Old Lady on the Trail- Triple Crown at 76

by Mary E Davison

  The Mumms drove me to Highway 12 where TOB had picked me up the previous year, and I set out with a full pack and full load of water. After they drove away, I immediately thought I was going to die under the weight of my pack. My break in conditioning due to skin surgery was telling. I was incredibly thankful I only had five miles to walk before I could stop and (I hoped) eat dinner and breakfast. Drinking a night's water before lifting that pack again would help.

  Tia Vinces Spring was dry. But friendly hunters passing in a truck graciously gave me all the water I could carry. I wasn't excited about again adding 6.6 pounds, but I was thrilled to get the water.

  Mangas Mountain is one of the few still-manned lookout towers in the US. Dave, the tower guy, had water for hikers. I warned him there would be a pretty big bump in the numbers of thru hikers that year, and I’d passed a dry water source, concerned the good folks supporting hikers might be overwhelmed at the increase in hiker numbers.

  I saw two elk and prairie dogs running across the road and heard several turkeys, though I didn’t see them. More exciting, I saw a lynx. The critter, smaller than a cougar but with the same color coat, had a short tail and was definitely feline. Turning to look at me, it revealed the tufted, foxlike face of a lynx.

  Pie Town and Toaster House

  Walking nearly 23 miles on dirt roads put me a day ahead of schedule but trashed my feet. I needed the extra day to heal. Not brazen enough to camp on private fenced land beside the road, I thought the best choice was to walk to the hostel in Pie Town, squeaking in to the Toaster House by the last shreds of daylight.

  The Toaster House was a unique, easily identified hostel. How often do you see toasters hanging all over a gate and fence? Toasters had been donated over the years by those who had experienced Nita’s hospitality. Raising a family of five children in that house and now living three miles out of town, she’d hosted hikers for 40 years.

  Now, the door was left open for hikers, and bikers, too, used the beds, kitchen, wood stove for heat or cooking and the pantry, refrigerator, and freezer stocked with food. The porch was filled with old car seats for comfy seating in the shade. We were welcome to stay, eat, and use everything for a simple donation in a can. Nita, an amazingly gracious woman, even loaned her car to a hiker to get to a store 20 miles away.

  A stop on a highway a long way from most anywhere, Pie Town specialized in pies for those who stopped for gas or rest, more kinds of pie than you could imagine. Yes, I had pie—Mexican apple with green chilies and pine nuts. It was delicious. What a great place.

  Later, I and other hikers piled into Nita’s car as she showed us the metropolis of Pie Town, population about 65. She LOVED Pie Town. Everyone should love their town that much.

  That night, hikers sat around telling hiking stories way later than hiker midnight. Hiker Bob, who should have had the trail name Hatter, as he made high-end custom hats for a living, was the source of the funniest tales in Pie Town. I was glad to know I wasn’t the only hiker, who talked to body parts while hiking the trail. (As in, "It's OK, feet. You really can make it the last three miles to Pie Town. Then you’ll get a reward of two days off trail to rest. You’ll like two day’s rest, won't you?")

  There were some very funny stories of hikers being surprised by others while talking or arguing out loud with body parts, flies, the weather, or themselves, not realizing anyone else was around. Of course, people who go off on month’s long hikes are considered certifiable by the rest of the world, anyway. The stories just confirmed our lunacy. Good times. I laughed so hard tears ran.

  I was amazed how much food was in that house. The hiker box of free stuff was over flowing. Meat and beer were in the refrigerator, and local folks kept dropping by with more donations. Cookies, more pies, ice cream, pepperoni, and chickens appeared, adding to already bountiful supplies. Yogi’s CDT book said to pack snacks for Pie Town as there were no stores. Many, many hikers couldn’t possibly have eaten all that food. Also observing non-hikers coming by to get food, I concluded Toaster House was an informal food bank as well as the hiker hangout.

  I ate breakfast from the hiker box and had two pieces of chocolate pie for lunch. One of the restaurants was open for dinner, so four hikers, Nita and two locals ate together. Good food and good company.

  Before leaving Pie Town, I had a 16-mile slack pack. My new pack had a detachable lid, detachable pack pockets, and detachable water-bottle holsters. I strung them all on a strap around my waist and fit in snacks, lunch, first-aid kit, and three liters of water. I wore gloves, head band and Dri Ducks jacket over two shirts for warmth. As I ate the food and drank the water, I gained space to store a jacket and extra shirt. The headband went into my pants pocket when not in use, and the gloves hooked together to hang over the waist strap as the day warmed. Camera, cell phone, GPS, and altimeter/clock were all attached by carabineer or in my pockets. I felt equipped for the day’s needs, and it was much lighter than carrying all my gear in my pack.

  Travel that day was a fairly uninteresting road walk. But it was level, smooth, and the miles went by quickly. Reaching Thomas Ranch at 3:00, RockStar, driven by Sparky, another 2009 PCT thru hiker, picked me up, all of us driving back to Pie Town, stopping first at the Pie-O-Neer Cafe to pick up RockStar's birthday pie and sampling others. Gee. It was nice to have hiker friends.

  Back at the Toaster House, we found 10 more hikers had arrived, making it a full house with people sleeping on bunks, couches, and the porch. It was always a fun time on any long trail when hikers got together, and this stop was no exception.

  A Spaghetti Dinner that night benefited an animal shelter on a local ranch. People came from miles away, at least as far as south of Reserve. The Community Center was packed. After a dessert auction, entertainment was a band and dance, all of it a wonderful opportunity to observe a New Mexico community in action. Nita, owner of the Toaster House, was obviously a very important person in the community. She greeted everyone with big hugs, making sure all had a great time. Megan, from the Pie-o-neer café, another organizer of the event, played in the band.

  Back at Toaster House once again, we ate RockStar's Birthday pie and ice cream and exchanged hiker stories. The official CDT bypasses Pie Town. If you hike or drive in that part of New Mexico, don't miss Pie Town. It was an iconic stop.

  Company on El Malpais

  Now I had company. Sparky drove us out to Thomas Ranch, and RockStar and I hiked north under gray and cloudy skies, not a bad thing, as there would have been no shade walking that road under a blazing sun. The miles went by companionably as we talked. Finding our water cache, we loaded up, attached the empty plastic jugs to our packs and went on, slowly. Water was heavy. Although not in any particular hurry, we covered a sufficient number of miles before 5:00. RockStar dealt with a leaking platypus (water bladder) and wet sleeping bag, but the dry air of Central New Mexico took care of wetness.

  That night it rained. Walking on New Mexico mud made hiking shoes into platforms shoes, the mud very sticky as it adhered to the bottom of our shoes, more with each step, until we were elevated an inch or two. We staggered on appearing and disappearing platform shoes as mud fell off in random chunks. We liked the coolness of the day, even if we didn’t like the mud.

  My advance planning and preset water caches made the central section of New Mexico doable for us, even though we couldn’t go the pace or cover the miles of thru hikers. We found our second water cache slightly chewed on by some critter, but more than enough water was in un-chewed jugs.

  As we camped that night, people in a passing car, complete strangers to us, gave us slices of banana bread. We wondered if they’d seen us at the spaghetti dinner in Pie Town.

  We decided to go for the Rim Trail before La Ventana Arch as it looked so nicely maintained at the trailhead. It was very nice, with views out over miles and miles of black lava fields. We walked near the edge of yellow, white, red, and tan cliffs and saw a golden eagle before the nice trail ended at a viewpoint of a big arched window o
f rock below us, La Ventana Arch.

  Then came the descent from you-know-where on very steep, unmaintained trail of loose rock. Small cairns marked the way, and sometimes we saw them. Between my knee replacement and RockStar's extra pounds on pack and body stressing her ankles and balance, we made VERY slow going. Finally reaching the bottom, we found we were both still in one piece, although extremely tired. Then I discovered I had a three-inch-long barbed cactus needle stuck in the back of my hand. I hadn’t even noticed it while I had been sliding down the crumbly hillside. After a lot of wiggling around, the cactus gift was removed, and I was none the worse for wear. I put antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid on the puncture site.

  Walking two more miles on pavement to Mumm's water cache, we retrieved our previously placed bear cans containing food and loaded up with water. Again, the preplanning and preplacing of needed food and water made the section possible for us. Totally exhausted, we set up a very late camp. It felt good to lie down.

  The next day was El Malpais, the badlands, a rough walk on lava fields, both aha and pahoehoe (two different types of lava). The lava fields in Oregon had been rough on hiking pole tips, but at least there had been trail. On the Zuni Acoma Trail through El Malpais there were cairns to follow, but no real trail tread. Some of the cairns had been in place for 700 years.

  The Wolf guidebook calls this section a “bothersome walk." We made slow going but found it interesting. Many 10-15 foot ups and downs added together made legs and feet tired, and uneven lava underfoot made us slow.

  Thru hikers passed us flitting lightly over the lava: Dane, Jelly Bean, Bamboo Bob, Why Wait, and Sycamore. We were happy to see Jelly Bean, our friend from 2008 and 2009 on the PCT. I was amazed how many hikers I saw, twice as many on the short trail from Pie Town through Malpais as I’d seen the year before on more than 500 miles in New Mexico.

  Emerging from El Malpais, we found our water cache and staggered under full water load to our camp. After taking a bandana bath in a cupful of water, I put on a clean bra, and we both enjoyed being horizontal again.

  The next morning was cold, 31 degrees, as we started our walk through Bonita Canyon. We found a Horney Toad beside the trail and saw five antelope from a distance. At our last water cache, we had so much we had to dump some, not leaving it for another thirsty hiker as we had to walk the empty plastic jugs back to a trashcan. We camped very early, and my feet and knee were quite happy about the early part.

  The day into Grants was a pleasant walk listening to trilling birds and enjoying rock formations along the canyon wall. I tried to teach drivers to slow down as they passed us, so we wouldn't eat dust thrown up from their tires. Some drivers were very considerate; others not so much. Hand motions didn't seem to carry much influence from someone not wearing highway-worker orange.

  At the stoplight in Grants, driving by in a car, Jelly Bean and other hikers hollered "Hey Hiker Trash" in salutation. She and Problem Bear came back to McDonalds to talk with us as we ate. While RockStar stayed at McDonalds with our packs talking to Problem Bear, I walked 3 ½ miles through town to Mumm's and my car.

  Then we drove to five miles below Cuba for the other miles I’d skipped in 2012. RockStar dropped me off, and I had a nice five-mile walk without a pack to finish off New Mexico. One good-sized state of the Continental Divide Trail was done.

  North to Wyoming

  Heading north to Colorado, we played tourist, stopping at Mesa Verde. About 30 to 35,000 ancient Puebloans lived there in 1200/1300AD, far more than in the surrounding area today. Two young women of the Acoma tribe were in my tour group. I thanked them, their tribe, and their ancestors for allowing hikers to walk the lava fields on the Acoma-Zuni trail through the lava beds of El Malpais. It seemed like the right thing to do.

  We stayed with my Girl Scout friend and her husband in Durango, stopped for lunch with two of RockStar’s friends in Grand Junction, and pulled into Rawlins, Wyoming. The next day we placed three water caches in the Great Basin of Wyoming on the way to Pinedale to meet our friend, Tailwinds, another 2008 PCT hiker.

  Tailwinds was a wonderful trail angel. She fed us far more than we could eat, and the next day drove us all the way to the south of the state past Rawlins to Smiley Meadows, with a stop at Farson for ice cream. The little store in Farson had the biggest scoops of delicious ice cream I have ever eaten. If you ever drive past Farson, Wyoming, you have to stop for the ice cream.

  As we drove south of Rawlins, the country looked greener, and snowbanks still lingered on the ridges we passed. Black storm clouds provided dramatic photos as Tailwinds said good-bye. She had a long way to drive back home, but she had a hard time leaving us, enviously watching us walk down the road.

  Chapter 38 May 15, 2013

  The Great Divide Basin

  Walking the dirt track leaving the road, we watched the sky to the west and north. Lightning spit from black clouds. When our luck at avoiding the storm seemed to be running out, we quickly put up our tents and dived in as rain and wind hit. After the storm passed, snuggled in for the night on not entirely level ground, we listened to coyotes, songbirds, and an occasional frog.

  In the morning as we hiked, we saw snowy tops of mountains farther away and ridges of high plateaus holding lingering snow near at hand. Antelope were our main entertainment, but there were flowers, too—blues, yellows, and whites against the browns and dusty green of ground and sagebrush.

  Fording the North Fork of Savory Creek, we watered up. At our lunch stop we dried our sleeping bags and tents. In the afternoon black clouds blew north of us, and we started getting light rain around 4:00. I thought it would blow by, but RockStar was a more cautious hiker, and we stopped at a flat spot beside the dirt road and put up our tents.

  The next couple days included some gravel-road walking that was hard on my feet. But we also added to our flower sightings: arrow leaf balsam root, paintbrush, very small yellow daisies, purple vetch (loco weed), white vetch, yellow pea, and tiny white forget-me-nots. Antelopes constantly entertained us, their white butts bouncing over the sagebrush hills, looking like some wild sort of Pacman game. We loved the antelope.

  After passing four reservoirs with increasing alkali patches and sour smell, we were glad to find our water cache at Little Sage Reservoir. The official CDT, shortly after Little Sage, routed us cross-country paralleling the highway. There was no trail tread, but there were signs warning us to stay on a 30-foot easement. Cross-country travel didn’t always have that degree of accuracy, but we did our best.

  Thunderstorms hitting us, soon we were walking on platform shoes formed of the stickiest mud I’d ever seen. The highway would have been much preferable and seemed to be going the same direction. As we trudged through the sagebrush and assorted gullies over mud, large black clouds bore down on us. We still had half a mile to the next crossroad, but it was time to stop. Hurriedly selecting a spot, we threw up tents in about three minutes, diving in just as the storm hit with rain, high winds, and one loud peal of thunder.

  In the morning it showered three times while we packed up inside the tents, not leaving our shelter with alacrity. Mercifully, the rain stopped while we took the tents down, mud even stickier than the night before. Within three steps we had platform shoes that also stuck out two inches wider than our shoes. The road we soon reached was also mud, giving me, not platform shoes but three-inch high heels. I don't wear high heels. I didn’t like high heels on my hiking shoes either.

  Eventually that road met a slightly better road with firmer, less sticky tread. When our route went steeply up the last mesa, we chose the gravel road instead, carrying us out to Highway 71. It didn’t seem wise to be lightning attractants sticking up on the rim of the mesa into all those black clouds—even if it had a prettier view. So we road walked the last six miles into Rawlins.

  Happy to be out of the wind and off our feet at our motel, in short order we were clean, had clothes laundered, and were eating delivered pizza while watching TV, as the rain poured down in the p
arking lot outside. We took a zero day in Rawlins.

  The day out of Rawlins was a walk over what first, second, and third glances might have called a lot of nothing but sagebrush. But it turned out to be a more interesting day than we’d anticipated.

  The old dirt road, which was our trail, had some very beautiful rocks underfoot, so we rock hounded our way along the road/trail picking up small red, purple, pink, and mustard-colored rocks. This made our forward progress even slower. RockStar and I both liked rocks, and I was careful to pick up only little ones, so I didn’t add much weight. Later, I learned much of the rock was Chert, used by Native Americans for arrow points,

  The Ferris Mountains in the distance were white with the snow dropped in the high country in the earlier storm. Antelope and flowers entertained us. But the exciting moment was coming around the corner of a hill to see wild horses. They caught our scent, or perhaps our view, and ran away. Nice day for a pile of sagebrush.

  The Great Divide Basin is a rather large chunk of Wyoming with no water outlet to any ocean. What rain or snow falls, stays within the basin, disappearing in the ground or evaporating in dry desert air. This high desert may look like a barren place to humans, but critters including pronghorn (commonly, if incorrectly, called antelope), mule deer, feral horses, and occasionally elk call it their home. Technically the Great Divide Basin extends even further south than our starting point at Smiley Meadows, but it was the second day out of Rawlins when we really felt like we were in the Great Basin.

  Traveling cross-country, we looked for cairns or Carsonite Posts—thin, six-inch-wide strips stuck in cairns or ground. Quite a few posts were missing or had been knocked over by wind or critters, so it was nice to have Bear Creek waypoints on GPS.