WalkingCarrot

The moring came cold and cloudy. After about 3 miles of climbing we came to a high pass at the head of Sawmill Creek. Old trail posts and signs, as well as the guidebook and maps all pointed over and down. New trail tread, posts and alterations on the sign pointed up. We followed the new trail as it toured the basin at the very head of Little Sheep creek, then ascended a spur ridge of Garfield Mountain and switchbacked down a series of ridges and basins to the Sawmill Creek trailhead, where it joined up with the old trail. Although it added a mile or two of distance and 500 or so feet of vertical climb, the trail, and views, were delightfull.

The clouds cleared off and the temps remained nice and cool, a delight to hike in. We seemed to have dodged another rain storm, a definite delight.

The Carrot stumbled and did a face plant, opening up a small cut abover her right eye. I turned around so fast to see what the commotion was about that my right leg outpaced my left and I ripped my pants along the seem under the crotch. But the Carrot’s tear required more immediate attention. The blood looked bad, but it wiped off and we washed the wound well. With a short break the small cut closed pretty quickly.

We continuing on, following rolling hills with tread, and trees, nice, delighful walking. The valley of Shineberger creek was wide, open and beautiful. An elk grazing in the meadows was at first curious about our arrival, then took off.

We took Jim Wolfe’s recommended ridge, a detour from the official CDT route. Leaving the valley we folllowed the guidebook and bushwhacked up steep sage covered slopes, then followed the ridgeline on tracks well used by hikers, cows and elk to the divide. The clouds cleared off as we climbed the last ridge. The long light of evening cast delightful shadows across the valleys and ridges.

Back on the divide, we picked up the faint tread of the CDT and crossed over a few knolls to drop steeply into an unamed pass. On a bench just above the pass we camped at about 8,400 feet. The large knoll we just crossed offered some protection from the wind, so did the sagebrush, but the gusting breeze on the exposed ridge made it feel like a night in late Septmenber, not August, reminding us that the season is rapidly changing.

Miles 15.7