To start our fifth week we headed into the expansive and usually dry Great Basin. For the next two months we would be hiking through high desert … during July and August! My focus shifted from “How well can Cindy handle this?” to “How well can we handle the hottest, driest hiking we likely will ever experience?”
Why on earth would we choose to hike the desert portion of the ADT during the summer months? Deciding to start west and hike home, and to do so over the course of a full calendar year, led to our May start date. Our experience with blizzards in the Rockies during our Continental Divide hike made September 22, the date the first blizzard trapped us at 10,000+ feet in the Arapaho Wilderness, as our target for being well beyond the Divide and heading into Denver. I was more apprehensive of autumn blizzards in the mountains than summer heat in the desert.
Most of our previous desert hiking occurred during cooler fall temperatures. Between the two of us Cindy tolerated heat better; I better tolerated water scarcity over long distances. Neither of us previously suffered heat exhaustion from hiking. That was about to change.
Our route early on followed the historic Pony Express Trail. The original users of the trail had the advantage of riding horses as “the mail must go through;” we had the advantage of meeting Ky, allowing me to wear a daypack and resupply our water at the end of the day. I filled my daypack with water bottles, but lacked a tent, tarp or any other means of creating man-made shade.
We met our first desert trail angels, Matt and Miriam. Every year they arrive from Switzerland to explore a historic trail in America, renting a Land Rover to aid in their exploration. After having met they turned into trail scouts for us. Once we arrived at a dirt road junction just as they were backtracking from taking the wrong turn. Another time they drove back a considerable distance just to advise us which route to follow. They also left us a gallon of water.
Even with the additional water I misjudged how much water Cindy needed, essentially providing the same amount for both of us. Towards the end of that first shadeless day Cindy had a touch of heat exhaustion. The next day I made sure she drank enough water, but I experienced heat exhaustion instead.
Towards the end of the day, after going over a slight rise in the topography, our destination of meeting Ky at US 50 came into view in the distance. The Pony Express Trail intersected the major road at an angle, like the hypotenuse of a triangle from where we were. My heat-addled mind opted to head on a right angle to US 50, a deviation that in theory would add slightly more miles to the overall route but end the current day quicker.
Unfortunately, I had not recalled the lesson I learned from my previous desert hiking, that distances in the desert deceive. The distance from our position to US 50 was at least three miles over salt flats. Having drunk plenty of water that day, Cindy comfortably eased into the lead over the salt flats while I plodded along behind, my foggy head acting like an autopilot to force me on.
Once on US 50, billed as the loneliest highway in America, we continued to day pack until we reached the “town” of Middlegate Station. The “town” consisted of a rustic motel, an all-purpose store and a few trailers in the back. Yet every Saturday evening bikers flocked to Middlegate Station for their all-you-can eat steak barbecue and live entertainment. Guess which evening we managed to arrive there. There is nothing like an all-you-can eat anything for long distance hikers.
We considered our good fortune in Middlegate State as a reward for surviving our first excursion through the shadeless desert in 100 degree heat. Our desert tribulations were not quite over, though. Heading east from Middlegate Station we alternated between ridges and ever higher desert. We still were day packing, had plenty of water and the temperature was a little cooler, but often found ourselves heading into a stiff 30-40 mph southerly desert wind.
I never had a problem with chapped lips before, despite hiking over snowfields at 10,000+ feet, despite never using chapstick. By the time we reached Berlin-Ichthyosaur State Park, from where we would acquire our full packs and start heading into mountain wilderness, my lips were chapped and bloody. Cindy, with sensitive skin normally prone to sun and heat afflictions, spared herself a similar fate through her habitual application of chapstick. Another week down, another week during which Cindy overall fared better physically.
