Date: 6/27/20
Miles: 10.2
Total Miles: 260.2
Compromise. Deviation from the desired. Challenging concepts that we all struggle to face and to come to terms with from time to time. Peter, the father of my high school girlfriend once told me, after listening to my story of beating a retreat and abandoning an attempt to summit a peak: “The difference between a mountaineer and a fool, is that a mountaineer knows when to turn back.” I'm certain in the moment it wasn't exactly the advice that my bruised 20-year-old ego wanted to hear, but the wisdom of it rings just as true today in my memory as it did back then.
In nearly every scenario I can possible fathom, everyone’s interest is best served if ego is served last, and when the ink of history is dry, opening yourself up to a new plan is really about letting go of the attachment to the original one. Today was an exercise in letting go of the plan we had for the next two and a half days.
On the heels of a tiring snow slog, new problems were now staring us in the face. Separating us from our next planned resupply stop 60 miles to the north was not only another 30 miles of snow travel, but drastically different weather to cover them under. Gone would be the sun-drenched 70-degree weather. Taking its place? Three days of temperatures 30 to 40 degrees colder, with nothing but rain and snow to keep them company, all while dramatically hardening the soft snow conditions we'd “enjoyed.” Given the pace to which we'd been slowed by the navigation and snow travel yesterday under perfect conditions, marching forward into the reality we knew would be waiting for us brought Peter’s words echoing from the recesses of my memory. It was time to untether ego, watch it drift into the distance and make a new plan.
The town of Jackson, Montana sitting less than 20 miles to the East made for an obvious choice to exit the divide, ride out the worst of the weather in the coming days and make the necessary adjustments to our plans. Finding one bar of cell service from a height of land on the trail, Rick from the one hotel in town offered to drive out and give us a lift into town from a trailhead a mere 3 miles off the CDT. Getting there was the next challenge.
The oft-overlooked byproduct of a rapidly diminishing snowpack is that all of that water has to go somewhere, and that somewhere is the system of drainages that the trail must traverse as it rises and falls along the contours of the divide. Bridges are a real luxury. Without them, you're in for a wet (and cold) fording of whatever might be in front of you. That's where we found ourselves this morning, staring at a frothing white creek. Perhaps only 15 feet across, the water raced by without a bridge—manmade or otherwise—either upstream or downstream. Such a humble distance to cross, but with a depth just shy of my waist, it took all four of us linked arm in arm to safely cross in the span of only a couple of heart pounding minutes. Stating the obvious here: water is an impressive force, and by far the most dangerous of the objective hazards you're likely to encounter on a long distance hike.
With the icy fords safely behind, off we went pointing our steps down a side trail and turning our backs to the CDT. The building clouds that portended the weather to come followed close on our heels even as we drove down from the mountains in the safety of Rick’s truck. The population of Jackson would soon temporarily swell to 40, the next chess move waiting to be made.
What a rush of a read, I'm glad I got to catch up on trail life. That water, she's a powerful and dangerous one. I'm glad you guys got across safely. And what a cute hotel, my goodness!! Excited for the next move.
- GG
Thanks Gazelle! I knew you’d both appreciate and relate to those river fords. Not quite Bear Creek level of danger, but not far off. You’d have loved that hotel—tons of character and we had it all to ourselves.
Hey, bright side...maybe you can grab a spoon.
Right you are, Bob! The new spoon is on its way, and the spoon sharing days are numbered.
Sorry your plans went awry, but if it is going to be 30s and raining, at least you are in a town with a hot spring!
Yes! Looking at the cloud level pull down a few thousand feet, and then drift up to reveal all of the new snow definitely made us feel good about the decision. It was a pretty ugly few days, even “down” in Jackson (the locals seem proud of the fact that the town is at nearly 7,000 feet).
Sometimes things just don’t go as planned and Mother Nature has her way. Glad you are all safe and enjoying the creature comforts of the Jackson Hotel!
So true. We’ll just have to take what the mountains give and adjust accordingly!
Wow! What an adventure. You’re always level-headed in making these tough decisions, despite feeling perhaps some disappointment before accepting the change of plans.
That water must’ve been absolutely freezing! Ace must’ve loved that adventure!!
What a cute hotel! I suppose it’s tourist season now that 4 of you have arrived.
It was definitely a tough one to make, Ali, but we all felt good about it in the end and only more so now. The water in that ford was brutally cold—it just burned. Fortunately, concentrating on not being swept away is a nice distraction! And yes, clearly it was high times for the economy of Jackson when the 4 of us rolled into town. 😄