Selway Bitterroot Wilderness - Day 7

Day 7

I woke fast just after daybreak. During the night my curiosity about Three Links creek had obliterated my desire to return to civilization. I took stock of my supplies - less than a day's worth of food remained - and cursed myself for leaving my "extras" at the ranger station.

Regardless, I broke camp and headed up the Three Links trail. I was back on Dave's trail. He spent four days up this creek at the beginning of his trip, and here I was at the end of mine, but I once again felt the excitement of following his trail.

Like the North Fork trail, but in better repair, Three Links followed the steep eastern slopes of the creek. I liked it immediately and was surprised to see how little traffic passed on this trail. Perhaps it was still early in the season, but I saw few signs of humans or animals.

Around mid-morning I came to a trail junction and creek crossing. On the other side of the creek a large sunny meadow stretched along the creek. Even from here I could see heavily used deer trails leading to a salt lick. Dave had been here too early in the spring to possibly cross the creek, but the ford didn't look too bad to me. This creek was less than half the size of the North Fork that I had failed to ford a few days earlier, so I felt confident that I could cross safely.

With my boots on my pack, I waded in and was instantly reminded of the power of moving water. The water surged hard and fast, and each footstep had to be careful and exact. I was only barely in control but was unwilling to fail again. I faced upstream, leaned hard into the hiking poles, and took slow steps across the current. At the deepest point the water rose to mid-thigh and I could taste disaster, but then I was across and wading out on a patch of sand.

I sat in the sun drying my feet and looking back at the little creek. Even after feeling its power first-hand, it still looked innocent and friendly. Clearly Emil was right when he warned Dave that creek crossings would be the most dangerous part of his journey.

An obvious deer trail led through the clearing, crossed through a fringe of trees, and emerged into another clearing. I was greeted by a steaming pool of water ringed by rocks. Butterflies flitted around the pool and lapped up minerals from the hot mud.

The water was too hot to lie down in, so I used a stuff sack to collect buckets of water and poured them over my head. The hot water felt heavenly on my sore muscles. Unwilling to wear my sweaty clothes, I rinsed them in the river and laid them to dry in the hot noonday sun. I found a shady spot on the edge of the first clearing and dozed comfortably through the heat of the day.

By mid-afternoon I was restless again, so when my clothes were dry I got dressed, laced my boots, and returned to the creek crossing. This time was no easier than the first, but at length I emerged from the far side and began the trek back to the main trail. All afternoon and into the evening I hiked on autopilot, headed for home. One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other, repeat.

I was tired and thinking of nothing when a sudden buzzing by my feet shocked me into an ungainly leap of fear. The timber rattler struck once at my nearest hiking pole and then retreated quickly into the surrounding rocks. The snake was undoubtedly as surprised as I was, so I harbored no ill will but resolved to be more vigilant. With good effect, because I saw several more rattlers in the next mile of trail, sunning themselves in the dying light of the setting sun.

Towards dusk I could no longer determine the exact distance remaining, although from the fading of the light I knew that my time was almost done. It came as a surprise when I emerged into the dusty trailhead clearing just as I was conceding that I would need a headlight to find my way. The car remained exactly where I left it, and within minutes I was on the road.

I drove along the Selway towards the main road, gripped both by weariness and extreme restlessness. Campground after campground swirled past and disappeared in my rearview. I knew I had to sleep soon but was unwilling to stop. Suddenly I saw a small beach on the riverside and swerved onto the shoulder. Down by the river I stripped and waded in, feeling the familiar sting of snowmelt on my legs. I ducked my head, splashed my face, and then stood waist-deep looking into the dark timber on the other side. The river continued running, the trees stood, and I knew that I would receive no farewell more formal than this.