the drive out to the trailhead took longer than expected. an hour in and it becomes apparent the Stanley thermos I so wanted isn’t quite suitable for the road. the overnight coffee’s delicious, and smells that way as the last cup soaks my center console. I’m still cursing, lacing up in the parking lot, and the man in the sprinter van beside me takes note as he steps outside to piss.
I lose the trail in pre-dawn light, spiraling outward to regain it along the flooded river bank. there’s one other pair above treeline, still wearing headlamps as the sun creeps toward the horizon. I overtake them on a ridge above their seeking, blinding lights and grin with a stupid pride at my own lampless passing. my batteries died a mile back.
the ascent up Missouri’s face is steep but solid and well marked. my pulse lends a steady drumming beat to judge the pace by, keeping me company in the otherwise silent morning. later in the day I experiment and push until it shakes my vision and drowns my footsteps and I sink into a flow somewhere just short of misery. the miles clip by.
the ridgeline to Missouri’s peak is empty. I crush a peanut butter banana honey sandwich and feel small under a cloudless sky beside the summit marker, then skip back down the way I came. the couple from earlier wants to know how much further they have to climb from below the initial saddle; in sporting mountain spirit I tell them they are close, and in sporting mountain spirit they thank me for the lie.
three deer dance on the horizon, looking back over their shoulders as I follow toward Elkhead Pass. a mother mountain goat stares me down with a kid hiding between her legs, my path interrupting their morning graze, and a pika warns of my passing from high on his stone pedestal. I curse my shitty phone camera and wonder if they too dream of electric sheep.
I worry about the time and the height of the sun, then spend fifteen minutes trying to get the perfect photo of a boulder which reminds me of a certain pair of buttcheeks pressed against a shower door. I’m still laughing hours later - maybe I should call her.
somewhere just before the saddle between Belford and Oxford I take a wrong turn and scramble up a false ridge. the view is nice, and I kick back a Honey Stinger waffle I found crumbling in the bottom of my pack to celebrate before returning to the trail. the mountain I believed to be Oxford is revealed to be something else entirely and the true path is less appealing than I’d hoped. every step downhill carries the weight of knowing that it must be reascended once to summit Oxford, and once again to regain Belford. not for the first time today I wonder why exactly I chose to be here, not for the first time all I have is a dumb grin in response. it’s a lovely summer day.
there’s a beautiful girl feeding a beautiful dog slices of bacon, seated halfway along the saddle and in the middle of the trail. I ask if they’re alright, she laughs and says just fine. a trail runner passes heading the other way with a 360 camera rising above his pack. for reasons unknown to me I flash a little ass as he goes by - maybe his followers will get a kick out of it. turning back from Oxford’s summit I hope to see that dog again, but never do.
Belford isn’t much of anything. I crush another homemade granola bar and take a mental note to stick with oats instead of flour. the headache I’ve had all morning comes in pulsing waves as I debate returning the way I came. I don’t, but wish I had. Elkhead Pass is far more pleasant than Belford’s northwest ridge, though at this point in the day I’m more concerned with whether I can trust a building fart or not.
more hikers pass opposite me on the descent, trudging through loose dirt and scree. one asks if the climb is worth it, and I tell him it’s hard to say. I’m lost to a reverie, unsure if its a woman I love or just the idea of her. suddenly the river runs beside me and a family wishes me a good day. I tell the children not to go looking under the rocks and give the trailhead signage one last high five on my way back to the parking lot, La Minas Tacos on my mind.
