When you are backpacking there needs to be a plan. Finding a flat, open campsite that has access to water is non-negotiable.

‘Can’t you just stop and camp anywhere?’; people will assume.

Um…… No. Twice this summer I hiked well into dinner time looking for the flat open spot with access to water. On our Tin Cup to Boulder 55 mile hike we missed the outfitter camp we planned to stay at on day two. It was off the main trail and this was our first time doing this particular hike. We will know next time.

It had been a long day, a big climb, hot, smokey from the numerous forest fires. We were ready for dinner. We almost camped on a large moss covered rock, large, as in football field large. Everywhere else was too brushy. We continued until we found a place next to the creek, sort of flat, and maybe a little bit not too brushy, but mostly too brushy; uneven. The trek down to the water was treacherous in our camp sandals. Luckily, Heidi had brought the backpacking solar shower for a handwashing station which we ended up using as our gravity fed water source which resulted in fewer fewer trips to the creek.

There was too much brush to build a fire but it was a warm night so we were good.

A campfire is more than a source of warmth. A campfire gives you a reason to hang out. It gives you a focus when the conversation wanes. Watch a group of people sitting in the forest without a fire and the waning conversation results in an awkwardness that sends everyone to bed early. I have a fire pit in my yard. The home fire pit was like adding a room to the house. An evening by the home campfire is a signal that my granddaughter will get to eat marshmallows until the bag is empty. It limits the screen time by all being out by the campfire. It connects you to the earth and the trees and each other. It is like a cozy comforter or a warm matcha latte. Setting up camp in a brushy area is not conducive to a campfire. We went to bed early.

On another trip we had hiked in for an overnight. It was a very warm morning. The breeze felt like we were at the beach instead of in the Rocky Mountains. When we were only a mile from our camp at Elk Lake we started hearing loud crashing. Was it thunder? Were boulders dislodging and crashing through boulder fields? It was random. Distinct yet unknown. We were distracted by the huge ripe huckleberries, picking, eating, hiking, distant crashing.

We got to camp and found a flat, open, well used camp with a rock fire ring. But where was the water. We need water to drink, to rehydrate our backpacking meals, for evening tea and morning tea, and even; wait for it………..even to rehydrate our dehydrate toilet paper. Yep. The best invention ever. Toilet paper tabs. Gone are the days of hauling half rolls of TP, stuffing all of the hollow spots in your pack with ass wipe, always questioning if you have brought the correct amount. My poop kit is now a small bag with an aluminum trowel with serrated edges for roots, my toilet paper tabs and mycelium tabs to speed up the composting process in the cat hole. Small and light. Game changer.

We walked around the lake trying to find a better spot closer to water. What we did find was a forest fire. It was up on the ridge. We could see the flames as they torched entire trees. The smoke was rolling into our camp, you could smell it in the air. We did not find a better camp. We came back to the original spot, filled up the solar shower and called it good. We did question if we should go back due to the fire. We were eleven miles from the trailhead. Then it started to rain. It sprinkled for the next 30 minutes as we set up our tents, sleeping pads, sleeping bags, pillows. The rain stopped, there was a slight breeze but it stopped too. We made a campfire and laughed at Juno the yellow lab as she dragged Ernie the Yorkie around camp by her warm vest until the said vest was ultimately removed, like a magician on stage, from Ernie. Juno drug Ernie all through the forest and they’d come running back; Ernie naked and Juno so proud of removing Ernie’s outfit, prancing up to Scott with the dog vest in her mouth.

The next morning we woke to wet ash stuck to our tents. We made our hot drinks, rehydrated our breakfast and TP, packed up and headed back down. This is where is got weird. We munched on fresh huckleberries for the first mile. So hard to pass up a juicy ripe huckleberry. As we got more into the forested part of the hike we had to get around a huge tree down in the trail. Scott commented that he did not remember this tree. We’d been super lucky going in with the lack of downed trees on the trail. We climbed over more trees, we hiked off the trail for the downed trees that were impossible to climb over. We crawled on hands and knees, we threw our packs over first in the tight fitting crawl throughs. The smell of pine was strong in the air. Giant trees hundreds of years old had been uprooted taking out everything around it as it had crashed to the ground. What the heck had happened? This was clearly the mysterious noise we had heard while hiking in. We must have been just in front of this wind storm. A wind storm that never reached our camp. People in the Bitterroot Valley lost power, lost trees, an event was canceled at the Marcus Daly mansion due to the destruction of the massive trees on the property. All while we were tucked in our little oasis.

Back to the Tin Cup Hike. We had planned to hike the 55 miles in 6 days. That was one day more than my max I’m able to pack for and carry on my back. I took my most light weight set up and still weighed in at 30.2 pounds; 5.2 pounds over my comfort level. On our second to the last night we camped on Canyon Creek on the Idaho side of the pass that leads into Boulder Creek. The camp was flat, a little over grown and next to the creek. Perfect. It had been a long day, the trail was not well used. There were trees down that may never be cleaned up it was such a maze. We set up camp, made a rock fire ring, collected dry firewood and congregated around the fire with our one pound chairs, jet boil stoves and dinners. That’s when the rain started. From 5:00 to 8:00 it rained like I’ve never seen rain before. At 6:00 Heidi yelled; “we’re going to eat in our tent”. When you set up the rain fly on your tent, it is designed to create a nice vestibule on both sides. I was able to heat water in the vestibule for my tea and dinner. The rain had also brought a considerable drop in temperature. I was in my sleeping bag, with my hat and gloves on reading “Of Mice and Men”. I was going to burn the pages of my book as I read this small paperback, making my pack lighter, but we had not had a fire since the first night and tonight’s fire was put out as soon as it was started. I read, ate dinner, drink several cups of tea. Could I pee in the vestibule? I think so. As I was thinking trough the logistics of peeing in the vestibule, the rain slowed. It slowed enough that I could hear the voices of Scott and Heidi. Oh wait. Let’s back up. I had two things going on that was frowned upon in this bear country we were camping in. One; I just ate in my tent. Two; I had not hung my bear bag that contained the rest of my food. With the slow down of the rain, I was able to put on my rain coat, rain pants and camp sandals and go outside for a pee and to hang my bear bag. Scott and Heidi were doing the same. My bear bag is an Ursack. A bag made of kevlar. You put your food in a smell proof inner bag, put that in the Ursack, hang it on a tree above a branch at a level that is reachable but above the ground. You use a square knot to tie up the bag and a figure eight knot to tie it to the tree. Done. Scott and Heidi hung their bag the old fashioned way, using a parachute cord and a rock, throwing the rock high up onto a branch, then pulling the bag up into the tree way above the ground and far enough out from the tree that it would not be reachable if a bear climbed the tree. The only trees available are pine trees and the pine trees at this elevation were thick with needles and the branches all tilted down. They were like giant tree gods wearing big god like robes. It was impossible. And a real study in marital relationships. They did finally manage to hang their food and have since bought an Ursack as well.

It rained all night and into the next morning. I ate breakfast in my tent. I was able to pack up everything while in the tent. Then, I disassembled the interior of the tent. I packed everything except the rainfly and tent poles, used the backpack as a back rest and sat in my shelter watching Scott and Heidi finish packing up their gear.

The trail was brushy, the brush was wet. We were soaked to the bone. It continued to rain. There was nothing dry. Parts of the trail were more like a creek than a trail. We climbed for two miles. Snow spit on us as we neared the summit. We’d experienced three seasons in this multiple day hike. The forest fire smoke had been replaced by low hanging clouds. We reached our camp for the night on the other side of the pass. The original plan was to camp at Pickle’s Puddle, a less then three mile day, more of a layover day. Then do a side hike to Boulder Lake. We blew right past that camp.

We’d been in contact with my husband for the whole trip using a Garmin Inreach to text him. We had plans A, B, and C in case the trail became impassable. The night before he informed us that the high temperature at Pickle’s Puddle would be 37 that day. We had already decided our last night would be at Boulder Falls with an easy five mile hike out on the final day. When we arrived at Boulder Falls our boots were squishy on the inside. Our rain gear had gone past its intended capabilities. Everything was more soaked than before. We never stopped, we were dehydrated from not drinking enough, we ate protein bars as we walked. Stopping was not an option because we would get cold. Making a fire was going to be virtually impossible as every piece of wood was saturated. When we got to Boulder Falls we texted Brett and told him we were coming out today. Could he pick us up at the trailhead in a few hours?

I call it a death march. We hiked two days in one day. We didn’t stop for a break. Scott and Heidi used their long, strong legs and and desire to be in warm, dry clothes to drive their pace. I was dragging behind. We were half a mile from the trailhead when I saw Brett coming my way.

“Why don’t you have your hood on?” he asked.

“It’s not raining”.

“It is raining”.

“Ok.”

Before we left for this expedition, I had asked Brett to bring us cold drinks and potato chips when he picked us up. Luckily Brett brought us hot camomile tea, mugs and chips. We climbed into the truck smelling like wet dogs. We blamed the dogs; but it was all of us.

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