Day 76: Walking the ridge to Winter Park

Mileage: 27.4 miles (1184.3-1211.7)

I woke up late around 6:30am and didn't break camp until past seven. I filled some water and walked the road and then the bike path under I-70, a road ice I'd driven tons of times to go skiing.

Now, I'd walked there from Mexico. Pretty cool. I dried out stuff at the Herman Gulch Trailhead with the first patch of sun in close to 24 hours.

There were spectacular wildflowers in the meadow heading towards Herman Lake. Huge patches of Blue Columbine, Paintbrush, Parry's Primrose, and Mountain Bluebells graced my path, with high peaks rising in the distance.

I split off from Herman Lake trail on the CDT and clouds started to gather, signaling the storms were coming earlier than usual.

I got to about 12,400' before it started to dump on me. The thunder rolled in and it didn't seem like it was going to stop any time soon. With ten more miles above treeline I decided to hunker down in my tent and wait out the storm - the first time I'd done so on the entire trail. There were no trees to hide under so it was basically my only choice other than to risk getting struck by lightning or freezing.

I fell asleep, cooked up chili a Colorado Trail hiker had given me and right as I was about to pack up saw guy coming up the ridge - it was Chimichanga who I'd met two nights ago coming out of Breckenridge. He kept moving as I packed up, anxious to get over the 13,100' peak before another storm came.

I packed up and caught up to him after a couple miles. We had a wonderful ridgewalk, with mountains peaking in and out behind the clouds. It was made all the more spectacular since you had no idea what you were surrounded by until it emerged out of the fog. Soaring peaks and endless ridges on all sides.

We started heading down when it started raining again. We hid under a tree starting around 6pm when it really started to pour. I hung out until 7pm before I decided I would head to Winter Park for the night. I was super soggy and ready for some real food and a dry bed after setting up my tent in the middle of the day - I didn't want to set it up twice! Chimi stayed because he had gone over Gray's that day and was understandably exhausted. I had another beautiful walk along the ridge, as it finally cleared up for sunset.

I got to Berthoud Pass by 8:30pm but it was a tough hitch as it was getting dark. Probably twenty cars passed me by and it was suddenly pitch black and 9:15. I contemplated setting up camp as the clouds were gathering and it looked like it might storm. I yelled a four-letter word in frustration - why wouldn't another human pick up someone obviously in need? I was literally waving my hiking poles over my head.

I decided to wait five more minutes. A red jeep headed my way up the pass - I waved my hiking poles in the air - and he stopped! A kid from Boulder. Dropped me off at a hotel on his way. At first the lady said $80 and I told her I walked from Mexico and she said she child do $60. I took it. And the restaurant was even still open, albeit a bit expensive, I had a giant spinach salad and a cheeseburger with a beer and fries.

I topped the night off with hot tub and hung up all my stuff to dry around the room and then collapsed in the king size bed. What a difference a few hours can make.

Day 75: Big day on the Divide over Gray's Peak

Mileage: 24 miles (1160.3-1184.3)

I woke up at 4:15 so I could get an early start. The next 25 miles were above tree line and I aimed to finish it all out today. On top of that, the last climb of the day was Gray's Peak at more than 14,200'. If I was gonna fit all that in before the afternoon storms rolled in I was gonna have to move.

It was a pretty foggy and soggy morning, with a definite nip in the air. The fog burned off a little after I climbed Whale Peak and I was treated to incredible 360 degree views. I had to hide behind a rock and put on every layer I had to stay warm before the sun finally peaked through. The clouds rolled in on and off throughout the day, but that made me appreciate every view all the more.

There were great flowers as usual, including Moss campion and Rocky Mountain phlox, which stood out in big pink clumps against the bright blue sky. There were a lot of ups and downs and I definitely felt the altitude.

By about noon I came to the intersection where I could either go down nearly 3,000 feet to about 10,000, or I could stay up high, cut a few miles off, but have to climb a few more high peaks. I couldn't bear to lose all that elevation I'd earned so I took the high "Argentine Peak" alternate, electing to stay on the divide. It was also a bit shorter than official route - funny the official route doesn't stay on the divide. This sounds like it would be easier but it involved a ton of up and down and definitely wasn't a cake walk  I had wonderful views of Gray's and Torrey peak to the north - and Gray's loomed over me about eight trail miles to the north. I skirted Argentine Peak on a talus slope to avoid going up to 13,700' just to lose it. As I got on the Knife's edge spine heading towards Gray's, the clouds started rolling in and I got worried, but I had nowhere to go but over the peak.

Ascending the nameless peak before Gray's I saw lone mountain goat through the fog that had enveloped me. When I got over the peak I saw he had a partner. They looked more like yetis than anything else - they have so much hair! They grazed while I took pics. I could have watched them all day but I had to keep moving unless I wanted to get stuck on the ridge or accidentally walk off the knife's edge.

I was completely exhausted going up Gray's one step at a time, but also wasn't trying to take my time as I heard thunder overhead. I was about as exposed as you could be so I wanted to get off there as soon as possible.

When I finally reached the summit I was completely fogged in on top of Gray's and couldn't see more than twenty feet in front of me. 

I'd had wonderful views all day long, so I was just happy to be going down. The steady drizzle turned into heavy rain and then hail which stung my shins and ankles as I struggled to find the correct path down the mountain. Lightning flashed in the distance. I was lucky to be headed down towards treeline, even though I was totally soaked.

I finally made it to trailhead below tree line and setup camp under a fir tree. I was so exhausted I didn't even cook even though I was famished. I just ate peanut butter and chocolate.

Exhausted, I was asleep by 7:30.

Day 65: Heading south out of Leadville

Mileage: 35.2 miles (987.3-1022.5)

** I BROKE 1,000 MILES TODAY, WOOHOO! **

I started the morning in Leadville with a cup of coffee and baked good at the coffee shop. The barista there asked if I was going out for a hike today and I told her I was on the CDT. She said she had thought so because of my beard and plastic baggy wallet, but the laptop I was carrying threw her off. Her name was Trish or Fish and she lived at the hiker hostel in town. She had met Karma a week or two earlier and when I told her I had hiked with him, she said, "wait, are you Lt. Dan?" I guess Karma had told her about me. After I got my coffee I asked them to recommend a baked good and ended up with a very delicious blueberry-crumble muffin on the house. I hadn't hiked a mile in ten days so I felt a little guilty about the free muffin, but I was planning to do thirty five miles that day so I figured I'd take whatever I could get.

Kerry, Alex and Margi's new housemate, had offered to give me a ride up to Tennessee Pass and I gladly accepted. The pass is only 8 miles north of town on Highway 24, but that was much more than I wanted to walk with a big day ahead. I got to the trailhead by 8am, which was complete with a 10th Mountain Division memorial.

The 10th Mountain was a division of the army which trained high up in the Rockies to simulate combat in the Alps during WWII. They were some of the bravest and most badass soldiers, training for months in subzero conditions above 12,000 feet, all for the privilege to fight the Italians and Germans in probably the most brutal theater of the war - if the Nazis didn't get you, perhaps frostbite or hypothermia would. Today, the 10th Mountain Division system of huts provide wonderful retreats in the high mountains, especially in the winter where many use them as base for backcountry ski adventures. 

At the trailhead I ran into my first two Colorado Trail (CT) hikers of the trip, a couple from Denver. The CT goes from Durango to Denver almost 470 miles, congruent with the CDT for at least 200 of those. I wished them luck and set out. From Tennessee Pass the trail wound it's way gently up and down for a few miles until it reached the Holy Cross Wilderness. I was amazed how well the trail was maintained and breezed through the morning, feeling energized to get back on the trail. I ran into two more CT hikers, doubling the number I'd seen. These two had enormous looking packs and I wondered if they had food for all the way to Durango inside.

Motoring along some more I saw a guy about my age headed north. He looked pretty ragged so I assumed he was a CDT hiker. We stopped and chatted and it turned out he was from Austria and had been hiking since Mexico like me. He didn't realize I was also a CDT hiker because I was headed south. He'd also hiked through the San Juan's and we bonded over that suffering. We didn't linger long because the bugs were biting, but said we'd hope to meet again down the trail.

About an hour later I saw another fella heading north. This time it was Lion King, a lean,  shorter guy in his fifties. I had last seen him in Chama - he's the one who'd taken a low route West of the San Juan's with his wife and daughter. We exchanged stories of what'd happened since - he did most of the talking and not much of the listening as that's in his nature. We also said our goodbyes. I didn't know at the time, but these two were just the beginning of twelve CDT hikers I'd see that day - more than I'd seen in the first 1,000 miles combined.

None of the CDT hikers I came upon thought I was also a CDT hiker. It was interesting to see how different hikers reacted and responded to what they assume are day hikers. Some almost gave off a feeling of superiority, while others would pretend I didn't exist. It's funny the social order established on the trail, where only those hiking 3,000+ miles are deserving of respect or even acknowledgment of existence. For those that didn't even say "how are you" I also ignored. I was happy to meet the hikers who did stop and swap stories about the trail. By the end of the day it felt like I must have stopped and talked for close to two hours overall, even though it always seemed we both were in a rush.

There was Lion king, the Austrian kid, Dayman and his two friends, the two guys right after them that they wanted to avoid, the friendly big bearded guy, Hedgehog and his friend, and then another foreigner at end of day who asked me how far the trailhead was. It was kind of neat meeting folks because many of them had followed my blog and Facebook posts, especially when it came to the San Juan's. It was cool to see that me and Karma's trip actually helped others along the way and one group even joked that they'd "finally got to meet a legend!" Which is pretty silly.

Pretty much to a tee they all wondered how I ended up back there, why I was walking south, and where Karma was. In order, I explained I'd taken three weeks off trail in the  last month, that it was just logistically easier for me to walk south from Leadville, and Karma was somewhere near Rocky Mountain National Park. A lot of explaining every time you run into someone in the woods - in fact, I felt mentally exhausted by the end of the day meeting so many other hikers.

I needed to do 35 miles so I could meet my friend Jason, from Omaha, in Twin Lakes. Only in hindsight did I realize I shouldn't have planned so ambitiously for my first day back on trail in nearly two weeks. The first twenty or even twenty-five miles were no problem. There were remnant snow patches here and there, especially on the high, north-facing slopes, but at this point the snow was consolidated and easy to walk over. By mile 30, I was exhausted, and wishing I hadn't promised to meet Jason and his wife Kat at the campsite still four miles away. The real problem was me and Jason were going to share my tent and if I didn't make it, he wouldn't have a place to sleep. 

Totally exhausted I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. As I descended I stumbled through beautiful aspen groves, with the orange and brown heads of King Boletes popping through the duff of the forest floor. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have picked a couple as they are some the most delicious wild mushrooms. The Crimson and Colorado Blue columbine dotted the hillside as the sun was setting, but again I was too tired to appreciate them fully.

With a final few ups, when I should have been going down, I came to the Lakeview Campsite. I thought I'd finally made it. But then there was loop after loop after loop and everyone I asked about how to get to the campground host pointed me in a different direction. I contemplated collapsing at the nearest flat spot, but figured it'd be too hard for me to explain where I was to Jason and Kat. When I finally reached the host's campsite, he informed me it was completely full. I told him I'd walked 35 miles that day. He told me I could walk three more to next closest campground, which he couldn't guarantee wasn't full as well. Luckily, Kat and Jason pulled before I stabbed the dude with my hiking poles. Jason got directions from the guy and we drove to the lakeside campground. It was windy, but we found a flag spot to pitch our tent. I had a bite of cheese and tortilla and went to bed. Kids somehow managed to keep me up partying. I wanted to tell them to "f off" but was too tired. Jason must have thought I was a grumpy zombie.

Day 64: Slog out to Monarch Pass

Miles: 29.8 miles (957.5-987.3)

The tracks were getting even fresher as I headed off at 4:30am. It was another crystal clear morning and I couldn't believe today was the day I'd be getting off trail for nearly two weeks. But, that was only after I walked nearly 30 miles, including ending the day at over 12,000 feet, where there was bound to be snow. I hiked quickly before dawn to stay warm, knowing the morning sun would come soon to enliven my fingers and toes, which still weren't quite awake and getting the full benefit of warm blood flowing through their tiny veins.

Crossing a soggy meadow after about six miles I ran into a few tents. At first I thought they were large rocks with bright orange lichen on them, and it was only when I got within a few hundred feet that I realized my mistake. It's funny what your brain can fool you into thinking - especially in the morning when more blood is going to the legs than the head. In any case, my suspicion was confirmed, I caught up to them this morning!

I saw two tents that looked just like the one Restless had, but when I called for Restless a few times, there was no answer. I retraced my steps to the first green tarptent and then a woman's voice came out inquiring who was there. She popped her head out and I realized I'd never seen her in my life.  She was a thru-hiker, one of the 'Warrior Hikers', who are veterans that get sponsored to hike the trail. With her was Farmer and Mountain Spice. Farmer was also a warrior hiker who'd I'd never met and he seemed very knowledgeable about the area. We looked at far off peaks and he named them one by one. 

Mountain Spice was one of the first people I met on the trail, along with Karma and Restless at the kickoff party in Silver City. We exchanged stories and I learned they'd all taken the Creede cutoff. The snow conditions had actually worsened somewhat because the melting snow made for unstable conditions and potentially dangerous avalanches. It turned out Karma and I might have hit it at the perfect time - though there was still quite a bit of avalanche danger when we hiked it as well.

They gave me some updates about the trail ahead, including that there was quite a bit of snow near Monarch Pass. I figured it couldn't be anything compared to what I'd already faced. I said my goodbyes and said I'd probably see them all up trail since I was taking some time off.

I had view of Mt Antora as I trekked northward, tracking Restless and whoever else was ahead of me. I kept thinking how strange it was that I'd be in Omaha tomorrow. I kept pushing and hit pretty heavy snow on the north side of the hills. The snowshoes helped some, but half the time I still ended up post-holing up to my knees. I just tried to keep moving, knowing I'd be out soon.

I ran into a runner and his friend near Marshall Pass and they told me Shira, who I'd last seen in Lake City, was just up ahead about two hours, but moving fast. I figured I probably wouldn't catch her in the next ten miles, but it was comforting knowing someone was just ahead. One of the guys gave me an orange and I ate the rest of my tuna and tortillas preparing to make the final ten mile push towards Monarch Pass.

The first few miles up were no problem - snow-free and a pretty gentle grade, it was pretty easy walking - but then the snow patches started filling back in and it the clouds started to darken ominously. I tried to move faster, but the faster I moved the more I postholed, losing precious energy digging myself with each step.

I reached treeline and could see what lay ahead - a snowy trek along the divide with cornices dotting the route, precariously hanging on to the crest - the last thing I wanted to see for the last five miles. Not to mention that the wind was picking up and I was beginning to see lightning strikes off in the distance. I kept following the tracks in the snow, which sometimes was better than blazing my own path, and sometimes just made it easier to fall through. And then there was so much snow, and even more post-holing, up to my waist. It was so crushing to know how close I was to the road and my friends, but that I probably couldn't make more than a mile per hour in the snow.

And then, of course, it started to rain. Hard. The rain and sleet whipped in sideways and stung my cheeks. I had to pull my cap down low in front of my face to avoid the ice from shooting into my eyes and blinding me for a few seconds at a time. I finally reached the crest and began to descend to Monarch. Wherever the snow had melted I broke into a run, or at least my best imitation of a run at that point in the day, hoping I wouldn't make Alex and Margi wait too long at Monarch Pass. It was already 5pm, when I said I'd meet them, and I still had two miles to go. After one last push through the snowy woods, I took my snowshoes off and hit a 4WD road and was able to jog down to the pass. Seeing the old-school gondola at Monarch, I knew I was close, but wish I'd just ridden it down.


I reached the door  of the store and as I opened it, Alex was walking out. I was dripping like a wet dog who had spent all day out in the rain. I asked him to grab my package so I didn't make a mess of the store. Then I realized there was a snack bar and walked in anyways. I had no money so Alex bought me a coffee and nachos. They were so good. When we got in the car Alex said I smelled much worse than a soggy dog, and more like a dead one. Once we were all loaded up, we headed down to Buena Vista and I told them about the last few days of rain and snow. It was so good to be warm and inside their car, knowing I didn't have to go back there for at least ten days. 

At the Eddy Line we split nachos and I had a huge salad with a calzone. I'm embarrased to say I couldn't finish the calzone, but did later that night. After that, we headed over to Mt. Princeton Hot Springs where we soaked for a few hours - the perfect end to a very long day. I slept the whole way back to Leadville.

Day 63: Blazing through the Cochetopa Hills

Mileage: 34.4 miles (923.1-957.5)

It was a clear and even almost brisk morning as the rain had finally passed through last night. As I was getting my things together and ready for the day I realized a mouse had chewed through my tent, ground sheet, and a ziploc bag which contained a few nuts and raisins. I wouldn't have cared if he hadn't put a hole in the mesh floor of my tent, but apparentally, it was one hungry mouse! I realized the soft chewing noise I kept hearing overnight wasn't, in fact, my imagination.

I repaired the holes with some tape and vowed no more prepping food the night before and leaving it out. I didn't even like the raisins. I packed everything up and looked out at the beautiful morning. What stood out most was how green it all was. It was the first morning on trail without snow in close to month. I watched mule deer in the meadows trotting and sauntered down the 4WD roads without a worry in the world.

Yeah, I was taking pics of dandelions, haha

And then came the rain without clouds. WTF! Literally there was one cloud in the sky and it was raining on me. Just my luck. I've had pretty much the worst weather ever on this trip. I literally can't remember last day without some kind of precipitation - types of precipitation I didn't even know existed, groppel, anyone? My last day which was devoid of water falling from the sky had to be in New Mexico. I'm not so much complaining (ok, I am complaining) as expressing my astonishment by how much water I've seen in a year where all I've heard about is drought. Well, there is drought everywhere else. Just not northern New Mexico and the southern Rockies.

I followed footprints through the wet trail and before I knew it had covered seventeen miles by noon. When I started out this leg I needed to do over 100 miles in 3 1/2 days to meet my friends, Margi and Alex, at Monarch pass so I could get a ride to our five-year College reunion in New Hampshire. It felt weird to be getting off-trail for an extended break but I was ready to let the snow melt. And I really wanted to reconnect with friends I hadn't seen in so long. College was a pretty formative experience and I think I'd regret not going back when I had the opportunity to see so many people I cared about. Anyways, that's why I was in a rush.

Here's a note I wrote myself today: "Don't forget to grab box at monarch crest store - discard all contents, except candy bars"

Haha, that shows you how sick I am of everything I carefully packed and prepared. If I ever hike another long trail, I wouldn't do it like this again. I'd rather resupply in a gas station with only candy bars than eat another homemade Lara bar or burnt bean mush.

No aliens. Best sign on the trail, hands down.

It started raining again in the early afternoon but it was mostly a good day, just cloudy. Then it started freezing rain. And then the snow showed up again on the trail, agh! It was okay walking though, pretty much zero post-holing, but it was more the psychological defeat of thinking I was going to be snow-free for a few days, just to see it show right back up on the northern slopes.

As I reached the summit of Mt Baldy I saw the Sangres to the East, which were framed perfectly by the rain clouds. The jagged peaks were probably more than fifty miles away, but they shimmered brightly in the sun. I'd been seeing them off and on since New Mexico, but this might be the last glimpse I get of them on my walk. These 13,000 and 14,000 foot peaks were what we confused initially with the San Juan's way back near Chama. I could also see the San Juan's to south, and was thankful I wasn't there anymore!

I began getting tired and achy with a few miles to go, so I had two of my magic 'pastel peanuts' (I'm in Colorado!), which did make me forget the pain some, but also got me immediately lost - as usual. Or more politely, 'taking a non-traditional route which is longer'. I eventually bushwhacked to the CDT after accidentally following a different trail which ran perpendicular to it for a 1/2 mile.

I didn't catch up to the folks today, but their prints were getting fresher and fresher. Their tracks were full of freezing rain so they were just a few hours ahead, if not less. I think I'll find 'em tomorrow if they aren't asleep. I ate beef flavored ramen, love cooking twice in a day (three times if you count coffee ... I've turned soft!) Beef is infinitely better than lime-shrimp spicy flavor - I added the whole packet last night and it was nearly inedible it was so salty. And then spicy in a weird way that just made me cough. 

Anyways, time for bed.

Day 62: Up San Luis Peak and down Cochetopa Creek

Mileage: 27.6 miles (895.5-923.1)

I had a 3:30am wakeup this morning. Heating up my coffee I understood why Doug Peacock (whose book, Grizzly Years, I'm currently reading) says, "mmmmm....chemicals" when he gets his fix each morning - I could literally feel the caffeine creeping into my brain and seeping throughout my body, waking up my limbs in the frenetic way that only a cup of coffee - no matter how bad or good - does. 



Clouds enveloped the nearby peaks as I trekked closer to San Luis Peak. Later that morning, I'd be as close to a 14,000 foot peak that I have been on the entire trail, with the option to scale the mountain from the saddle 1,500' below. As I walked, pondering my choices, a baby elk sprinted from out behind the bushes. It's mother had left it to hide while it fled to the top of the ridge. Luckily for it I was neither a wolf nor a mountain lion, each of whom would have made quick work of the small animal, whose legs still trembled with fear as it hopped away.

I followed the footsteps which had cut across steep side slopes, which made everything wayyyy easier. I realized how much energy I burned each day breaking new tracks and was thankful I'd finally taken enough time off for other to pass me. About ten miles past my camp I came to the junction where the Creede Cutoff joined the trail. I saw a lot of tracks come up from the south, verifying the rumors that many had foregone the 130 mile loop the divide takes and walked the lower and shorter route through Creede.

I was thankful I hadn't taken the shortcut. In the hundred miles they cut off, the other hikers missed some of the most incredible and awe-inspiring terrain I've ever walked through. Sure, it was a pain in the ass and I wouldn't have wished the post-holing on my worst enemy, but the beauty and bliss of solitude was unmatched.

After the junction with the Creede Cutoff I saw three pairs of snowshoes left right next to the trail. I figured it was very inconsiderate thru-hikers or day hikers. Then I saw dog prints and figured it must have been day hikers trying to scale San Luis Peak in their quest to tick off every 14,000 footer in Colorado. I feel bad for the checklisters and the ticker-offers. These mountains held so much more than peaks to be bagged: topographic maps and elevation can't even begin to describe the magic that resides within the San Juan's, at whose northern doorstep I finally had reached.



The clouds seemed to be holding off, so I decided to head up San Luis Peak, my first 14,000' peak in Colorado. I figured if bad weather struck, I could always book it back down the way I came. On the way up, I saw the day hikers. There were three of them, with two dogs. A man and two young women. The man didn’t seem too happy to see me, but the women asked me questions about my trip and told me they had come down from Denver for the day. They also asked me if I’d seen the guy who’d lost his shoe. I told them I hadn’t and tried to figure out how the hell a thru-hiker managed to lose the most important thing he had. They said he’d been trying to fill up his water bottle in the middle of the night and an ice bridge collapsed. Now I wondered why the hell he was trying to get water in the middle of the night. Some people…

I mentioned I might go down the other side and they told me they’d ‘only seen a cornice that way’ and my hopes sank. I was carrying my pack up San Luis peak for nothing! Yet, it was my first fourteener on the CDT, so I didn’t let them deflate my hopes. At the top there were great views and I even found the bronze summit marker in the rock. I peaked over the edge and saw that there was, in fact, not just a cornice but a nice ridge that would take me down to the Stewart Creek drainage. I double-checked my GPS and my Ley maps and all seemed good. My GPS even had the Stewart Creek trail labeled, which was unusual. As I headed down the snow began to diminish until finally I reached the creek 2,500 feet below. Across the valley I saw a VW sized piece of snow hurtling down a steep snow slope. I was probably only two miles away, but it felt like I was in another world. For a few days I’d be free from avalanche worries and post-holing and even snow. I couldn’t wait.

                                    

Stewart Creek was probably the best maintained trail so far on the CDT, with plenty of erosion control and logs supporting the trail on steep slopes. As I gently descended I came to a grove of ancient Bristlecone Pines, totally gnarled on a steep, south facing slope. Some of the trees in the grove were probably over 1,000 years old. I marveled at there resilience and rugged beauty as examined every part of their trunks, limbs, and cones.

Even further down the valley I came upon the stark purple and yellow of the Rocky Mountain Iris and the flashing red of the Paintbrush. Small gold and yellow birds, which were too quick to get a good look at, flitted about by the creek. Maybe a gold finch or a yellow warbler. Just the fact, that I couldn’t narrow it further shows how bad I am at birds. Moose poop was everywhere - tons of it, but no moose.

                            
The trail wound through beaver dams and the sprawling wetlands they created. I saw baby muskrat swimming about in the ponds and wondered when I’d come upon such a paradise. I stopped to examine an especially impressive beaver dam and when I turned back I saw a large brown creature off in the distance. I figured it was either a bear on it's hindlegs or a moose,  but I was too faraway to tell.

I started walking back up the trail and saw there was a calf nursing. It was definitely a moose. It just stared at me and let me get within 30 yards, with only the stream between us. It was really fucking cool. I got a couple pictures and they finally ran off. 

                                        

After about 18 miles a took a break at Eddysville trailhead and ate an early dinner of Mac’n’Cheese.

It started to drizzle and then rain. I started following a different river drainage which also looked like great Moose habitat, but I mostly kept my head down to avoid getting wetter than I had to. A few miles later I came to nasty river crossing. The two "bridges" were completely washed out and the river was raging. I waded hip deep through muck, my feet sinking with every step. The second crossing was shallower, but there was no respite from the rain. It poured and poured and poured for the rest of the day. 



I followed the trail as it hopped from one jeep road to another, hoping the aspens they wound through would offer some shelter from the storm. They didn’t.  The roads were too wide and the Aspens were too young for them to do any good. After topping a hill and coming down for a mile or two, I stopped at about 7pm. I was completely soaked, but setup camp under a large spruce. The tree dripped slightly, but it was better than the rain. After I got my tent up the rain stopped. It didn’t rain again until morning.

Day 61: Back on the Trail at Spring Creek Pass

Mileage: 10.4 miles (885.1-895.5)

Laura and I woke up late in Montrose, CO and hustled to make the continental breakfast which ended at 9am at the Black Canyon Motel. Laura had a waffle and I had a couple bagels with cream cheese and a donut with some coffee. I stuffed a few bagels in my pocket with some cream cheese packets for the trail, knowing they'd taste five times better out there. It was a bummer knowing this was the last time I'd wake up with Laura and get to eat breakfast with her for a few months.

We packed up all our junk, noticed a tick on the bed, and then got the heck outta there. We weren't sure if we brought the tick or if it was the guests before us. Our bodies were tick free. I resupplied at Safeway and then we headed back towards Lake City after a quick pitstop for more coffee. We took the Blue mesa cutoff, which is a dirt road shortcut to Lake City from Highway 149. You can't go much more than 40 mph but it was much more scenic than the highway, with Lupine and Paintbrush dotting the hillsides.

We stopped by Lucky's in Lake City to check-in with him and leave a few extra supplies for other hikers. He said a couple were the only ones to head north on the CDT while I was off-trail for nearly a week. Karma took a lower route through Gunnison, while Handy Andy walked roads towards Monarch Pass, and Shira walked roads to Cochetopa Pass. I might see her in the next few days, but the other guys are probably long gone walking the roads.

Laura drove the final seventeen miles up towards Spring Creek Pass and once we got there we cried. It was hard to leave one another again after such a wonderful time and know that we might not see each other for another three months. It's on me for hiking the trail, but it's this kind of distance that's made me realize how much I love and care about her. Walking away from the parking lot I felt silly to walk away from her. Often, I feel so small up in the mountains - so insignificant that it seems like the rest of the world is completely indifferent to my life and anything that I do. It's the kind of feeling that makes me wonder what I'm doing wasting a moment without Laura and other loved ones by my side. But, I know the small feeling will go away after a day or two, while the longing and love will be there to keep me going.

A lot of snow had melted so the trail was easily followed and even mostly dirt for the first couple miles. Though, it did go up about 1,600 ft in the two miles to Snow Mesa so it wasn't a piece of cake. True to it's name, snow began to fall as I gained the top of the mesa. The bare south facing slope gave way to a flat topped mountain still full of snow. I was very happy I'd kept my snowshoes and was able to stay on top most of the time. I came to some slushy snow and though I thought it looked strange, I just stepped on top. Well, I was only on top for a split second before I was knee deep in icy water. I'd entered a slushy bog and the only way out was 50 ft more of sloshing through the frigid water. Once I made it out my toes were numb. I took off my snowshoes and ran circles around my pack trying to warm up my toes. I got them a little warmer after a few minutes and proceeded up the trail.

As the afternoon progressed, the weather cleared some and I even saw a patch of blue sky. I continued to slog through the wet snow for awhile before I realized that Snow Mesa was basically a huge wetland at 12,000 ft. Lucky me.

After about eight miles or so I began to descend, seeing a Silver Fox off in the distance running up the slope to stay clear of me, his bushy tail bouncing behind him. On the way down I saw a large brown creature down in the meadow. It took me a second to realize what it was - a moose up at 11,700 ft! I looked down at the trail and realized what I had assumed were Elk tracks were in fact my Moose friend down in the valley. I whistled at him to let him know I was there. He looked up at me and kept grazing.

On the way down I also walked across a massive avalanche debris field. Entire trees had been swept away. I sure was glad I wasn't around for that one - it was the kind of avalanche that would have almost certainly killed you if you were caught in it's path.

I found a good couple trees to camp under and cooked my Alfredo noodles before bed. I went to sleep by 9:30pm wishing Laura was still by my side.

Day 55: Long Day into Lake City

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.