Once again, the most recent miles were hard earned. Although the downhills and uphills were not as steep as some that I’ve done, they were long. Sometimes an up or down lasted for 9 miles.

The first day out of Bonners Ferry I gained over 7000 feet of elevation. I also lost 4000 feet. Much of the area I went through had been burned by a fire, so there was no shade to protect me from the 90+ degree heat. But I was refreshed from having taken a zero in Bonners Ferry and overall my feet were feeling better. I was feeling strong and was really enjoying the views in Idaho.

Along the climb up, I stopped at a spring which was the last water source for about thirteen miles. I had already done quite a few miles that morning and knew there was no way I would do another thirteen miles to that next water source before nightfall. I was hungry and even though it was barely 10:30 in the morning, I decided to cook dinner by the spring. There was a cooling bit of shade there and by eating dinner early, I could carry less water up the ridge to where I would dry camp.

I had a lovely walk along the ridge and spent the night really enjoying a beautiful grassy campsite that had been mentioned in the trail app. Because I had eaten dinner earlier, I ate some lunch food and snacks while watching the sun dip lower in the sky. Since crossing into Idaho, the time went backwards for me by an hour, but still I wasn’t up late enough to see the sunset, which in these northern areas in pacific time was close to nine PM.

The next morning, I walked the almost 8 miles to Ball Lake, which was where the infamous bushwhack started. I kept fluctuating on whether I would stop for the night at Ball Lake and do the six mile bushwhack fresh in the morning or whether I would try to push on that evening and get it over with. I set a time limit of noon. I figured if I could leave from Ball Lake by noon, I should be able to get done the bushwhack before dark. Knowing that many expeditions had gone badly when people pushed their time limits, I kept reiterating to myself that it was a hard fast timeline. I also knew I was going to do the low route rather than try to do the class three climb up the cliff. In describing the high route the Pacific Northwest Trail Association says, “A fall will be fatal.”

At Ball Lake I had an enjoyable dip and again cooked my dinner at 10:30 in the morning. By the time I was packed up it was still before noon, so I set out to do the bushwhack. Just as I was leaving, I ran into Fig who is a 60-year-old from Britain hiking the trail. I asked him which route he was taking. He hadn’t yet decided, so rather than waiting for him to finish his break, I set out alone.

I was just starting what felt to be a scary rock scramble on the top of a cliff when I heard a voice above me. I looked up and saw Fig. He had decided to join me, which I was really thrilled about. I thought about how hard I had tried to plan for someone to hike with me through this section and had failed. Yet here the trail provided.

Fig and I scrambled along the boulders. A few times I was afraid I was going to fall down the cliff, especially when rocks under my feet gave way and went to tumbling down the mountain. Luckily I always managed to keep a handhold and worked my way around the steep mountain side, struggling to keep up with Fig who was definitely a much faster hiker than I was. I kept trying to balance keeping up with him with a speed that wasn’t going to be careless for me.

Eventually we reached a ridge where we took a sharp right and began bushwhacking downhill. From here on the trail was completely covered in willows that were over my head. These were willows that branched out of the ground with 10 or more stems in one cluster. The ground was full of cluster after cluster of them packed tightly against each other. As if this wasn’t enough, there were also thousands of blown down trees. While at times there was a faint trail we tried to follow through the underbrush, many times I couldn’t even see where my feet were going down. I had to climb over tree after tree. Usually I had to climb up onto one and then another and then another before I had to lift my foot with my hand to get it high enough to go over the deadfall. Then I had to balance on the branch strewn logs and carefully climb down a series of fallen trees until I felt safe enough to place a foot into the great unknown, not knowing if I was stepping on ground or into a hole or just a series of willow stems that might give away when I put weight on them.

I was really grateful that Fig kept leading the way and waiting for me, although a few times we had to holler to find each other. There truly were moments when I thought I couldn’t keep going on, but I didn’t dare stop because I didn’t want to be in there without company. As it was, anytime I stopped to tie a shoe or find a way over a bunch of deadfall, Fig got so far ahead of me that I lost him until he called or waited for me up ahead. I feared he would be gone if I stopped so I pushed on even when I was incredibly hungry and thirsty.

Long before I reached the end I felt I had nothing left to give. Yet I had to keep going. My legs were scratched. I got stung by bees. My back was abraded by some of the fallen branches and I was a mess by the time we finally emerged into a clearing near an absolutely lovely creek. Fig and I had lost each other about a mile and a half before this point and he had already been sitting by the creek for quite a while. There was still a mile or two of bushwhack to go, but it was slated to not to be as bad. Fig decided to go on. I knew that I needed to stop there for the night.

I tried to eat some food before I hung it, desperate to get into my tent and lay down. As soon as I did get into the tent, I burst into tears. While it may not have been the scariest, that had been right up there as one of the worst hiking experiences of my entire life. I tried to do whatever I could to reward myself in the tent. Because of having to hang my food away from the tent, I couldn’t reward myself with some tasty morsel so I changed into fresh clothes to sleep in. I sent a prayer of gratitude into the night that it had provided Fig to go with me through that horror. As much as I always try to find something positive about everything, the only positive thing I could say about that bushwhack besides the fact that I had Fig to do it with, is that I was grateful it was over. I don’t know how I found the strength to keep going when I was running on empty. Just like my encounters with the bear, rattlesnakes and lightning at high elevations on the CDT, I’ld be happy never to have to repeat the experience again.