Day 39: High up in the San Juan's

Mileage: 14.3 (702.6-716.9)

I forgot to mention yesterday about the hole. We were right on top of the ridge when I noticed a big hole dug into the side of the mountain. At first I thought it was a crevasse, but we weren't on a glacier, and so then I thought an animal. All of a sudden I felt very scared. I'd been reading my book about Grizzlies in the San Juan's and remembered they dig holes high up in the side of mountains to hibernate in the winter. Do I know there was a grizzly inside the hole? No. But my hair stood up on end and I felt we needed to get the hell out of there. Who knows, but it does feel good knowing there are bears out there ... as long as you're not too close.

I also realized this morning we'd camped next to the headwaters of Rio Chama, the large river we had crossed about a week back, right before Ghost Ranch. We traced it all the way to it's life blood: the icy snow of the San Juan's. 

Today was the hardest fourteen miles I've ever done. We post-holed through the snow almost the entire day. In the morning the snow had an icy crust that broke only when you put all your weight on it, which actually saps your energy much faster than if it just broke right away. By the afternoon, we were slogging through snow with the consistency of mashed potatoes, which it turns out is easier than breaking through the ice crust. 

Yet, all the trouble was definitely worth it. Every corner we turn and peak we ascend affords us a new angle on the neighboring mountains and valleys. One word we used over and over again was 'epic'. The peaks are tremendously sheer and razor sharp, making us wonder how many humans have ever been on top. Surely you'd need climbing ropes and gear for many of the peaks we saw. And then to walk in 20 miles from the nearest road.

It was a perfectly blue sky day, which was wonderful for viewing the peaks, though we did get a lot of sun both from the sky and reflecting off the snow. Around midday we ran into some White-tailed Ptarmigan on top of a mountain we climbed to avoid deep snow. They were just walking very slowly away from us, depending on their splendid spring camouflage of mottled brown and white. If they wouldn't have moved from their snow beds, we never would have seen them, just assumed they were rocks in the snow. They are tremendously beautiful birds, one of the few adapted to live above 10,000 ft. They stayed so close to us it would have been easy to get one with a rock - we were within five feet a few times - but that wouldn't have been fair as it seemed like these particular birds were just as curious about us as we were about them.

By around 5:30 we came to Blue Lake and found some much needed water by digging down with my trekking poles and scooping out the snow and ice. We found we've been getting dehydrated much easier up here with the sun reflecting off the snow. 

After we made dinner we pushed on past the lake to get a head start on tomorrow's ascent to 12,400 ft. day steep slope climb. We both wished we had a third person. Today we barely managed 1 mph with all the deep snow. With three people we figured we could do 1.5 mph, which over the course of the day is a huge difference.

Around 8pm we started looking for a campsite and Karma suggested some trees near a cliff. I was worried about rock or snowfall so kept going. We had to skirt around below the cliff - it was pretty steep and completely covered in snow so it was pretty difficult after the long day. We had to kick steps into the snow for safety. It was only after we made it to the top that Karma and I both wished we had taken out our ice axes.

After the one last exhausting climb we cowboy camped under the stars in a bed of spruce boughs to keep warm.

Day 38: Up into the San Juan's

Mileage: 15.3 miles (687.3-702.6)

We regretfully arranged for our ride at 7am, not realizing that wouldn't give us time for a proper breakfast. We'd been indulging the last few days, so the empty stomach felt all that more empty as me and Karma got in the car to head up to Cumbres Pass and back to the CDT. It was sad to leave everyone, but we all had to hike our own hike and do what we had to do. 

As we drove off, it started pouring rain, picking up where it left off last night with the thunderstorms. Conrad, our driver, was the father of the cleaning lady, both of whom were very good people. In fact, Chama was full of good people, from Dan who gave us ride back from the post office with all our boxes, to Chester, the motel owner, who performed karaoke for me in his hotel lobby (digression: me and Chester literally were in the middle of a conversation, when he said, "let me show you something." Next thing I knew he'd whisked the sheet off the karaoke machine and was belting out his favorite country songs ... because "it ain't music if it ain't country!" ... video below)

Conrad lamented the kids in town, many of whom had turned to drugs like meth and the violence involved in making sure you always had your fix. He also talked to us about the Cumbres-Toltec railroad, an old narrow gauge railway that's still running today from Chama. It's tourists now who ride it, instead of passengers or freight from Durango and westward. He told us how one of the trestles (bridges) had been mysteriously blown up and closed the railroad for an entire year. They still don't know who did it but everyone has a theory.

He dropped us off at just above 10,000 ft at the pass and told us to call him if we had any trouble. At this point it was basically a full on blizzard. We tried to give him cash for the ride, but the only thing we could get him to keep was $5 for gas. 

As we got out into the heavy falling snow we both wondered if we'd made a mistake and the weather people were all wrong (like they are 50% of the time anyways). After we got our stuff together we set out in the blizzard again, almost identical conditions to when we'd arrived down at the pass a few days earlier. Except this time we had 70 miles before the next town

It slowly started clearing by around 10am and we couldn't have been happier after getting soaked by the wet snow. We climbed steadily, eventually all the way to 12,100 feet. We could see huge peaks of all around us: near, far, south, west, east, and north. They were all shapes and sizes, from very pointy and craggy to square-shaped and massive.  

The blue sky was beautiful against the white snow. After all the shit we got from the rest of the hikers, we couldn't have been happier to be up here, away from all the talk and speculation. We were doing it. Living. Taking a chance, but one where we could always turn back or go to a road. Of course, the south San Juan Wilderness is one of the wildest and most remote in the lower 48, so if we needed to bail it wouldn't be easy by day two or three. But I was confident in my experience in snow travel, as well as Karma's ability.

The best walking was on top of ridges, where the wind blew strong and scoured the snow off the rocks. This made it so we didn't have to trudge through the snow, but we did have to deal with the high winds.  It was slow going nonetheless, and we only could make about 1.5 mph, a big dip from our 3-3.5 mph average. But, there's nothing you can do. The snow is deep and we had a lot of uphill, so all we could do was take it one step at a time.

We found the first open water above 11,000 ft at Dipping Lakes, where we decided to camp on the snow in the trees. There weren't really any other options though as 11,200 ft would be the lowest elevation we'd see for the next two days. I ate macaroni and cheese for dinner and added ketchup and mayonnaise. Mayo is something I typically find disgusting, but it is my absolute favorite condiment on the trail. It's salty and fatty and delicious. I eat it plain too. Maybe too much info. I'm going to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.

Days 36 and 37: Double Zero in Chama

Mileage: zero

We've got a dilemma: should we stay or should we go? North of us in the San Juan's is the highest part of the trail so far, all above 10,000 ft. On top of that there's been a lot of spring snow, which has swollen the snow pack from it's meager levels (one of the driest winters on record) to a lot closer to normal. The fresh snow promises to make it tough going through these mountains, especially if more storms come through in the next few days making it impossible to see.

So we played the game of talking about every single possibility. Some of these included: road walking to avoid the snow, hanging out for a week or two waiting for the snow to melt, going up to Wyoming and hiking lower elevation sections up there, and even lower alternate routes through the San Juan's.

I didn't really like any of the options available. Who wants to walk a road? Not me. Who wants to sit around and spend money on food and lodging waiting what could be a month for snow to melt or better weather to pass through? Not me. Take a bus, train, car, or plane to Wyoming? No way! None of these options fit my idea of a thru-hike and didn't really feel right for me. 

Nonetheless, each option had it's proponent. Maniac had been talking about walking roads for weeks. He simply doesn't care how he gets to Canada as long as he walks. It's a shame too, because he could do the San Juan's if he wanted - it's just a mental block with snow and cold.

Problem Bear and Commando expounded on the advantages of flipping up to Wyoming. Restless, who had hurt his ankle, wanted to rest, so he tried to convince folks to take it easy, and maybe make a trip down to the Grand Canyon or another National Park. Too many agendas, too many people trying to convince one another of something. Everyone had a motive and an angle. No one wanted to be left hiking alone.

I started looking at the weather and saw a break in the weather starting on Tuesday morning and lasting until Thursday. It was brief, but it was only 70 miles to the next town, Pagosa Springs, so that might be all we needed.

I talked to Karma, one of the strongest hikers, about it and he agreed we should shoot for that window, because who knew the next one we'd get! Plus, the snow hadn't yet started melting in earnest, so that was actually advantageous for us because it might mean less breaking through the snow as we walked. Commando was also on board briefly, until his family talked him out of it. He had literally said, "if you guys go, I'll go" but his family made him think it was too dangerous after they read his blog about our previous few days out. It was too bad because he's a strong hiker and we could have used a third person to help us break trail through the deep snow.

So, after much finagling, with all the intrigue of a good game of Settlers of Catan (I'll give you five beers if you go my route ... or for two rock and a sheep ... rock are plentiful here though!) Maniac and Problem Bear decided to walk roads all the way to Breckenridge, living out of motels and pot shops along the way. Commando and Natty decided to flip to Wyoming. Restless would rest. Lion King would take a low elevation alternate. And me and Karma would take the official route through the San Juan's.

All decided, people still endlessly tried to convince you they made the best choice. I tuned them all out reading about Grizzlies in the San Juan's. 

Of course, between talking about our routes we ate a ton, including probably the largest breakfast burritos I've ever seen (none of us finished ours, but we all said we could if we wanted to). We drank beer. We watched Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park. I updated my blog and waited for Tuesday to roll around...

Day 35: Blizzard on into Colorado

Mileage: 22.9 (664.4-687.3)

New Mexico didn't want us to leave. The morning started off beautifully, with completely blue skies and a few clouds. We started off early, rising with the Elk. I roused a few on the jeep track, one which was just thirty feet away. It was the first time I've gotten to one of these massive creatures up close and impressed by how graceful they were dancing through the snow.

The first few miles were no problem on the road. Commando, Karma, and I had a lot of energy, perhaps a leftover from the surprise shelter we found the night before. We were seeing all kinds of prints in the fresh snow: Elk, Mule Deer, Blue Grouse, and the tails of mice dragging between their tiny toes.

All of a sudden, we noticed a large, dark figure in the distance. My first thought was big Elk. But then we realized the creature was making a lot of noise. As it got closer, we realized it was a human, walking down the road in the opposite direction. I figure in any other situation I would have realized the shape was human a lot sooner, but it was unfathomable that we'd ever run into another human so high up and away from the road after such a big storm. 

As the dark clad man got closer, and we heard the shouts, "Brother! Brother!" we knew it must be Maniac. He'd left a day sooner than we had, so we figured he had already made it to town. When we met we could see how relieved he was to run into us. We giddily embraced and then saw how shaken he was. His GPS and phone batteries had both nearly died and he had spent 15 hours in his tent waiting out the storm. With his good running low he had decided to try and walk the road 28 miles all the way back to the highway. 

To be honest, I'm not sure he would have made it. He had tried calling 911 the night before but the call wouldn't go through. That we met him at all was a miracle in of itself: we had taken the road on a whim, as a way to avoid a confusing part of trail through the campground. Maniac explained he "always has a guardian angel looking out for him." I'm not sure who was watching over him, but I'm sure glad that we ran into him. And you certainly can't deny the serendipity.

After we got Maniac's spirits up and he started telling us how he'd gotten steak and green beans the day before we started not feeling quite as bad for him sleeping out in the cold.

We continued walking and Karma, Commando, and I took turns breaking the trail through the snow. At most we would break for 45 minutes at a time before falling back in line as a Canada goose might take it's shift at the head of a flying v. We gave Maniac a reprieve since he'd been breaking trail for us the couple days before. We had some beautiful views off an icy ridge before the weather started to turn by about 11am. 

The clouds gathered and it began sprinkling and then quickly dumping snow. The snow fell it fits and starts, but steadily all day long. We managed ten miles by 10am, but for the rest of the day we were lucky to do 1 1/2 miles per hour. This is less than half our normal pace of 3-3.5 mph. The snow was just too deep to keep any normal pace going. Every step you'd sink into the snow. If you treaded too hard your whole leg would crash through the crust or feet would splash into the icy mud below.

The roads and the trail itself were turned into streams by the snow melt, giving no respite from the slog. In fact, we avoided these at all costs. As the afternoon wore on, the snow fell harder and we pressed on towards the Colorado border and the road which would take us to Chama, NM and a hot meal (Yes, we walk into CO, only to hitch back to NM one hour later).

We were all pretty beat by mid-afternoon, but Maniac was the worst off. His night out in the blizzard had taken a lot out of him, so we did all we could to keep him moving. We alternated breaking trail more often and opted to take more direct routes instead of the official trail, which wound around mountains and cliffs. I would take a compass bearing from our position the GPS and then try to stay on it a mile or two until the next waypoint. This worked well, but also made for slow going as we had to do a lot of up and down on steep slopes, instead of contouring along the ridges like the official route.

We finally made it to the border by 4pm and took some celebratory photos. There was no monument or cairn, just a sign that told us we were entering Rio Grande National Forest. Though  I didn't fully understand it, I knew I had done something special, completing close to 700 miles of trail in a little over a month through rivers, mountains, mesas, desert, wind, rain, sleet, and snow. I was grateful for every wildflower, elk, grouse, and rainbow.

Our reflection was short-lived though as we all got cold quickly as the wind was howling. 

We had 2.7 miles to the road and the clouds were closing in on us. I took one final bearing to get us to the road and off we went striding down our first slopes in Colorado, literally bounding like rabbits through the fresh powdery snow. Before we got to the road, we ascended one last ridge which had the stiffest winds we'd seen the whole hike, with gusts topping out at 50 mph, enough to push you side to side. Without the cliff face to our West we carefully plodded along until we finally reached the road at 6 o'clock. 

We had an 11 mile hitch to Chama and the first car we saw in 15 minutes drove right by us. It was a full on blizzard now and we contemplated taking shelter in the privy and weathering the storm. Me and Commando were going to walk down the road. Then we saw a new VW bus creating over the hill. We all waved our hands and poles like madmen. Luckily, they stopped. Mary and Heron from Boulder, our lifesavers! Laying in the backseat of that heated bus was like heaven. They all shared some special herb and I'm sure I was feeling some of the effects.

After we got to Chama we hurriedly went to the closest restaurant in town, the Chama Grill, which was housed in the old Dairy Queen. I had two taquitos, a fish sandwich, French fries, a giant smothered burrito, an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate, and (as Laura said, "most surprisingly") three soda cups of Mt Dew ... my first soda in many years, but dam it tasted good. With a full belly, we went back to the hotel and I quickly fell asleep, unsure of what lay ahead.

Day 34: Into the Storm

Mileage: 30 miles (634.4-664.4)

3:57 am: Eeeeackkkkkkk ... PHLUMP! I woke up with a start. My first thought was that it was a bear crashing through the woods. My heart was pounding. Eeeeeeeeek .... CRASH! It was a tree falling what must have been within 100 yards of where we were sleeping. What was strange was that there was no wind whatsoever. The tree just fell. It shook me up some and it took me awhile to fall back asleep. Perhaps it was Nature's reminder that anything can happen at anytime and we are powerless to stop it.

I awoke for a second time with a start. This time it had started to drizzle and I didn't have my tent setup. The spruce we were camped under offered some protection but my sleeping bag would have gotten wet if I didn't immediately jump out and stuff it away into it's dry sack. I managed to get the rest of my stuff in my bag and crouched further under the tree to eat my granola while I watched the rain steadily saturate the already soggy meadow.

I was cold so I broke camp quickly and said I'd wait for Karma and Restless up trail. It cleared up for my morning ascent, but by 8am the freezing rain started. At first, I just kept going without my rain jacket, but then I started getting cold. I put on my down jacket and rain coat on the outside as I began going downhill. 

By mid-morning I had reached Hopewell Lake Campground and I thought it'd be a good spot to wait for the guys. It started getting colder so I made a fire in one of the pits to keep warm. After an hour the blizzard started. Huge flakes of snow whipped down and blew in all directions. Even with the fire I was getting cold again so I had to keep moving without finding the guys.

It snowed the rest of the day, except for a brief window in the late afternoon when the sun peaked through. I had just made a steep ascent onto a ridge overlooking the whole valley, so I has some incredible views. I saw Elk far below grazing to their hearts content. I watched them for awhile, but they ran off when they noticed me at least a mile away (not to mention 400 ft above them). It made slogging through the snow and sleet and mud totally worth it. Just that 39 minutes of clear view of the valley below.

I also ran into a squirrel earlier in the day. He just sat about 8 feet up in an Aspen staring at me with a fir cone in his mouth. The snow seemed to give him courage, like he knew I was the visitor and this was his home. Later on some Elk gave me the same feeling. They just looked up at me and then went back to eating, only running off when I got within 50 yards, a much smaller buffer than usual. It was as if it was a security blanket of snow and the animals knew I was doing my best survive, just like them.

I had been following Commando's tracks all day and could tell I was getting closer to him as the day wore on. I had decided I was going to stop at the Lagunitas Lakes Campground at 10,500 ft. The snow was still swirling so I figure I could make camp inside the privy to stay warm.

As I rounded out the last mile up an old, muddy forest road I saw a ranger cabin all boarded up. Right when I was about to turn away, the window opened up and a voice said, "is that Lt. Dan?" (Sidenote: if I haven't mentioned it yet, my trail name is 'Lt. Dan' from Forrest Gump ... long story, but basically because Forrest says to Lt. Dan 'you've got magic legs' when he gets prosthetics ... and the guys who gave it to me first met me after I did a 34.5 mile day).

I gleefully replied, 'yes!' and realized I must have caught Commando holed up in the cabin. Sure enough, I followed his tracks and he had found a broken window to climb through. I was very relieved and he helped me get my stuff inside before I climbed through.

Twenty minutes later Karma appeared in the window and we greeted him cheerfully. Restless had decided to take an easier day, so we just hope he found a good camp spot. We all cooked dinner, grateful for our good fortune and not having to all cram in the privy with the accompanying smells. We made a plan to hike the final 23 miles to Chama the next day, all going to sleep feeling much better with safety in numbers. And also that we weren't still out in the storm.

Day 33: Headed toward the San Juan's

Mileage: 28.4 miles (606-634.4)

We woke up around 6am and I read my book, The Lost Grizzlies, by Rick Bass, for a little bit while the others boiled their water for coffee. Bass is one of my favorite nature authors, writing primarily about wilderness in northern Montana. The Lost Grizzlies, however, is about his search for Grizzlies in the San Juan mountains in southern Colorado, where the animals have thought to been extinct for almost 50 years. It's quite fascinating and also relevant because the San Juan's are only 30 miles north as the crow flies and the next big mountain range we'll be walking through.

Another hiker, Commando, walked by us shortly after we woke up - we knew he was around because we had talked with Natty the day before. He seems to be in quite the rush - we hope he'll keep moving quickly and break trail through the heavy snow in the San Juan's for us.

I started out alone through the soggy meadows which were oversaturated with the melting snow. I planned to meet up with Karma and Restless down trail. I walked through a number of Aspen groves and saw quite a bit of bear and elk sign. The bears had been scratching the trees to mark their territory, while the Elk seemed to be leaving droppings everywhere.

After following a muddy jeep road for awhile I came out onto a bigger dirt road and saw a pickup truck with two men ambling slowly my way. Strangely, my first instinct in these situations is to hide, unsure what these guys are doing way up here on this miserably maintained road at 10,000 ft. I stayed on the road, however, and the truck stopped. The older man asked if I was really lost or just very healthy. I replied healthy and told them I'd walked from Mexico. They had never heard of the CDT. Then they asked if I'd seen any cows. I wanted to say, 'so you guys are why there is shit everywhere,' but instead replied with a simple 'no.' They gave me some water and we both went on our way. Before we parted I told them I'd try and flag them down if I saw a cow, but we both knew we'd never see each other again.

I hiked on and the road I was supposed to be following slow disappeared as I was led into a tangled mess of blowdowns. I had to go over, under, and all around the Aspen trees, which were arranged as if a child had anxiously dumped out Lincoln Logs and never bothered to pick them up. More likely, they had succumbed in a heavy windstorm.

After I bushwhacked through the tangled mess, I came to Upper (something peak) Lake where I decided to rest and wait for Restless and Karma. I did some reading and refueled with some GORP (trail mix) and pistachios my mom sent me in a care package. I watched the ravens soar over the lake, sometimes solo and other times seemingly chasing one another. Right when I had given up on waiting, Karma yelled, "there you are!" 

I was happy to see them and have some company for the rest of the day. After the lake, we were on some actual trail for a bit, which was very nice. However, there was a decent amount of snow in parts and we ended up post-holing because it had turned soft by the late afternoon.

We meandered through some alpine meadows at 10,500 ft and then slowly made our descent down to 8,500 ft with a few hiccups in between. On our way down we got a few glimpses of the San Juan's and were in awe of the snow-capped peaks towering above 12,000 ft.

We reached a nice meadow next to a roaring stream and setup camp under some Ponderosa Pines. The sky looks a little iffy but we decided not to pitch our tents and cross our fingers it doesn't rain. Very beat after a long day. Only 53 miles to Chama though with a hot shower and a bed...

Day 32: Canyons North of Ghost Ranch and Back to the CDT

Mileage: 14.5 miles (591.5-606)

We took it real easy this morning, waking up around 6:30am after it rained all night and catching our last meal at Ghost Ranch, breakfast burritos with all the fixin's. We had our coffee and hung out in the library reading and doing some internet stuff. We then got our monk beers from Susan, the massage therapist, and enjoyed them in the library lounge. 

We packed up our camp and got headed by around 1pm, regretting we couldn't stomach enchiladas after gorging ourself at breakfast. We started north out of the green meadows and apple trees and it started steeply up towards a box canyon. It was a beautiful climb, although our packs and bellies were quite heavy after the four-day resupply and three meals at Ghost Ranch.

I found a perch which peaked down into the canyon and read while waited for the other two to catch-up. Me and Karma took off and after just a few miles we realized we'd followed the wrong road for about a half mile, right after we commented on how nice the trail was. We looked at the map and realized it was probably just as easy to cut over to the official CDT as it would have been to get back to the alternate, so we cut up a side canyon and had a great time seeing a bunch elk sign, old antlers, and even a couple elk in a meadows near sunset.

The roads seemed to wind on top of each other like a tangled mess of spaghetti, so we got lost a few times and each time would find a way to correct our path by taking the next canyon over or doing some cross-country. 

After about 14 miles, we got to the water source and where the official and alternate trails met one another and setup camp, cooked dinner, and hoped Restless would catch-up before dark. Sure enough he walked in a little after 8pm, just as we'd given up hope. He'd also got turned around and cut over to the CDT. We all cowboy camped and drifted to sleep with shooting stars darting across the full night sky.