Hike with Me: Idaho Centennial Trail Sawtooths

By Jeanne Bustamante

Hike along with Jeanne on a five day solo backpacking adventure. Experience over 70 miles of the Idaho Centennial Trail through the Sawtooth Wilderness from Willow Creek to Stanley Lake.

Over 200 full color photographs.

"Carrying a heavy pack across many miles can hurt the body, making it sore and tired. But its presence on my back is also a symbol of my self sufficiency. All that I need for my journey is on my back, weighing me down, yes, but also challenging me to figure out what is important. What do I really need to carry? Not just in my pack, but in my mind. The weight asks the question and forces me to answer."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeanne Bustamante
• Release date: Jan 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370615285

Book preview

Hike with Me

Idaho Centennial Trail Sawtooths

by Jeanne M. Bustamante

Kesourla.jpg

Boise, ID

© 2017 by Jeanne Bustamante

All rights reserved.

All photos by author unless otherwise noted.

This book is an account of one hiker’s experience, and does not constitute instruction or guidance.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Before the Journey

Day 1: The Map Is Not the Terrain

Day 2: The Long and Winding Trail

Day 3: Remember to Breathe

Day 4: It’s Been a Hard Day’s Hike

Day 5: Picking up the Slack

Introduction

I began writing the Hike with Me series because I wanted to bring the trail experience to my mother. She has Multiple Sclerosis, and I cannot share backpacking adventures with her directly. While these books are primarily for her, especially in the large print edition, they are not just for her. They are for anyone who wants to experience what backpacking can be like, whether you’ve backpacked yourself or not.

The first two volumes in the series detailed solo trips; the second one is about a trip I took with my husband because I did not take a solo trip that year. I fell ill and was unable to make a try at my planned trip – 70 miles on the Idaho Centennial Trail (ICT), through the Sawtooth Wilderness.

In 2016, I made good on that plan. This book is about undertaking a small section of the 900 mile trail that traverses Idaho from the border with Nevada nearly to Canada. The section I chose is one that is adjacent to areas that I’ve hiked before, but I never actually set foot on any of the trails I planned to hike until I started.

The plan was to push myself in several different ways. I would be hiking trail I’d never seen, alone, needing to hike distances that I’d never backpacked every day to make my goal, and reaching the highest point on the ICT on day 1.

It was time to learn whether I had it in me to tackle long days, full of distance and vertical challenge, to follow a route that I’d never seen before, to handle the challenge of being on my own and the bigger challenge of hiking out again when I met my husband for resupply on day 4. To see gorgeous places in Idaho that most people will never get to see.

Come, hike with me.

Before the Journey

Today is the day before my solo trip. I packed last night, after preparing all week. I went over and over my checklists and choices. I have my plan set and ready.

And I'm still that awful combination of terrified and excited.

Ambrose and I drove to the Willow Creek Campground today, somehow making it past the country music festival crowds in a reasonable amount of time. The drive was quite nice but I wasn't paying that much attention to it. To avoid my feelings, I was thinking about the library book I wanted to finish before starting the trip. The ebook would disappear before I got back, and I couldn't renew it because others had requested it.

I successfully focused on the book, blocking out my emotions—except when Ambrose asked me how I was feeling.

And now that I've finished it with hours to go before even the earliest bedtime, I'm left to think about my nerves.

I believe I can do this.

I know I can spend three nights in the wilderness. I've done it before.

I know I can hike 15 miles in a day. I've done 22 before.

So why am I nervous to embark on this trip? Is it just jitters, like I would get before stepping on stage when I had a chance to act in college? No matter how well I knew my lines, I’d always have that flutter in the stomach. And I am prepared for this trip.

Even if something unexpected happens, I know the basic things that I will need to do to get myself out safely. Mostly that means staying on or near the trail, because Ambrose knows where I plan to be. He knows where and when to send help.

I told Ambrose in the car today that I was frightened of spending the night in the wilderness alone. He said he felt that way too when he first did solo trips. Maybe if I'd gone on one last year, then I'd feel more secure this year. But I didn't go last year and now all I remember is the fear of those dark nights, when any sound could be a threat and I don't know if it’s better to have the tent doors shut so I can't see anything or open so I know what might be coming.

To reduce weight, I'm not taking a cook kit. All my meals are bars, though I have a variety of them for each day. I don't know how not having a hot meal every day might affect me. But I guess I'll find out.

I'm having quiet time in the tent right now. It's actually a little too warm to be in here with the sun shining in, but I don't mind being warm. I finished a short story this morning and that was 275 words so technically I'm done for the day. But I might finish up my other story. I'll definitely be starting a new one on the hike. Maybe one in one of my established worlds though.

The days of hiking will, I expect, be both hard work and beautiful. I'll do my best to take photographs, but they are secondary to finishing the distance. Still, if I can do them on a 22 mile day hike, I should be able to manage to take a few photos on my 11 to 15 mile days.

I can hear Willow Creek rushing by from inside the tent. Punctuated by the sound of wind blowing through the trees and the occasional rumble of a plane flying overhead. It is peaceful. The calm before the storm of energy that I will be releasing tomorrow morning, starting bright and early.

Well, okay, it isn't very peaceful when the wind gusts so hard it seems like the tent might take flight, but those winds aren't constant.

I’m taking maps from the Idaho Centennial Trail website, printed out in full color and trimmed of excess white margins so they fit nicely into their waterproof case, also known as a gallon freezer bag. They are less detailed than the topographic (topo) maps that we get from the US Geological Survey, but Ambrose and I weighed the pros and cons of taking the more detailed maps. In the end, the bulk and weight of the more detailed maps were bigger cons than the extra details were pros.

If I hadn’t been able to get the ICT maps in full color, it would have been an entirely different matter, because in gray scale they were not sufficient. One of the best things about those maps was that they had all the trail numbers and names for the ICT segments and the trails that intersected it.

All those decisions are done. I’ve got a resupply box in the car with the last day’s map and food, a fresh pair of socks and even a dinner for Ambrose to cook me on day 4. I get to relax now, right?

Once the sun has settled down below the trees, I’m in the tent with Ambrose. It is cool inside now. It is 8 in the evening and soon I will go to bed. Or to sleep. I'm kind of already in bed.

I feel more stoic now. I have a mission to accomplish in the next five days and I will do it. There's nothing to fear but fear itself. And bears. And mountain lions. And forest fires. And injuries from unexpected falls. And getting swept away during a river crossing.

But other than that. Just fear.

So I'll probably be just fine.

What's 70 miles between friends, right?

The alarm is set for 5. And for 5:30, for insurance. Sunrise is a little after 6:30. Ambrose will be cooking me breakfast of instant grits and eggs and smoked salmon. I will be getting ready to go. And then he will drive me to the trailhead and I will be off. Zooming into the wilderness alone.

I won't even reach the Sawtooth Wilderness until my second day but I've got the permit already on my pack. The tear off part is in my map bag, ready to be placed in a box or handed to a ranger.

I don't know, can't know, how this trip is going to go until I take it. But I've prepared as best as I can. I do believe that and trust in my preparations. And I trust that Ambrose would have told me if any of my prep needed amending.

This is a little bit crazy. But I'm doing it anyway. And I will discover in myself whether the capacity and desire for long range, solo thru hikes is in me.

No shame if it isn't. But if it is… then I've got a whole lot more hiking to do in my future at the speeds that I can manage. I will always be able to hike if I can hike alone.

Time to get ready for bed. Tomorrow is arriving soon and I need my zoomy sleep—like beauty sleep, but for backpacking.

Day 1: The Map Is Not the Terrain

I woke up at the alarm in the car camping tent with my husband. It was still dark outside, and cold, but he got right up to cook breakfast and I started getting dressed. There was no time to waste on a snooze or shivers. I put my clothes on with only a hiss or two at the feeling of the cold fabric on my sleep warmed skin.

Outside the tent, I could see Ambrose’s headlamp near the picnic table. He was cooking instant grits and fried eggs, a nice hearty start for my day. Especially with some added smoked salmon.

I left the tent and headed for the campsite’s outhouse. It was warmer inside there, but the seat was still chilly. I knew I’d probably go one more time before heading out, but I was still thinking about how this would be the last toilet I’d get to use for several