13 Helena to Sula
Helena to Sula
Whilst the above are towns that Sally and I stayed in, they are both off route. That is to say that the Continental Divide Trail runs between them. Geographically that makes sense, run off from the mountains nourishes the towns in the valleys and plains. It is this feature that we are following and when we run out of food or need a rest, towns such as these are vital.
The support that these towns and its generous inhabitants give is invaluable in this quest of ours. As we saw in East Glacier and Augusta the stores, hostels and community are just as much part of the journey as the beauty and wonder that nature provides when in the mountains and hills of Montana.
Equally too fellow hikers that share the journey, who fall in and out of step as the days pass give depth to the story. For instance in Helena, as we were buying me a ‘sunbrella’ at an outdoor store, U-boat, Hamburglar, Deferred, Matcha, Plan B, and Freighter walked in singing ‘Happy Birthday’; such is the bond that nomadic walking, camping and sleeping cements.
In the bar next door as we celebrated my birthday some more, a conversation opens up.
Whilst there is only one Continental Divide in North America there are many ways of crossing it and the group is divided over which option to take.
Hamburglar wants to take ‘The Big Sky’ route, bypassing some 300 miles, through more supply towns and directly into Yellowstone National Park. Matcha and Freighter want to take the ‘Anaconda’ route - an official alternative to the Butte path saving some 100 miles but avoiding another major town. Special Agent Sally and I are undecided.
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| Canada to Sula via Anaconda |
The number one rule of through hiking is “Walk your own walk,” and I liken it to Oscar Wilde’s quote “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
The journey, like life’s journey, is about you as an individual, your personal codes and values. Your development as an individual, crafting your thoughts and understanding of life and everything that is in it. As such, The Big Sky, (as tempting as it was with its regular supply points, alluring stop offs and less demanding terrain) was not an option. It wasn’t an option because Sally and I were hiking the CDT. We were grabbing it by the throat and ferociously pursuing a goal to walk from Canada 🇨🇦 to Mexico 🇲🇽 along the Continental Divide it’s official trails.
And as sad as it was the last we saw of Hamburglar, Deferred and Plan B was as they quietly passed us along the Jericho Mountain fire diversion just outside of Helena.
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| Helena Fire, 2024, now under control |
The next two days were Sally’s and mine alone. Back into the routine, heat beating early starts, afternoon siestas and sunset camps.
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| Cottonwood Road |
Breaking onto the alternative route we left the trail and took the Cottonwood Road for ten miles to the outskirts of Anaconda. It was a long hot morning, walking a stony, dry road.
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| On the loose |
My Sunbrella earned its keep. It’s reflective silver fabric and wind resistant frame reduced the 32 degree heat to a bearable 25.
It wasn’t a good look though as I stood under its shade, for a very long time, thumbing a lift into town; by the exit to Anaconda’s psychiatric hospital.
In fact the couple who eventually picked us up, whilst offering us a toke on their marijuana pipe, said it was illegal to hitch in that area - as was smoking weed whilst at the wheel and overtaking juggernauts on doubled lines - apparently.
Alive, fed, rested and resupplied we left Anaconda for the hills again. Invigorated that we had made the right decision to stick to our intentions we made good time and as we climbed along creeks and up to the lakes that fed them. We felt once again the freedom that the trail brought.
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| Storm Brews |
As the afternoon heat built, so did the storm clouds. By four o’clock the thunder rumbles began and by five we were sat in our bright orange ponchos keeping our packs dry between our huddled knees as white pellets of ice flicked our bodies with the sting of a wet towel in a school boys changing room.
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| Twin Lakes Pass |
Now we were flying. Our legs could take us anywhere, hill climb, pass, hill climb, pass. Our highest ascent took us to 9,300’. Acclimatised we had no sickness, just the pure high of views of valleys and peaks crossed and views of ranges to explore. The excitement of the unknown, childlike; ironing out the creases of stumbles, falls and small belly rumbling rations.
At Rainbow lake we met ‘4Lo’. A Coloradan man in late fifties. He retired to Georgia and shared his story as we spent time together over the rest of the week.
Coming and going through the days we camped and hiked together. The terrain became less demanding as we swung towards Idaho and I hope that the crudely patched together map will show how this section of the trail bends back on itself as it passes through the Anaconda Range into the Bitteroot Range (where we are now) and onto the Beaverhead Mountains and then into West Yellowstone. Does that sound like a much better adventure than ‘The Big Sky’? We think so, but we will never know.
Until next time - Jugular.
And finally a big thank - you to Corey. Who on a Sunday morning, jet lagged and travelling back from a 55k ultra run, went out of his way to take us to our camp site and resupply point, Sula! Good luck with the RATBOB!
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