The Continental Divide Trail: Where to drop off or get your bear spray in the CDT.

The sky estuary

«See you later, and thanks for all the cheese.»

-Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (in an alternate universe without fish).

«Honey, there’s not even a sign out there! I have to do something about it. Every time I leave them there I almost lose my place.» The waiter dropped the doll in that way where masculine meets feminine, where river meets sea. They deftly placed our coffees in front of us on the restaurant counter and returned to the next task, still chatting with us as they walked away. «Something to make it obvious. CDT, right here!» They pointed dramatically downward with their free hand. Then, to the next customer at the bar. «Do you need anything, honey? How are those poached eggs? Great? Yes, they are!»

The Oxbow Family Restaurant seemed to be a microcosm of Lander, WY. Every era was present, a mix of whatever demographic the local population had to offer: cowboys with big buckles and hats, tired parents fighting herds of children, a strong representation of people of native heritage, and hikers just passing through. Add to that a bunch of dirty hikers and a friendly, hot bartender for a touch of weird flavor and there the city was.

Lander is a pretty big town as far as Wyoming goes. With 7,500 residents and growing, it is approximately the 13th largest city by population in the state. In addition to being a welcoming gateway town to the CDT (there’s a park where hikers can camp if a hotel isn’t in the budget), it’s home to the National Outdoor Leadership School, plenty of rock climbers, and The Sinks, a mysterious quarter section of the Popo Agie River that, well, sinks underground for a quarter of a mile. Scientifically tagged trout that enter the sinks often come out noticeably larger after spending time in the sinks; some source of nutritious food down there puts hair on their chest, as my grandfather would have said. And white trout are sometimes glimpsed too, their ancestors long ago adapted to the watery, lightless cave systems below.

Ice Cream and I don’t visit the toilets. After about thirty dirty ones, we were more interested in Las Duchas at our hotel. I have never had, nor do I expect to have again, such a transcendent hygienic experience. The Dirty 30s were worth it for that alone. Sometimes pleasure does not come from the absolute but from the relative. As Alan Watts once so wisely said, «You can bang your head against a brick wall because it feels so good when you stop.» Guru material right there, baby, despite the haters who point out he died an alcohol-related death. A drunk teacher is still a teacher, but I digress.

After eating at the Oxbow Microcosmos and showering, we went out to do the town’s chores. There were hikers everywhere. We saw six other people at the post office, including Lily Pad, who we had last seen on the Arizona Trail, and a few others we had last seen at Looking Glass in East Glacier. Animal Cracker from previous articles was also there, along with Chupadogra, who ate handfuls of Captain Crunch straight from the box while his dog Quasar meditated on his chews with an intensity of concentration matched only by Tibetan Lamas and border collies. Other hikers were also strolling through the city. Judge Dredd and his team, Slippery Nick and Button, who we had last seen at the Bob Marshall. It was magical as many of us had taken very different routes and of different lengths and yet here we were. It seems that Big Sky and the various Wind River routes are natural pacemakers that keep the slow ones in step with the fast ones. But with the basin coming up, we hoped the fast would really move forward. Relatively flat and open, with nothing but sage and dirt, many hikers see The Basin as an opportunity to turn on cruise control. A handful of the strongest would begin to reach their forties until Colorado slowed them down.

The gear store at Lander is great. The Wind River Outdoor company is large and offers a wide selection that caters to all types of activities. Hunters, water sports, climbing and yes, even hikers. They carry shoes, backpacks, filters, stoves and most things we might need, as well as having a hiker’s box and a place to leave old fuel cans. And, while Gunsight Pass might be the technically true end of Grizzly country in the CDT, Lander is really and truly the place where even the most diehard bear safety hikers can finally ditch their bear spray and cans/Ursacks.

«Are you sure I won’t need them anymore?» Button asked Ice Cream.

Ice Cream nodded, «We sent ours home and left our bear sprays in the hiker’s box.»

Button still looked unsure. He looked at the bushy-bearded guy at the register. “Are there no more grizzly bears passing through here?”

He shook his head. «Are you OK.»

Button held his bear spray with both hands, gave it one last squeeze, and then placed it in the hiker’s box.

We spent the rest of our time in our city sleeping or eating, two activities I excel at. If they ever make napping an Olympic sport, I’ll go for gold, but until the world recognizes my talents I’ll have to win the Olympics in my rich dreams.

Then it was time to hitchhike out of town. We stepped out onto the sidewalk and Ice Cream stuck out his thumb. A red hatchback sedan stopped immediately. As always, it was a bit ramshackle and full of all kinds of rubbish. Team and God knows what else. As an added bonus, a large black dog was riding a shotgun. A skinny guy in a trail running cap got out and exchanged the usual quick what are you doing/where are you going questions as he made room for us in his back seat. We got in and left. The driver’s name was Luke and the dog was Daphne. Along with the usual chitchat, we also learned that, according to Luke, most Westerners who move to Southeast Asia eventually succumb to some form of brain atrophy because of how easy life is there. «It’s hard to describe,» he told us, «but they just get dumber. Nothing keeps them on their toes. There’s no reality and no challenge.»

I secretly added a long stint in Southeast Asia to my bucket list and said, «What a shame. I hope I never end up like this.»

Luke almost passed where the CDT crosses the road and I thought of Estuary, the server. But Ice Cream is a master of navigation and didn’t let us miss it. We got out, grabbed our backpacks, said thanks and good wishes, and then Luke was gone… with my sun hat still in the back seat. Oh. At least I still had my umbrella and hoodie for the Basin. Well, since my delicate English complexion is almost as sensitive to sunlight as the skin of a blind cave trout.

Leaving Lander we made one last stop at South Pass City, a tourist ghost town from the old mining days, when there was still gold in the hills of them-thar. South Pass has a small store selling cold drinks and ice cream, and although we still had a stomach full of food from the city, we stuffed ourselves a little more just in case. On the picnic table hidden behind the tent we found Animal Cracker. A hiker like us was also enjoying a few last treats. After grabbing a snack and taking a quick, self-guided tour of the old South Pass saloon, bank and hotel, we headed out for good.

On the lonely gray and brown roads leading away from Lander and South Pass City, we drove over dusty gravel as the sun sank. In the distance, in the Winds, an ominous fog began to grow and soon surrounded us too, and there was a faint smell of flames and coal. The winds were burning and we had missed it.

«I think Frito and Toolman are somewhere behind,» Ice Cream said.

«I hope they’re okay. Do you have service?»

She shook her head. «We will make sure to register as soon as possible.»

We walked into the smoky night, passing the Oregon Trail as we went. Herds of pronghorn galloped across the countryside with the ease of the wind, and eventually we reached camp near the Sweetwater River. As the three of us approached, we could see two tents already set up. We passed by and met its owners, Babushka and Ya’ll. They had all climbed the AT in the 23rd, the PCT in the 24th and were finishing off their triple crown. Babushka, well, I wish I could remember, but we never saw her after that night, except as a dot on the horizon and a name in the trail records.

We sat in our tents and chatted while we made dinner, filtered water, or just lay on the grass. There was laughter, although I don’t remember the jokes, and there were stories, although I only remember the people.

“I’m really looking forward to the Basin,” Ice Cream said. «I think it’s really nice.»

Babushka shook his head, «Not me, man. I can’t wait for it to be over anymore.»

«How so?» Ice Cream asked.

«There’s nothing to distract me. Info lengkap: completo1. It’s so easy that I don’t even get distracted by trying.»

“My kind of place,” I said. I had wrapped my headlamp around the clear 2-liter bottle that was my main water bottle and was looking at it instead of a campfire, watching the light warp and move as the wind shook the bottle. It was dark and we all went into our tents and slept. When we woke up, Babushka was already gone, along with Animal Cracker, but Ya’ll was still there, an early riser like yours truly. We walked together for a while and he seemed like a pleasant companion. He was street smart and funny, and liked a good toke every once in a while. Still, like most, it was faster and after we stopped for lunch at a water feature, we lost it for a while.

Ice Cream and I watched a weasel squirm and hunt among the rocks near the water. “Do you think we’ll see him again?” she asked.

“I hope so, but who knows?”

So it is with hikers. We never say goodbye permanently because we could see each other tomorrow, or at the terminal, or on tour days, or maybe just at the supermarket.

La Cuenca was waiting ahead. Sage, dirt, and, although we didn’t know it yet, more rain than the Basin had seen in ten years.

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 below.