Frank Church Tour de Meadows 2018 Day 7

It was so hot, even overnight, that I had trouble falling asleep even without pitching a tent. I have no idea how Bill managed it, especially with Mike probably acting as a space heater in his tent. Usually, in the morning, especially before the sun rises, I don’t want to leave my sleeping bag. Not this morning. It just wasn’t cold, though it was pretty dark. None of us wanted to be caught by the high heat of the afternoon when we were only about ten miles from the trailhead.

Ambrose and I packed up and got ready to go faster than Bill, so we set off before he did, around 20 to 6 in the morning. We all knew he and Mike were going to catch up and pass us, so we might as well get a head start!

We said our goodbyes there at the campsite, and then Ambrose and I headed off, using headlamps to light the trail. After crossing Monumental Bridge, I took off ahead of him.

Unfortunately, my camera doesn’t take very good pictures in the dark so I didn’t get a chance to record much of the scenery we passed in the early morning. But it was pretty neat to be hiking along and look back to see Ambrose’s headlamp bobbing along. And then to see Bill’s approaching at speed.

I stepped aside and bade Bill and Mike another farewell. And then I watched Bill’s headlamp disappear ahead, but not before I could see the lay of the trail ahead, curving around to the left to follow the course of the creek.

As it got light out, I found I needed to dig a hole, so I picked a spot and hiked up and off the trail, dropping my pack on the trail so Ambrose would know that I was no longer ahead of him when he caught up. He wasn’t actually that far behind me.

And he got farther ahead of me than I expected. When I caught up to him, we took a break, and then we ran into a sidestream crossing. It was Little Ramey Creek, which we’d already crossed a few days ago, much farther upstream. The flow was wide and fast, but not so deep that we couldn’t cross. Too deep for boots on, though, so we stopped again and I switched over to crossing shoes, which until that moment, had been just extra weight on my pack. Ambrose hadn’t brought any, so he took the liners out of his boots for the crossing.

The water was cold, of course, and I got through as quickly as I safely could, knowing Ambrose was waiting for me to finish crossing so he could get his feet dry. Dry-er, anyway.

After that, I hiked ahead, but always waited for Ambrose at break times so we could stick together while we were still on unfamiliar trail. Our next break was just before the junction with the Copper Camp trail. I wanted to make it to the junction, but the sun was up and it was getting hot. I wanted to change to my skort more than I wanted to keep walking until I got to the junction.

I liked this part of the trail along Big Creek. It wasn’t too challenging, so I knew Ambrose would be able to handle it next year when he came out this way to resupply me on my ICT hike. But it also wasn’t boring. The scenery was nice and continued to vary, with neat rock formations and plenty of bends to the creek.

At the next break, I stopped right before I would have passed by a couple of fishermen. I didn’t want to go by strangers alone, so I stopped and waited for Ambrose since it was just about break time. I didn’t want them to see me as a woman hiking alone.

We made pretty good time and took the next break by Beaver Creek. Since we both knew the trail from there, I took off with the intent of getting to the car before noon. Ambrose also wanted to get to the car before noon but his chances weren’t as good as mine.

As I continued to walk, I started to feel the need to dig a hole again, but I was close enough to the trailhead that I decided to just press on as fast as I could. I hiked with a purpose and pretty much ignored the world around me in favor of putting one foot in front of the other. I remember pausing once because I thought I heard voices, but I hear voices a lot in the wilderness, especially when there’s water nearby. A trick of the mind and the ear.

When I got to the trailhead, I still had a bit of road to traverse. There was a backpack by the trailhead, but I didn’t stop to examine it or wait for its owner. Instead, I started marching up the hill to the pit toilet. A truck drove by and the driver asked if I needed a ride, and I told him, no, I just need the potty. It was wonderful to get to the stinky pit toilet that has an unlockable door.

And I made it before noon, just.

I settled in to wait for Ambrose. He showed up about half an hour later, muttering, “Jack. Is an idiot.”

He may have included some extra adjectives in there that I’ll just go ahead and leave out throughout this tale.

Ambrose had been hiking along when he heard shouting. Since he wasn’t in a hurry to reach the pit toilet, he stopped and looked around, to discover that a man was high up on the rocks above the trail. The man, noticing he had Ambrose’s attention, proceeded to roll a tire sized boulder down the steep ridge, nearly hitting Ambrose in the process.

It becomes clear through pantomime that the man is stuck. Ambrose directs him down, and the man still manages to slip, slide and skid his way into cutting up his legs. Once he is down on the trail, he introduces himself as Jack.

He’s looking for his dog.

Ambrose looks up, sees a dog on the trail and asks, that dog?

Yes.

That dog.

Ambrose proceeds to wash this man’s cuts with his own drinking water, gives the man some chews to eat and water to drink, and offers to escort the man back to the trailhead, since he clearly isn’t up to the challenges of being alone on a trail, even less than a mile from the trailhead.

The man declines Ambrose’s offer multiple times and proceeds to continue on the trail, with his fanny pack, his dog, and his flip flops.

Though who knows how long he managed to keep the dog with him this time.

After that, I drove us to the Big Creek Lodge and we had an expensive, but good, lunch before driving home.