isolation and remote conditions can gnaw into the psyche of even the most stalwart of hikers. But the reward for pushing through all the snow and rain and loneliness is well worth it. For me the challenge of completing a CDT thru-hike was so much bigger than merely walking across the country.

My 2015 thru-hike came many years after my other long trail adventures: it had been 13 years since completing the Appalachian Trail, and 9 years since finishing the Pacific Crest Trail. Prior to setting foot on the CDT this past April, I’ll be the first to admit I had doubts. Could my almost 40 year old body handle the miles? Could I spend the whole hike solo if I didn’t find others to hike with? Could I handle the harsh conditions that are often found on the Divide?

Now that I’m at the reflection stage of the hike I know the answers, and after reading back through my daily journal I am able to look back at a few things I learned, or was reminded of, along the way.

It’s ok to be Uncomfortable

“I was going to town! Now I know I just left Pie Town, but there are towns where you have to wash your hair in a trickle of warm water with dish soap, and there are towns with hotel hot tubs, Denny’s restaurants, and just about any kind of fried food imaginable.” – Day 24

I knew going into the hike that big goals like walking across the country can be scary, and putting yourself in uncomfortable situations is a great way to grow. The CDT is definitely scary and uncomfortable, but I knew that by trusting in my abilities that I could handle what the trail could serve up and possibly learn a thing or two.

I had moments on the trail where I knew for a fact that there were no other thru-hikers within a few days ahead or behind me. The isolation is real, and at times I was nervous about the implications of needing help in such situations. So I would dig deep, remind myself this level of solitude is quite unique in our connected/populated world, and try to revel in the freedom of hiking alone…sometimes.

“Getting grumpy when you are hiking by yourself really doesn’t mean much. If you have no one to complain to, what’s the point? This is the second day in a row that I haven’t seen anyone, and all I wanted to do was bitch about the wind and terrain (yes the same terrain I loved this morning).”

I had to be my own cheerleader and companion, and trust myself to make the right decisions. Sometimes that meant going low, bypassing a summit, or carrying extra water. It usually came down to making safe, smart decisions.

Oh yes, being uncomfortable can also mean the simplest pleasures are magnified. “The suffering was expected and highlighted every small pleasure to an excruciating degree. Being dry was a luxury. Warm? Even better. Food took on a mythical status and prior to getting to each town stop I would daydream about what I would stuff in my face.”

Self Reliance leads to Flexibility

“I’m just going to go ahead and not worry about it.” – Words of wisdom from fellow thru-hiker Pimp Limp

I was prepared to be make decisions on the ground. A lot of the CDT is an unknown until you are in the middle of freaking nowhere and need to decide how to get up that mountain without hurting yourself. I liked to call the CDT the PhD of hiking trails because often I had to draw on other hiking/backcountry experiences to make the right decisions. That came in the form of very little advance planning.

The CDT is a trail with hundreds of alternates, I knew trying to decide which routes to take as I was packing my boxes and splitting up my maps would be next to impossible. Instead I sent myself all the materials I would need to make those decisions on the ground and let the trail and weather and my body decided which way I would go. And I knew I could trust myself to make those decisions because I had spent most of my adult life in outdoor/backcountry environment. I could draw on those experiences.

Here’s a journal excerpt from one particular day that I couldn’t plan for after burning myself in a stove accident: “As with my lost sunglasses, burned up thermarest, patched but trashy repair jobs on my tarp and down jacket, burned tyvek, broken watch, and lost handkerchief, I swear I thought it was a decent day. Oh and I shouldn’t forget needing to keep the blisters on my fingers, hands, and arms clean and uninfected.” For all intents and purposes it was a disaster of a day, even though I didn’t realize it until my end-of-the-day tally. But instead of throwing in the towel and hiking out on the nearest road, I patched what I could, cleaned the blisters best I knew how, evaluated my health and safety of continuing to hike to the next town, and just did it.

Snow and storms were a major stressor this year, but again, having backcountry shoulder season and winter experience came in handy when I had to deal with the wettest spring New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming had on record. I was prepared; my gear was prepared. Gortex socks, gaiters, and pants came in handy in Colorado. Rain mittens, extra trash bags, and an umbrella helped keep me dry in the storms, and shoe bindings on touring skis kept me on top of the snow instead of slogging through it. If you think you might encounter snow on your hike, go hike in the snow. If you are worried about staying dry in a rainstorm, go hike in a rain storm. I believe having faced these conditions before gave me an advantage, especially when faced with how to keep myself safe out there as a solo hiker. It’s not really an option to go in unprepared when the stakes are as high as they can be on the CDT.

This is my Vacation

“Two weeks on the trail, 200 miles, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Sleeping when the sun goes down, waking just before the day begins…it’s as if I’ve been transported to an alternate universe where time takes on a different pace. Two weeks back in Bend pass quickly…the routine of the everyday has certain qualities that are blissfully absent out here. No bills to pay, no obligations other than to my feet and stomach. I’ve already lived a lifetime in these two weeks, and the prospect of 4-5 more months of this is pretty exhilarating.” – After a soak in the Gila Hotsprings, NM

At the heart of my 160 days on the CDT was the fact that this was my vacation. It had been years since I had taken any real time off of my job; I was working a desk-bound, weekend warrior existence, and come rain or snow, I was determined to enjoy my thru-hike.

How an experience is framed can mean all the difference. Yes, completing the CDT this year would mean earning my triple crown. Competing the CDT would mean I can hike through challenging conditions, but really, hiking the CDT meant I could do what I enjoy doing more than almost anything: backpacking long distances in the backcountry.

Having that as my main goal changed the way I hiked. I enjoyed getting to camp early and reading. I took lots of zeros and neros because I wanted to. I connected with friends I hadn’t seen in years, and took the time to meet new people and make new friends. I carried a french press coffee mug because I wanted to enjoy a great cup of hot coffee in the mornings, and slept on an inflatable pillow because I could. Why not? It’s my vacation!

Put one Step in Front of the Other

“One step at a time.” – repeated over and over and over on my approach to the 14er Grays Peak, CO

Due to the various challenges I would face (sometimes daily, sometimes hourly, sometimes even by the minute) I found it essential to focus on one step at a time. I had to be completely present in those times, or would risk missing an important turn, falling off a mountain, or getting swept away in a river. Each step needed to be intentional.

During my second week on the trail I received this message loud and clear. Navigating what might have been my 60th river crossing of the day in the Gila River, I found myself in a foul mood. I had wet feet with the promise of continued wet feet. I started to wish I was out of the river canyon and walking on dry ground when Woosh! I slipped and fell in the river. Yes, I was crossing a slippery, mossy rock shelf, but instead of paying attention to my footing, I was dreaming of walking on dry ground until the Gila slapped me in the face. It was a very clear message: “Pay attention.”

When I was picking my way across the knife’s edge between Edwards Mountain and Gray’s Peak in Colorado I simply couldn’t let my mind wander. The ridge was so steep and the consequences of one wrong step so severe, I had to be 100% present. In fact I even muttered the mantra, “One step at a time,” to keep myself calm and on track.

Each day required focus, and this little tidbit from my journal speaks to that: “The consequences are immense with one mistake out here, I’m confident in my abilities, but I’ve never been on a trail with this many challenges. Today, the wind.”

What is in my Control?

“I had several plans for the day and my plans had plans. But really who can plan on the CDT? What I had for the day were vague ideas of what I would do if certain conditions existed…and back up ideas. Plans on the CDT are for suckers.” – On whether I would continue skiing the divide to Spring Creek Pass

I am normally not an anxious person, but at times had a lot of anxiety on the trail and had to find a way to deal with it. Much of the stress came in the form of how to properly deal with sketchy conditions.

In mid July I was racing across a 10 mile section of above-treeline trail towards Berthoud Pass as storm clouds threatened to unleash their fury. At 11:30 in the morning 15 people were hit by lightning a short distance from where I was hiking. I descended the ridge that day at 1:30pm, well after the recommended noon hour on storm days in Colorado. The next day of hiking looked to be another long section above treeline with the continued storm cycle, and I really didn’t want to go back up there. I started stressing out, so much so that it was manifesting in an upset stomach and feelings of panic. After a calming phone conversation with my boyfriend, he reminded me of what I had forgotten. What is in my control? Can I control when and where the lightning will strike? No. Can I control the fact that I would need to hike 25+ miles tomorrow, primarily above treeline? Turns out I could. I had already needed to find alternates around a very avalanche-prone section in the San Juans; I could find an alternate around my current problem too. I pieced together a series of roads to bypass the high country…an exercise that was as much for my peace of mind as it was for not getting caught in a lightning storm above treeline. The decision helped remind myself of what was in my control, and that it was my hike to hike.

But it wasn’t always easy to make those decisions: “I left the mountains. Amid some self-berating about taking the easy way out and not rising to the navigational challenge of the trail ahead, was a deep sense of relief. I would be safe today. And tomorrow. I would get myself out of these mountains safely and not get caught in a potentially dangerous situation of hiking through the terrain ahead alone.”

Readjustment is Hard

Thru-hiking the CDT has been a goal for a long time. Completing the hike felt amazing, but was soon followed by a gaping hole where that goal had been. What now?

Fortunately I live in a community with dozens of thru-hikers who understood that hole, and as I was struggling with the absence of what had consumed so much of my time and energy over the past few years, they reminded me it was ok. It was ok to feel a bit lost; it was ok to be unsure of my next steps. I needed to give myself permission to struggle.

Ultimately what these past few months have highlighted is my desire to have another goal. It’s time to dream up something scary to do. Something I’m not sure I can do. But I know this much, I’m capable of so much more now that I’ve hiked the CDT.

Continental Divide Trail: Day 160 – 10 Miles (0 Miles from Canada, 2708 Miles from Mexico)

Posted on September 20, 2015 by sheraaaa

Continental Divide Trail: Day 159 -10 Miles (2698 miles from Mexico)

Posted on September 20, 2015 by sheraaaa

It was a late night alright, but it was really the screeching of the trains during the night that left me haggered and gritty feeling in the morning. Luckily there is coffee. Coffee and indoor plumbing at the Summit Lodge.

I packed up my camp, pitched in the forest by some of the cabins with the other thru hikers, and was ready to head back to the trail with Mountain Spice by 8 in the morning. We said our goodbyes to people we may not see ever again, or will run into randomly on a trail some where, and hopped into Beacon’s car, another hiker who had so generously offered to take us back to Many Glacier.

While Mountain Spice dozed in the back, I furtively tried to get a few last things done on my phone as the 4G connection went in and out with the curves and hills of the road. By 9:30 we were back where we had been just the day before and preparing for the last 2 days of the trail.

I had already gotten my permit to camp at Elisabeth Lake, and once Mountain Spice had her permit lined up (we would be finishing at different spots on the Canadian Border), we set off, saying our goodbyes and hiking up and out.

The wind is fierce today, and at times I couldn’t hear anything but the rushing of air as I climbed up towards Ptarmagin Tunnel. This was a popular trail and I passed many day hikers out to enjoy their version of Glacier. My hike would take me through a tunnel that had been blasted through a mountain. As it is closed some parts of the year due to snow, I counted myself among one of the lucky ones that got to walk underneath the rocky pass.

The far side

The other side showed a gently sloping trail leading to my camp at Elisabeth Lake. It would be a short day, and I am grateful for that. Still tired from my lack of sleep I envisioned getting to camp about 2pm, setting up my shelter, taking a nap, and reading the afternoon and evening away. And that’s just about exactly what happened.

I’m on the shores of the lake, but the wind is so strong I feel as though my tarp will be ripped to shreds. I’m enjoying this last night on the trail as a solo experience. It seems a fitting way to end the hike: I began solo, spent 90% of the trail hiking and camping by myself, and I’ll end this journey the same way.

I am hiding from the wind and imagining what it will be like to see Kirk tomorrow after 5 months, I’m so excited!

I’m glad I took the time to do this hike. I can’t imagine not backpacking, it has become as much a part of my identity and sense of purpose as anything else one is compelled to do again and again in their life. I am not sure what my next hike will be, but I will hike, and I have a feeling I’ll need it as much as I needed the CDT.

But now, life at home sounds so delicious!

Continental Divide Trail: Day 158 – 0 Miles

Posted on September 20, 2015 by sheraaaa

It was a day of not walking. We made our way down to East Glacier through a series of hitches and found ourselves back at Brownies, the bakery/hostel.

We ran into Malarky who had finished the trail the week before and was hanging out waiting for the hiker hoopla party tonight. We all grabbed lunch and ran into Chimi, Chiltin, Hedgehog, Messed Up, and Dayglow…they were just getting in and had all of Glacier to look forward to.

We spent the afternoon on the porch of Brownies and soon Rick, HD Mama’s husband and CDT trail angel extraordinaire, picked us up for a ride to the hoopla.

The spread was awesome, the Montana Trails Association put on a great event with live bluegrass, great food, plenty of beverages, and a killer raffle (with some donated hikertrash swag!)

I spent the night telling story after story…a bunch of hikers had come from the border having finished today: Delightful, G, Funk, Sam, Picker, Day Man and La La had all made it back…it would have been cool to have been done in time for the big party too, but now I’m glad I still have another night on the trail.

I went to bed late…but it was worth it!

Continental Divide Trail: Day 157 – 22 Miles (2688 miles from Mexico)

Posted on September 19, 2015 by sheraaaa

So yesterday my hike was officially longer than my PCT hike at 2,663 miles. I’ve never known how many miles I would end up hiking, there are so many alternates, long cuts, short cuts, and so forth, but it looks like I’ll make it just over 2,700. It’s all good; the AT took me 5 months and 2 days at 2,175 miles, the PCT 5 months exactly at 2,663 miles, and the CDT, 5 months and 6 days at 2,7XX miles…just wait and see!

But this is my last full day on the trail. Tomorrow I’ll head back to East Glacier and Summit Lodge for the Hiker Hoopla, a party given by the Montana Trails folks for CDT hikers and supporters (what a great way to finish a trail…with a party!), and then will get a ride back up to Many Glacier, where Mountain Spice and I are camped tonight) the next day to hike 2 half days to Canada and meet Kirk! I’m actually more excited to see Kirk than to finish the CDT, I guess that’s good, right?? 🙂

Morning

Today we woke to a clear sky and walked off the chill of the morning to St. Mary, a reroute to avoid some burned trail we heard wouldn’t be opened up at all again this season. Atlas, Mountain Spice and I hightailed it to a cafe my friend Sage had told me about, but it was closed, so we backtracked to another cafe we saw…closed! Went next door, closed (well at least for the next hour until it was lunch time) and finally walked up the hill to the one and only open cafe in the little berg. Everything is shutting down before our eyes for the season. Sucks for the hikers behind us, even less will be open!

BUT we had a delicious breakfast and practically licked our plates. It was late when we finally got back to the trail, but the climb up to Piegon pass was incredible, and we heard reports of Grizzlies on the trail. Sure enough I saw my first grizzs! Ok, they were black dots on the mountainside, but still, it counts!

Can you see the black dots?

On the other side we encountered snow (always the snow) and made our way down a million switchbacks and came across a big horned sheep…what a day for animals! Waterfalls and lovely trail lay before us and our path to Many Glacier, another little development with lodge, restaurant, store, and developed campground.

Practicing moves against the grizzlies

Snow again???

OMG

We found a spot at the primarily car camping site for the hiker/bikers, and once we realized the italian restaurant was still open decided to wander over there just in case we found something interesting for dinner. Yep, pasta, wine, and cheesecake later, we navigated our way back to the campsite. Tomorrow: my last 0 day of the trail and the Hiker Hoopla, a Partay to celebrate the end of the hike!!!

Continental Divide Trail: Day 156 – 19 Miles (2666 miles from Mexico)

Posted on September 18, 2015 by sheraaaa

We didn’t have any furry visitors during the night (thank goodness) and woke about 7am, packed up, and headed to the food area to make coffee and eat breakfast. We didn’t have that many miles to do today…two passes to climb…so really kind of just took our time throughout the day.

Cool was down there last night

Our first pass came less than 2 miles from camp; Pitamakan Pass proved to be a gentle climb and we were rewarded by patches of blue sky and sunlight! The forcast wasn’t so generous, so we felt very lucky. Snow still clung to the top peaks, and the views, well, pictures can’t do it justice, can’t do any of Glacier justice. It’s 360 magisty.

We took a break on the sunny north side of the pass and I made a mocha latte (hot drinks!) and we ate a considerable amount of our snacks. The trail wound 6 miles down into the next valley before climbing to our next pass, the Triple Divide Pass. What an amazing climb! Hanging valleys, huge waterfalls, glaciers…I could just go on. The top of the pass was calm, and a group of 5 guys came up from the other side, and Atlas joined us too; we all stood in awe of everything.

Next, down into another valley. More waterfalls, more lakes, more rivers and brillant fall colors and amazement.

Camp is at Red Eagle Lake in an old burn, and just as we were finishing dinner the rain that had threatened all day finally found us. We hurried to our shelters to stay dry; it’s still early, but our sleeping bags seem the best place to be.

Continental Divide Trail: Day 155 – 17 Miles (2647 miles from Mexico)

Posted on September 18, 2015 by sheraaaa

It was warm and toasty last night in the hostel thanks to our space heater tucked right between Mountain Spice and me. The nights have been getting COLD and as we were going to sleep we heard the rain pounding outside, I was so happy to be inside.

In the morning I made coffee and we went over to the bakery first thing to see what was what. Then it was back to the room to pack up. We cant lollygag around East Glacier any more, time to make some miles to Canada!

We walked over to the other side of town to visit their bakery too and ran into G Funk, Banana Pants, and #2; I hadn’t seen Banana Pants and #2 since Colorado! They had just finished the day before and were both headed out on the Amtrak today. G Funk would be leaving town tomorrow, so would be about a day behind us.

#2, G Funk & Banana Pants

Then it was hiking. We had a few miles before we hit the park line, and had to take the requsit photos there. Suddenly we were walking in cliffs and high alpine meadows with reds, maroons, golds, and yellows carpeting the ground. So lovely, yet so bitterly cold. The wind felt like it was coming straight out of the artic, and we put on all our layers and hurried towards Two Medicine to seek shelter.

Got my sword and permit!

On the way down the mountain the snow caught up to us off and on, but by the time we reached tree line and were close to the ranger station we were much more protected and didn’t need to hide out in the bathrooms from the cold like we had planned.

We ate lunch before continuing on – just another 7 miles to our camp. We have to stay in designated spots here, and we may have gone more miles if it was up to us, but as it is the 17 mile day will be quite nice; we’ll get to camp early for once!

Mmm, chocolate covered potato chips from Brooke & Adryon!

The hike up was simply gorgous. The light would periodically spotlight a section of ridge, and windows of blue swirled by overhead, sometimes dropping snow, sometimes sun. We spied two mountain goats high over head, and watched them deftly move around on the nearly vertical rock.

Before getting to our camp we met two women who informed us a bunch of grizzlies had visited our camp today. Hmmm, not exactly the best news ever. We continued on and hoped we wouldn’t run into them.

We are being very careful with our food and keeping it in the food zone, there is a seperate area for cooking and hanging food, and the hope is that all smelly stuff will stay far away from the camping areas. Lets hope they don’t need to visit twice in one day.

We made dinner and are back in our sleeping bags, it is so COLD out, all i want to do is curl up in my down buffer against the world.

Continental Divide Trail: Day 154 – 0 Miles

Posted on September 17, 2015 by sheraaaa

I have successfully kept my stomach in a constant state of full, and it’s starting to not feel this good to be so full all the time. I guess I should walk it off.

Oh the things we do to our bodies. I’m really ready for a good dose of reasonable eating and moderate exercise. Just put me in the “normal” zone for a while please!

But until then…living it up!

We went over to the Rock and Roll bakery this morning for coffee and pastries, then learned a bunch of other hikers were eating breakfast across town at a cafe, so went over there for a second breakfast. I met Bigfoot who had turned his thru hike to a motorcycle adventure, and Malarky for the first time.

After second breakfast we hitched up to Two Medicine ranger station to get our backcountry permits for the rest of the hike. Apparently some of the trail is still closed along near St. Mary, so we would be rerouted through the little community of St. Mary, and back to the trail. It looks like Kirk’s passport hasn’t come in, some delay, so I will be finishing at Chief Mountain instead of at Waterton Lake (which requires entry into Canada), so I’ll be back another time to see Waterton anyway, and because Glacier is worth coming back for!

Anyway, as we were hitching to get back to East Glacier a whole family of big horned sheep crossed the road right in front of me! This place is so epic!!!!

Getting back to the hostel we resupplied, I picked up an awesome package from my girl NEMO complete with sword (my name is She-ra after all! Princess of Power…), a feather tattoo, purple glitter nail polish, and all sorts of goodies that we both enjoyed when we hiked the PCT together. She knows just what I need!!

Then the eating continued with a large pizza, and now I’m chilling in my bunk just relaxing and starting a new ebook (some of Ann Patchett’s essays…I really enjoy her writing).

Tomorrow, the mountains!!!