Category: Uncategorized

September 30th 

I woke up and walked slowly along the ridge. My headlamp, for some reason, only goes on the low setting, so I had to walk slowly. I passed the Brazos Ridge Overlook as the sun came up.   It was a beautiful sunrise but then the clouds rolled in and I was walking in a cloud in the morning. I came across five gallons of water left by a trail angel, but all the water was gone. (In trail jargon, a trail angel is a person who does good deeds for hikers.  It can range from leaving water or snacks to providing transportation or lodging.)

Later on, the sun broke through and I had a beautiful view of all the aspens changing color. It  was a great day for hiking. Temperature in the 60’s and very few clouds. Although it was dry, I did manage to find enough water to quench my thirst.  The first water source, unfortunately, was Laguntas Campground where a hiker who had finished the CDT was later found dead.

One highlight was walking along the ridge overlooking the Rio San Antonto.  There were golden aspens that crept up to the base of the trail along the edge of the mesa.  then, across the valley were more patches of pines and aspens.  Glorious.

Later in the afternoon, I was expecting to get water from a reliable source called Spring Tank.  However, the dead cow at the edge was a clear sign this water was not for me.

It was my 27th wedding anniversary today. My age is 54. For those of you who are not good at math, that means that half of my life has been spent married to Helen and the other half was before marrying her. I thought that if I had not met and married Helen, I would probably be eating bad food, have poor  personal hygiene, and be sleeping on the ground. Come to think of it, that is what I’m doing now.

It  was a great day.  The Taos Trail Angels  (Tom, Ron, and Tony?) had left some delicious treats just before Hopewell Lake.  Then, when I got to the campground at the lake and found the water had been turned off for the winter, a nice family let me take 2 liters from their igloo cooler.

I hiked in the dark a little further.  I set up a cowboy camp.  Earlier in the day I had seen the dust from a cattle roundup. Most of the outfits here are cow – calf.  This means the rancher keeps cows and then raises their calf’s to a certain age before selling them off.  Let me tell you there is no more mournful sound than a herd of cows calling out for their calfs which have been taken  away.   Eventually, and perhaps sadly, I grew accustomed to their calls and fell asleep.

September 29th

(Pics to follow)

 

The trail again wound through mesa today.  Early on there was a not-so-good hiking moment.  It was still dark.  The narrative said to turn at the “white rocks” which is hard to do with an LED light.  Anyhow, I dropped down the hill where the GPS said, but failed to find the trail.  Instead, I ended up following an elk trail. Eventually I came out to the trail.  I turned around and saw a perfectly good, clear trail up over the top of the mountain I had just wasted 45 minutes circumnavigating. Not sure what the map makers were thinking.

The rest of the morning was neither exciting nor boring.  There were some nice views down into valleys where the elks bugled and the aspens fluttered their yellow leaves.

Right around noon, I approached the Cumbres Pass.  This is where a vintage railroad still runs.  I was fortunate enough to get there just a few moments before the train arrived.  Some hikers take the train to or from Chama, New Mexico because it stops right here at the pass.

Later, I passed unceremoniously into New Mexico from Colorado.

I wanted to sleep up high again given the clear weather. That meant pushing through a cattle operation.  I wanted to sleep on top of Brazos Ridge.  Most of the identified streams were fouled. This was frustrating as I was low on water.

Up high, I did find a spring that ran into a small grove of trees and fizzled out there.  Unfortunately, the cows had found this too.  Although the “stream” was no more than 30 feet long and there were no obvious “pies” in it, it still tasted like cow turd.  I cannot explain it.  Also, I cannot explain how I know what cow turd tastes like even though I have never eaten one.

I had the pleasure of following newish trail once up on the Brazos Ridge.  While it was rocky, it was clear.  I tucked in behind a grove of spruce and found a nice flat spot on which I pitched my tent.

 

 

September 28th

(Pics to follow)

There were  a lot of miles today.  First was to get up high, over 12,000.  I crossed several small streams.  I also found a few pairs of eyes in the dark that caught my headlamp.

After that, I was walking along some rolling ridge tops.  There was a mild change in topography.  I was no longer  either an up or down.  Instead, I was now getting on to mesas.  At least I think of them as mesas.  For the life of me, I am not sure I could tell you when a butte ends a mesa begins and then a plateau takes over.

The water sources were mostly snow melt ponds and therefore not super appealing.  I took just what I needed.  Late in the day, I dropped down to Dipping Lakes and tanked up on water.  My goal was to sleep high on the mesa.

The climb up was tough but rewarding.  I could see the sun dropping to the west and the valley below had aspens.  I ended up getting to the southern tip of the mesa.  The only notation on the maps was “Flat 12,187.”  It was too exposed of a campsite for me, so I dropped down to a flatter saddle and quickly made camp.  Along the way, I came across a sign that warned northbound travelers the 813 trail, the  number for the CDT in southern Colorado, was a “dangerous trail.”  Great.  I suspect (or at least hope) the faded sign referred to lightning, not just a general rule.

 

September 27th

(Pictures to follow)

Once again, the mountains got big.  I know this sounds redundant.  But now the peaks were getting up to 13 and 14 thousand feet.  Fortunately, I was feeling a little better about altitude and the hiking was more enjoyment and less exertion.

I went around Montezuma and Summit Peaks.  There was just enough snow on Summit Peak to make it look like a pastry on which somebody had sprinkled powdered sugar.

I ended up sleeping in a canyon near a small stream, the North Fork Conejos River.  Coyotes serenaded me against the soft sounds of the creek.  The wind would gently gust over my face as I cowboy camped under a moonless sky.

 

September 19th

Another day of high ridge hiking. Some interesting rock formations and lakes in the morning as well.

I did have a couple interesting wildlife encounters.  The first one was approaching the top of a pass.  Usually a rock pile, called a cairn, is at the top of a pass.  Many times it will have an informational post sticking out of it.  In this case, I saw a crooked stick at the peak. That was odd.  Then I realized it was an antler.  Sure enough, as I approached, a cow elk stood up.  Once she saw me, the surprise was over and they ran down the hill and half way up the ther side of the valley.

The other encounter involved marmots.  I came across a rocky area and there were a couple marmots in photgenic locations. One was on a boulder that jutted out.  he was mildly interested in me.  He gave a half-hearted alarm warning of my presence.  I guess word was getting around I was pretty harmless.  Although feeling just a little slighted by the lack of terror I instilled, I climbed on and then all hell broke loose.  I thought they finally realized I was an apex predator and all the marmots stepped up their warning cries.  However, as I got to the end of a switch back, I was able to see the red fox that caused all the excitement. Once I got over the crest, I saw the fox’s partner, its brilliant coat stark against the drab fall grasses.

Late in the afternoon, the Colorado Trail and the CDT split.  I then entered the Weminuche Wilderness area.  As it got dark, I was able to achieve my goal of a high elevation campsite that was flat and had some wind shelter.  This was probably one of my top five spots all trip and I slept quite well.

 

September 17th 

(10/12 : photos added)

I was up and hiking by 5 a.m. Between the moonlight and my headlamp, the trail was easy to see. Within an hour I reached Snow Mesa, about 2 miles of rolling grass lands. The hiking was easy in the morning. To the west the  almost-full moon was going down. Behind me to the east the Sun was starting to rise.  For a while I had a great experience with a full moon lighting the direction I was heading and the rising sun casting a shadow from behind me and Illuminating the Western mountains.

I  wanted to make sure that I would be at Spring Creek Pass to get my ride into Lake City.   I had a little bit of extra time and  I got to the pass about an hour ahead of time and waited for the the ride into the town.

At 10 o’clock Butch showed up and drove me into town. We had a good conversation.  He is from the Houston area and comes up to Lake City every summer.  

I immediately sought out breakfast at the only restaurant serving at that time.  I ordered the hungry man breakfast plus a couple sides. It filled up the full table in the booth I was sitting in. 

After breakfast,I checked into my motel and got my resupply package, did some grocery shopping, and then I went to the Ravens Rest hostel. I met the owner and I gave him money for a room in case Emily showed up.  

Then I did my usual napping and then eating a lunch and then eating a dinner and packing up and getting ready to return to the trail. Lake City is very pretty.  There was a Wine Festival going on.  I liked the town. It had a good feel to it. The only bad experience was at Poker Alice pizza.I went in and ordered and the manager took my $20 and held it up to the light and scriticized it to make sure it wasn’t counterfeit. He made quite a production out of this. The irony was that the $20 bill was from the town’s ATM.  At first I didn’t think anything of it. After all $20 is a big loss to a small business.  However as  subsequent customers ordered, he did not perform the same detailed scrutiny of their cash and so I realized that he only did it to me because I was a scruffy looking dude.  The pizza sucked.
Lake City seems like a nice town and a great resupply I went to bed early and plan to meet butch at 8 o’clock for a ride back to the trail

September 24th and 25th.

I stayed in Pagosa Springs.  It is an interesting town, but not too hiker-friendly.  It is basically like a barbell.  At one end is a concentration of businesses near the springs and some restaurants and motels.  There is a 2 mile highway stretch and then another concentration of new, generic stores and motels.

 

I ended up walking from the spring end where I was staying to Walmart in the new area.  It is not fun walking along a highway.  On the way back, a car passed and came to a rapid halt in front of me.  Out of the front passenger side, a guy asked if I needed a ride.  I said no thanks as  I was pretty close to my motel.  He asked if I was a through hiker.  I thought I must smell pretty bad if a passenger in a moving car can smell me.  His trail name was Let it Be and he had hiked the CDT and said I just looked like a through hiker.  Even though it was a busy highway, we had a good, brief conversation.  What a great guy.

There were some good restaurants.  The fish tacos at Kip’s were great.  The hamburgers at Riff Raff were good.  Indeed, at the Riff Raff you can order a lamb, yak, or bison burger.  Oddly, I have had a trail craving for fried chicken and I was able to get some in town.

It felt good to dry out and eat too much.  Still, I found myself getting antsy to return to the trail. 
 

September 23rd

Helen texted me the weather forecast for my area.  A high wind advisory and rain tapering off later in the day. Yeah.  Right.

Instead of hunkering down, I did my usual:  I started hiking my way out.

Once I got to the ridge, the wind got serious.  My guess was a steady 30 mph with gusts to 60 or 70.  I have been through a couple hurricanes so I have a sense of wind speed.  So walking on the ridges became an arsenic-or-hemlock choice.  I could lean into the wind rushing up the slope and hope it didn’t pause, or I could stand up straight and hope the gusts weren’t strong enough to push me over the steep edge.

I trudged along leaning against the wind and taking wide steps.  My hips hurt from the odd walking. It was like robot walking with the wide stance.

My hands were numb again. There  were times when the wind was so strong that the only thing I could do was turn my back to the wind, point my butt at it, and squat by bending my knees.  I know it is sophomoric, but I couldn’t help but think that I have broken a lot of wind in my life, yet this was the first time my rear was a wind breaker.

By afternoon the wind had died down.  The rain had tapered off.  Unfortunately it tapered off to ice and then to snow.  I looked at my maps and figured I could push and make it to Wolf Creek Pass where the highway to Pagosa Springs passed by. It was  not that the snow was bad.  It was more a desire to get truly warm after last night and today.  In fact, the snowfall was kind of nice, maybe an inch an hour. Helen came through again and was able to get me a motel room for that night, but I had to get there on my own.

I figured the sympathy hitch would work.  An old guy at a pass with a backpack in the snow.  Wouldn’t you stop?  Anyhow, it worked.  A cool guy named Connor stopped after only 15 minutes.  He sold Salomon shoes and by the end of the ride, he had convinced me of two styles I should try.

I got to the motel, ate a huge dinner and took a hot shower.  I never fully regained feeling in the the tips of my fingers, but am sure it will come back soon.

[Note: I  don’t have any photos. My fingers were so numb I couldn’t unsnap my camera case and push buttons.  I think I have one video later in the day and will post later if possible. ]

 

September 22nd.

In the morning, the weather was no better.  It was misting and windy. I was basically walking in a cloud.  I would guess the winds gusted to 30 mph.

I later came down out of the clouds.  The trail went down to the Piedra River.  I managed to follow the horse-men’s trail, not the hiker’s.  It started raining consistently for an hour as I reconnected to the hiking trail via the Turkey Creek trail.

As I reached the top of the valley, I came across a beautiful little spring-fed lake.  The crystal clear water was gorgeous.

 

I  climbed up one side canyon and stopped to get my last water before I went above tree line.  I heard thunder and saw a clump of clouds.  To me, it seemed like a passing cloud.  I wanted to make miles.  I wanted to camp high. I had been through bad weather all day, what was a little thunder cloud to me?  I decided to go up.

Just as I was in the transition zone between trees and no trees, there is a stretch where there are clumps of short spruce.  they are spaced kind of far apart.  Kind of small pioneer forest outposts above treeline.  As it became clear the thundercloud was coming straight t for me, I looked for a clump where I could duck or crawl in for some temporary protection from the rain plus I would no longer be the tallest thing around.  So, I pushed aside some branches, popped open my umbrella, and pulled my knees up to my chin while the cloud passed.

It did not pass.  It stayed.  Or it was a lot longer than I suspected.  Regardless, after 45 minutes of huddling underneath my umbrella and getting colder and wetter, I knew I needed to do something.  This had all the makings of hypothermia.

I broke some branches and found an awkward configuration for my tent. I tried setting it up, but two forces were working against me.  The first was the wind that was gusting up the mountain.  The second was the decreasing dexterity of my fingers. The gloves were soaked.  I struggled to grab the lines and stakes.  After taking about twice as long as normal, my tent was up.  I gathered large rocks and put them on top of each tent stake to hold them in the ground.

 

I tucked inside the tent.  The wind had picked up.  The lightning was still going, and the rain was relentless.  I got my sleeping bag unfurled.  From my clothing sack I took out every piece of dry clothing.  I stripped off everything I had on.  The hardest were the wet socks.  They clung to my feet.  My fingers were useless.  And I was shivering like crazy.  Eventually I wriggled 0ut of them, put on my dry clothes and buried myself in the sleeping bag.

By now, I was shivering uncontrollably.  I pulled the bag around my head.  Through the bag I could see the lightning flash. One one thousand, two one thousand. Boom.  The next one was closer.  I told myself I was not going to die this kind of death: shivering cold and struck by lightning.

Somehow, I dozed off and woke up around six.  I was no longer shivering, but my hands and feet were a bit numb.  I struggled to eat with clumsy hands.  The lightning had stopped, but the wind had picked up.  I hoped the hope of all hopes my cuben fiber tent would stand up to the beating by the wind.

I ended up dozing off between wind gusts.  Many times during the night I found myself pushing on the side of the tent, a counter-force to the wind.  I was not sure what I would do if some of  the stakes came up.  I was sure I was going to make it through the night, just not with a lot of sleep.