Eat Dirt and Keep Moving

I’ve heard that time passes by faster as you age because you have less and less new experiences. You follow the same routine most days, you get cautious, you play life safe. How do we pull ourselves out of the comfort, slow time. Sometimes we do it on purpose, other times we do it out of necessity, and sometimes it never happens.

Most likely out of necessity, I’ve fallen in love with hiking. Specifically thru-hiking. The smells, the sun, being outside all day every day. Type 2 fun at its best. After four years of not backpacking, I figured I would give it another go. I wanted to slow the clock a little, get off the computer and get back to the full feeling of aliveness. No one else in my life could take off work or had interest in going with me, so for the first time, I had to go it alone. I picked a relatively close and short trail that I thought I could complete in about a week. South Dakota’s 111 mile Centennial trail. I had all the gear from previous hikes, the trail seemed well marked and in the middle of spring, looked to be full of water, it was a go.

My partner dropped me off at the Norbeck trailhead in Wind Cave National Park. After many smooches and many tears, he drove off and I walked .2 miles down the trail and threw up my breakfast. I’ve found the hardest part about thru-hiking is the leaving. The saying goodbye. The great unknown. I dry heaved, I puked, I cried. I found a rock by a stream, sat down and composed myself. Drank water, ate a snack, took a breath, and looked up to find a beautiful landscape around me. It’s an odd feeling to be alone. No cell service, no people, in a brand new place. I did my best to shake off the sadness and started walking, because that’s all I could do. The first six miles traversed through Wind Cave. There were so many bison, and so many prairie dog towns decorated with sparkly mica mineral. Bougie prairie dog homes. An easy and beautiful hike, Wind Cave was one of my favorite sections. I made it through Wind Cave and into Custer State Park. I took off my pack for a snack, after about half a mile I realized the trail ate my moonstone necklace, a gift given to me before I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in 2016. Given with the intention that moonstone is a travelers protection stone, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that news when I realized it wasn’t on my neck. Good sign, bad sign? Most likely not a sign at all. We assign meaning to all things. I decided to keep moving.

My goal that first day was to arrive and camp at French Creek Horse Camp. A good option I thought, for someone who has never camped alone. I’ll still be alone, but there will be people and horses and dogs around, a little less lonely. After a 16 mile day, I found a beautiful spot to camp just outside French Creek campground, an elevated and flat spot overlooking French Creek. I made pad thai, charged my phone in the heated bathroom and generally felt good. Getting to camp always feels good, there are tasks to be completed, food to be ate, and relaxing to be done.

I was a bit worried about tent set up. When Eric and I went to the Kickapoo Valley Reserve for trash pick up and photos weeks before, I brought the tent along to set up for some Embark product shots. It had maybe been set up one other time in the past four years, and beyond that it hadn’t been used since the Colorado Trail. When I set it up at the KVR, the elastic in the poles was all over the place. I made a note to fix it, and between then and actually hiking I never did. Luckily, it was a super easy fix, and tent/camp set up went great. The Big Agnes Copper Spur is such a fantastic tent. It’s even more fantastic when it’s built for two but you’re the only one sleeping in it. For probably the first time ever, I slept warm. I packed extra extra warm, comfy pants (because I always sleep super cold) even though they weighed way too much. It’s probably a huge no-no, but I also sleep with everything, food included. I use OPSAK odor proof bags and put anything with smell into those. Food, toothpaste, lotions….it all goes into the OPSACK. After thousands of miles, I have never had a problem with animals after sealing up all the smellys.

I slept great and in the morning, woke up slow and enjoyed my time above the creek, making sure to use the schmancy bathroom while I could get it. I started moving at around nine am (not ideal) and decided I would try to get to another horse camp, Iron Creek, next to the Black Elk Wilderness for camping that night. The day started off with a few water crossings, the cold water felt amazing on my blistered and sore feet. I stopped at a log to changed out moleskin and put the trail runners back on after the last water crossing. And really realized for the first time that I’m slow. Like, extra slow. Molasses slow. When I take breaks I dawdle, lounge. So let’s just say, it’s well into the day at this point and I’m not even two miles in. This was really the only reason that hiking by myself was awesome. I had no one to keep up with and no one to keep up with me. I had one notable ascent that day, and during the whole thing all I could think was “why am I so slow?” Why can’t I breathe?” “Why do I have to stop every five feet?” “Why does this suck?” When I reached the top I took a snack break. I lounged some more and spent some time looking at my snacks and laying them all out to see how long they would all last and what I had extras of. A mountain biker walked his bike up the other side of the trail and I felt slight relief, as I always do when I see someone that’s not carrying a giant pack. Whenever I see mountain bikers or day hikers, I assume a town is close by. I wasn’t carrying any kind of satellite safety device, so it was nice to know an escape could potentially be made if I ended up in deep shit.

The day moved on slowly. I moved slowly. The sun was beating down and I didn’t bring a hat or sunscreen, I was scorched. I hiked a few more miles, took a nap in some weeds and kept on moving. I was pretty close to the Badger Hole trailhead, there is a pretty neat cabin there that housed South Dakota’s first poet laureate. I stopped at a picnic table by the cabin, saw that I had cell service and took the opportunity to message Justin and my mom. Anytime I had service I stopped for a while to send messages to loved ones to let them know exactly where I was at and that I was still alive. After checking in, I walked to Legion Lake, which was about a half mile away. There is a beautiful lake and a nice campground there, and lots and lots of visitors. I took the opportunity to visit the Legion Lake general/camp store to buy some sunscreen and a hat. One Custer State Park buffalo bucket hat, a tiny sunscreen and a giant coke later and I was off! I found the trailhead and as I did, the sun conveniently disappeared - and did so for the rest of my Centennial Trail experience. I also found myself a nice, green bucket hat that someone had dropped on trail, ground score! Goodbye sun, goodbye $24. I am now the proud owner of two dumb bucket hats. The trail provides! I had been guesstimating my mileage this whole time, and always thought I was closer to my destination than I truly was. I figured once I got to Iron Creek I would see people like I had the previous night, so I was imaging lots of happy folks, dogs and horses to hang out with. I must have been imaging too hard because at some point I thought I heard people laughing and horses clopping along the trail. I tried to be speedy, since I thought I must be close to horse camp, but I never ran into anyone on trail. Once I made it to Iron Creek, I realized I was alone. There was no one camping, no one hanging out, no horses, no dogs, no people. I was alone, truly alone. I hiked a short ways into Black Elk Wilderness to find a camp spot, since hikers aren’t allowed to camp in horse camp. I found a spot near a creek and set up camp. I tried pushing all the creepy conspiracy theories about National Forests and National Wilderness areas out of my brain (thanks Tik Tok). With no staircases to be found, I finished setting up camp, eating, and filtering water before the thunderstorms came. I slept through the night, warm and snuggly with rain pounding on my tent.

The morning was misty and grey. I had woken up confident that I was on track and could complete my thru-hike by my pick up date - which was Sunday. It was Thursday and I had nine miles to get through Black Elk Wilderness before moving on to my next destination. I didn’t love Black Elk, and was trying to get through it as quickly as possible. I thought I was going to see more people since there were two spur trails - one to Mt. Rushmore and one to Black Elk Peak, SD’s high point. I really REALLY wanted to climb Black Elk Peak but told myself no spur trails since I was already behind schedule. Since I was totally alone I figured I would listen to a podcast, maybe that would distract my mind. I opened up an episode of This American Life called Death and Taxes, which actually turned out to be about death and taxes. So for the next hour I climbed over and under fallen down trees and cried my eyes out listening to hospice nurses and families dealing with and caring for dying patients and family members. I eventually made it out of Black Elk Wilderness. I flipped off the Black Elk Wilderness sign and sat down on a log to change moleskin and rearrange some things. I should have never flipped the sign off. A few minutes later, after I had everything unpacked and splayed out on the dirt I heard rumblings in the sky. Hellfire was unleashed upon me as I was pummeled with nickel sized hail and rain. So much cold rain. I put a poncho over my things but after waiting out the hail, realized all of my things…..EVERYTHING was sitting in a puddle. I was drenched, everything was drenched. Luckily my sleeping back was wrapped in a garbage bag and my clothes didn’t get wet, but all other things including my warm, puffy jacket were soaked. I packed up and walked to the next trailhead, which was just across SD HWY 385. I thought about hitching a ride into town but decided to just keep going.

The trail descended and about halfway down I slipped in the mud and fell flat on my buns, wet AND covered in mud. Morale plummeted and I couldn’t get much lower. I moved on, crossed a road, crossed railroad tracks, and stopped. I was defeated. I didn’t want to move forward. Looking for dryness and warmth, I walked the road back and forth hoping there was a tiny town just around the next bend, I tried hitching but no one picked me up. After about an hour of walking back and forth I decided to just walk back up the muddy trail from whence I descended early, and try hitching from HWY 385. It’s hard to describe the feeling. I felt done, but didn’t want to quit. I felt like I was betraying myself a little. Why couldn’t I just continue forward, why did I have to go back? Once I reached the top it was mere minutes before an amazing couple road tripping with their cat and dog, saw me, pulled over, and asked if I needed some help. With good vibes swelling all around and watery eyes I said yes. Jack and Jeni were AMAZING. Jack is also a hiker and new exactly what I needed. Sparkly water, yes please! Need to charge your phone? Absolutely yes I do! It was his first experience as a trail angel, and he was excited! I decided the best place to go would be to skip up to Sheridan Lake and camp there for the night. I would be skipping 10.6ish miles and missing some cool old mining equipment I was excited to see, but I felt better. We chatted the whole way to Sheridan Lake (which took extra, extra long because we missed a turn.) We talked about how they met, what they did, where they were from, where Jack had thru-hiked. We talked about trail names, and I told him I hadn’t yet received one. The best part about attempting thru-hikes are the amazing people you meet along the way. Your faith in humanity gets restored 110% and the people you meet and the adversity you face along the way are ultimately the things you remember the most. Jack and Jeni dropped me off and as they pulled out of the campground Jack rolled down his window and said “I’ve got a trail name for you, take it or leave it. Scenic Route!” I took it. We had indeed taken the scenic route, as I do for most things in my life, it felt like a perfect fit. I felt immensely grateful and loved as they pulled away.

I hiked a short ways up the Flume trailhead and found a kind of flat spot to pitch my tent. The campground wasn’t open for the season yet, which was okay because who wants to pay for camping when you can camp for free. I hiked all the way back up to the main campground, where I knew I had cell service last to send out an “I’m alive” message. It helps my brain to calm down when I know the people who are worrying don’t have to worry anymore. I hiked back down to my camp spot, made some chicken pesto and tried to fall asleep. The problem with sleep this night, was the wind. The wind was so heavy and blowing so fiercely, my tent was blowing into my face as I lay flat. If I hadn’t been in it, it would have immediately blown away. I was getting more and more nervous about trees blowing down on me, but I just lay there willing it all to go away. I woke up to a puffy, super sleepy face, the first from this trip. I was exhausted, mentally and physically but I also woke up to sun! I didn’t die in my sleep and sunshine is the ultimate mood booster. I walked to the lower campground to throw away my trash and sat on the dock staring out at the lake. I cried a little, feeling the full weight of loneliness. I walked back to camp to pack up. It was another super windy day but holy wow what a beautiful walk around the lake! I stopped often for photos, one of the highlights of the trip so far.

I didn’t intend for it to be , but this turned out to be my last day on trail. After snacking on some Embark, I continued up the trail. Two thru-hikers came speeding up behind me, the first I had seen all week! We chatted a little and found out we were both headed to the same place to camp for the night, Rapid Creek, they sweetly offered me a spot to camp with them, and they sped off. We met back up when they trail became a little confusing. The road had been rerouted and we weren’t sure where the trail went, we found it and ventured on, this time entering cow country, we parted ways again. I didn’t filter water that morning and was becoming increasingly aware that I was running low with not a lot of water options coming up. All I could do was keep moving. I was running on no energy and no sleep, every step I made seemed to take herculean effort, and I was not having much fun. I finally made it to a cow tank, and snacked and filtered water. There was weird shit everywhere on this section. Gloves on trees, junk piles, skulls. There were beautiful, rolling grasslands and stands of aspen.

I was trying to get to Rapid Creek trailhead and after what seemed like forever, I made it. In that time it had started raining again, cold and misty, off and on. I was in great shape to make it to my new destination for pick up on Sunday: Nemo. When I reached Rapid Creek, I ran into another solo thru-hiker. He told me to get water now because there wasn’t much up the way, and that the next available camping was a few more miles up the trail. I heard him, but all I could think about was the HWY and cars I was seeing. Pactola Reservoir was just up ahead, all I had to do was climb up to it. It was right then, I knew I was done. I didn’t want to carry more water, and I didn’t want to hike a few more miles, and I didn’t want to be cold and wet and angry and lonely anymore. I could climb up to the road, get cell service, call a taxi and stay somewhere until Sunday. So I did. There was a pull-off on the road to admire the reservoir and boy was it beautiful, I sat shivering, waiting for the taxi I called, which was likely going to be hours. There was a rainbow, and geese, and lots of tourists checking out the birds and the water. After about 45 minutes of waiting, a sweet lady Joanna, noticed I was there and asked if I needed a lift, I gladly accepted the ride. She drove me to the Quality Inn in Hill City, SD and we chatted about Bigfoot most of the way there.

I ate vending machine snacks and washed my clothes in the sink. I could barely walk, my left foot full of blisters. I couldn’t fit my feet into my shoes anymore. I slept and ate hotel breakfast. I explored Hill City, and went to the CCC Museum (one of my favorite things EVER). I ate non-trail food and drank beer and looked at fossils and art. I read my book on the hotel deck and relaxed. I waited and waited until Sunday, I couldn’t wait to see Justin. In those moments I didn’t feel bad about not finishing, I felt good for taking care of myself. I tried to feel proud of what I had completed, my first solo camping trip I hiked about 60 miles of the trail. But in those days after the trail, I wasn’t sure what I had learned or how I felt.

It’s been almost a month post trail. My thoughts ebb and flow with it. Some days I’m glad I quit, some days I wished I had stuck it out. I’m proud of what I did, but also wish I did have someone to share that experience with. The experience was almost that Type 3 fun, the kind that sucked and sucked looking back on it. I know it was the good kind, the Type 2, because every day I wish I was back there. Hiking and eating trail snacks, running up hills from bison and telling prairie dogs to just shut up already. I’m still working on those mental blocks, and the willpower and the strength. Maybe that’s what this experience was, a reminder to keep pushing.