CDT - Silverton to Salida

Published on 2022-06-05 by Michael Stanton

To go back to days 45 and before, click here.

126 miles, 23271 feet elevation gain.

June 5, Day 46, 8.5 miles

Escape from Silverton.

Leftovers and I slept in, knowing we weren't to be picked up for the ride to Stony Pass until 2 o'clock. Then we hung out talking with folks in the hotel, like Google, Pecurino, Lush and others. Lemonhope was long gone, departing early on my first morning in Silverton.

My pack only had two and a half days of food because I planned to resupply at Lake City. This was a great luxury! As it turned out, my trip there was a quick in and out on the same day, so I consider this a long section hike to Salida.

Finally our ride arrived. A nice young fella took us in his truck to a staging point where we transfered to an all-terrain vehicle. Soon we switchbacked steeply up a road above the Old Hundred Mine Road. He dropped us off by a sign that said "Stony Pass." As we paid him some money and he turned around and drove away, we said "uh..." We thought we were paying for a ride TO Stony Pass, not to a sign that was, apparently, just pointing the WAY to Stony Pass!

Leftovers films while the ATV is made ready for our ride up.

For it was a long ways away, and a climb of about 1600 feet, rather a lot when it's late afternoon and you weren't expecting that extra work. Leftovers was absolutely furious. I didn't want to spoil the day, so I decided to just chalk it up to miscommunication and start walking up the road and enjoy the scenery, which was pretty nice.

I hiked on ahead, as Leftovers suddenly had stomach problems to deal with. I reached Stony Pass, wrote a note for him telling him about where I planned to stop for the night, but then he appeared around the bend. Good! So we walked together, mostly through the afternoon. A highlight was rounding a bend and coming to the SOURCE of the Rio Grande River. This enormous river snakes down through New Mexico and forms the border between Texas and Mexico all the way to the Gulf. How amazing!

On the walk to Stony Pass.

Leftovers approaches the source of a mighty river.

We took pictures of each other here...Leftovers had brought at least one bottle of soda, but he may have had more. I got ahead for a while, hiking up to a pass as the weather become cloudier and windy. The view down into Maggie Gulch kept me entertained, and always there were so many craggy peaks to the left and ahead, still quite snowy. Locally, I began wading through snow of my own, as a high shelf of the divide held much water, now in the form of rotten, late-afternoon snow. I was in a border zone betwen the Gunnison National Forest, the Rio Grande National Forest, and a county line marking San Juan County on my side, and soon enough entering Hillsdale County as I began to travel east.

The great river begins here.

Happy to reach the source of the Rio Grande!

Enjoying a soda at the Rio Grande...ah, refreshing!

In fact, I'd now begin an eastward journey for days, making up for the long trip to the west following the divide into these spectacular mountains.

Once in the Gunnison, I crossed snowfields and espied a pair in the distance next to a tent. They were shouting and gesticulating. I went over to them only to find that they were doing a rambunctious evening exercise before getting into the tent. A man repeatedly picked up and carried a smaller woman either piggyback-style or in his arms. She laughed and waved to me. "Just wanted to say hi...you've got a great camp!" I said.

I'd meet this interesting pair again at the end of the month in front of a Walmart in Silverthorne. Very cool.

But it was time to stop. I'd picked out a place on the map earlier, a small level spot with room for a couple of tents at a minor pass a little east of the exercising couple. I was looking down on Cuba Gulch to the north. I hoped the wind wouldn't come through the pass too strong, as the cold nights were not one of the things I missed down in my comfortable bunk in Silverton! Leftovers came along pretty soon and set his tent near mine. In the morning, I'm very quick to pack up and leave but he likes to linger (I blame the stove!). We agreed that we'd see each other at some point in the next day or two. He decided that he had enough food to continue without going to Lake City. I thought that probably meant he'd get far ahead of me. But I told him I'd certainly stop before Lake City, because it was still 37.5 miles away. My goal was about 20 miles.

Home for the night.

We slept and the wind played its ceaseless song...

June 6, Day 47, 20.6 miles

Beautiful high walking country...

Off early. Easy travel...in fact, too easy to warm up, so I hiked with my buff covering my ears, my hat on, with a windbreaker and gloves. I took pictures of a beautiful frozen lake with picturesque sun-cups, like remains of ancient city-states. I could see them warring with each other through the centuries, creating their own Cistine Chapels and Dante's Inferno.

Little snow city-states.

Scenery on the walk to the Carson Saddle Trailhead.

Listening to music, I descended a broad valley, then came up a bit to a road. It led me rapidly to the Carson Saddle Trailhead. I poked around forlornly, hoping for some hidden cache of candy bars, but no dice. I sat on my mat, took the shoes off and rested, looking south in the strong wind, eating peanut butter and tortillas. Continuing on, the trail paralleled the road, and higher, I saw an all-terrain vehicle in the distance. It came down nearby and I exchanged hellos with an older man driving. I hoped he'd have a beer or something... why was I so needy today? Ha ha...

The next 8 or so miles were really gorgeous. Unfortunately, the photos look kind of plain, because the beauty is in long horizontal lines that just don't show up well in a narrow image. The way led up onto a muscular shoulder of land pushing northeast for a long ways. I hit the highpoint of the Colorado Trail at 13,260 feet, near a peak called Coney Point. The first miles, being so high, had significant snow fields, though I could usually avoid them. Later, I looked back and it seemed I'd been coming down enormous waves of high country. For hours I traversed this spine around 13,000 feet and a bit lower, sometimes dropping 500 feet then regaining half of that. I never saw a single person aside from the old man in the AT vehicle, nor the next day until coming out on the road at Spring Creek Pass. It was a wonderful, lonely place.

Taking a well-deserved rest on the high shoulder.

High point on the plateau.

Kind of sleepy at the high point of the Colorado Trail.

I saw a great lake in the distance...it turns out this is near Lake City, and (I guess?) the reason for its name. I don't think I have adequate words to describe this stretch, but I wish I did. Music is better. Maybe something like "First Breath After Coma" by Explosions in the Sky.

I finally dropped below 12,000 feet at a saddle with a platform for a yurt to stand. Apparently, it is built only later in the summer. I envied the nice flat platform though, and wished it was about time to camp, but I wanted to hit my 20 miles. Sometimes I don't want to run into people, and today was like that. Thinking back, I was cringing inwardly at the thought of running into people near the yurt, where I imagined a small group would be. I passed by with relief, now in sparse forest. Sometimes moods are strange!

The tawny crest is my home for the next 8 miles. Lake City in the distance.

Looking back up to the higher country I came down from.

As I climbed back above 12,000 feet the clouds ahead of me grew dense and intimidating. I heard rich murmurs of thunder. My object now was to skedaddle over this next peak, then get a bit lower where the trail decisively bends to the east for the rest of the trip to Spring Creek Pass. There was a spattering of raindrops and the sky darkened. But worse held off, and I was glad for that. I imagine that lightning danger can be severe up here...

I hope it doesn't storm...

Home for the night, ready for rain.

It rained a bit in the evening. Late at night I heard coyotes yipping quite close. I had the impression they were aware of my tent.

June 7, Day 48, 17.5 miles

I had about 7 miles to reach Spring Creek Pass. I worried about getting a hitch, remembering how bad it was at Wolf Creek Pass trying to get into Pagosa Springs until Smiley rescued us. I decided to do a Neville Goddard trick. I filled my mind with the gratitude and relief I'd be feeling looking out of the window of a sturdy truck as we pulled into Lake City. I refused to entertain any worry or fear. Through the walk to the pass, I kept "blooming" that image in my mind and deeply engaging with the feeling of joy at an obstacle overcome.

After a few hours in open country, I climbed into a forest, then gently mowed along roads meandering. In the deepest part of the forest I surprised a great elk, with a smaller companion behind. He moved away into the forest. These creatures symbolize the San Juans for me.

I was so tempted to worry and fret as I approached the parking lot. I knew that the road didn't have much traffic, and wanted to hurry to stand beside it rather than miss a possible ride by mere seconds, then have to wait an hour for the next car. I covered these thoughts with my wish for a ride, always with full appreciation of the gift of it, and absolute expectation of the fulfillment of the wish.

I stood at the road and a truck pulling a trailer with an ATV went by. A minute later an RV came up. He stopped!

Everything worked as I imagined. I had those feelings of gratitude. I enjoyed a conversation with the driver, who lives in New Mexico, retired. He travels north to Wyoming to fish, and lives as a free man. I felt like a king meeting a king. There are not many people out here, so the ones you meet are of a special type who know the power of choosing their own way in the world. This is kingship.

After a hearty thank you and goodbye I was on the long street of Lake City. I went into a restaurant and made up for my poor breakfast with a second one...an omelette, rich coffee and freshly baked bread. Here I met Master Chef and her husband (drat, I forgot his trail name!). I exchanged news with other hikers, hoisted my pack and walked north to the Post Office where my bounce box was waiting. I shipped it forward to Leadville, needing nothing from inside. I went to the supermarket and picked up enough food to reach Salida, about a hundred miles of walking away. In hindsight, I sure wish I'd bought bug spray!

Mishap on the scenic Snow Mesa.

I saw Info and a few other hikers I knew. I thought about staying overnight, but well, it was still early and I already had that fever on me to get out of town. It builds up as people tell you they've arranged a ride to escape, and walk purposefully off. Back at the same restaurant I got a sandwich. I was told that at a certain time (1 pm?), a guy would come by and offer a ride at a place across the street. A bit dubious, I went there and waited but no one showed up. I had a phone number of a trail angel who offered rides out of town and called it. He said he was just finishing work and would come get me.

Dang, this is a supremely helpful thing. He drove up and did his best to refuse the money I offered him for the trouble (I finally got him to take 20 dollars). He's a photographer and has hiked sections of the trail. We talked about the stands of dead trees and all the things the forest service has tried to prevent the beetle kill from hopping roads, but nothing worked. It was sad.

I knew that Mishap and other friends were standing by the road a bit further south, and asked if we could take them too. He said sure, but when we passed the location, no one was there. So they got a ride -- cool!

At the pass we shook hands and I set off. He was also hiking up, but with lots of camera equipment to capture some birds and pikas on Snow Mesa, about 1400 feet above the pass.

Now I saw something strange...hikers on the trail...in fact...day hikers. I hadn't seen something like that in so long that it seemed like a new concept. Young folks in fresh-smelling clothes, moving down the trail and wishing me luck on the long journey. Amazing.

A bit higher, I caught Mishap, and we walked the rest of the day together, which turned out to be around 10 miles. I was amazed that I got in more than 17 miles for the day along with the trip to town.

Mishap was enjoying herself. I learned about her life in Chicago. We talked of many things as the beautiful landscape of Snow Mesa unrolled before us... easy walking, but with snow capped peaks all around. A sky thick with clouds, but not too thick, so periods of sun and shade alternated with pleasing regularity. The country seemed to promise that it would get easier, but gradually so.

We came into a narrow valley patched with forest and decided to camp at a flat area obviously gardened as a campsite. We noticed beaver swimming behind their dam in a pond nearby (I later learned the name: Middle Mineral Creek Valley). It was fun watching Mishap prepare dinner. She has many small packets of tasty seasonings, or even dried vegetables. She'll add them to the pot and end up with a perfect filling for a tortilla. It is a kind of superpower, I thought.

The beaver pond near our camp, with swimming beavers.

Mishaps astounding dinner preparation.

I simply didn't think much about food. Walking with her for some days, it was natural to alter that. In Salida, I followed Mishaps advice, buying many smaller things to combine with each other to make something to look forward to in the evening. In fact, Leftovers and I enacted a little comedy where, under Mishaps tutelege, we bought far too many things, then fretted about what to jettison. It became fun to appear before her helpless, asking which kind of cake mix I should bring, boxes spilling out of my hands. She didn't get the joke, only saying "I didn't say you should get EVERYTHING I pointed out to you!" But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Now begins the most social part of my trip...walking with people for days. It was a good thing, and I appreciate Mishap and the others who will show up more in the narrative for a while.

June 8, Day 49, 20.2 miles

Transitioning out of the mountains.

We were on our way early, hiking across Middle Mineral Creek and its valley, then very steeply up to a saddle. There Gargoyle was cooking something, with Lemonhope sitting on a rock looking at us. Lemonhope cracks me up. He doesn't even have to talk, and I hear a kind of sardonic narration coming from his direction. He's poking fun at everyone, but includes himself too.

We continued together, descending and crossing East Mineral Creek, then climbing 1000 feet on a long switchback with Lemonhope getting far ahead. He loves climbs. Leftovers showed up in here, too. Gargoyle and Mishap often walked together. Today would be a tough day, elevation-wise. With the exception of Leftovers and I, the others planned to take an alternate route up San Luis Peak, exciting because it's the first 14eer (14,000+ foot peak) along the trail. But we had to climb and descend at least 3000 feet to reach the base of it at a saddle already.

Lemonhope on a hill before San Luis Pass.

Also, Mishap had an injured foot, which she'd tried to improve in Lake City. It reminded me of the way my own right foot swells and gives me pain in unusual places. I encouraged her to skip the peak until the swelling goes down, and in the end she relunctantly did that. I didn't know then how strong her drive was to hit any/all exceptional points along the way, and I felt bad for encouraging her to take the normal route, which, I think, leaves her feeling diminished somehow.

But first we came to a famous point: it is here, at the broad San Luis Pass that the "Creede Cut-off" arrives from the southern side. How long ago had I stood at the junction far to the south, wondering if I should take the cut off? How much experience had occurred since then?

It felt like an unanswerable question. It was simply too much.

I sat down by the sign for the pass and thought about it a while. I was happy for my road.

At the Creede Cut-off junction.

Amazingly, Gargoyle and Mishap can be seen left of center! (if you click to see original size and zoom in). One of the few pictures that really show the scale of the country and how people disappear in it...

With Lemonhope in the distance, I climbed out of the valley on the eastern side, always going east now. I came into the La Garita Wilderness. It was a zone of alpine basins headed by snowy cliffs. I spent hours crossing this kind of country with plenty of ups and downs...finally, climbing up to the pass where you can climb San Luis Peak.

No thanks! I turned happily down a mix of snowfields and willows to the broad Cochetopa Creek Valley. Down in the trees, the sun became hotter than I'd felt it since New Mexico. I was below 11,000 feet and it felt like a much different country. I stopped to rest. Leftovers and Mishap passed by at a good pace, exchanging hellos. We played tag with each other through the long afternoon. Mishap had a habit of sitting silently off to the side, and was easy to pass by without seeing her. This happened to Leftovers, and he began to worry where she was. "Oh, she was sitting on the side and you just didn't see her," I said. Later, she was able to report that was the case.

We came to the Eddiesville Trailhead with a handful of buildings. Here, folks come down from San Luis peak, and I met Gargoyle and Lemonhope again. Gargoyle said the summit didn't feel as worthwhile as other high summits, as the view was very much the same as from the trail. Nursing tired feet, I savored that comment ("Ha! See?" I thought, indicating how charity of viewpoint diminishes when pains multiply).

In the Cochetopa valley, before rounding the bend to the north.

From a restful half-hour in trees near this empty parking lot, we gradually became vertical again and hiked off, now to the north along Cochetopa Creek, which had grown to a mighty river from the point I first found it. I was suffering, and watching the mileage closely. As soon as I hit 20 miles, I was like "okay, time to stop NOW." Mishap and I walked together for an hour, then crossed the creek. The trail climbed a bit above the river and flat spots appeared. The campsite seemed good to her as well, so we hunted for the flattest places. It had been 20.2 miles, and 3,600 feet of climbing for the day. We were camping right below 10,000 feet, the first time something like that had happened in weeks. What a great luxury...I wouldn't have to wake up shivering in the night!

Of course...mosquitoes were beginning to appear.

Mishap approaches camp in the evening.

June 9, Day 50, 25.2 miles

Rough forest walking day.

I left a bit before Mishap and walked a couple of hours before sitting down for breakfast at a forested pass, now up and away from the creek. Mishap came along and we set off together. We knew Gargoyle, Lemonhope and Leftovers were somewhere ahead.

Pretty soon, we'd come out of the mountains and were on a plain. I was reminded of New Mexico. We joked about some ATV enthusiasts (all-terrain vehicles) who came by on the road in a group of 5 or 6. The idea was that they were secretly Satanists, and planning to murder unwary hikers who were easy targets because they're always ready to accept food from anybody who offers! In fact, it was a day of laughter.

We walked through some long flat stretches. In here, we hit the milestone of 1,000 miles on the trail! We took pictures at the momument of little stones placed to make the number 1,000. Later we found a dead coyote and Mishap did detective work on how it died, where it died, etc. As it turns out, she knows what she's talking about, having learned techniques of taxidermy helping out a wilderness biology program. She's seen many dead animals...cleaned the bones, helped ready them for display, etc.

At the 1000 mile marker.

Mishaps photographs a beautiful butterfly. She would become really good at this. By the time she reached Montana her wildlife pictures were amazing.

I told her the story of how I was very over-dramatic as a little kid. My mom's boyfriend once had to set me carefully down multiple times, because I kept climbing up onto the car when he had the hood open looking at something in the engine. On the third time, I collapsed dramatically, saying "look what you made me do!" It was an old story in my family. Mishap tripped at one point and rolled a bit in the dirt. She came up saying "look what you made me do!" I actually didn't get it at first. But either way, perhaps due to the heat, we were laughing and jibing each other for miles. We came to a stream and found Leftovers resting there listening to music. We joined him, but left him perplexed because by this point we had a half-dozen private jokes. Mishap has a problem with fluid in her lungs and ended up swallowing water down the wrong pipe somewhere in all this. So we finally had to stop joking around so much so she could breathe normally, the poor thing!

We re-entered light forest after a long march east, then turned back north. We went cross-country to avoid a long, tedious switchback, and discussed political things. I was trying to illustrate the conservative point of view on things (Mishap is very liberal/left) with the aid of an alter-ego, let's call him "Hank." I said:

"Well, I get that you city people have come to feel that you know what's best for us, and heck, you do have a lot more school than we do." Hank scratches his neck. "Hell, we can't afford that, and frankly, I just couldn't sit in a classroom all day."

He went on: "but one thing seems funny. Since you are so smart, and I'm glad about that, don't get me wrong...it seems you get too damned smart to have kids of yer own."

"What I mean is...and no disrespect intended...is that if you know best how to live, why aren't you interested in passing that on to children? Seems to me a good philosophy of life must include that, otherwise it's not so much about life as about just your life in particular."

In our weeks talking together, Mishap rarely agreed with the things I talked about, especially when I felt strongly about them. But this was one point she had to agree with.

For my part, I was relieved to hear her say that, although she knows many transgender people (or people in various states along that path), she saw that there were many barriers to irreversible steps like operations or hormone blockers. My impression has been that young kids are doing these dangerous things with little to block them. I'm glad to hear that I'm wrong about that.

We rested in a culvert under a road (CO 114), happy for a bit of shade. Walking a bit further we encountered a famous family on the trail with very young children. The next day, Gargoyle would talk about the time he spent with them...they left a big impression.

We met Lemonhope, then walked with him to a logged area with some flat spots and set up camp. The three of us ate dinner together in companionship. It was a nice evening! However I disturbed the peace when I came down hard against both of my companions for being members of the Satanic Temple (Church? I forgot the exact name).

They explained that it was a very enlightened thing to do...because, see, they are not aligning themselves with the great enemy of God, but instead, they are archly poking fun at the army of smug religious people who they imagine are the real problem in this world. They are great "rebels," tossing sand in the eye of hypocrites around the world (stuffy looking pasty white people living in small towns, I think, from their comments).

I said they are being useful idiots, and will regret it one day. I said I thought they were real rebels in a good sense, for they turn away from consumer society and put the sweat of their brow into the work of discovering nature with activity like this here. That other stuff... they think they are harming the hypocritical, but really, they are just taking away the bonds of trust between us. Both Lemonhope and Mishap were excited about a recent "action" their "church" had taken. It discovered that there was a small town where a bible study was taking place on school grounds. Well, they said, we'll study our Satanic books then too on these school grounds.

After much drama, tears and pain for this community, they succeeded (of course) in getting the bible study removed from the school.

I can only feel anguish they think such action in any way improves the world. It might shore up an insecurity identity. It might provide a merit badge of sorts. But I'm certain that this little community (which these proud members of the Satanic Temple will never visit again) is left bereft, mistrusting one another, and generally in a sadder state about the world.

So...with a last shouted "this is why I hate talking about politics!" from Mishap across the logged forest, we went to sleep.

I...well...I've always been known as the most agreeable person you could ever meet. And I'm sorry, but I'm doing my best to let go of that quality which became a personal brand. For evil to triumph, good men merely need to do nothing. I am not a good man. But I would like to be. So I'm speaking up.

I have love for my companions. Love for Mishap. Love for Lemonhope! But a frog croaks when he is hungry. A dog barks painfully if you step on his tail. I will bark if something doesn't sit right with me.

What a day! 25.2 miles, and 3379 feet of climbing (probably a lot more of descent, considering the country we were in). With head spinning and body recovering, I fell into dream.

Dinner is served!

June 10, Day 51, 21.7 miles

I was the last to leave, Lemonhope visible in the distance ahead, Mishap already well underway. Heroic hiker Seeking Lost describes the difficulties of this section pretty well:

...The CDT leaves the road and becomes trail only for the rest of the day. It’s also the beginning of several miles of ups and downs along a series of wooded hill tops. Boring! And tiring...

...Boring ups and downs along a ridge with no views. Lots of rocks to trip over and to hurt my feet. Lots of mosquitoes...

...Heading up hill now, more ups and downs with little views. A few clearings in the trees offered some of the first distant views in a while...

And perhaps worst of all:

After a 900ft climb, the tail reaches an exposed ridge. Finally, distant views again! Man the last 70 miles were rather boring.

A stiff 1000 foot climb started things out. I followed a rocky trail through trees, then wandered up and down for hours. Water was scarce. But the mosquitoes started up. Over the next days they drove me crazy, always landing on my back and shoulders just out of sight. By the time I reached Monarch Pass, I was covered in red welts, because they could bite through my shirt. I dreamed of a Walmart where I could get some bug spray.

I did have some fun in here, too. I imagined a little story involving Mishap and Gargoyle as I listened to music and slapped my arms, stumbling over the many toaster-sized rocks in the trail. I was laughing about the story and at that moment came upon Gargoyle and Mishap sitting on logs beside the trail. I walked again after a brief break, and we (along with Lemonhope and Leftovers) walked along, passing each other, occasionally walking together.

Oh, the mosquitoes and the hard trail and my aching feet!

There were times I was reminded of Germany in this forest, as long as the rocks weren't too big or the mosquitoes too thick (they seemed to bunch up in hollows in the lower parts of steep climbs, just when you want to move more slowly!). I took so many walks in the forest around my home, and felt pangs of homesickness. What was Barbara doing? I like forests, and the lack of views doesn't bother me. But the ups and downs were adding up. The days total would be ~4100 feet, and my legs and joints were just plum tired out. Add the growing pain from my right foot as the afternoon wore on, and indeed: "embrace the suck!"

Oh, I had some fun conversations with Gargoyle about all kinds of things. Dang, I wish I could remember the details, because we skipped from one deep pool of meaning to another, always beginning with some innocuous observation connected to our experiences. He's got a great way of listening to something you might say, pausing, and then either hitting the ball back with some curve to it, or...like a drink of fresh water from a spring, saying "...yes, that's right." The pause is where he's running the idea through his well of experiences and finding that the idea emerges untarnished. It's a brand of thoughtfulness that I've rarely experienced. The effect of this was that in the weeks ahead, I'd accumulate a handful of thoughts I wanted to run by him. I just think he'll make an incredible dad one day.

Still, one of my favorite activites with everyone was to say "can you believe how hard this trail is in here?" And to hear vigorous assent. Ah...so it's not just me! Laff..

Lemonhope was a kind of mirthful gremlin, often emerging from the trees on the side of the trail. "I just take a nap for a while, listen to people walk by," he'd say. "I just mosey along." Indeed, he's really good at "moseying." He could smoke anybody into the ground, especially when it came to climbs, but when you see him, he's usually walking slowly, sometimes arms hanging over a pole balancing on his shoulders.

Leftovers hated the uphills, and seemed to think often of ways to lighten his pack, but just not reaching a satisfactory conclusion. He just needed the things he had, darn it. However, on level ground he'd march purposefully away, with a light in his face and eyes. I often felt he was too negative for my taste, but that was really just an outer layer. He was grinding that away a little bit every day.

I saw some pictures of him near the end of the trail up in Montana. It seemed that he completed the process, and had reached a bedrock of joy.

All of my companions finished the trail. Mishap began taking really beautiful pictures of small animals, insects. Just amazing. It is a loss that I didn't get to see all this unfolding to its end. But this tribe of thru-hikers... I see why they do what they do. I was just a visitor to their world.

Coming down from Sargents Mesa, first broad views in a while.

Anyway, in the here and now we were all grubby hikers, each with our own problems. I took very few pictures in here. I just pushed the miles forward, trying to escape into music. The trail bent south (you know how I dislike that!), then back east...the forested ridges continued, and the San Juans disappeared utterly. Finally we got some wider views coming down the north side of Sargents Mesa, with wide grassy slopes planing down into Tank Seven Creek. A crowd of real hiker-soldiers passed by at this point, exchanging a few words. My feet hurt so much on reaching some flat spots at the Creek right before going up to a ridgetop, I simply had to stop. Lemonhope, Leftovers and (I think?) Mishap stopped here too, while Gargoyle continued up to the ridge where a good campsite was expected another two miles further. We briefly commiserated about the trail and went to bed.

Uff...a hard day, but looking back...it was still great. :)

June 11, Day 52, 21.4 miles

Back to high country, and then a sweet, sweet road!

It was 21.4 miles to Monarch Pass...would I make it? I practiced psychology on myself, saying I expected to stop before that, possibly at a little cabin we knew was ahead. But secretly...I was ready for town!

Once done with the climb up the ridge, I entered a forest with oddly luminescent moss on the ground, and took a picture:

The forest reminded me of good ol' Deutschland.

More forest-ridge grinding, then climbing out of the trees on the side of Windy Peak, then Headwaters Hill. I had another engaging chat with Gargoyle in the final hour to Marshall Pass, which had a parking lot and a public restroom -- which was locked! Boy, I'd been looking forward to that. Later, in the FarOut app, I read a sheepish comment from the day before where someone said they accidentally locked the door somehow. Grr.

In hot sun, I ground my slow way up alone on a road that became trail again, for the first time meeting dirt bikers. Their engines were surprisingly quiet. I thought that the toaster-sized rocks in the trail might come from the effect they have on it. On the other hand, the Colorado Trail is very well maintained, and I'm sure these dirt-bikers help out plenty.

I reached open, alpine country of snowbanks, scrub trees and willows for the first time in days, then eagerly marched on to the cabin (Chipeta Shelter Cabin), which I was eager to see. I got to it and collapsed in a tired heap on ground in front of it, still damp from snowbanks. I just lay there with my shoes off, wondering if I could make it the rest of the way.

An infusion of peanut butter and the last tortilla, along with a bit of shivering on the ground as the wind picked up proved to be enough. Dang it: I'm going to finish the section!

And now, the trail became beautiful again, though quite popular. Mountain bikers and dirt bikers came along. I guess their thing is to bike the section from Monarch to Marshall Pass and back, because I said hello to a few of them two times. I was either on the ridge or traversing the side, looking down on forests below, and getting intimidating glimpses of the quite snowy Sawatch Mountains ahead. I prayed that weather continued fine and snow melted rapidly over the next days!

After Marshall Pass, the views north to the Sawatch Mountains opened up.

Looking to the snowy peaks to come...

As afternoon turned to early evening I marched on, senses now somewhat dulled to the scenic delights. There was a thick, corniced snowbank at one point that looked impossible to negotiate from a distance, but it turned out to be fine.

I got to the pass (thank God!) and met Gargoyle by the road. There was a little store there. I don't think we went in...we just went to the road and stuck our thumbs out.

Almost immediately we were picked up by a retired couple who live in Salida. They worked in corrections for years. They were kind and patient. They dropped me off first at a motel I'd quickly booked online (vacancies were scarce!), then took Gargoyle downtown where he had a room booked at a hostel.

Happy to have escaped the deep forest!

Road sweet road...Monarch Pass is reached!

We heard that Mishap, Leftovers and (I think?) Lemonhope emerged soon after and also got a ride.

I ordered a large pizza and beer from the brewpub nearby (they delivered, that was heaven!). I showered two times, ate in my room and just numbed out and slept. It had been 21.4 miles and 3949 feet of elevation gain.

June 12, Day 53, 0 miles

Google, Mishap, Leftovers and Gargoyle at an amazing breakfast on our "zero day."

First was breakfast with the gang. We also met Google there. Lemonhope was staying with friends, and I wouldn't see him again until near the end of the Sawatch Mountain traverse. What a great feast. I picked up a small bottle of cinammon whiskey, having coveted Mishap's bottle rather too much! She doled out shots for whoever camped with her and I always looked forward to that. I wanted to pay her back by carrying the weight for the next section. However, she still had her own bottle, and I rarely got to share. Oh well...more for me! Indeed, a shot of whiskey at the end of a hard day up and down these mountains was something to look forward to!

I had many things to do. Mishap had access to a truck, and she picked me up for a trip to Walmart. Here, we bought supplies, and enjoyed the comedy I mentioned earlier where Leftovers and I tried to follow all of her advice about what to buy. I went back to their hostel with them ("Heydukes Hideout") in the truck, as they were sure I could stay there. It was an amazing little place run by a couple...purely a donation/volunteer effort. They had two converted garages for hikers to camp in, and a yard in the back to set up tents. There was a washing machine and an outdoor shower behind a corregated tin barn.

Gargoyle got back to the truck early with his food supplies.

The owner even let me take the truck into town to pick up some things I'd shipped to the hostel where Gargoyle stayed. I'd lost my headlamp in the truck with the slobbering dog in Silverton, and ordered a new one on Amazon. I'd also ordered a new groundsheet with a bigger profile, as I'd cut mine down rather too much.

I drove back, then Gargoyle and I drove out to a chinese restaurant on the highway for food for most of the house.

We shared a great chinese feast. Gargoyle entertained us with stories of his wild night at the hostel. Aparently there were several drunken hikers, and once one of them screamed at cars driving by. It was kind of a mess!

I curled up behind the couch while folks watched a movie in the main garage, listening to my washing going. Mishap had repaired the washer somehow, we were all thankful for that (there seemed to be an electrical problem).

There was also tragedy. We learned here that Cutie had died on the trail. That wonderful young man, who I talked with in the Southern San Juans, who always passed by me...well, his mother noticed that his GPS track had stopped moving high in the wilderness. It happened when Leftovers and I were in the area, just a bit after where we camped. Leftovers said that he'd seen Cutie's red bivouac sack well off the trail somewhere.

Special K was there. I hadn't seen her for a long time. She hiked with Cutie and spent time with him in Silverton. She was devastated with this news. I contacted Cutie's mom and sent her some photos I had with him in it. Special K talked with her too, sharing some memories.

This whole thing perplexed us. There was no cause of death determined. It just didn't make sense. It was something to think about in the weeks ahead.

To go forward to days 54 and beyond click here.