17 The Wind River Range

Wind River Range

Our cosy two man tent rests on an escarpment overlooking a wide valley. The mountain ahead of the valley below is different. It is flat grey, craggy and shaped like an elephant’s foot in a hunter’s trophy collection. It is called Squaretop Mountain.

Below the range, in the golden valley there is a large lake which feeds a wide meandering river. This river, a golden mirror, takes my eye to rose white clouds and a setting sun.

We’re sat having evening snacks and a cup of tea. Sally who is navigating tomorrow is looking at the map and the ‘Far Out’ comments, and I watch an eagle catch the final thermal of the day and surf the evening breeze. The moon has risen, almost full, as I drain the last of my tea and begin to pack away for the night.

This was our second night into this section which would take us from the town of Dubois to Atlantic City. We were completely alone and now bear free, we were relaxed. Over the coming days we would, without ‘hey bears’ realise just how much background tension the threat brought as we entered ‘The Winds’.

‘The Winds’ or the Wind River Range in Wyoming is our home for the coming week. The Continental Divide follows the crest of the range and below is an account of our 200 mile trek through this natural wonder and into Wyoming’s gold rush country. And despite the range’s name, there will be no fart jokes.

Looking like a couple of Spice Girls our heads are now two times the size of our bodies. Our clothes hang like kids wearing dress up and we have looked at ways to maximise our calorie intake to pack weight ratio. This has resulted in us creating a spreadsheet that measures grams to calories. The conclusion is that for the next seven days we will each be eating :-

6 miles break

Breakfast - Porridge 30 grams with 5 skittles.

12 miles break

Nut Break - Almonds / Pistachios etc 100 grams with 5 sour patch kids

18 miles break

Lunch - Two packs of ‘Top Ramen’ rehydrated noodles with peanuts

A ‘Clif Bar’ Chocolate and Cardboard flavour

25 miles end of day

Supper - three spoons of peanut butter, 5 skittles

Most CDTers on the trail will have similar meals. The very hard core won’t carry a stove as the associated fuel and cooking pan is just weight to slow them down. They soak their ‘Top Ramen’ in cold water as they walk and eat after an hour or so of opening the packet. And we’ve seen a few ‘cold soakers’ not only in the SOBO pack that we set off with but in NOBOs that are now frequently coming our way.

These NOBOs are emancipated, have soulless eyes, wear threadbare clothes and rarely talk such is the urgency of their mission. As ‘cold soakers’ they could be characters from Game of Thrones.

Setting off at dawn from the escarpment we head down to the valley and Lower Green River Lake. This then follows onto the Green River and in turn to Upper Green River Lake. Have you noticed a theme?

Imagine, if you will, an early Disney Snow White film. As the camera moves in during the opening scenes framed by firs, Walt takes you through layers that bring you closer to an emerald green river that flows with white crests, where high valley walls loom over a fairytale land. This is the Green River Valley. All day as we climb the valley against the flow we are greeted with Bambi waterfalls and this ethereal green.

For lunch we settle high up by a fast flowing creek that feeds a tumbling waterfall. Keen in the heat to cool down I volunteer to fill the saucepan. I take off my trousers and eagerly enter the knee deep water, fill the pan, rest it on a rock and seek a deeper pool. The icy water eases my achy muscles and I take a moment and allow the magical water to cast its spell.

Just a few seconds had passed and I remembered the mission. But on turning around, the pan had gone. Gone on its journey to the waterfall, down through the cascades of rock pools where giant boulders must have beckoned our 1400ml MSR titanium pan to its plummeting demise.

Panic. How was I going to explain this to Sally? No English Breakfast Tea! No hot porridge! - Worst of all, we were going to become ‘cold soakers’. Our lunch was going to be cold soaked ‘Top Ramen’. There is only one word that came to mind. Farts.

Like Gollum I leapt from boulder to boulder. Stick insect legs in baggy underwear, I made my way downstream. ‘My precious, my precious’ I made a horrible swallowing noise in my throat, I turned to Sally, her look Brothers Grimm, made the water colder.

Time stood still as I moved further downstream. I could feel my trail name changing from ‘Jugular’ 🩸 to ‘Plonker’ 🍆

Sally calmly recreated the incident with a water carrying bag. I watched as she let the bag float from her hand by the rock where I had placed the pan. I gaped with dismay as the bag travelled backwards, up stream a few feet to a pool in the shadow of a boulder. Like a compass pointing true north, the location of the lost pan was revealed. Reaching down the Lady of the Green River raised the treasure like Excalibur and passed me only the slightest of a smug look. No more is ever said.

That’s what makes Special Agent Sally, special. ❤️

The green is caused by fine sediment suspended in the water. It scatters the light to evenly create this unique hue. And as we climb over the pass to clear lakes that feed the river our feet hop over jade colour rocks whose minerals will eventually meet the green lakes over two thousand feet and ten miles away in the valley below.

As the sun sets over our camp high up with the mountain lakes and creeks we sit and plan our next days into the Cirque of the Towers. Munching on our supper, we sip our cups of hot sleepy tea and I hope you can understand just how good it tasted.

Cirque of the Towers

After a day of walking from one scenic lake to another we came to a popular area known as as The Cirque of the Towers. Camping by lakes, rivers and paths is not allowed and is strictly enforced. The surrounding forests and cliffs hide away the tents of holiday makers who come to the area.

As a side quest to the main route it is visited by all CDTers as it offers unique views which some describe as the best views of the whole odyssey.

Again, setting off at dawn, following a valley against the flow of a river we pass new, yet familiar lakes; Shadow, Billy, Barren and finally Texas where we breakfast. At over 11,000 its cold, snow lays around us and we steel ourselves for the rugged climb to Texas Pass. Hot tea does the trick and we power up the trail so elated at the ease we forget to say ‘Yeee ha!’ before heading to Hat Pass and its views of granite peaks formed during the Ice Age.

At Jackass Pass Sally asks some weekenders to take our picture. A mum, dad and their 12 year old son. The son proudly wears his scouting woggle and his father a revolver across his sternum. Straight off the plane from Kansas with packs twice the size of ours they plan to camp that evening by the nearby lake. I haven’t the heart to tell them that there are no bears to fear and that the most harmful thing in the area is the lake’s E. coli saturated water. Yeee ha! 🤠.

There are many people we chat to along the way and it’s a real change to the days that may pass without seeing a soul. But each encounter eats into our miles and we press on, saying a fond farewell to The Cirque of Towers.

Atlantic City

And finally the scenery changes, we descend to lower ground where sage bush covers the flatter desert land. And maybe over the next forty or so miles we say goodbye to the mountains of the Continental Divide and a hello to the Great Basin in the Red Desert. Water that falls here does not go to an ocean. Historically its aridity prevented pioneers travelling west. This foreboding 100 mile stretch of the CDT follows next.

Meanwhile we zero in Atlantic City, a gold boom town from the 1860’s that went bust ten years later. The streets maintain some old prospector frontage as an historic reminder of America’s wild past. 🏜️