Mileage: 26.3 miles (858.8-885.1)
What a crazy, insanely long day! Writing this after it's all over, I can't believe I had a shower just yesterday morning. We started hiking by 2am hoping to make it to Lake City before the predicted storms rolled through later in the day. The first few miles were still following our mystery snowshoer. It was much easier following his tracks and not having to navigate ourselves.
After a couple hours, at the turnoff to Cataract Lake, we were speculating on where and when our snowshoer had come from. We guessed he'd left around 8am the morning previous (from how much the snow had melted in his prints) and that he was a thru-hiker (given how much we saw his sneaker prints, rather than snowshoes in the snow ... we figured only a thru-hiker would slog that much). Then, all of a sudden, we heard a disembodied voice say, 'is that you Lt. Dan and Karma?' At first, I thought I imagined it, but then we heard it again and saw a headlamp approaching.
As he got closer, we saw he was a lean, grey-bearded man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties. He said his name was Rick, from Durango. He wasn't a thru-hiker but just out walking for a few days. Then he told us one of the coolest things I'd heard in a long time: that he had been inspired by our adventure from reading our Facebook posts and blog and that's how he'd decided to take his venture into the San Juan's. Now, I'm definitely not writing to inspire others, but it's cool to hear that as an unintended consequence! He even said he had hoped to give us a ride up the pass from Silverton, but we must have missed him by an hour or two.
As we continued on the sun began to rise and we saw some Elk prancing through the meadows south of Carson Peak. The Alpine phlox dotted the sides of the trail like white clusters of stars. On our way up to Carson Pass, the winds began to pick up and it got cold. Out of nowhere we were on top of the divide in a whiteout. It got pretty nasty, with gusts around 50 mph, so we built a rock wall to block the wind and hunkered down to wait out the storm. Unfortunately, it didn't stop. The wind continued to howl and our feet started to get cold. We could either get in our sleeping bags and pitch our tents or we could keep going. We kept going. We knew there was a Yurt about four miles away, so we would try to get there before we got too cold. The winds were strong and Karma lost water bottles six and seven. I feel like we need to get over/under going for how many he'll lose throughout the trail.
After an incredibly frustrating couple miles of post-holing in snow the consistency of mashed potatoes, we dropped down the to valley with the yurt. Our map said it might be open, so we crossed our fingers and toes as we approached. I got onto the porch, turned the knob, and voila, we were inside! The Colorado Trail friends yurt was complete with a huge wood stove, split wood, cots, and even a propane stove for cooking. I immediately got a fire going and we started drying out our gear. We were completely soaked by the driving wind and rain, so were incredibly relieved to be somewhere warm and dry. We each cooked up some food and then took a nap. We had already hiked more than seventeen miles and were completely exhausted.
We woke up around 2pm with our usual dilemma: should we stay or should we go? The winds had been howling and the rain hadn't really stopped, but it did look clearer outside, with the mountains across the valley visible. It was only 8 miles to the highway which would take us to Lake City so we decided to set out. Little did we know it would be the worst eight miles of our lives wading though hip-deep snow in snowshoes through freezing rain.
It started out just fine, with an easy, snow-free climb for about a mile. The weather was cooperating and we even got so hot we had to take off our jackets. Then it started to piss rain. Cold rain. Really hard. The snow was so soggy that we couldn't stay on top. Every step plunged us hip deep into the snow. Sometimes it was every other, but it was miserable for the person breaking trail. Following wasn't so bad, besides the fact that you generated less heat so the wet, cold rain was able to seep into your veins and give you a chill that was nearly impossible to shake. We came to a steep slope and were forced to slide down the only part where there wasn't an overhanging cornice. Karma slid first and got up hollering for me to also slide down: it was the easiest quarter mile of the day.
We knew we only had to get a little over five miles from the hut before we started descending to Highway 149. Knowing this almost made it worse. Every step felt like wading through semi-frozen mashed potatoes: so wet and heavy, impossibly sticking to the top and bottom of our snowshoes.
Karma started yelling and screaming and kicking at the snow. He told me he could no longer feel his toes and that he'd just peed on them, but still didn't feel anything. I said we needed to keep moving and get lower down where there wasn't snow so our feet would warm up. I was also really cold and stripped off my wet raincoat to put on my down jacket. In the process, I had to take off my thin running gloves, which were icy and sopping wet anyways. My hands immediately were freezing. I had to pee, so I peed on them. The urine was much hotter than I expected and it stung my hands. The feeling of being too cold and warming too quickly is more painful than the cold itself. The heat was short-lived and I had to move quickly to catch-up to Karma. The freezing rain whipped and stung my face. When I put my down jacket on I also wrapped my Cuben Fiber ground cloth around me to stay warm. Once again, I must have looked like a madman.
After climbing two hills that shouldn't have been there according to the topos, we finally began to descend. We were following a road that also wasn't on the map that slowly had less and less snow until finally we walked on dirt and mud. The wet snow of the alpine environment gave way to a green and verdant valley, where you'd never know it was total winter less than a mile away.
I jogged the last mile after Karma told me how close we were. The sight of Lucky's truck in the parking lot at the trailhead was one of the most welcome in the last two months. He was excited to see us and said the first ones through the San Juan's were always pretty frazzled like us. Last year, he said it was a German mountain guide who had spent a lot of time in the Alps. Upon meeting Lucky, he said, 'it's a crazy death trap out there" unlike anything he'd ever experienced.
Lucky's truck was warm and we were incredibly grateful for the sense of normalcy he immediately brought. He started telling us about the town and the surround peaks. He asked if we'd seen any moose and we said it was probably still too cold and snow covered up there. About five minutes later we saw a woman stopped in road with her arm hanging out. She didn't have any hazards on so we wondered what was going on. We looked to the left and there was a cow moose and two mooselings (I know, calves, but I like mooselings better). I'd never seen a baby moose in all my years in New Hampshire. I was glad we were in the car. They were just grazing in a little bog, oblivious to our prying eyes
When we arrived at Lucky's hostel, the Raven's Rest, we were amazed. It was a beautiful converted garage, complete with a kitchen, lounge, four showers, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. Me and Karma had our own room! When I got in the shower I couldn't believe it had only been yesterday when I last showered. It felt like a week. After warming up, we went over to Southern Vittles and I got a catfish poboy, French fries, hushpuppies, a beer, and cherry pie. Sleepy and satisfied we both went to bed thankful to be somewhere dry and warm.
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