Day 41: The Final Push through the South San Juan's

Mileage: 16 miles (728.4-744.4)

We woke up at 3am hoping for an early start. The wind was howling and it was freezing so we went back to bed and didn't get back up until 5:30. We hoped to make a big push today to ensure we only had one more day out. 

The wind was still roaring as we packed up our tents but at least the blizzard from the previous night had subsided. Of course, a few minutes after we started hiking it picked back up again. By the time we reached Summit Peak it was a full-on white out conditions and Karma and I could barely see each other from 20 yards away. We checked the Guthooks GPS app on Karma's phone every few minutes to make sure we weren't going to walk off a cliff.

As we navigated our way through the storm we noticed a little brown dot scurrying towards us. At first, I thought we were imagining it, but sure enough, when we got closer we saw a small, brown creature resembling a hamster. It was an America Pika, the first we'd seen on trail! What he was doing out in the storm seemed only to be explained by his fascination with us. He got within a few yards and even started following us for awhile. It was a little creepy because besides a hamster, he also kind of looked like a rat in the low-light.

As we rounded Summit Peak, careful not to go up it's broad shoulder, patches of sun began to peak out. By the time we traversed down to the snow field below the peak, the sun won the battle with the clouds and broke through completely, so we stopped to dry out sleeping bags, which were quite damp from the night before.

The snowmobilers on the ridge that they maybe didn't deserve...

After our break and as we walked to Montezuma peak I noticed some huge tracks off in the distance. Immediately, I thought bear. And then I noticed a large black object roaring down the hill. Then another and another. It took me a second to comprehend they were going much too fast for a bear, or any animal that large. They were snowmobiles.

I started ranting and raving to Karma about how we were in a wilderness area and those fuckers shouldn't be here because these places were closed to motor vehicles - you can't have a damn wheel barrow in a wilderness because the wheel is too high tech ... and on and on before long they were right on top of us.

The guys were nice enough - the first one explained, without prompting, that they were 'skirting the wilderness boundary line along the creek.' I knew it was bullshit because why else would he explain that detail so closely without any prompting? And wouldn't he have known that were hiking so we obviously have maps which tell us where the wilderness is?

Anyways, I think those loud, gas-guzzling, exhaust spewing machines should be outlawed everywhere, except in the backyards of the guys who want them mucking up their own land. 

In any case, my convictions ended with my stomach. I held my tongue as the other two guys pulled up and immediately asked us if we had enough food and water. This is a funny question that we get asked a lot. Because, sure, we'd survive with the stuff we have, but damn, I really don't want to eat another homemade Lara bar or my stinking granola (say the word and I'll send you the bars...you can send me some poptarts or something equally sugar/fat-filled in return, which I find much more appetizing on the trail). After just one state I get noxious at the thought of eating certain foods I have in my pack, so it's probably time to get rid of them, either to other hikers or to the garbage can.

The snowmobilers were from Pagosa Springs and were about to ski/snowboard down the chutes on Summit Peak's north face. It didn't seem like they really earned it. Of course, we had walked from Mexico. The guys, who come here often, said they'd "never seen a hiker this time of year" and really couldn't believe we were out there. They were especially baffled by Karma's sneakers. The food they bestowed on us was wonderful: a few Clif bars, pigs in a blanket heated by their motor (yes, I had my first hot dog in who knows how many years), and a strawberry fruit smoothie all of which we consumed voraciously. On trail you can't turn down any food. Your body is literally eating itself.

Karma glissading (sliding on his butt) down a snow slope.

As the day wore on, our bodies began to feel the pain of four days breaking trail through a couple feet of snow, up and down thousands of feet. My feet began to get sore from the boots and Karma was visibly fatigued. We checked our maps and decided we'd cut down to a road from Bonito pass and then on down to Highway 160 to cut off a few miles the next day. By that time we'd be in lower elevation forest, not nearly as spectacular as what we'd already walked through. No towering, craggy peaks, just a lot of melting and slushy snow- like mashed potatoes mixed with baking powder.

We motored the entire day, pushing to reach the pass that would take us back to civilization, and most importantly, hot food. At night I could start to feel my ribs protrude more prominently when I laid down and I dreamt of  grilled cheese and tomato soup, a staple of my childhood diet. I was starving.

By the late afternoon the snow was complete mush and with each step we'd sink in knee deep or further. One time I actually got stuck waist deep in snow, unable to free myself for a few minutes until I dug myself out with my trekking poles. My foot had been stuck under a tree.

The stunning vistas of sharp black, white, and red mountains had been replaced by swaths of green forests below. Unfortunately, the snow was still there. As we rounded out the day down to Bonito pass it began to snow. It stopped for a second just long enough for us to find a campsite. Once we began setting up our tents it started up again with a vengeance. I was busy burying my stakes in the snow when lightning cracked in the sky and thunder clapped immediately behind. I swear I could see and feel the electricity with each bolt. I was scared as hell. I made sure the tent was set up well, bracing for the storm. I finally got myself and my backpack into the tent. I was exhausted, famished, and dehydrated. I ate everything I could stomach in my food bag, which was mostly just almond butter and banana chips. I tried to cook something but my stove went out before the water boiled. It was 9:30, which is basically 2am for a hiker. I surrendered to sleep.

The first trail in five days, woohoo!