Today started with a 3 am wake up call from the local pack of coyotes yipping away. This, in combination with the rain and lightning, didn't set me up well for the longest climb of the trip.
Normally during a day of climbing I developed a mentality where I have to run 30 miles AND climb a mountain. The fact that the 5-6 miles of climbing counted towards that 30 simply served as a bonus. Climbing the Togwotee Pass today would be different. The vast majority of the 29 miles would be spent fighting the 6% grade to the Continental Divide which stood about 3500 ft taller than where I had camped.
After about the first four miles the rain became relentless. It rained more in the next two hours than the entire trip combined. As I gained elevation it started to get really cold and it wouldn't have surprised me to see snowflakes mixed in as I could see my breath quite prominently. I later learned it was only 48 degrees.
After 13 miles I had had enough and needed to seek refuge for a couple hours in the slight hope that the storm would pass. Camping in the vault bathrooms at the parking area for snowmobiling would do the trick. It was a brilliant idea until realizing the doors were locked-it was a pretty crushing blow to my spirit.
I stood under the one foot overhang, undressed, and wrung the water out of my clothes while I started shivering. I had dry clothes, but I wanted to save those for camp. I decided to bust out my plastic rain poncho, something I thought I'd never use in a million years, and wear that for the rest of the day. I started back out, trying real hard to convince myself that this was still fun. I was at 8,600 ft, only 1,000 more to climb.
About a quarter mile up the road was the Togwotee Mountain Lodge. I had no clue this place existed, but it served as a saving grace. Outside was a cyclist who was unloading some gear who explained that he was riding the Continental Divide trail and had started at the Arctic Ocean in Alaska 2 months ago. He reckoned only 10 percent of his tour had been on pavement.
Two families, including one with their 14 year old son, from Kimberly BC (very close to my grandparents in Creston) arrived a few minutes later. They were also riding the Divide, although they had started in Banff, Alberta and adopted me as a Canuck if I promised to say sorry and eh? more. It was very nice to have others to commiserate with.
We all had lunch together at the Red Fox Saloon and the cyclist travelling from Alaska paid for my elk burger. He explained that his salary as a senior math professor at the University of Colorado was a lot more than mine was currently. I didn't have much ground to argue on.
After two hours of thawing and drying out, the rains miraculously ceased. I wanted to race the Canadians up to the Divide and I got off to quite a good start. I even got some support from Forest, my friend from Jackson, as he whizzed by in his Jeep. Any plans of victory were thwarted by a flat tire.
I eventually reached the top while at least a dozen drivers honked and waved to congratulate me on the feat. A couple from Sarasota, Florida was there to take the picture below and wished me well on my travels. It's all downhill from here (literally and hopefully not figuratively).
The last four miles were a breeze as I descended into camp. The Pinnacles of the Wind River Range were quite the sight to finish to. With perfect timing the rains started back up as I made camp. I cooked and ate dinner under a shelter I built using a tarp and picnic table. I knew that civil engineering degree would come in handy some day.
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| The highest point of the run! |
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