Two nights ago, Jodi and I camped on the Continental Divide after a 43-mile climb along the southern edge of Glacier National Park. Yesterday, we descended into the plains, crossing into Blackfeet Indian Country. We are now flowing east towards the Atlantic, partnered with all the water draining off this side of the Rockies.
One of my shoes has worn through already, so REI is shipping me a new pair to Cut Bank, Montana. It won’t be in until Thursday, so unfortunately we have to take another day off… exploring Glacier National Park… It’s terrible, really…
We should have reliable internet the next two nights, so at least one more post is on the way, maybe more.
At this point, we have crossed the Pacific Crest Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. The only one remaining of the “Triple Crown” is the Appalachian Trail, which is still several thousand miles away. It is a unique spot, where long-distance trails cross paths, as though you are standing at the center of humanity’s migration routes, places where rites of passage, tall tales and spiritual journeys are clawing their way out of Western culture.
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