It’s not the bears I am most afraid of out here. Lightning on an exposed ridge scares me more. And even more than that, I am concerned about forest fires. I don’t go around in constant fear of them, but I am more wary of them than I am of bears. I keep an eye out on the horizon for them. I smell the air and have gotten to know how to tell by smell when they are getting closer. I can’t exactly explain it, but there are times when I actually smell the warmth from nearby fires.

I’ve had third-degree burns over 40 percent of my body. It is enough for me to know

I don’t want to die by immolation. Last year the trail was twice closed because of fire within a few days of my passing through. In New Mexico I was pulled off the trail by a sheriff when the wind suddenly changed on a fire down there. It made me wonder what I would do and where I would go if I felt a fire coming close. I wondered if I would try to climb high above tree line or if I would try to go low and find a river to soak in. Luckily, I never had to find out.

This year there are fires raging around me in Montana. The trail is closed in a number of places.

Vermont artist Karen Deets, Mary’s wildfire researcher.

I am really lucky to have a friend such as Karen Deets, who spends hours poring over maps to locate where the fires are in relation to the trail. Once she has this information and confirms it with online information, she looks for possible alternates. She checks with the Continental Divide Coalition to see what they are suggesting. She passes all this information on to me via my satellite device. When I have service, I call her for more in-depth updates. Not only does this give me much needed information, it also helps me feel a little less alone out here. Many hiker tramilies have spent hours talking about the different alternate possibilities. I’ve had to make my own decisions with help from Karen, who has made it clear that she is my off-trail tramily.

I spent more than an entire day and a half while in Helena trying to get information about the fire alternates. Routes were suggested, but none of them gave mileage or information about water. I was not comfortable going cross-country for hundreds of miles with no maps or information on where to find water or where to resupply, which is what a lot of hikers are choosing to do. If they don’t find water or places to get food in 15 miles they can hike another 15 in the same day. At 64, I do not have that ability.

I decided to go the red route. The main route is known as the Red Line because it is red on the trail app. It is where most of the fires are currently burning. I decided to walk toward the fires and the trail closures and then make my way down routes suggested by the CDT Coalition.

By the time I reached Butte, I was wavering. I learned that the route I had chosen meant days of walking on a paved road. I had no interest in a 100-mile road walk. I bought a paper map that covered the fire sections, and made new plans. I would weave my way through the fire closures on dirt Forest Service roads using map and compass.

Then the fires grew. The sky was already hazy, and I didn’t relish breathing in yet more smoke.

I met some hikers who gave me the confidence that I could do what people call the Big Sky Alternate. This route cuts off about 200 miles of looping trail, but it spends more time at higher elevation and crosses some gorgeous areas that the trail misses. It also spends more time in Yellowstone. Most important, it walks away from the fires, not toward them.

I reminded myself that others had gone ahead of me and so the chances that I could do it were good. I wished, however, that I was not doing it alone. Sitting in Butte, studying my paper map, I had to deal with all the emotional feelings that came up as I prepared to leap into the unknown by myself in just a few hours. I reminded myself that no matter how much I plan, even in life back home, many things go awry and usually I emerge okay. I had weighed my options, talked with other hikers, and done what I could to mitigate the risks. Now it was time to leap into the unknown, even if that was never in the plan. I tried to trust that if I kept putting one foot in front of the other I could do what was ahead of me. I told myself that whatever happened, I would accept the consequences, knowing I had done my best. I would even try to enjoy the challenge. That’s all any of us can do when we make plans.