Parting of the Waters: a creek that flows to two oceans

(page 4 of 4; click here if you missed page 1)


After spending a few minutes at the Parting, we decided we'd better begin the 15-mile journey back to the car. We paused for this photo at Two Ocean Pass. The Parting is about a half-mile to the left. The same ridge that splits Two Ocean Creek slopes out into the seemingly flat meadow behind us: a crest which, though nearly imperceptible, nevertheless forms the Continental Divide through here. Atlantic Creek flows down the valley beyond that, and joins the Yellowstone not far from its own headwaters. Pacific Creek runs just a few yards behind us; it flows towards the camera on its way down to the Snake.


About a mile closer to camp, we took this photo looking northward from the south side of Pacific Creek valley. The canyon behind the tree in the middleground is where North Two Ocean Creek flows down towards The Parting.

The rest of the walk back to our campsite wasn't too bad, but after a 10-mile round-trip to see the Parting, it sure was hard to strap those packs on again - knowing we still had another 10 miles to go.

We caught some rain and even a little hail on the way back, but overall we couldn't have asked for better weather that weekend. We made good time, since more of the trip was downhill, and we found ourselves back at Mud Lake sooner than we expected. But the final two miles were agonizing - I don't think I've ever been more exhausted in my life. When we finally reached the summit of the last hill, Rich let out an elated whoop.

We were so relieved that I had remembered to leave a thermos full of water back in the car, and we were blessing Grandma's name for sending along a bag of snack food. We flopped to the ground; for the first quarter-hour, all we could do was munch lazily on crackers and cookies, and weakly ask each other to pass the water.

I finally got enough strength to stand and set up the tripod for this last photo, but the smiles on our faces and our distance from the camera belie the true nature of the situation. In reality, we were more like death-warmed-over. Our faces, shirts and legs were streaked with sweat and dirt. Our socks and shoes were unalterably caked with dust and mud. We moved slowly and gingerly, like arthritic old men. If my dad could've seen us then, he instantly would've regretted loaning me his Grand Cherokee with leather interior. I lost 5 pounds that weekend: my guess is that was comprised of 4 pounds of perspiration, plus the 1 pound of blood which I unwillingly donated to mosquitos.


It was an hour before we had the strength to lift everything into the car. Then we needed more water. We could've walked 50 yards to the campground, but chose to drive 300 yards instead. We hosed off our legs and feet, filled up our water bottles, and headed back towards civilization.

At highway 26/287, we headed south and east, over Togwotee Pass: beautiful scenery in that part of the state. I was too tired to drive far, so we stopped in the first town, Dubois, to get a hotel. Unfortunately, so had hundreds of bikers, on their way to Sturgis. We were lucky that we made inquiry at a motel which happened to have a helpful attendant; she called and found a place on the outskirts that had three rooms left. By the time we checked in there, the remaining two vacancies were occupied, too.

Our room had neither a phone nor toiletries; so while the boys showered, I drove back to town to call our families, to get some shampoo, and to see if any restaurants were still open. There was one, but we had to hurry up and get there before I could shower. Rich and I ordered something the menu called "pork", but which tasted suspiciously like ham. Entertainment was provided by the town drunk, as he took his chair with him from table to table, visiting with other locals in the restaurant. Back at the hotel, the boys were asleep before I was out of the shower. The long drive that lay before us the next day seemed like nothing when compared with what we had just done.

Fast-forward about 12 years: a researcher from the British game show QI Presented by Stephen Fry found these webpages and contacted me, asking for permission to use some of the photos on their show. I agreed, but then didn't hear anything for awhile, so I began to assume nothing would come of it... and even if my photos did get used, I couldn't imagine how I'd ever learn about it.

But - as if it's not remarkable enough that a guy from the UK found photos from my US website - about six months later one of my colleagues in the US was watching online videos of this UK quiz show, and just happened to recognize me in one of the photos.

Here's a link to this particular episode: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v =RtUG5x4PZDE
(The clip is about 14 minutes long, and quite interesting, but if you want to fast-forward to the relevant segment, it starts at about 4'30")