Day 52: 07 June, 9.4 miles today (+5.5 additional miles returning to continuous footpath, not added to total), 768.1 miles total, San Juan National Forest, CO
Elf and PA weren’t bothered about maintaining a continuous footpath, so their return to the CDT from Silverton was the simplest. All they needed to do was get a ride from town to Stony Pass, some 6 trail miles north from where we’d left the CDT for the CT, and they were back in trail.
Shorty’s and K’s return was likewise simple, but was by far the most grueling option. They would take the train back to the trail crossing where we’d boarded, then hike the CT 9 miles to the junction with the CDT, climbing 3,500’ up the steep valley along the way.
Unknown had figured out a way to maintain a continuous footpath while skipping that climb, but it required first getting a ride to an obscure trailhead a half hour out of town on a rough dirt road. This was how he, Sean Meadow, and I found ourselves stuffed into a small 4WD jeep with a bubbly, chatty woman who was new to the area and was amazed by the natural beauty around every bend of the dirt track. Once we’d arrived at the trailhead, we took a short series of connecting trails to rejoin the CDT about 4 miles north of where we’d left. At that point, it was a matter of hiking SOBO until we returned to the point we’d left the trail, when we could finally resume our hike north. It was without question the most convoluted option, but saved us 3.5 miles and a painful climb back to the trail, so at least among the three of us, we agreed it was the best one.
And it really wasn’t a half bad day of walking. Having merged with the Colorado Trail for the next 200-odd miles, the Continental Divide Trail had decided to be less insane for a while, so the tread was decent and the terrain was manageable. Instead of near-impossible assaults up the sides of mountains, we now had switchbacks. Instead of bushwhacking through overgrown “trail” that would tear up any inch of exposed flesh, the shit fuck willows were trimmed back a good 2’ on either side of the path. We’d heard rumors that the walking would get easier once we were on the CT, but hadn’t trusted them. Yet here we were, hiking like normal fucking people for once.
We were taking a short break when Unknown looked up the mileage to the next town and realized we were only two days away. Two days. We’d gotten so tangled in the various options for getting back to the CDT that each of was carry food for twice that—all purchased at a premium from the most expensive stop we’d made this far. Oh well.
By the time got to camp, a frigid wind was blowing—the same ferocious wind every local swore up and down simply never happens in Colorado. Dinner was short, perfunctory, and cold. None of could wait to crawl into our sleeping bags, layered in merino wool and down. PA and Elf were three miles ahead of us; K. and Shorty were somewhere a half-day to a day’s walk behind. We’d all meet up eventually, but in the meantime our only job was trying to stay warm.
Day 53: 08 June, 20.2 miles today, 788.3 miles total, San Juan NF, CO
The updated snow report we’d seen in town had suggested that the stretch between Silverton and Lake City would be about as covered in snow as the stretch from Chama to Pagosa Springs had been. And so, after the only outfitter in Silverton informed me that they did not carry hiking shoes in my size, I impulse-purchased an exceptionally light and exceptionally expensive ice-axe. When we found the trail to be no more covered in snow than it had been for the last 90 miles, I rolled with it. At least I would no longer have to borrow Sean Meadow’s every time I had to poop.
The trade off for having less snow—at least this early in the season—was that there was a ton of mud. Struggling to maintain my footing in soggy, loose earth was killing both my pace and my mood, but at least I didn’t have to worry about running out of water. This section of trail was an interesting paradox: the mountains were becoming flatter and less prominent, but we were still trending upward in elevation. In fact, in the early afternoon we hit the high point of the Colorado Trail, at 13,271’, in the middle of a broad, flat, yellowed plain. Which was were we found PA and Elf waiting for us. At least the 5 of us were back together, even if Shorty and K. were lord knew how many miles behind us. It was around then that I realized that I had about 1/4 liter of water left, with no reliable sources left on our path for the rest of the day.
Sean Meadow and Elf each pitched in a 1/4 liter of their own limited supply. We’d have to find a source of meltwater before camp—especially me, since I was already parched and trying to make my meager bit last. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. Crossing a puddle on the trail, I turned around to see if I could identify its source, and danged if there wasn’t a tiny spring burbling directly onto the trail. I stopped to break out my filter and I had two icy liters in no time. When I eventually caught up with the others by a melt stream under a large patch of snow, I was already plenty hydrated. But tired. And when I was informed that this was our first 20-mile day I Colorado, I understood why. The last stretch to camp was slow, but overall it had been a good day.
Day 54: 09 June, 9.5 miles today, 797.8 miles total, Lake City, CO
From Pagosa Springs to Silverton, we’d gotten used to being the only people we saw on trail, and the feeling that this entire vast wilderness belonged only to us. We did eventually start keeping pace with a pair of young women, but we rarely saw them for more than a couple of minutes at a time and their presence did little to rupture the illusion of our solitude. Even when Unknown, Sean Meadow, and I hiked SOBO on the CDT for four miles, we barely saw any other NOBO hikers, despite that being our most likely opportunity to encounter them. As we resumed our northward hike, we occasionally leap-frogged with a young couple and one solo hiker, but otherwise seemed to have the wilderness completely to ourselves.
We had less than 10 miles to hike to Spring Creek Pass, the trailhead where the CDT crossed paths with CO Hwy 149 and a notoriously difficult place from which to get a ride. We though that we had reason to believe we might get lucky, based on nothing more than the absence of other hikers around us, but as we started walking toward the road we saw how misguided that assumption had been. It was like sitting under a tree, minding your own business, when you notice a single ant crawling around you. Not a big deal. Then you notice another. Still not a big deal. Then you notice all at once that you are surrounded by hundred of ants, and now suddenly you have a problem. As we passed camp after camp full of hikers packing up and starting their own jaunt to the trailhead, we found ourselves in the middle of a crowd, every body of which was a potential seat in a town-bound car we would now be competing directly for.
Of course, the ant analogy is a bit unfair, given that every one of us was as much a part of the stream of potential hitch-hikers converging on the Spring Creek parking lot as anyone else. It was simply surprising: we had no idea we were this close to this many hikers until we were all walking in pursuit of the same limited resource. Every one had some variation of the same thought: “Fuck. It’s going to take forever to get a ride to town.”
But when Sean Meadow came out the woods and hit the highway with me close at her heels, we found only Elf and a couple we’d never met before waiting at the roadside—every other hiker ahead of us had already gotten picked up. I was about to unshoulder my pack and settle in to let the couple thumb for a ride before us, when we heard a voice calling from the parking lot, “Hey! Do you guys need a ride to town?” “How many you got room for?” Elf replied. “Seven,” the woman said. None of us had been waiting even five minutes, and we all already had a ride.
As it turned out, the woman was the caretaker for the only RV park in Lake City to allow tenting, and she was delivering a full load of hikers back to the trail from town. Lo and behold, among the washed and laundered vagabonds clambering out of the SUV were Leaves and Hombre, whom we hadn’t seen since we left Chama, before our collective, brutal introduction to the Colorado Rockies. It was a happy, excited reunion, but short. Within minutes, we had the vehicle packed with bodies and backpacks, and we watched as our friends walked off toward the trail, their fully-loaded packs on their backs.
We met PA and Unknown at a small cafe, which we quickly overwhelmed, and set about trying to find a place in town to stay. We also swung by the post office, where Sean Meadow, having posted on social media that this town would be an ideal place to send care packages, had five boxes and a fistful of letters waiting for her. There were also a couple for the both of us, one from our friend VG from Antarctica, and a full resupply from KP, my hiking partner from the PCT. It was an overwhelming show of love and support, and we spent a good bit of the afternoon in the cabin the five of us had secured going through each box and divvying up the contents, as the daily ferocious wind every local swore up and down simply never happens in Colorado blew by as if on schedule. Today, though, it didn’t matter. We had a roof and four solid walls. We were safe from the elements, where we could pack our food bags in peace, while we stuffed our faces with cookies and candy from family and friends.
Day 55: 10 June, 0.0 miles today, 797.8 miles total, Lake City, CO
We went for it: before we’d even checked into the Wagon Wheel Cabins, we agreed to take a zero. Sean Meadow, Unknown, and I were each in own way starting to feel the pressure to make miles after so many days nearly breaking ourselves to pull a meager 15 miles, but Lake City proved to be a lovely little town and anyway, every time of us was in need of a rest day. My feet had developed the sort of odd, unfortunate pain that I’d learned from experience doesn’t fully go away until some months after a thru-hike. I needed a day off, whether I wanted one or not. We all did.
Unknown, Elf, and PA ran into K. while doing laundry, and experience they described as “awkward.” I still wasn’t clear on exactly what had happened, but even though we remained on good terms with K., and even though she was still in our bubble (and would be hiking out the same day as us, if not with us), we’d somehow accidentally parted ways as a group in Silverton. She had certainly expressed some reluctance in participating in group dynamics, and we were, in theory, past the most dangerous section of the trail, which made group hiking less of a necessity. I supposed it was the abruptness of the transition that made it feel uncomfortable and sad.
Shorty found us while we were eating dinner over a broken picnic table at a no-frills BBQ place next door to our cabin. He ordered a sandwich, then sat down to tell us that he’d matched on a name-brand dating app with the photographer hired by the Durango-Silverton Railroad to take pictures of the passengers. She’d messaged him after he’d caught her eye while we was waiting for the train to take him back to Elk Creek and somehow found him online. He hadn’t had cell service since getting back on trail, but had been texting with her since getting to Lake City an hour or two before. He wouldn’t be hiking out with us, either: though his travel itinerary seemed (at best) imprecise to me, his plan was to hitch to Durango (hoping first to get a ride with an ATV on some barely-passable road that connected eventually to a major highway) and hang out with this person for a couple of days. Just to see how things went. We were all supportive of his side-quest, though of course it meant that by the time he resumed hiking, we’d be several days ahead. That wouldn’t be an insurmountable lead, especially for someone as young and fit as Shorty, but it did mean that we’d officially become a five-piece. Shorty was pursuing his solo career.
