We had leisurely nearoed out of Breckenridge with only 51 miles and 2.5 days to do them. I was meeting another friend at a road crossing a few days ahead. We had pushed our miles through Colorado thus far and now we had time to spare. I had stocked my food bag with the most delicious of foods, for I was turning 30 that week.
The stream water had frozen in the cold morning; we punched a hole through the thin ice to fill our bottles. The well-graded trail followed a bike path and was busy with joggers, bikers, and fresh Colorado Trail (CT) thruhikers starting their journey. We were approaching the northern terminus of the CT. Guru and I had lunch by a river and waited for Ranger to show up. It was refreshing to not feel the pressure of big miles days, but after a few hours we gave up and moved on without him.
The CDT led us up a hill and departed from the Colorado Trail, which turned East toward Denver. Immediately the path disappeared. I imagined the conversation the trail maintenance crew had:
"Well boys, we did good work on this trail. Those folks are going to have a nice path for their CT thruhike."
"Hey boss, don't the Continental Divided Trail run along this path too? They be headin north an south. Where they gonna go?"
"Eh, we will just send them over that hill over there yonder and call it good."
It just goes to show how little-traveled this trail still is. Although it is gaining popularity, not enough feet tread over a path to make an impression on the land. And in some sections, I preferred it that way. Eyes on the summit, I picked my way over rock and dirt, choosing my own path to the top. The "trail" followed a ridge, and my pace slowed over loose rocks. All exposed, the views were incredible.
Running along the spine of the Divide, there was little water to be found. We had to rely on trickles of water released from melting snow patches to fill our bottles. We made it to one such patch of snow and stopped to camp. A few more hikers joined us for dinner until the sun set and the cold drove us to our tents. I wrapped up in my sleeping bag and went to sleep.
The sun hit my tent early in the morning, waking me up. "There's a mountain goat out here," a hiker called. I ripped open my tent to peek out. I saw its butt as it trotted away. Soon I was charging along the exposed ridge line, following old dirt roads up and down hills until the trail cut down some steep, faint trails. Going was much slower than anticipated with the route-finding and loose rock.
By lunch, I joined the others next to a patch of snow. We debated between doing the alternate or the official CDT. The alternate went over Argentine spine, a long ridgeline with lots of smaller ups and downs along faint trail. The CDT went down into the valley below, followed a gravel road, and then cut straight back up. They were almost the same elevation gain and loss but the CDT was 2 miles longer, which meant the hills would be gentler. Still, it seemed much easier to just stay high and go along the backbone of the mountains. It looked like there were some clouds rolling in but I wasn't too worried about it, and after we ate we set off on the high route. The alternate was as expected: steep, with little trail. Climbing was exhausting, and often I slipped on loose scree as I traversed the slopes. I passed by mining operations; remnants of a past long forgotten.
I ran into some goats on a mountain saddle and tried to give them as much space as possible (which admittedly was only like 20 feet, but more space would mean either 1: walking downhill and then back up, or 2: falling over a cliff... so I did what I could). They didn't seem to care about the "keep-50-yards-between-humans-and-goats" rule, and continued munching on grass contently as I cautiously paused to snap some photos. After I passed, one started following me. Nervous, I picked up my pace. I had heard somewhere that mountain goats have injured and killed hikers before (don't believe me? check out this story). I wasn't sure how common that was, but I didn't really want to find out. I continued hiking up the steep hill, looking back periodically. The other goat had joined the first in stalking me. I tried not to be paranoid; I was walking on a goat trail, after all. Maybe they just were coincidentally heading the same direction. A quarter mile later they were still following me. They kept a respectful distance, but likely they were just waiting for an opportune time to attack. I mentally yelled at Guru to stop ahead so I would have a little bit of backup to defend myself, but the thin wall of rain ahead must have blocked the telepathy.
I paused at the top of a climb to empty my shoes of loose rock and put on my rain jacket. If it was going to come to a face-off, I didn't want any distractions. A sheet of mist was coming from my front. Goats were coming at me from my back. It wasn't the best of situations. The next time I turned around I saw that they had effortlessly crossed a patch of snow and were only about 20 feet away. I spotted Guru in the distance, halfway up the next hill. His orange rainskirt made him clearly visible against the dull rocks. Because my mental pleas weren't working, I texted him, warning him that goats were after me and that if I didn't show up at the campsite, they had probably succeeded in destroying me. I knew we had service, but I wasn't sure if his phone was turned on to receive the message. He stopped for a second, which made me hopeful, but then kept going.
I practically ran down the mountain, the goats effortlessly trotting along behind. Finally Guru stopped and sat down. Relieved, I panted up the hill and flopped down breathlessly next to him. "I was almost attacked," I said dramatically, and looked back to see if the goats were still following me. They hadn't poked their heads over the hill yet. They were hidden behind a little nub. We discussed the dangers of mountain goats and pondered aloud the best ways to defend oneself. Throw rocks? Shout? Play dead? Hide? Would being aggressive make them more angry? I had not prepared for this before my hike. (I looked it up.. Answer: Throw rocks and be loud). I later learned they often follow hikers hoping to nab some salt from sweat and urine.
The rain had come and gone quickly. After some rest and snacks we continued on, deciding to hike together on the rough terrain. I looked back constantly to see if the goats were following us but they were nowhere to be seen. It seemed like they had lost interest after the mile-long chase. Relieved that I would indeed not be impaled by a goat horn, I breathed easy. Well, aside from gasping for breath in the thin air.
Deciding to traverse around the next hill rather than climb it, we skirted the ridge on rough rocks, taking every step carefully as some of the boulders shifted against their neighbors. It wasn't necessarily quick going, but at least it felt a little easier than hiking straight up a hill, and finally we made it around to the next saddle. The alternate reconnected with the CDT shortly thereafter. As the two routes merged, the trail became a little more visible, although still shallow.
Camping would be tricky on the ridge; the spine was narrow with pointy rocks and steep drop-offs down both sides. Looking at the map, there were a few saddles between peaks that might offer potential camping opportunities. We passed by a few spots that would work, wanting to get as close to the summit as possible to set ourselves up for an easy day the following day. One more big climb lay between us and Grays Peak. We started up and over the hill, and to our dismay found that the terrain seemed to be less and less accommodating the further we went. But we couldn't turn around; that would be counterproductive. So we kept going, in hopes of finding something ahead. One little spot in the final saddle looked promising from above. We descended a loose scree bed.
When we made it we saw it was severely slanted and snow covered half of the saddle. There wasn't enough room for two tents, just one, and it was gonna be a rough setup. Cowboy camping would have been possible but it was already getting cold and windy, and if you rolled over you would roll off the mountain. We looked at each other. My tent was big enough to fit two people. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I studied the ground to try to find the flattest angle and unrolled my tent. I pounded the stakes into the rocky dirt while Guru held the tent against the wind. I anchored another corner in the snow. I climbed inside and laughed. We would be sliding to the foot of the tent all night. In an effort to level it out, we propped our packs under our sleeping pads.
Although the terrain wasn't suitable for a tent, it offered incredible views. I looked at the mountains as I cooked dinner. I sat on the snow, forming a perfect chair with my pad while Guru huddled in my tent to escape the wind. After cleaning up, I perched on the cornice and looked over the valley. I wanted to watch the sun set on the last day in my 20s. It was taking its time. The wind got colder but I bundled up and stubbornly waited it out. The mountains turned orange as the sun dipped below Torreys peak, a neighboring 14er. I retired to the tent.
I didn't get a lot of sleep that night between the wind flapping the tent around, the cold, and sliding down the hill. I woke up often and adjusted what was needed. Every time I woke I wondered what time it was... if I was yet 30 or if I was still 29. When the sun finally came out and warmed up the earth I curled up for one more solid hour of sleep, then it was time to get up. Surprisingly energized, I packed up and got moving along the ridge with loose scree and hills. Ranger had camped only about a half mile behind us so he caught us as we were packing up and then bolted ahead.
We had camped at 13,600 feet so the climb up the 14er really wasn't bad. Most of the work had already been done. I looked down to see a swarm of day hikers heading up the mountain on another trail. We weren't in the wilderness anymore.
I summited Grays Peak; at 14,254 feet it was the highest point on the CDT. It was beautiful. I studied the land, where we had come and where we were going. Took some photos, ate some food, and then started down. Saw a mama goat and her baby, climbed a small rock pinnacle (because why not?), and continued down, eager to make it to the road to meet up with my friend. It was sunny and clear; a perfect day but soon clouds rolled in.
I shuffled down the mountain, mind busy, when something happened... either my foot caught or my trekking pole slipped, but before I knew it I saw the ground approaching my face rather quickly. My knee struck a rock as my hands halted the fall. My pack helped cushion my side, water bottles flying from their pockets. I lay there for a second, scanning for pain. Just my knee. My head had landed inches from a pointy rock. That could have been bad. Really bad. Like end-my-thruhike (or my life) bad. Thank you Jesus, I whispered, and gathered up the things that had fallen out of my pack. I scooted over to sit on a rock and recover for a second. Aside from what felt like a bruised knee, I was okay. I limped down the mountain, the trailhead refusing to get closer.
Finally I broke free of the trail and found Guru and Ranger sitting by the outhouse. "I almost died," I announced, and told them the story while I iced my knee with the snow I had grabbed. Thankfully a gravel road hosted the trail for 3 miles and the parking lot was full. We stuck our thumbs out as we walked. It didn't take five minutes til someone pulled over and gave us a ride. I was grateful to be on four wheels, bumping along the rutted, rocky road I would have had to walk. I didn't want to imagine the pain of walking.
I met my friend Jonathan in the lower parking lot where we were dropped off. The clouds spilled their rain and we retreated to his car; I watched thick drops roll down the windows, thankful I didn't have to be outside at that moment. We all chatted for a while as I devoured the pizza he had picked up. After a while, Guru left his pack in the car and took off down the trail on a bike path. The path paralleled the interstate and crossed under an overpass three miles ahead before heading up the next mountain. Considering my knee, I accepted a ride with Ranger to the trailhead three miles up. Ranger started hiking when we got to the trailhead. I stayed and chatted with my friend a bit longer.
Jonathan had business to attend to, so bidding him farewell, I grabbed Guru's pack and waited for him to show up from his slack-pack. Soon he trotted up, delighted to have covered those miles with ease. We had only a few miles to go to camp and with clouds building again, we wasted no time heading out.
It was raining by the time we got to camp and I made a beeline to the spot Ranger had picked out by the lake. I set up my tent, quickly crawling inside to stay dry. Thunder rumbled overhead. It looked like the storm would pass for a minute but then just kept coming. We had planned to have a big family meal for my birthday dinner but the rain was keeping us isolated. Ranger mentioned combining all of our tents together to make one big megatent. We discussed the best way to go about it as we waited for the storm to die down a bit. During a slight break in the rain we got to action. I cleared room in my tent, Ranger ran around pulling stakes up and moving his tent closer, and Guru shuffled over to squeeze inside. With Ranger's and my tents combined by the rainfly and my umbrella filling in the hole, we had a nice dry space for all of us.
We spread out the food between the tents, cooking each part of the fajita meal. I got the veggies chopped and sautéed with seasoning, Guru got the rice cooked up, and Ranger got the beans rehydrated and hot. Then we passed out tortillas and feasted. It was one of the best trail dinners I've had. After cleaning up we settled in for a movie and randomly picked one I had downloaded. It ended up being a really lame and boring movie about some political stuff, but we had already gotten too far in by the time I realized the storyline was not entertaining. Still, I was delighted for the friends and memories being made. After the movie, everyone retired to their own tents and I settled in for the night. It had been a perfect day (despite the fall).
The morning should have been fast and cruisy with gentle ups and long downs. It wasn't. I had thought my knee was fine. I didn't even notice it until I chased a bag in the wind and felt a little bit of pain. I took off hiking with no problem. It was only slightly painful on the gentle uphills that greeted me in the morning, and I occupied myself by responding to a flood of messages in a patch of service. Then, either because there was uneven footing or downhills or because it had just started to become more irritated with use, it flared up to the point of hobbling. I dumped ibuprofen in my mouth and kept going, my pace a bit slower. It seemed like the steeper hill, the worse it hurt. It was a 17 mile day into town where we had already planned to double zero. I just had to get there.
There was one more steep hill to climb and descend before the road. I groaned with each step. It seemed to be getting a worse despite the painkillers. I had planned to arrive in town shortly after lunch but my slow pace put me hours behind. I needed to pick up a package before the post office closed. I painfully picked up my pace. I cried in frustration and agony as my knee wouldn't cooperate. Even though tears fell from my eyes and I grunted with pain, I was so very thankful to be out there. Some part of me enjoyed the challenge of pushing through the pain. A patch of rain came in from behind as I limped up the hill. I scanned the valley below, my home for 3.5 winters. It was different from above. It gave me a whole new perspective and sense of place.
When I was a half mile away from the road, I texted Guru who was just a head to start hitching. I prayed for a quick ride. The post office was closing soon and there was no time for a long hitch. I knew God would provide. When I got there, a car had already pulled over and they were waiting for me. I gratefully hopped into the car with a dog named Murphy and we headed down the pass. We were dropped off at the post office. Relieved, I picked up my stuff, then sat there for a little while trying to figure out what exactly to do next. The plan had been to get a hotel in town so we were close to the grocery store and restaurants but all the reasonably priced places were booked up; the consequences of being in a resort town on a weekend. I had never felt so lost in a town I once called my home. We decided to go across the street to eat Mexican while we figured it out.
On the way we stopped in the gear store. A young woman walked in and asked if we were thruhikers. She handed us $30, ordering us to get some food or drinks. She had done the PCT. I was moved by her kindness, especially as stress, fatigue, and pain still lingered.
In the end, we landed in a hotel room across the street. After a shower and an attempted nap, Guru, Ranger, and I headed to a restaurant. It was packed. We surveyed the scene. I didn't see any empty tables. A cheer rose up; a hockey game was on and people were very much into it. A girl came over, excitedly greeted us, and invited us to join her table with her friends. Coincidentally there were three empty chairs that we hopped into. She introduced herself as LP. Her husband had thruhiked a few trails and had "trained" her to spot thruhikers. Apparently she had seen us walking around town earlier and had been torn whether or not to stop and offer a ride or a place to stay. But traffic had kept her moving, and she had been upset she had let that opportunity pass. Over the noise of the crowd we learned her story. She worked for a company that helped amputees get prosthetics, and shared how hikers can help raise money for those who cant yet hike by doing that very thing: "walk so others can walk." The organization was doing incredible things all around the world. (If you would like to learn more or donate, check it out here: https://www.rompglobal.org/ .)
We had a second mini birthday celebration with food and drinks, but it was getting late and the hot tub at the hotel was closing, so we bade LP farewell and headed back. We changed quickly and relaxed in the warm water for a while and then headed to bed.
Just as I was about to drift off to sleep the fire alarm beeped, as if signaling low battery. Oh boy. I was not about to evacuate. I was too tired. Ranger got up and called the front desk. A staff came over and I let the guys handle it as I curled up under my blankets. I heard them drag a chair over and talk about batteries and wires. They took a battery out but it still chirped. They disconnected it from the wires but it continued to sing its song. Eventually the staff just took it out of the room. Crisis adverted.
Sleeping in was nice, but finally we headed to the lobby for breakfast. It was fancy: eggs, a machine that made pancakes in front of you, yogurt, fruit, cinnamon rolls and more. I ate til I was full and took food to go. After checking out, we walked to the grocery store next door and resupplied. With only 2.5 days to the town of Grand Lake I got some fancy food, and a little extra to avoid the high prices of the small town. The result was so much food it didn't fit in my food bag.
We got a hitch quickly to the Y, where I had worked as a musher for 3.5 years. We had a room lined up there for the night, but it wasn't ready yet so we busied ourselves with the sauna, tubing, and games. I said hi to some previous coworkers and then sat outside for a moment, soaking it all in. How many times had I envisioned being here with my tramily? How many times had I looked over the mountains, imagining one day being here as a CDT thruhiker?
When the room was ready, we headed over. Guru's friend Two-Ply from the PCT was passing through on a motorcycle and joined us for the night. The box I had picked up from the post office was filled with a birthday party, and once we were all settled we opened it up. Once again, my mom had made a box perfect for the people I'm with, full of riddles and puzzles and games. I didn't win, but it was still fun. After sitting through a cringing verse of Happy Birthday, I blew out my three candles and we ate some chocolate pie. It was the 3rd day celebrating my birthday. If I didn't know I was 30 before, I sure knew it now.
There was much to do the next day. The day was filled with cleaning up and reconnecting with old friends. By the end of the day we landed at McDonalds. It was raining outside, and we needed a place to hang out while my friend got off work. We managed to not be kicked out for the entire three hours we spent sitting in the corner until a professional looking guy came striding over. I was sure it was the manager coming to kick us out but I finally recognized it was my friend Codi. I hopped up to give him a hug. He was giving us a place to crash for the night, and we headed over to our accommodations for the last night in town.
**I want to throw out a MASSIVE thank you to all my friends who met up with me and provided all kinds of trail magic. Whether it was a listening ear, a ride, a place to say, or a delicious meal I am so grateful for all you! (George, Jonathan, Tim, Matt, Rosio, Linn, and Codi... thank you!!).**
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