I woke to clear skies after a deep sleep, still feeling good. There was no rush to get going as I was planning to take two days to hike the 16 or so miles back to the trailhead. I enjoyed a cup of coffee on a sunny lakeside rock, watching the shadows roll back to the mountains. My appetite good, it was time for breakfast.
My stove wouldn’t light. Not because it was broken, but because I had run out of fuel. Boiling 1.5 L of water that first night had used up more butane than I realized.
This was no emergency. I had freeze-dried yogurt and fruit for today (it rehydrates quickly in cold water) and could cold-soak my other meals if needed. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like this was a sign I should just hike out today. There would be no fishing, and I had already covered much of the country between my camp and the car three times now. A burger and a beer in Lander was sounding good.
I finished my yogurt, packed up and made my way back to the Highline Trail. Given its name, I’d expected the Highline to be a stock trail, one used by ranchers to drive their cattle to and from high country grazing. Such trails are usually highly eroded affairs with plenty of dust, cow shit and flies.
Looking back at Dream Lake, a fine stop
Instead the trail was barely legible, little-used by two-legged or four-legged travelers. But except for a few brushy areas, the country was open and fine, the trail more a general suggestion than an actual path.
Open country on the Highline Trail
The rest of the day was uneventful. After a few more miles on the Highline, I cut back to the CDT, where I could hike a little faster. I got to the car around 4:30 leaving me sufficient daylight to drive the 40 miles of dirt road to the highway before sundown.
Just about nothing on this trip went as planned. That’s okay. I’m long past the age where I think that any of us have any real control over our lives, and also past the age where I think of that as a problem. The world, very much including the natural world, does what it does, follows only the dictates of chance and necessity. We can plan, but the real value of those plans is to give us alternatives when plan A fails, as it usually does.
Nothing went as planned, but everything went well. At least, well enough. Another week in the wilderness was a week worth living.