The Continental Divide Trail: The Big Sky Alternative: Part 4

From Ennis to Big Sky and Bozeman

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.”

— Saint Augustine

tBreakfast at Ennis Sunrise Café in Ennis was deeply mediocre, but it was enough to get us going. We passed statues of trout, storefronts filled with elk antler knives and gold decor, and, on the outskirts of town, a giant steel sculpture of a trout fisherman. It felt more Lincoln, MT than Ennis, perhaps a relic of more earthly times. Beyond the wacky fisherman is Ennis Grocery, which may well be the most expensive grocery store in the CDT. If you’re on a budget and heading to Big Sky Alternate, consider shipping a box to Ennis from Whitehall.

No matter how expensive they were, the store at least had tables with plugs. He bought ice cream while I watched the packages and watched our things being loaded. Then we organized our food bags, shouldered our backpacks, and stuck out our thumbs. A transplant from South Carolina picked us up shortly after. We rode in the back of his truck to the outskirts of town, where we turned toward the mountain range Bear Grease had told us about the day before. But before ascending to the heights, we had to skirt Ennis Lake. We stopped at the camp store for a last sip of soda and ice cream, while marveling at the ultra-bougie style of the ambitious store. Imagine those handbag stores you see in luxury shopping malls in Las Vegas or New York. Individual and fragile items on strategically lit shelves. Made to measure. Dazzled. The Camp Store at Ennis Lake attempts this vibe and lands in a comical middle ground between quality and quaint. Do you really need grass-fed lamb and artisanal cheese to cook on your campfire? No, but if you have money, why not?

Like many western lakes, Lake Ennis is unnatural. It was built in 1905 by damming the Madison River. The Big Sky Alternate turns toward the mountains just after where the river empties into the lake. I took a dip in the water before starting the climb and just after getting out we saw signs warning of skin parasites present in the water that have the potential to cause severe itching. Thank goodness I hadn’t opened my cheeks for a proper cleaning of the holes. As for the rest of me? Let’s cross our fingers and keep walking.

The Ennis Climb is a series of switchbacks ranging from ~5,500 feet to ~9,000 feet. It passes through private land, but passing is permitted, and there are signs every few hundred feet along the trail warning hikers to stay on the path.

Then after the summit the trail just fades into memory. It’s forests, trees and rocks like any other until you approach the town of Big Sky. Like the rest of Big Sky Alternate, this section is sometimes easy to follow, sometimes not, with quirky, auto-routed bits. It’s not difficult if you have Gaia and a difficult route to follow. It’s pretty, but in the same way the rest of the trail in Montana is pretty. Alpine meadows, bright flowering pine forests, lonely lakes. The Mirror Lake area is the highlight. Both the lake and the rise and fall of the surrounding bowls were incredible.

Then we arrived at Big Sky. We had Reuben sandwiches and pizza at Blue Moon Bakery. A local hunting dog was drooling and staring at us while we ate, but I’m a fan of dogs and the restaurant sold dog treats, so I bought him one. The dog politely took the treat, carried it to another couple’s table nearby, and ate it messily at their feet. Good boy.

Big Sky is a lot of money, very big. Some season passes were rumored to cost up to $60,000 and Bill Gates’ guys owned half the hills. As in Ennis, trout is the summer obsession here, too, but I imagined the county fair with a youth stock-holding contest instead of a greased hog chase.

Now, the funny thing about places that are remote and wealthy is that they put a price on their help when it comes to rent, but they also don’t want to do a lot of their own chores. The solution? A bus that runs all the way to Bozeman, making several stops along the way. It costs $5 and is a perfect transportation service for hikers. Ice Cream and I were among the first to board the bus to Bozeman. We sat in the front and watched it fill with Hispanic women wearing t-shirts that said things like Maria’s cleaning service. An especially saucy Esperanza boarded the bus and immediately exclaimed, «La verga! Se smell rico!», which roughly translates to Damn, it stinks here. We had no doubt that the source of the stench was us, but we were not ashamed. Being the stinkers is part and parcel of the hiking life. I’m sorry Hope.

Once loaded with several low-income people, the bus set off and traveled along the scenic curves along the Gallatin River that follows the highway from Big Sky to Bozeman. When we arrived at the Bozeman Walmart, the bus was almost empty and only a few rough-looking people and homeless people came out with us.

We resupplied and then executed the rest of our plan, which was… there was no plan. Not for tonight. The next night we had a hostel booked. Bozeman may or may not have a hiker’s hostel, but it does have The Treasure State Hostel, a centrally located hostel for international travelers. Anyway, tonight we were ruining it.

It had been a while since I had used my hitchhiking skills to find a place to sleep in a city. I pulled out the maps from my phone and scanned them. It’s an intuitive process and I can’t explain it well, so I won’t try. But I saw a place and we walked towards it. Turns out he had done too good a job finding the location of the trash. The entire area was filled with dilapidated RVs, makeshift tarp shelters, cars with and without all wheels, and various people who could make the residents of Big Sky feel decidedly uncomfortable. They reminded me of the kind of people I found hanging out with my mother when I was a child. It’s not safe. Still, I wanted to dip my toe into that murky water, so I approached two guys.

«Hello friends. Is this a free camping spot?»

They looked at each other and then at me. I could see them thinking it through. They both seemed a little suspicious about this white boy. Police? No, he’s not a police officer. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a police officer.

One of the boys, a short, older guy in a white coat so dirty it was brown, spoke first. «I mean, you can, but I wouldn’t do it.»

«Why not?» I asked. “Are the police screwing you here?”

He shook his head. «No, well, sometimes they do. It’s just that maybe no one here knows you. But, hey. Over there, a little further down the road, under the bridge. I have my camp there. You can stay there if you want.»

«I think I could,» I lied. Before he could say more, a police SUV drove by. We had to move out of the way to let them pass. I made sure to give the po-po a dirty enough look that he would fit in, but not dirty enough that they would stop and ask questions.

The boys and I talked a little more. Enough right things to make it smooth and natural, then we said goodbye and headed back the way we came. Once we had gone some distance, one of the boys called out to me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I turned around, pointed to my ear, shook my head, put my hand on my heart and gave a small bow. Respect, but I wasn’t going back there, no matter what hospitable ideas they had come up with.

«I guess I’ll have to calibrate my dirt bag a little,» I said to Ice Cream as we got back on the road and headed back toward the center of town.

“You found Skid Row,” he agreed.

I spent the rest of the afternoon snooping around for a safe place to sleep and finally found one. Probably some deer in the city used it frequently. It was a nice little place of pressed grass hidden behind some thick bushes and trees near the train tracks. We were practically invisible and there were no signs of homeless people anywhere. The trains rumbled all night, lightning flashed on the horizon, but no rain fell on us. Finally I fell asleep, safe and sound in the heart of the city.

Unless I am given express permission to use them, all names and path names in my articles have been changed. Any resemblance to real people is a coincidence. If you like my writing, feel free to subscribe or buy me a coffee using the Suggest the Author button.