September 20 2009
Here I go on the gear again. I like gear. I talk about it a lot and don’t get tired of it. Maybe I should work in a gear shop, though I wouldn't be able to sell anyone a two wall tent or boots...
So this is what I used.
Packs
ULA Relay for New Mexico. I switched to my old GoLite Jam2 that I used on the PCT for the rest of the hike. It held up remarkably well and I wouldn’t doubt it if that pack made it through another thru hike.
Sleeping
2009 GoLite Ultra 20. The rating should be closer to 35. I picked up a cheap pink fleece baby blanket in Chama New Mexico which kept me warm in the snow. I slept on the same half length Ridgerest from last year.
Shelter
Six Moons Designs Gatewood Cape and Serenity Net Tent
22 ounces total including stakes made for a very light double wall tent system which kept me very dry. I used one of my trekking poles to set it up. It flapped a bit in the wind but I would use such a shelter again.
Cooking and hydration
I hydrated food in a plastic peanut butter jar again which worked well. I treated water with a Sawyer inline filter for the first half and used Aquamira chemical treatment for the rest. I treated about 10 total liters in Colorado due to most of the sources being from high up, with lots of snow melt. I didn’t treat much at all that came out of high mountains, and didn’t suffer any of that revenge stuff. I might go for something lighter. The Sawyer was problematic and became too difficult to use after two months
Clothes
Again I wore long sleeves, often using my Marmot wind shirt from last year. I slept in thermals often, and hiked in shorts only a few times. I used no rain gear other than a $1.99 poncho.
Shoes
Montrail Hardrock 2008 size 10.5 wide. I wish they still made them. I used five pairs and never had foot or knee problems.
Baseweight
Crazy Cook to Chama
6 lbs 4 oz
Chama to Steamboat Springs
Just below 8 lbs
Added ice axe and down jacket, and my Jam2 was slightly heavier than the Relay.
Steamboat Springs to the end
Just below 7 lbs
I ditched the axe and jacket, added a pair of running shorts and kept my blanket until near Lima. I say near Lima because I gave my blanket to a hiker who misplaced his pack 20 miles from Lima.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
And a Pair of Moose are Meese
September 15 2009Lincoln to Waterton
Here it is, the last stretch, and some of the most scenic terrain on the trail. There is some exposed ridges and burnt forests near the beginning of this section. However, as soon as hikers reach a low pass and start descending to Benchmark ranch and the Bob Marshal Wilderness, the trail is more pleasant, and the terrain gets much more interesting. I picked up my box at Benchmark and hiked through another burned section. That night, I camped at the base of the Chinese Wall with a nice guy from helena who was making a short trip to said geological feature.
The morning rewarded us with clear skies and warm sun. I left early and strolled along the Chinese Wall. This feature is quite amazing. East facing cliff is hundreds of vertical feet high for over ten miles. It really does look hand made.
Half way along the wall I saw Ellie, a hiker with whom I had briefly hiked in southern New
Mexico . She was headed south.From there I descended along an overgrown trail to a river before starting a long, fairly steep climb. The pass was intensely windy and slightly nippy. I stopped in a sheltered spot to eat dinner before continuing to a damp camp at a lake.
I want to address campsites for a moment. Thru-hikers rarely go far from the trail to camp. I for one typically go far enough that I am invisible, But I really don’t feel like walking an extra 100 feet... As I walk, I will often see a wide bit of trail and think “I could camp there” Another thing that I find interesting, at least for me and the few hikers I have hiked with, is that we don’t go for specific destinations, and very rarely camp near lakes. Lakes are damp. There is condensation... they make frequent campsites for other hikers which means frequent critter activity. If a thru hiker is not recognizable by a smaller than normal pack, early or late hiking, trail running shoes, extraordinarily dirty... They can certainly be recognized if they are camped within 20 feet of the trail.
Late the next day after dinner I saw a hiker with a small back pack across a creek. Upon getting closer I recognized him as Voyageur. For those with a short term memory, Voyageur is a hiker with whom I hiked in Washington on the PCT. He also met me in Yellowstone As he was out west meeting several people. Me, Stilts, Lucky, Lumbar, a few other west coast PCT hikers... He was about 10 days from driving home and decided to help me out a bit. We hiked a few mor
e miles and stopped to camp... 20 feet off trail. The next day we had the opportunity to take one of the alternate trails. This route runs a ridge line climbing numerous small peaks along the way. There is no trail to speak of but the route is easy to follow.After a frighteningly steep climb, we were on track. Part way through, we needed water. Voyageur had seen the obvious signs of a creek from the last peak and we scampered down the steep hillside and filled our bottles in a pure spring, the best water in the universe. Just afternoon clouds formed almost instantly. We were not quite at the end of the high route and several miles of exposed ridge walking remained. We decided to bail off the ridge and go cross country and find the official route.
“*FLASH BANG* I lost my footing and my poles went flying as I was knocked to the ground by the sound. little lights in my head flashed and strobed as I sat, hyperventilating on the ground. I looked down the ridge at Voyageur, who's hair was standing more on end than normal. I picked up my poles like two dead fish and tiptoed down to Voyageur, like something out of D-day, head ducked, as if that would help when hit by "1.21 gigawatts!"
"Down?" "Down!" We agreed and crashed headlong through the brush, and later thick tree cover. Crashing turned to weaving, bobbing, and ducking, and squirming as the trees grew closer together. Both of my feet went straight up in front of me and I sat down hard in the brush, looking to my left, I saw something round and blue, several.. hundreds of round blue somethings. I reached out and picked a few before getting to my feet. Now in the relative safety of tree cover, and much lower than we were a mere 10 minutes earlier, We gorged ourselves on blueberries. Completely soaked and our minds set on Mexican Food in East Glacier, we pulled ourselves reluctantly from the heavily hanging wonderful wild berries and continued through the trees, eventually emerging on a trail. Soon after that there were Thimbleberries. "Will this ever end?!?" I thought, angrily at the rain, and blissfully at the berries.” ~Me, September 1, 2009
Instead of hiking the rest of the way to East Galcier, Voyageur drove me to town and we went to the hostel. It was wet and the rain persisted.
I picked up the remaining 15 miles the next day under full sun shine. However, one horrible even happened. I lost my GPS. It had accompanied me for over 2000 miles. It was my co-pilot, my friend, my alarm clock. Wait. my friend? Well there weren’t many people to talk to, so why not. Without my GPS I might have ended up in South Dakota or something!
The day after, the third, I picked up another 10 miles by slack-packing, hiking a section without all of my gear. Ind hind sight, I could have jogged it. These were my first real views of Glacier Park. Tree line is fairly low in northern Montana. And much of my hiking was done above tree line. I started at Two Medicine after getting my hiking permit and campsite itinerary. I climbed the 2300 feet to Scenic point rath
er quickly and made it to East glacier by early afternoon and took yet another shower! Heck, I could slack-pack the rest of the way!All of the sudden I am camping with people. Morningstar Campground, my first designated site in Glacier Park, had six other campers. One of them even gave me a piece of freshly cooked chicken breast!
I was over Triple divide pass the next day. The day started off sunny but worsened quickly... very quickly. I had tho
ught of climbing the peak, but it was raining and quite foggy by the time I made it to the pass. Down into the river valleys I found lots of thimbleberries. I camped in a miserably dusty burnt area at Red Eagle Lake. I received more hot food and an offer for free steak in Babb. I politely declined as I am now on a schedule, and as I have mentioned before, not exactly a steak fan.The next day, I had a fairly long hike to Many Glacier. The trail along Sain Mary Lake was very wet with all the rain. Knee high shrubs saturated my pant legs. After Crossing the famous Going To The Sun Highway I climbed up the trail to Piegan Pass. The wind was blowing fiercely and just after the pass the rain that was following turned into ice. it felt like shards of glass, even through my pants. I hurried down the other side, my plastic poncho flapping obnoxiously. I made it to Many Glacier before 6:00 and saw Cape Cod Mike, who I had also seen in Helena.
I ended up taking a zero due to the cold weather and complicated reasons having to do with daily mileage, campsites and math. I will spare you.
And so I departed from Many Glacier on the 8th. I climbed quickly in the gusty wind and freezing temperatures to Swiftcurrent Pass. I saw numerous day hikers on the alpine trail. I joined up with The Highline Trail on the other side of the pass and spent much of the day traversing the western slope of a long ridge. Huckleberries were plentiful and the sun fought to come out. Little by little, the clouds parted and the sun poked through. By afternoon, sun shone unobstructed onto the fresh thin layer of snow atop the peaks. Just after Fifty Mountain, I took out my final map, labeled “MT1” This was it, my final night on trail.
“After my PCT hike, one of my Uncle’s ask me what I was going to do for an encore. Well... I think this qualifies. This feels much... bigger. Already. It is just more than the PCT. I don’t want to belittle the Pacific Crest trail, so don’t get me wrong. For me, this feels like it will be more of an accomplishment, maybe it is the lower number of hikers, maybe it is because I have missed less of this trail than I did on the fire shortened PCT last year.
I must digress... Once down into the valley I walked along the river, seeing a moose, eating many Thimbleberries, and eventually making it to Kootenai Lake. There, Voyageur was already waiting, unaware that I had crunched two days into one. If it were not for Voyageur, a finish at Waterton Lake might be quite a challenge logistically. I might have ended up going up to Chief Mountain. And he brought cookies and fruit!”
Instead of trying to truncate my last entry that I wrote on paper the evening of the 9th, I’ll just write it here:
“I have walked from Mexico to Canada... not once, but twice now. What is wrong with me? Why do I do this? 95 percent of the time I am uncomfortable, tired, sore, cold, hot, wet, chapped, hungry... or some combination of those things, often just thinking what I will have for my next town meal. Profound insights as to my place in the universe are quite rare. But all this hassle and money and exhaustion are unquestionably worth it when the border monument comes into view. The sun reflected off the dull silver paint and emotions flooded in and took over. I ran the final hundred yards, grinning stupidly, tears of joy welling up.
For someone who has never done a hike like this, It is difficult to describe. The sense of achievement was overwhelming. A couple passed by and I just wanted to scream out “Hey, guess what I just did!” Voyageur did that for me. They congratulated me of course and I appreciate that, but they can’t REALLY know what it is like. And it was way bigger than last year. I was more happy, more relieved, more emotional... this is quite the thing. Maybe it is the fact that the PCT has 10 times more people finish per year, maybe it was the navigation, being alone, inclement weather...
It will take me a while to... decompress after this. Part of me wants to take some time alone and think about it. Part of me NEEDS social interaction. I just want to tell everybody “I walked here!” It is not an ego thing, I don’t need a badge or a certificate to hang on my wall. It is just when you get to the border and the journey is over, you want to tell someone! It was very nice of Voyageur to meet me at the end. We had finished the PCT together.
Waterton Lake was such a great place to finish too. It reminded me a bit of the North Cascades, hints of Lake Chelan. The peaks are quite steep and dive down below the surface of the fjord-like lake. Little patches can be seen high up on the north faces. I am much happier to be finishing here, rather than the barbwire fence at the Mexican Border.
---
So I think some acknowledgements are in order. First. My parents. Thanks for getting all my food boxes together and not telling me to “Get a job, hippie!” Thanks to Tarzan And Zelda for uploading photos and support. Thanks Voyageur for driving me around! And he met me near Yellowstone after I had camped by my self for two months straight. I was just starting to develop alternate personalities! Thanks to Out of Order, who’s tracks I used on my GPS. Without those, I might still be in Colorado, or worse, maybe Nevada or something, Haha!
Though I can’t thank everyone specifically, I want to send a thank you out to people who gave me rides, water, food... Trail angels like you guys do a lot for hikers’ morale. And random acts of kindness ripple like waves through the population. I know that I will give rides and food to thru-hikers if I see them!
This thing would just about be impossible to do completely and utterly solo without some sort of help. So thank you!” ~Me, September 9, 2009
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I am now home, in that post hike haze, my mind often drifting to some sight or event that I experienced this year. My gear is dry and packed up, ready for next season.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wings
August 26 2009
Lima to Lincoln
It was 20 miles from I-15 to my first water source. I made my way down a crease in the grassy hillside and eventually found moisture which became a trickle. Even with the wet weather, the area around Lima was fairly dry. It could be challenging in a dry year. The next day I encountered a few people on trail. The first group
was three weekenders from Missoula who were bagging some peaks in the area. They gave me a cookie, half loaf of bread, salami, water... It was a nice treat and made for an excellent lunch. Later that day I encountered four southbounders. They told me about this magical place where hikers could eat chicken wings... endless chicken wings. I still had several towns to go, so I would do what I could to get to Lincoln on a Wednesday.The terrain wasn’t terribly interesting between Lima and Leadore, aside from a few nice mountains near the beginning of the leg. Of course, I am somewhat jaded after passing through areas like the South San Juans, the Wind River Range, and a couple of places not yet described.
I made one big climb and a long descent to the gravel road to Leadore. Here I waited for two hours while a total of three cars passed. I had made good time in hopes of getting to the post office. But I didn’t manage to get a ride until almost 5:00.
Leadore stretches a whole quarter of a mile along the highway with a couple stores and a nice little four room motel. I got a room and presently met two other hikers. There was Lost, a section hiker I had met in Silver City, and U-Haul, one more southbounder.
Despite the limited sources of entertainment in town, I took a zero... again.
---
After several days of brilliant sun and even some heat, I was once again in the rain. I found myself under my tarp on three straight afternoons. I caught up with Lost, who had left a bit before me. We hiked together through the rain which eventually turned to hail, then grapple, then real live snow. It was August 8th and it was snowing, with lightning...
We camped up high just over Goldstone Pass. The clouds didn’t part, but the rain held off until morning. I left Lost, who wasn’t exactly on a schedule. I very much would have liked to see this section as the trail gets up fairly high. Though I didn’t see the mountains I was in, I did manage to see lots of huckleberries. This slows me down a lot. A good berry patch can knock a large amount off my daily mileage.
Through the berries I went, slowly, en route to Lost Trail Pass. The last few miles gets rather violent in its topography. There were a series of short violent elevation changes. The weather on the last two days of this fairly long leg cooperated and I reached the paved road under warm sunshine.
Two hours later I was in Darby, a small touristy western themed town, not unlike Sisters in Oregon. The next leg was going to be very long, 150 miles. I rested, ate ice cream and hitched out. Well.. I tried to hitch out. I stood by the road for almost two hours before going back to the motel to call a taxi service. 30 dollars seemed steep so I tried to hitch again. Eventually I was picked up by a guy who said he was only going 10 out of the 30 miles back to the pass. I accepted the ride and chatted a bit. I offered him money to drive me the way to the pass, to which he agreed.
I didn’t have to pay for hitches on the PCT. Do I look that bad? Or are people just not used to seeing hikers.
Most of the evening’s mileage was through a burned forest under threatening skies. The next Day, I entered the Anaconda Pintler Wilderness. Thanks to continual rain and snow, I walked all day, three days in a row. I awoke early and didn’t take many breaks. I climbed the big passes and crossed the pasture lands, then crossed I-15 under rain and a double arc rainbow.
What I saw of the Pintlers was beautiful. They are steep, lined with trees, including the first Larch I had yet seen. As I passed the wispy light green conifers, I could hear a voice from Monty Python saying “The Larch. The... Larch...”
The highest pass was Rainbow Pass, topping out above 9000.
From my camp above I-15, I sprinted for route 2 and a hitch to Butte. There I stood for another two hours while countless cars whizzed by. After being picked up by a pickup truck, I walked through the historic part of the old copper mining town to the cheap motel, a decision I regretted. It is a long walk from the newer more expensive motels to the Capri. And Butte, I found, was not a pleasant pedestrian town. I was flipped off and sworn at several times. I was happy to be on my way to Helena. My hitch back to the trail, who I also paid, apologized for the rudeness I had been a victim of.
I high-tailed it northwards, very happy to be back in the woods. The next day I made easy mileage on dirt ATV roads and some trail. I found my first raspberries near Delmoe Lake. Towards the afternoon I crossed I-15 for the last time and was soon asked by a passing motorist If I wanted a ride. Where were they when I was trying to hitch? I politely declined and continued on my way.
The stretch between Butte and Helena is grassy, piny, cow-y. It is unusual for the grass here to still be green, but it was. I expected the lower areas of Montana to be dry, arid, and crawling with snakes. I guess all of this rain is welcome then. Without it, the temperature would be much higher and the water less reliable.
And so I made it to McDonald Pass after 90 easy miles. I got a ride quickly, directly to the post office. As I carried my three boxes out the door, a guy asked me where I was headed with all that stuff. He gave me ride to the budged motel in town, then surprised by giving me money. I tried to refuse, saying I wasn’t homeless, that this was a vacation... but he insisted and I graciously took the cash. I would put it back into the local economy. I was in need of chinese food, and a new book to read.
I ended up taking two zeroes in Helena, partially because I wanted to eat chicken wings in Lincoln, but mostly because Helena is a very pleasant town! People are friendly, the Cheap motel is very nice, though slightly bunker-like, the food is good, they have a good natural food store... And when I left I got a ride quickly. I saw a jeep going into town. It turned at the light and swung back around and pulled to a stop in front of me. The owner was out just driving around, getting out of the house and seemed happy to drive the 15 miles to the pass.
More of the same awaited me on trail. There was grass, beetle killed trees, and plenty of water. The last stretch was excessively roller-coaster-like. Similar to the trail before Darby and after Lincoln, the elevation changes rapidly and often. I got a ride fairly quickly from Rogers Pass to the small town of Lincoln. I got a motel room and cleaned up and prepared myself for an epic wing feed. It was Wednesday night and I was hungry.
So I sat down with a bottle of local root beer and waited for the wings to be delivered to the buffet. Eight trays were piled high with wings of different flavors. There were teriaky, ht, spicy, barbeque, sweet, and there were even two trays of pork ribs called “hog wings.” One plate into the feed, I was just getting started. I decided to pile eight on a plate to make counting easy. I took a break after four plates to eat a few veggies. I wasn’t trying for a record. I just wanted something else in my system than chicken grease. After my plate of health food I went back for two more plates... though the last plate only had five wings. After I was comfortably full, I paid my bill and asked, “Just out of curiosity, what is the record?”
“61”
I could have done it. But I was saving room for ice cream. I had a tub waiting in my freezer.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Herd
July 31 2009
Rawlins to Lima
After my 54 mile day, I limped into Anongs Thai Cuisine in Rawlins for more AYCE Asian food. I got a motel room, went to the library, did all that town stuff. I even looked into seeing a movie, but nothi
ng interesting was playing. I departed from my typical zero day and left late in the day, making about seven miles. A green Prairie Rattlesnake guarded the trail as I left the busy route 287. With a total of about 15 miles hitched so far, all on paved roads, I briefly considered hitching on 287 to Lander but resisted. This was the Great Divide Basin, a required CDT experience. Soon I left sight of traffic and was plunged into the desert. The expanse stretches as far as the eye can see, and further. The terrain is equally stark in all directions, were it not for a smattering of carsonite posts and my GPS, I wouldn’t know where to go. For two days I cruised, making 40 miles per day without really pushing hard. I now regret not bagging another 50 miler. On day three, I took a different route. The Sweetwater Creek route.
There is no trail. The maps say that there are cattle paths and game trails, but I didn’t find much. However! It was a welcome change, and though the first 15 miles of the day was very slow, it was enjoyable, only having to carry minimal water, wading across a cool creek in the hot weather.
I emerged into a car camp with a big tent, coolers, and a truck parked. I made my presence known as I had to walk through their camp. Finding two people several hundred yards further, one carrying a bow, the other a single antler, I struck up a conversation. They were a very nice couple from Lander who were interested in what I was doing and ended up giving me a sandwich and juice!
It’s not that I am a greedy mooching bum... I appreciate the generosity of total strangers. When camping and hiking, there is more opportunity for positive communication with people you don’t know. We all have a common interest. The idea of striking up a conversation with someone you pass on a metropolitan sidewalk seems bizarre. In a rural setting where nobody can be found for miles, NOT talking is bizarre. And often, a result of talking to c
ampers is free food!
I continued after refreshments and hiked into the late evening, actually making it to a thicket of trees higher up, toward the edge of the basin by nightfall.
The next day I hitched to Lander for a zero and the baseball All-Star Game. Last year, I managed to take a zero in Etna with a TV available. The game went into extra innings and there were others in the room so I ended up not being able to see the end. This time I got my own room! This isn’t out of the ordinary on the CDT. I almost always had my own motel room.
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The Winds! 13,000
peaks! Snow! Cold water!
I don’t know why the Wind River range struck me as one of the most dramatic places I have even been. Maybe it was the extreme change in terrain. Or maybe, the
Winds are indeed one of the most dramatic places I have ever been. The first pass brought me into a land of granite boulders and alpine trees. There were vertical cliffs, snow and ice. There were frozen lakes! Here it is July 17th and lakes are still frozen! I climbed full snow coverage over a pass and descended to Temple Lake. Later that day I entered the Cirque of the Towers. I camped amidst stone monuments that would make Yosemite feel inadequate. Spires of 5.13 pitches enough to keep climbers entertained seemingly indefinitely.
The morning light shone brightly on the east faces. Patches of snow glimmered like piles of baubles and gems. I relished the sights, leaving later than normal, climbing slowly to Texas Pass. The other side was similarly spectacular. The route is cross country, but easy to follow.
Two days later, I found
myself at a trail junction. The left led over Cube Rock Pass, the Right, over Knapsack Col. The Jonathan Ley CDT maps which most hikers use have two colors of lines. The Red is the most common, more official route. The purple represents an alternate. At his trail junction, a purple line squiggled off into the high mountains past Island Lake, and Titcomb basin. I took it.
It was a perfect clear day without a cloud in sight. I climbed gradually up into the basin and looked at my route. It was fully covered in snow. Knapsack Col was a vertical wall of snow with steep rocks on either side. As I got close, I debated whether or not to turn around and take the long way around... 20 more miles. I thought I would at least investigate. I climbed up the the rocks on the north side of the col and found a wide ledge, almost suitable for a pack animal. With a several hundred foot drop to my left and cliff face to my right, I traversed the mountain and climbed over the low cornice where the mounta
in met the pass.
I was rewarded on the other side by a glissade, more epic and vertical than any I had yet attempted. It rivaled the descent to Lake Anne in central Colorado near Twin Lakes.
Knapsack Col was not easy, and with no snow tools, I felt a little out of my element, but the views were rewarding. It was the most memorable place I was at for the entire CDT. I recommend it for those interested in a death defying challenge, otherwise, I am sure Cube Rock Pass is beautiful. But if you are in the Winds, at least go see the Cirque of the Towers. It is not technical and not that difficult.
The next day I was out of the Winds, in grassy fields full of dead pines and ticks. I made quick work of that and was in Dubois the day after. Here I met two hikers from the PCT in 2008. Voyageur had driven cross country to do some hiking and visit people. He had a car! And Stilts who showed up the same day, southbound from Canada. It was not exactly half way, but somehow we had met in a town. We had dinner and talked about our hike in 2008, and current adventures.
The next day Stilts took off south and Voyageur joined me for a section going northbound. We hiked through Yellowstone to Mack’s Inn ID.
Mileage is easy in Yellowstone, and If I knew better, I would have scheduled myself for longer days. Hikers are required to submit an exact itinerary and camp in designated campsites. Due to this and already booked camps, voyageur and I started with a couple fairly mellow days, then a paltry 15 mile day. We awoke at 8:00 left after 9:00 took breaks, sat in a hot spring, That hot spring was only three mi
les from our camp. After we left we saw two southbound hikers... obviously not weekenders. They donned long pants and smallish backpacks. as we drew closer, we all recognized each other. It was Lumbar and Lucky. Two more PCT 2008 hikers. We chatted for an hour or so before going on to our... designated campsites. Yellowstone needs to work out a different system for thru-hikers. I am told that AT hikers can pretty much camp wherever they want in the Great Smokeys. Why can’t four hikers who manage to meet after hiking a combined 2600 miles not camp together? I’m sure we could have, but I am not in the habit of breaking the law.
The next day after an AYCE breakfast at the lodge and seeing Old Faithful blow its lid, twice, we were off, pushing for the border of the park.
The geological features, thermals, springs, chromatic pools... are very striking, amazing. I can see the draw to Yellowstone. But the hiking when not near the thermals is fairly boring. The terrain is flat and Lodgepole pines dominate the landscape. I prefer mountains.
So in Mack’s Inn, Voyageur hitched south, back to his car and I continued another 80 or so miles to Lima.
The trail into and
out of Mack’s Inn is on roads, However, I eventually headed off onto a unremarkable trail which faded into no trail then into waist deep flowers. I wasn’t irritated by the lack of trail. I mean how can one be angry when standing in a five mile wide wildflower field? Just try it. Go find one and try stomping around angrily.
Anyway I waded through progressively higher flowers for many miles.
After a bit of a detour, following a road which I though paralleled the trail, I found myself a couple miles off course. I met a very pleasant rancher who found the thought of “No Trespassing” signs insulting and downright stupid. His land was fenced, to keep the cows in, but He could care less if a hiker walked through his land. I told him about signs and about a bit of a hairy encounter I had in New Mexico. He just shook his head saying he didn’t know why people had to be like that. He told me to walk up one of the roads to the right and that I would end up on the Divide.
I seem to have not mentioned that “hairy encounter” (See my Entry for May 27, 2009 for that encounter.)
Almost as soon as I was back on trail, I met Flip Flop, a hiker so named because he wore flip flops. I didn’t realize this until later, as we had met at a stream and he carried very heavy looking boots, strapped to his pack.
I descended
slowly from the mountains into wide open pasture with grasses and sage. I camped at the interstate.
In Lima, I met the herd. I could start naming names, but that would take up too much space. It seemed that all of the southbound hikers except for a small handful who were ahead, were here. Though i am not a steak fan, I joined the mob at the local eatery where you get to grill your own steak. I picked out a lean looking cheap cut and resisted the temptation to cut into it, flatten it, turn it every 27 seconds, or otherwise molest it. After resting on my plate for seven or eight minutes, I cut into it revealing its perfectly cooked center (though it might be a little too well-done for real meat fans’ tastes. It wasn’t bad, and the copious amount of spices I encrusted it in hid the fact that I was eating beef.
Rawlins to Lima
After my 54 mile day, I limped into Anongs Thai Cuisine in Rawlins for more AYCE Asian food. I got a motel room, went to the library, did all that town stuff. I even looked into seeing a movie, but nothi
ng interesting was playing. I departed from my typical zero day and left late in the day, making about seven miles. A green Prairie Rattlesnake guarded the trail as I left the busy route 287. With a total of about 15 miles hitched so far, all on paved roads, I briefly considered hitching on 287 to Lander but resisted. This was the Great Divide Basin, a required CDT experience. Soon I left sight of traffic and was plunged into the desert. The expanse stretches as far as the eye can see, and further. The terrain is equally stark in all directions, were it not for a smattering of carsonite posts and my GPS, I wouldn’t know where to go. For two days I cruised, making 40 miles per day without really pushing hard. I now regret not bagging another 50 miler. On day three, I took a different route. The Sweetwater Creek route.There is no trail. The maps say that there are cattle paths and game trails, but I didn’t find much. However! It was a welcome change, and though the first 15 miles of the day was very slow, it was enjoyable, only having to carry minimal water, wading across a cool creek in the hot weather.
I emerged into a car camp with a big tent, coolers, and a truck parked. I made my presence known as I had to walk through their camp. Finding two people several hundred yards further, one carrying a bow, the other a single antler, I struck up a conversation. They were a very nice couple from Lander who were interested in what I was doing and ended up giving me a sandwich and juice!
It’s not that I am a greedy mooching bum... I appreciate the generosity of total strangers. When camping and hiking, there is more opportunity for positive communication with people you don’t know. We all have a common interest. The idea of striking up a conversation with someone you pass on a metropolitan sidewalk seems bizarre. In a rural setting where nobody can be found for miles, NOT talking is bizarre. And often, a result of talking to c
ampers is free food!I continued after refreshments and hiked into the late evening, actually making it to a thicket of trees higher up, toward the edge of the basin by nightfall.
The next day I hitched to Lander for a zero and the baseball All-Star Game. Last year, I managed to take a zero in Etna with a TV available. The game went into extra innings and there were others in the room so I ended up not being able to see the end. This time I got my own room! This isn’t out of the ordinary on the CDT. I almost always had my own motel room.
---
The Winds! 13,000
peaks! Snow! Cold water!I don’t know why the Wind River range struck me as one of the most dramatic places I have even been. Maybe it was the extreme change in terrain. Or maybe, the
Winds are indeed one of the most dramatic places I have ever been. The first pass brought me into a land of granite boulders and alpine trees. There were vertical cliffs, snow and ice. There were frozen lakes! Here it is July 17th and lakes are still frozen! I climbed full snow coverage over a pass and descended to Temple Lake. Later that day I entered the Cirque of the Towers. I camped amidst stone monuments that would make Yosemite feel inadequate. Spires of 5.13 pitches enough to keep climbers entertained seemingly indefinitely.The morning light shone brightly on the east faces. Patches of snow glimmered like piles of baubles and gems. I relished the sights, leaving later than normal, climbing slowly to Texas Pass. The other side was similarly spectacular. The route is cross country, but easy to follow.
Two days later, I found
myself at a trail junction. The left led over Cube Rock Pass, the Right, over Knapsack Col. The Jonathan Ley CDT maps which most hikers use have two colors of lines. The Red is the most common, more official route. The purple represents an alternate. At his trail junction, a purple line squiggled off into the high mountains past Island Lake, and Titcomb basin. I took it.It was a perfect clear day without a cloud in sight. I climbed gradually up into the basin and looked at my route. It was fully covered in snow. Knapsack Col was a vertical wall of snow with steep rocks on either side. As I got close, I debated whether or not to turn around and take the long way around... 20 more miles. I thought I would at least investigate. I climbed up the the rocks on the north side of the col and found a wide ledge, almost suitable for a pack animal. With a several hundred foot drop to my left and cliff face to my right, I traversed the mountain and climbed over the low cornice where the mounta
in met the pass.I was rewarded on the other side by a glissade, more epic and vertical than any I had yet attempted. It rivaled the descent to Lake Anne in central Colorado near Twin Lakes.
Knapsack Col was not easy, and with no snow tools, I felt a little out of my element, but the views were rewarding. It was the most memorable place I was at for the entire CDT. I recommend it for those interested in a death defying challenge, otherwise, I am sure Cube Rock Pass is beautiful. But if you are in the Winds, at least go see the Cirque of the Towers. It is not technical and not that difficult.
The next day I was out of the Winds, in grassy fields full of dead pines and ticks. I made quick work of that and was in Dubois the day after. Here I met two hikers from the PCT in 2008. Voyageur had driven cross country to do some hiking and visit people. He had a car! And Stilts who showed up the same day, southbound from Canada. It was not exactly half way, but somehow we had met in a town. We had dinner and talked about our hike in 2008, and current adventures.
The next day Stilts took off south and Voyageur joined me for a section going northbound. We hiked through Yellowstone to Mack’s Inn ID.
Mileage is easy in Yellowstone, and If I knew better, I would have scheduled myself for longer days. Hikers are required to submit an exact itinerary and camp in designated campsites. Due to this and already booked camps, voyageur and I started with a couple fairly mellow days, then a paltry 15 mile day. We awoke at 8:00 left after 9:00 took breaks, sat in a hot spring, That hot spring was only three mi
les from our camp. After we left we saw two southbound hikers... obviously not weekenders. They donned long pants and smallish backpacks. as we drew closer, we all recognized each other. It was Lumbar and Lucky. Two more PCT 2008 hikers. We chatted for an hour or so before going on to our... designated campsites. Yellowstone needs to work out a different system for thru-hikers. I am told that AT hikers can pretty much camp wherever they want in the Great Smokeys. Why can’t four hikers who manage to meet after hiking a combined 2600 miles not camp together? I’m sure we could have, but I am not in the habit of breaking the law.The next day after an AYCE breakfast at the lodge and seeing Old Faithful blow its lid, twice, we were off, pushing for the border of the park.
The geological features, thermals, springs, chromatic pools... are very striking, amazing. I can see the draw to Yellowstone. But the hiking when not near the thermals is fairly boring. The terrain is flat and Lodgepole pines dominate the landscape. I prefer mountains.
So in Mack’s Inn, Voyageur hitched south, back to his car and I continued another 80 or so miles to Lima.
The trail into and
out of Mack’s Inn is on roads, However, I eventually headed off onto a unremarkable trail which faded into no trail then into waist deep flowers. I wasn’t irritated by the lack of trail. I mean how can one be angry when standing in a five mile wide wildflower field? Just try it. Go find one and try stomping around angrily.Anyway I waded through progressively higher flowers for many miles.
After a bit of a detour, following a road which I though paralleled the trail, I found myself a couple miles off course. I met a very pleasant rancher who found the thought of “No Trespassing” signs insulting and downright stupid. His land was fenced, to keep the cows in, but He could care less if a hiker walked through his land. I told him about signs and about a bit of a hairy encounter I had in New Mexico. He just shook his head saying he didn’t know why people had to be like that. He told me to walk up one of the roads to the right and that I would end up on the Divide.
I seem to have not mentioned that “hairy encounter” (See my Entry for May 27, 2009 for that encounter.)
Almost as soon as I was back on trail, I met Flip Flop, a hiker so named because he wore flip flops. I didn’t realize this until later, as we had met at a stream and he carried very heavy looking boots, strapped to his pack.
I descended
slowly from the mountains into wide open pasture with grasses and sage. I camped at the interstate.In Lima, I met the herd. I could start naming names, but that would take up too much space. It seemed that all of the southbound hikers except for a small handful who were ahead, were here. Though i am not a steak fan, I joined the mob at the local eatery where you get to grill your own steak. I picked out a lean looking cheap cut and resisted the temptation to cut into it, flatten it, turn it every 27 seconds, or otherwise molest it. After resting on my plate for seven or eight minutes, I cut into it revealing its perfectly cooked center (though it might be a little too well-done for real meat fans’ tastes. It wasn’t bad, and the copious amount of spices I encrusted it in hid the fact that I was eating beef.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
I Live to Eat! (At Chinese Buffets)
July 8 2009
Silverthorne to Rawlins
After filling up on another AYCE chinese meal I headed out.
I thought I was done with winter... Looking back on it, I prefer winter to mosquitoes, but I was getting frustrated. It rained on me often, Almost daily since leaving Lake City.
The following is an excerpt from my journal from June 25
“OK! I've had it! Turn off the sprinklers! Stop the fog machine, and who turned the AC on full? I can deal with the snow, though travel without it is admittedly easier, I can take the 30 mile waterless stretches, though I am lazy and would rather not, I can climb, but... well actually I like climbing now, I can take the cross country travel, but this rain is getting to be a nuisance! Headache! Torture? In Washington last year I expected it, every day, and it seemed OK. Here, everyone tells me "Oh no, this isn't normal, June is usually nice, it usually rains just a little in the afternoon" Ok I get it! "I just want two dry days in a row! Please!" I scream at the heavens during a particularly nasty squall. *breaths* Hey! Interesting stat I heard on the news... This is the fifth wettest June on record in Colorado. That is since 1872! Howbout that?
*Breathing didn't work*
OK! And Here’s some other things that tick me off! I was rarely on an actual trail. Thunder storms were always too close. I encountered very soft snow north of Ptarmigan Pass, and I was wearing shorts. My legs are scratched. My Shoes are wet. I put too much gatorade in my water, I lost a sock and a tent stake. I wanged my GPS on a rock and now the screen has a scratch, and it doesn't get a signal when its driving rain under tree cover. I keep crashing through willow thickets. And my headlamp is low on juice!
I should have stayed in Silverthorne and watched soccer, eaten more Chinese food.”
~Me, June 25 2009
Despite the torrential rain, I had more fun the next day. From where I was camped at Williams Creek, I climbed up above tree line for a while in the few hors of morning sunlight before crashing down a couple thousand feet, then I climbed another 2500. It was windy. It was snowing. It was cold. There was lightning.
I made it to Berthoud Pass late in the afternoon and dried a bit in the warming hut. Later that afternoon I was atop Brekenridge Peak, just over 13,000 feet.
The next day, I bagged James Peak in thick fog, finding several ultra runners in the rock wind shelter at the summit.
“"You a thru-hiker?", a youngish guy asks me.
"Yeah"
"Where ya from?"
"Tahoe area, western side of the Sierras"
"You know Scott Williamson?"
"Haven't met him, but he passed me last year in Oregon at about 10:00 pm I think. -I guess He's trying to break that record, unsupported" (PCT speed record)
"Think he'll do it?"
"It's tough, and he needs to average 41 to get 65 days"
"I hear that David Horton is arrogant" The guy says. He holds the 66 day supported record. My brain suddenly hits red alert and ejects out the back of my skull leaving my inadequate, high altitude strained gut to think for itself.
"I've heard that", I hear myself say. And just a second. A hiker at Saufly's last year told me that after I missed the intro to David Horton's DVD!
"That's David Horton", I hear the guy say
"Hi! I'm Joe Kinsler!" I say.” ~Me June 27, 2009
Tatu Joe along with Scott held the unsupported PCT speed record. But that record was broken last year by Scott and another guy named Adam, They actually broke David Horton’s speed record as well.
The runners and I jogged off the mountain into sunlight and pleasant weather. They offered hot tub use and a warm meal, but idiotically I declined, wanting to make it to Grand Lake the next day. I did, and sprained my knee in the process hurrying through a thicket of fallen pines. Never decline a hot meal and hot tub.
After a recovery day in Grand Lake I took off again. The weather for the past few days had been unusually fantastic. It remained so for the first day. With the good weather came mosquitoes in force, but they couldn’t get past my long sleeves and but net! Day two from Grand Lake got severely ugly.
“I usually think after I set up camp... "I coulda gone further, another two miles maybe" Not tonight! I couldn't have taken another step. No sooner was my poncho up and gear in the vestibule, then BLAM torrential rain, biblical rain, like a fire suppression system. It was POURING! I lost almost 1000 feet of elevation at an alarming rate to get here. On the ridge top, it was me and the thunder storm in a face-off. We sprinted at each other before I chickened out and RAN, not jogged, into the valley. "Looking... fault spot, anywhere... c'mon" I said to myself. I found such a spot under a scrubby short pine. I made sure there were lots of lumps too! I can't sleep well without a sharp rock digging into my hip!” ~Me July 1, 2009
With a wet sleeping bag from a river that formed in the previous evenings deluge, I made a heroic sprint for Highway 40 and Steamboat Springs. After a short climb in the morning, the rest of the day was spent of progressivly more traveled roads. It was rural jeep roads, then ranch roads, then a paved road with zero shoulder, then a three lane highway. I walked along highway 40 with my thumb out and was picked up around 4:15 in the afternoon after walking 33 miles. I made it to the post office before they closed! And I splurged on a motel room to dry out my gear. The next day I at at the... you guessed it, AYCE chinese restaurant. I even went to the movie theater and saw an animated flick.
I could have stayed in Steamboat for the fourth of July. There were probably going to be fireworks, rodeos, all that kind of stuff. But I got a ride to the trail. Two days before, I thought I was going to be skipping several miles by getting that hitch on highway 40. I ended up getting dropped off just a few hundred yards from where I was picked up. Rabbit Ears Pass is kind of funny. There are seemingly two passes with a long high stretch in between. It is hard to tell where exactly the pass is.
So under continuing rain I marched north toward Wyoming. two days in a row I set up for long afternoon breaks under my tarp. Luckily I had a book.
On the afternoon of the sixth under eminent threat of severe thunder and lightning I contemplated a cross country route:
“I stood on the pass looking down into the valley, down Dale Creek (as my GPS tells me). Thunder crashed above me, an endless sea of gray moving toward me. The trail goes up to 10,500 feet and is ON the divide. I studied my GPS, looking for a route. "OK! Down this creek there should be a trail, cross country for a half mile along the creek, crash up the hill to a road, then cut up to that flat spot, 300 feet up, then traverse, another flat spot, another 300 foot climb... There should be a trail leading to Huston Park, where I can reconnect to the CDT.
It was tough! MOST of it was shwhacking. I was wet. I crashed through an alder thicket, ow... The hills were steep and muddy. I don't recommend it, and though I could draw a line on the map, I couldn't tell the names of the trails and roads I passed. However! I looked up at the pass. It was a mess! Clouds piled up like vehicles in a bad road accident. I could see intermittent flashes On the divide and hear the distant rumble. It did get sunny where I was and by the time I got to Huston Park, the weather was beautiful. The evening sun shimmered. It accentuated the deep green of the grass and trees.” ~Me July 6, 2009
With a slightly limited supply of food, I decided to make a push for Rawlins:
“Even steps, even pace, heart rate remains reletively low. The same four bars of music repeat over and over in your head, but it doesn't seem to bother you. Your legs burn, but you don't notice, there is a rock in your left shoe but you leave it to it's own devices. Flies are no match for your zen-like reflexes. Water remains undrunk, food, uneaten. You practically fall uphill... though not in a fatigued stupor. Its with purpose, diligence, one foot in front of the other, steadily making miles.
This is the "hiker trance" Without it, many solo hikers would quit in the first few hundred miles.
Its amazing the terrain I covered today. I started high, at nearly 11,000 feet. I walked through water meadows, alpine marshes. There were snow drifts. I crossed Battle Pass and started at 9,800 feet, climbing to Bridger peak at 11,000 feet. My pace was... lugubrious The snow patches made for slow going. But once at the top, then begins the descent. (For a much easier 50, start AT Bridger Peak) I jogged down the hill, glissading the short snow patches, leaping over roots, only slowed by the blowdowns. Down through the pines, the spruce, the aspen, sage... fields of shrubs. I got my last water just before the main road. (Highway 71?) It was just before 4:00 I tanked up and loaded my max, 4.4 liters. Onto the road I paced, then trudged, then stopped. Its hot down here! I told my self. "If I get to the road tonight, I'm night hiking on the road instead of the red route" The moon is just past full and rises at about 9:00.
In a moment of weakness I took a ride from a very nice family. BUT! They asked "Do you know where Saratoga is?"
I looked on my GPS, "There is a main road... looking.. aha. yeah. Jack Creek Road. .62 miles." So my ride was a grand total of one mile. One mile which I highly regret, but it was a road. I looked back south, thinking of leaving my pack and jogging the missing mile... nah... I've missed a couple little pieces. Highway 90 and 15 near Silver City, a half mile from the ski resort to Wolf Creek Pass... Hitch on this side, get dropped off on the other. It's one mile... That's what I tell my self.
Just after dark I glanced south-east crossing the rolling sage covered hills. There was an eerie orange glow. "Fire with it this wet?" I thought The glow brightened, then there was a pale orange disk; a disk which rose, turning into an orb. The orb hovered impossibly, jiggling like it was hanging by a rubberband. The orb rose higher, gaining stability, and losing color. I sat on the road eating fritos for nearly 20 minutes watching the ancient, cratered, glowing spectacle, a spectacle that repeats every 28.3 days without fail. Then by the light of the glowing orb, I walked, steadily for nearly four hours, water untouched, food uneaten, that rock in my right shoe, left to its own devices.”
Silverthorne to Rawlins
After filling up on another AYCE chinese meal I headed out.
I thought I was done with winter... Looking back on it, I prefer winter to mosquitoes, but I was getting frustrated. It rained on me often, Almost daily since leaving Lake City.
The following is an excerpt from my journal from June 25
“OK! I've had it! Turn off the sprinklers! Stop the fog machine, and who turned the AC on full? I can deal with the snow, though travel without it is admittedly easier, I can take the 30 mile waterless stretches, though I am lazy and would rather not, I can climb, but... well actually I like climbing now, I can take the cross country travel, but this rain is getting to be a nuisance! Headache! Torture? In Washington last year I expected it, every day, and it seemed OK. Here, everyone tells me "Oh no, this isn't normal, June is usually nice, it usually rains just a little in the afternoon" Ok I get it! "I just want two dry days in a row! Please!" I scream at the heavens during a particularly nasty squall. *breaths* Hey! Interesting stat I heard on the news... This is the fifth wettest June on record in Colorado. That is since 1872! Howbout that?
*Breathing didn't work*
OK! And Here’s some other things that tick me off! I was rarely on an actual trail. Thunder storms were always too close. I encountered very soft snow north of Ptarmigan Pass, and I was wearing shorts. My legs are scratched. My Shoes are wet. I put too much gatorade in my water, I lost a sock and a tent stake. I wanged my GPS on a rock and now the screen has a scratch, and it doesn't get a signal when its driving rain under tree cover. I keep crashing through willow thickets. And my headlamp is low on juice!
I should have stayed in Silverthorne and watched soccer, eaten more Chinese food.”
~Me, June 25 2009
Despite the torrential rain, I had more fun the next day. From where I was camped at Williams Creek, I climbed up above tree line for a while in the few hors of morning sunlight before crashing down a couple thousand feet, then I climbed another 2500. It was windy. It was snowing. It was cold. There was lightning.
I made it to Berthoud Pass late in the afternoon and dried a bit in the warming hut. Later that afternoon I was atop Brekenridge Peak, just over 13,000 feet.
The next day, I bagged James Peak in thick fog, finding several ultra runners in the rock wind shelter at the summit.
“"You a thru-hiker?", a youngish guy asks me.
"Yeah"
"Where ya from?"
"Tahoe area, western side of the Sierras"
"You know Scott Williamson?"
"Haven't met him, but he passed me last year in Oregon at about 10:00 pm I think. -I guess He's trying to break that record, unsupported" (PCT speed record)
"Think he'll do it?"
"It's tough, and he needs to average 41 to get 65 days"
"I hear that David Horton is arrogant" The guy says. He holds the 66 day supported record. My brain suddenly hits red alert and ejects out the back of my skull leaving my inadequate, high altitude strained gut to think for itself.
"I've heard that", I hear myself say. And just a second. A hiker at Saufly's last year told me that after I missed the intro to David Horton's DVD!
"That's David Horton", I hear the guy say
"Hi! I'm Joe Kinsler!" I say.” ~Me June 27, 2009
Tatu Joe along with Scott held the unsupported PCT speed record. But that record was broken last year by Scott and another guy named Adam, They actually broke David Horton’s speed record as well.
The runners and I jogged off the mountain into sunlight and pleasant weather. They offered hot tub use and a warm meal, but idiotically I declined, wanting to make it to Grand Lake the next day. I did, and sprained my knee in the process hurrying through a thicket of fallen pines. Never decline a hot meal and hot tub.
After a recovery day in Grand Lake I took off again. The weather for the past few days had been unusually fantastic. It remained so for the first day. With the good weather came mosquitoes in force, but they couldn’t get past my long sleeves and but net! Day two from Grand Lake got severely ugly.
“I usually think after I set up camp... "I coulda gone further, another two miles maybe" Not tonight! I couldn't have taken another step. No sooner was my poncho up and gear in the vestibule, then BLAM torrential rain, biblical rain, like a fire suppression system. It was POURING! I lost almost 1000 feet of elevation at an alarming rate to get here. On the ridge top, it was me and the thunder storm in a face-off. We sprinted at each other before I chickened out and RAN, not jogged, into the valley. "Looking... fault spot, anywhere... c'mon" I said to myself. I found such a spot under a scrubby short pine. I made sure there were lots of lumps too! I can't sleep well without a sharp rock digging into my hip!” ~Me July 1, 2009
With a wet sleeping bag from a river that formed in the previous evenings deluge, I made a heroic sprint for Highway 40 and Steamboat Springs. After a short climb in the morning, the rest of the day was spent of progressivly more traveled roads. It was rural jeep roads, then ranch roads, then a paved road with zero shoulder, then a three lane highway. I walked along highway 40 with my thumb out and was picked up around 4:15 in the afternoon after walking 33 miles. I made it to the post office before they closed! And I splurged on a motel room to dry out my gear. The next day I at at the... you guessed it, AYCE chinese restaurant. I even went to the movie theater and saw an animated flick.
I could have stayed in Steamboat for the fourth of July. There were probably going to be fireworks, rodeos, all that kind of stuff. But I got a ride to the trail. Two days before, I thought I was going to be skipping several miles by getting that hitch on highway 40. I ended up getting dropped off just a few hundred yards from where I was picked up. Rabbit Ears Pass is kind of funny. There are seemingly two passes with a long high stretch in between. It is hard to tell where exactly the pass is.
So under continuing rain I marched north toward Wyoming. two days in a row I set up for long afternoon breaks under my tarp. Luckily I had a book.
On the afternoon of the sixth under eminent threat of severe thunder and lightning I contemplated a cross country route:
“I stood on the pass looking down into the valley, down Dale Creek (as my GPS tells me). Thunder crashed above me, an endless sea of gray moving toward me. The trail goes up to 10,500 feet and is ON the divide. I studied my GPS, looking for a route. "OK! Down this creek there should be a trail, cross country for a half mile along the creek, crash up the hill to a road, then cut up to that flat spot, 300 feet up, then traverse, another flat spot, another 300 foot climb... There should be a trail leading to Huston Park, where I can reconnect to the CDT.
It was tough! MOST of it was shwhacking. I was wet. I crashed through an alder thicket, ow... The hills were steep and muddy. I don't recommend it, and though I could draw a line on the map, I couldn't tell the names of the trails and roads I passed. However! I looked up at the pass. It was a mess! Clouds piled up like vehicles in a bad road accident. I could see intermittent flashes On the divide and hear the distant rumble. It did get sunny where I was and by the time I got to Huston Park, the weather was beautiful. The evening sun shimmered. It accentuated the deep green of the grass and trees.” ~Me July 6, 2009
With a slightly limited supply of food, I decided to make a push for Rawlins:
“Even steps, even pace, heart rate remains reletively low. The same four bars of music repeat over and over in your head, but it doesn't seem to bother you. Your legs burn, but you don't notice, there is a rock in your left shoe but you leave it to it's own devices. Flies are no match for your zen-like reflexes. Water remains undrunk, food, uneaten. You practically fall uphill... though not in a fatigued stupor. Its with purpose, diligence, one foot in front of the other, steadily making miles.
This is the "hiker trance" Without it, many solo hikers would quit in the first few hundred miles.
Its amazing the terrain I covered today. I started high, at nearly 11,000 feet. I walked through water meadows, alpine marshes. There were snow drifts. I crossed Battle Pass and started at 9,800 feet, climbing to Bridger peak at 11,000 feet. My pace was... lugubrious The snow patches made for slow going. But once at the top, then begins the descent. (For a much easier 50, start AT Bridger Peak) I jogged down the hill, glissading the short snow patches, leaping over roots, only slowed by the blowdowns. Down through the pines, the spruce, the aspen, sage... fields of shrubs. I got my last water just before the main road. (Highway 71?) It was just before 4:00 I tanked up and loaded my max, 4.4 liters. Onto the road I paced, then trudged, then stopped. Its hot down here! I told my self. "If I get to the road tonight, I'm night hiking on the road instead of the red route" The moon is just past full and rises at about 9:00.
In a moment of weakness I took a ride from a very nice family. BUT! They asked "Do you know where Saratoga is?"
I looked on my GPS, "There is a main road... looking.. aha. yeah. Jack Creek Road. .62 miles." So my ride was a grand total of one mile. One mile which I highly regret, but it was a road. I looked back south, thinking of leaving my pack and jogging the missing mile... nah... I've missed a couple little pieces. Highway 90 and 15 near Silver City, a half mile from the ski resort to Wolf Creek Pass... Hitch on this side, get dropped off on the other. It's one mile... That's what I tell my self.
Just after dark I glanced south-east crossing the rolling sage covered hills. There was an eerie orange glow. "Fire with it this wet?" I thought The glow brightened, then there was a pale orange disk; a disk which rose, turning into an orb. The orb hovered impossibly, jiggling like it was hanging by a rubberband. The orb rose higher, gaining stability, and losing color. I sat on the road eating fritos for nearly 20 minutes watching the ancient, cratered, glowing spectacle, a spectacle that repeats every 28.3 days without fail. Then by the light of the glowing orb, I walked, steadily for nearly four hours, water untouched, food uneaten, that rock in my right shoe, left to its own devices.”
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
But I Wanna See Star Trek...
June 24 2009
Chama to Silverthorne
I can see the sign from last year in my mind “You’ll never make it!” I have been warned, but my experience in snow so far has been decent. I am confident that I can make it. I can always turn around and road walk...
So I made my first 65 mile leg in three days. From Chama, I climbed quickly to 12,000 feet into nearly full snow cover. The snow was firm however, and postholing was limited to the edges of snow fields. The trail was non existent and were it not for my GPS it would have taken me twice as long to find my way to Wolf Creek Pass.
My mileage was down from upper twenties to lower twenties, but that is ok! I don’t need to average 30 miles per day in this type of terrain.
After successfully coming out of the wilderness, I hitched down to Pagosa SPrings in an unlikely vehicle. I have never before been picked up by anyone driving a gigantic shiny black hummer. This was a first.
I spent two days in Pagosa, preparing my self for the 116 mile jouney through the mountains. Some other hikers were taking the road rout through Crede. The stretch from Cumbres Pass to Wolf Creek had given me confidence. The flourescent fleece blanket I had purchased for four dollars in Chama had given me that extra layer of warmth I needed at night as well. I was tempted to stay another two nights so I could catch the new Star Trek movie, but three motel nights is enough!
I cannot adequately put into words the epic trek from Wolf Creek Pass to Spring Pass. I didn’t see one person, one car, hear one human noise for a whole week. I saw some boot prints where the CDT and Colorado Trail merge. There were so many dramatic moments and fantastic sights. The Knife Edge, a spine of rock with solid snow pack on its north side was a bit of a puzzle. The north side was in my opinion impassable. I decided to bag the low summit and walk the ridge rather than the slope.
The next day I saw a bear above 11,000 feet! I had to thaw out my frozen shoes by plunging them into a snowmelt stream. I took in the silence and relished in the wilderness experience. I would hike the CDT again, just for that experience.
For in depth commentary see my log, www.trailjournals.com/sangabrielcdt
It snowed on my final night where I camped mere yards from Spring Creek Pass. just below 11,000 feet.
I tried hitching to lake city but was ignored by many vehicles. I started wlking the 20 miles in hopes of making it by nightfall. After two hows A luxury car with rental stickers slowed. A women with a thick french accent offered me a ride. She and her Husband, who spoke no english, gave me a ride to town. They knew vaguely what I was doing. They knew I was a hiker, but nothing of the CDT. “It is 4000 kilometers” I told the woman. She translated to her husband, who’s head spun around like a top asked me shocked. “quatremille kilomètres???”
I don’t think of myself as some sort of ego freak, but I do enjoy those reactions.
---
In Lake City, I took another two zero days, feasting at the bakery and even playing a little softball! Friday night, Star Trek was scheduled to play at the local one screen weekend only theater. I thought about staying another night, but they changed their schedule. It was going to be X-Men. I left.
A local trail angel gave me a ride to the trail where I saw OOO. He had just emerged from the San Juans in what must have been an equally ridiculous journey. It snowed on him, inches.
And so I continued alone. The snow had been thick at the beginning of the San Juans, but melted daily. This 100 mile leg went by quickly. Route finding was easy. THe beginning was high alpine tundra, but by day two I was hiking along a river. By day three I was in a Sage field with no snow in sight. But the trail did climb up again.
Approaching Monarch Pass, it was hailing lightly, sort of snowing, they call it “grapple.”
I trotted down a mellow hill on my way to Monarch Pass, hoping to get there in time to catch my resupply box. It was near noon and I still had 15 miles to go. I heard someone tucked into the trees shout “The trail is over here” I slowed to say hello and was shocked to find three familiar faces, Robocop, JB, and Special K. These were the first people I had seen while hiking on trail since... Well I briefly met a section hiker near Chama, Hmm. Well. This was the first time I had hiked WITH people since OOO before host Ranch. It had been almost a month, and over 500 miles.
So four of us headed into the final alpine stretch on our way to Monarch Pass. Snow coverage was heavy, and the trail was nonexistent. But it was fairly easy to follow as it was all on the western slope. We made it to Monarch Pass after the posted hours of the store where my box was stored, but as luck would have it, the owner was there and was happy to fetch my supplies.
I was going to hike on, but the offer of a free motel room and the opportunity for warm food was two tempting. I took two more zeroes in Salida.
Salida is a very pleasant town. It has all the services, motels, giant mega-supermarkets, many restaurants. They had a theater and Terminator was scheduled to play, Star Trek was due the next week. There happened to be a bike race in town so the motels were booked. We had five people sharing a room.
When we daparted I took to the high route again, as the other four, well five hikers went for the slightly lower Colorado Trail.
The CDT was manageable and snow cover limited to north faces and shaded areas. There were some steep sections and one pass which got my heart beating. I stood ont he precipice looking down to Lake Anne. The north facing bowl was covered completely I paced along the cornice looking for the least steep slope. Finally i dove in, I made it down the slope in mere minutes with a combination of running and glissading.
After I made it down, it started raining hard. I was determined however to make it to Twin Lakes and my resupply box by 5:00 I continued, covered in my $1.99 plastic poncho. I crested another 12,000 foot pass and was surprised to find no snow. It is funny how two similarly shaped areas can have completely different conditions. I trudged across the belly deep outlet of Twin Lakes and made it to the restaurant in pouring rain at 4:00. I sorted my food and indulged in hot soup. Sodden and cold I decided to hitch to Leadville.
I stood on the side of the road as countless cars flew past spraying me with fine mist. an hour later I hefted my pack and walked out. I had enough food to make it to Silverthorne. It rained during the night and into the next morning.
I had given some thought to climbing Mt. Elbert, but by the time it had stopped raining, I was 10 miles past the trailhead. It cleared up nicely that day and I was able to dry my gear. Mosquitoes had just started to come out, and I could immediately tell that it was going to be buggy for the rest of Colorado. I donned my head net while hiking in the evening.
The next day brought me just shy of Tennessee Pass under clear skies. A day later I was past Copper mountain, I had hiked through the resort passed golfers, with my filthy aged pack and scruffy beard. They looked at me with a mixture of distain, curiosity and horror. as I dangerous?
The next day I had an easy 15 or so miles to Silverthorne, or so I thought. Finding a fully snow covered pass in the morning reminded me of where I was. The south side was covered as well! At a trail half way through, I was tempted to hike out to Dillon, but continued. I made it over another 12,000 foot pass in full snow coverage and glissaded the other side, quickly descending to the river. From there I found the trail and made it to the post office at 4:45, 15 minutes before closing.
Now showered, I sat down at the computer in the hostel. I noticed that there was a nine screen theater and checked the showings. Star Trek! Woohoo!!! I saw the final showing in that theater.
Silverthorne though big is easy enough to get around. I moved fromthe $33 per night to a $43 per night motel room with 80 channels , a mini fridge and a king sized bed. I went twice to the local AYCE chinese buffet. And found a decent natural food store.
Chama to Silverthorne
I can see the sign from last year in my mind “You’ll never make it!” I have been warned, but my experience in snow so far has been decent. I am confident that I can make it. I can always turn around and road walk...
So I made my first 65 mile leg in three days. From Chama, I climbed quickly to 12,000 feet into nearly full snow cover. The snow was firm however, and postholing was limited to the edges of snow fields. The trail was non existent and were it not for my GPS it would have taken me twice as long to find my way to Wolf Creek Pass.
My mileage was down from upper twenties to lower twenties, but that is ok! I don’t need to average 30 miles per day in this type of terrain.
After successfully coming out of the wilderness, I hitched down to Pagosa SPrings in an unlikely vehicle. I have never before been picked up by anyone driving a gigantic shiny black hummer. This was a first.
I spent two days in Pagosa, preparing my self for the 116 mile jouney through the mountains. Some other hikers were taking the road rout through Crede. The stretch from Cumbres Pass to Wolf Creek had given me confidence. The flourescent fleece blanket I had purchased for four dollars in Chama had given me that extra layer of warmth I needed at night as well. I was tempted to stay another two nights so I could catch the new Star Trek movie, but three motel nights is enough!
I cannot adequately put into words the epic trek from Wolf Creek Pass to Spring Pass. I didn’t see one person, one car, hear one human noise for a whole week. I saw some boot prints where the CDT and Colorado Trail merge. There were so many dramatic moments and fantastic sights. The Knife Edge, a spine of rock with solid snow pack on its north side was a bit of a puzzle. The north side was in my opinion impassable. I decided to bag the low summit and walk the ridge rather than the slope.
The next day I saw a bear above 11,000 feet! I had to thaw out my frozen shoes by plunging them into a snowmelt stream. I took in the silence and relished in the wilderness experience. I would hike the CDT again, just for that experience.
For in depth commentary see my log, www.trailjournals.com/sangabrielcdt
It snowed on my final night where I camped mere yards from Spring Creek Pass. just below 11,000 feet.
I tried hitching to lake city but was ignored by many vehicles. I started wlking the 20 miles in hopes of making it by nightfall. After two hows A luxury car with rental stickers slowed. A women with a thick french accent offered me a ride. She and her Husband, who spoke no english, gave me a ride to town. They knew vaguely what I was doing. They knew I was a hiker, but nothing of the CDT. “It is 4000 kilometers” I told the woman. She translated to her husband, who’s head spun around like a top asked me shocked. “quatremille kilomètres???”
I don’t think of myself as some sort of ego freak, but I do enjoy those reactions.
---
In Lake City, I took another two zero days, feasting at the bakery and even playing a little softball! Friday night, Star Trek was scheduled to play at the local one screen weekend only theater. I thought about staying another night, but they changed their schedule. It was going to be X-Men. I left.
A local trail angel gave me a ride to the trail where I saw OOO. He had just emerged from the San Juans in what must have been an equally ridiculous journey. It snowed on him, inches.
And so I continued alone. The snow had been thick at the beginning of the San Juans, but melted daily. This 100 mile leg went by quickly. Route finding was easy. THe beginning was high alpine tundra, but by day two I was hiking along a river. By day three I was in a Sage field with no snow in sight. But the trail did climb up again.
Approaching Monarch Pass, it was hailing lightly, sort of snowing, they call it “grapple.”
I trotted down a mellow hill on my way to Monarch Pass, hoping to get there in time to catch my resupply box. It was near noon and I still had 15 miles to go. I heard someone tucked into the trees shout “The trail is over here” I slowed to say hello and was shocked to find three familiar faces, Robocop, JB, and Special K. These were the first people I had seen while hiking on trail since... Well I briefly met a section hiker near Chama, Hmm. Well. This was the first time I had hiked WITH people since OOO before host Ranch. It had been almost a month, and over 500 miles.
So four of us headed into the final alpine stretch on our way to Monarch Pass. Snow coverage was heavy, and the trail was nonexistent. But it was fairly easy to follow as it was all on the western slope. We made it to Monarch Pass after the posted hours of the store where my box was stored, but as luck would have it, the owner was there and was happy to fetch my supplies.
I was going to hike on, but the offer of a free motel room and the opportunity for warm food was two tempting. I took two more zeroes in Salida.
Salida is a very pleasant town. It has all the services, motels, giant mega-supermarkets, many restaurants. They had a theater and Terminator was scheduled to play, Star Trek was due the next week. There happened to be a bike race in town so the motels were booked. We had five people sharing a room.
When we daparted I took to the high route again, as the other four, well five hikers went for the slightly lower Colorado Trail.
The CDT was manageable and snow cover limited to north faces and shaded areas. There were some steep sections and one pass which got my heart beating. I stood ont he precipice looking down to Lake Anne. The north facing bowl was covered completely I paced along the cornice looking for the least steep slope. Finally i dove in, I made it down the slope in mere minutes with a combination of running and glissading.
After I made it down, it started raining hard. I was determined however to make it to Twin Lakes and my resupply box by 5:00 I continued, covered in my $1.99 plastic poncho. I crested another 12,000 foot pass and was surprised to find no snow. It is funny how two similarly shaped areas can have completely different conditions. I trudged across the belly deep outlet of Twin Lakes and made it to the restaurant in pouring rain at 4:00. I sorted my food and indulged in hot soup. Sodden and cold I decided to hitch to Leadville.
I stood on the side of the road as countless cars flew past spraying me with fine mist. an hour later I hefted my pack and walked out. I had enough food to make it to Silverthorne. It rained during the night and into the next morning.
I had given some thought to climbing Mt. Elbert, but by the time it had stopped raining, I was 10 miles past the trailhead. It cleared up nicely that day and I was able to dry my gear. Mosquitoes had just started to come out, and I could immediately tell that it was going to be buggy for the rest of Colorado. I donned my head net while hiking in the evening.
The next day brought me just shy of Tennessee Pass under clear skies. A day later I was past Copper mountain, I had hiked through the resort passed golfers, with my filthy aged pack and scruffy beard. They looked at me with a mixture of distain, curiosity and horror. as I dangerous?
The next day I had an easy 15 or so miles to Silverthorne, or so I thought. Finding a fully snow covered pass in the morning reminded me of where I was. The south side was covered as well! At a trail half way through, I was tempted to hike out to Dillon, but continued. I made it over another 12,000 foot pass in full snow coverage and glissaded the other side, quickly descending to the river. From there I found the trail and made it to the post office at 4:45, 15 minutes before closing.
Now showered, I sat down at the computer in the hostel. I noticed that there was a nine screen theater and checked the showings. Star Trek! Woohoo!!! I saw the final showing in that theater.
Silverthorne though big is easy enough to get around. I moved fromthe $33 per night to a $43 per night motel room with 80 channels , a mini fridge and a king sized bed. I went twice to the local AYCE chinese buffet. And found a decent natural food store.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Do You Have Any Water?
May 27 2009
Crazy Cook to Chama
Here I am again. I can feel my legs, resisting at first, but then giving in “Oh, right this again.” they say as they start to comply with my commands. One foot in front of the other, five or six million times. I will be going 2500-2800 miles this year depending on what route I take.
Speaking of routes. I will be discussing them a lot over the next few months. The Continental Divide Trail covers an as yet to be determined number of miles between the border of Mexico and New Mexico and Glacier Park at Canadian Border in Montana. There are many different routes hikers can take. They can go over peaks, beside them, river routes, mountain routes, road walks, bushwhacks... Purity lies in connecting steps.
---
I was lucky, catching a ride from California all the way to the Crazy Cook Monument in southern New Mexico. Trekker, who I met last year in California, drove myself and another hiker, Tikka to the southern Terminus. Another hiker, Wrongway, was also dropped off at the same time.
The three of us hiked together from the unimpressive Crazy Cook Monument, a simple slab of concrete with writing on it. We were separated by nightfall. Wrongway and I camped together then and for the next three nights.
Between the border and Silver City, the terrain is flat and featureless. shrubs and grassed dot the landscape There is no shade and the sun shines harshly. It was a bit of a shock to the system ad it had snowed at my house the very morning I left.
In Silver City I happened on more hikers, and a fairly significant bike race. Giants in the cycling world such as Floyd Landis and Lance Armstrong were there. A hiker who I had met named Lost and I camped in the temporarily densely populated RV park. With thousands of people still in the small city, I headed north on a paved road toward actual trail.
6000 feet up, there are trees, pines, oaks. The trail was pleasant north of Silver City, however, with no GPS and one crucial lost map page I was on the road, walking on two paved lanes to Doc Campbell's Post on the Gila River.
I remark on this often, but it is incredible how hikers converge in towns. I met Robocop, Special K, Ellie, Laura, Aaron, and Cape Cod Mike, who I don’t believe was from Cape Cod.
---
The Gila river was a welcome break from arid desert. Robocop, Special K, Ellie, and I strolled across the many knee deep crossings on our way toward Snow Lake and more high desert. I wasn’t in a hurry. We stopped at the very idealic Jordan Hot Springs. It was only 94 degrees or so but very pleasant. The next day while hiking with Ellie, Out of Order caught up. I decided to hike with him to Pie Town as I had ordered a GPS and was having it shipped there. Out of Order, (OOO from here one) made it to Snow Lake that evening.
At Route 12 we were low on water. We had decided to forgo a murky cattle tank and nursed our almost empty bottles, 15 miles from a reliable spring. So thirsty, we held our bottles upside down, miming at the few cars that passed. 20 minutes later, a man pulled over with gallons of water which we used to fill our bottles. People in New Mexico will stop for hikers, especially if they have an empty water bottle. This was not the last time I begged for water from passing motorists.
And so after a 9700 foot summit in 90 plus degree heat, we made it to Pie Town, dusty and tired.
This was one of my favorite stops, ever. Pie Town has a population near 100. There are no stores, gas stations, stop lights, motels... But there are two restaurants that serve pie. As an outside and objective visitor, I can make a judgement on which is better. Witout question, the Pie-O-Neer Cafe is outstanding. Kathy is an absolute Jewel of a person, and an amazing pie maker. And she makes very good green chili.
Ok Maybe I wasn’t objective, maybe I was bribed. Kathy gave OOO and I a box of leftover pie at closing. (I still think the Pie-O-Neer is far superior)
At the Toaster House, a title appropriate due to the dozens of toasters hanging on the entrance, we met Jim. A cowboy with a long mustache, flannel shirt, the dirtiest hat I have ever seen, a horse named Butch and a dog named Slick. He told a lot of great stores about “dudes” and “jackalopes” We stayed up late hearing his stores and advice.
---
If you see a cave on a hillside, 30 miles north of Pie Town and feel like bushwhacking a mile off trail to investigate, don’t. OOO and I saw this cave, or so we thought. It was a trick of light.
So we camped in an open field six miles outh of the rim trail overlooking El Malpais Lava field. Central New Mexico is home to an expansive 3000 year old lava field, still rough and uneven. The rim trail offers an outstanding view of the barren expanse. Upon reaching the end of the rim trail and reaching a parking lot and a natural stone arch, I was forced to beg for water from... kindergartners... I am not exactly proud of that, but there was a school field trip and they happened to have water!
OOO and I then trod carefully across the hot lava... well solid, but hot black, hardened lava. There is a seven mile stretch of lava which is infamous for its difficulty to travel on, similar to the seven miles stretch of fallen spruce in northern Washington. While I preferred the fallen trees, the lava was not as bad as I expected and took just over three hours to walk.
---
Grants was my second major town, and my first all you can eat (AYCE) chinese buffet. My appetite had not yet kicked into full gear. The buffet helped. I enjoy meals in town so much more after eating cold dehydrated food on trail. After eating a second AYCE meal I waddled out of town up toward Mt. Taylor.
This was my highest summit, ever. I had tried to Summit Mt. Whitney in the Sierras, but failed due to taking the wrong route with few footsteps to follow. Mt Taylor was easy and on the way. The trail is being rerouted around the mountain but I decided to bag the peak. The view was outstanding. Mt. Taylor is fairly prominent and rises above the surrounding high desert.
I hiked this section alone, from Grants to Cuba. Once off the mountain I made quick miles. Full details can be found on my log at www.trailjournals.com/sangabrielcdt
Cuba NM is home to the best hostel I have yet visited. I stayed three nights for free thanks to my willingness to do some yard work. OOO arrived a day after I did and we built a 16 foot wide yurt for the owner!
My hunger was kicking in strong now and OOO and I split a meal. We ate over three pounds of pork, with tortillas, peppers, onions, corn... I topped that off with a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
The next day in minimal rain, we hiked up into the San Pedro Parks area. There was still snow on the ground in spots. There were some downpours which made the clay dirt exceedingly sticky. each step picked up pounds of mud. I would take three or four steps, then scrape my shoes, *step step step... scrape...* repeat.
Ghost Ranch made for a welcome break. The weather cleared up and I hiked up into more alpine terrain. This is the last leg in New Mexico. Just before the border, I started encountering considerable snow pack. The trail climbs above 11,000 feet for quite a few miles, affording hikers with views of the high desert, 4,000 feet below.
---
Thanks to persistent thunderstorms, I decided to take a lower route along a river rather than risk high ridge walking on the now more official route.
“I decided to to take the low route along the river, rather than walk a ridge in thunderstorms and risk being electrocuted, right? Sorry to disappoint you, my veracious reader-fans, but I wasn't electrocuted. There were no bolts of searing white electrons, not even a low voltage fence. (for hikers, it's Ley map NM4 upper right corner, for others, try and hang in there) The shaded triangle is private property. The red route SKIRTS the triangle to the east. I missed. "You know this is private property!" a husky... burly... bear-like man, wearing full camo said. Three other pairs of redneck eyes were glaring at my bearded bedraggled, hippyish self. "Well... Uhh... is it? But the map... here, uh..." I stuttered, looking for the nearest food co-op or socialist bookstore to hide in. None could be found. After a few tense minutes (probably only a few seconds) the man with beer kegs for forearms spoke. "Well, I'll tell ya what I'll do pardner." I expected he would merely turn me in, rather than field dress me on the spot. "I'll let ya go through, just don't stop til your on the other side." I scurried away. "I gotta send another complaint to the forestry.", I heard him say as I set a new land speed record for the north end of the shaded triangle.
To skirt this land, a hiker would have to walk cross country on a sometimes steep sidehill along the barbwire fence. The river beyond is beautiful. ICY cold water tumbles... well it tumbled for me, early monsoons and all... it runs (yawn) down gullies and through rocks. After I turned north (Lay map NM3 near #6), there was a mean bit of cross country travel. If you hike left, you'll be fine. It's steep up and steep down, but no trouble. I went that way. However, I first tried to go right, but I ran into a sheer cliff with a precipitous drop off, to what could be a bloody death on the sharp rocks below.”
~Me, May 27, 2009
---
It was May 28th. I was in Chama, mile 603, ready to enter the daunting, high alpine, craggy dramatic, icy South San Juan mountains of Colorado.
Crazy Cook to Chama
Here I am again. I can feel my legs, resisting at first, but then giving in “Oh, right this again.” they say as they start to comply with my commands. One foot in front of the other, five or six million times. I will be going 2500-2800 miles this year depending on what route I take.
Speaking of routes. I will be discussing them a lot over the next few months. The Continental Divide Trail covers an as yet to be determined number of miles between the border of Mexico and New Mexico and Glacier Park at Canadian Border in Montana. There are many different routes hikers can take. They can go over peaks, beside them, river routes, mountain routes, road walks, bushwhacks... Purity lies in connecting steps.
---
I was lucky, catching a ride from California all the way to the Crazy Cook Monument in southern New Mexico. Trekker, who I met last year in California, drove myself and another hiker, Tikka to the southern Terminus. Another hiker, Wrongway, was also dropped off at the same time.
The three of us hiked together from the unimpressive Crazy Cook Monument, a simple slab of concrete with writing on it. We were separated by nightfall. Wrongway and I camped together then and for the next three nights.
Between the border and Silver City, the terrain is flat and featureless. shrubs and grassed dot the landscape There is no shade and the sun shines harshly. It was a bit of a shock to the system ad it had snowed at my house the very morning I left.
In Silver City I happened on more hikers, and a fairly significant bike race. Giants in the cycling world such as Floyd Landis and Lance Armstrong were there. A hiker who I had met named Lost and I camped in the temporarily densely populated RV park. With thousands of people still in the small city, I headed north on a paved road toward actual trail.
6000 feet up, there are trees, pines, oaks. The trail was pleasant north of Silver City, however, with no GPS and one crucial lost map page I was on the road, walking on two paved lanes to Doc Campbell's Post on the Gila River.
I remark on this often, but it is incredible how hikers converge in towns. I met Robocop, Special K, Ellie, Laura, Aaron, and Cape Cod Mike, who I don’t believe was from Cape Cod.
---
The Gila river was a welcome break from arid desert. Robocop, Special K, Ellie, and I strolled across the many knee deep crossings on our way toward Snow Lake and more high desert. I wasn’t in a hurry. We stopped at the very idealic Jordan Hot Springs. It was only 94 degrees or so but very pleasant. The next day while hiking with Ellie, Out of Order caught up. I decided to hike with him to Pie Town as I had ordered a GPS and was having it shipped there. Out of Order, (OOO from here one) made it to Snow Lake that evening.
At Route 12 we were low on water. We had decided to forgo a murky cattle tank and nursed our almost empty bottles, 15 miles from a reliable spring. So thirsty, we held our bottles upside down, miming at the few cars that passed. 20 minutes later, a man pulled over with gallons of water which we used to fill our bottles. People in New Mexico will stop for hikers, especially if they have an empty water bottle. This was not the last time I begged for water from passing motorists.
And so after a 9700 foot summit in 90 plus degree heat, we made it to Pie Town, dusty and tired.
This was one of my favorite stops, ever. Pie Town has a population near 100. There are no stores, gas stations, stop lights, motels... But there are two restaurants that serve pie. As an outside and objective visitor, I can make a judgement on which is better. Witout question, the Pie-O-Neer Cafe is outstanding. Kathy is an absolute Jewel of a person, and an amazing pie maker. And she makes very good green chili.
Ok Maybe I wasn’t objective, maybe I was bribed. Kathy gave OOO and I a box of leftover pie at closing. (I still think the Pie-O-Neer is far superior)
At the Toaster House, a title appropriate due to the dozens of toasters hanging on the entrance, we met Jim. A cowboy with a long mustache, flannel shirt, the dirtiest hat I have ever seen, a horse named Butch and a dog named Slick. He told a lot of great stores about “dudes” and “jackalopes” We stayed up late hearing his stores and advice.
---
If you see a cave on a hillside, 30 miles north of Pie Town and feel like bushwhacking a mile off trail to investigate, don’t. OOO and I saw this cave, or so we thought. It was a trick of light.
So we camped in an open field six miles outh of the rim trail overlooking El Malpais Lava field. Central New Mexico is home to an expansive 3000 year old lava field, still rough and uneven. The rim trail offers an outstanding view of the barren expanse. Upon reaching the end of the rim trail and reaching a parking lot and a natural stone arch, I was forced to beg for water from... kindergartners... I am not exactly proud of that, but there was a school field trip and they happened to have water!
OOO and I then trod carefully across the hot lava... well solid, but hot black, hardened lava. There is a seven mile stretch of lava which is infamous for its difficulty to travel on, similar to the seven miles stretch of fallen spruce in northern Washington. While I preferred the fallen trees, the lava was not as bad as I expected and took just over three hours to walk.
---
Grants was my second major town, and my first all you can eat (AYCE) chinese buffet. My appetite had not yet kicked into full gear. The buffet helped. I enjoy meals in town so much more after eating cold dehydrated food on trail. After eating a second AYCE meal I waddled out of town up toward Mt. Taylor.
This was my highest summit, ever. I had tried to Summit Mt. Whitney in the Sierras, but failed due to taking the wrong route with few footsteps to follow. Mt Taylor was easy and on the way. The trail is being rerouted around the mountain but I decided to bag the peak. The view was outstanding. Mt. Taylor is fairly prominent and rises above the surrounding high desert.
I hiked this section alone, from Grants to Cuba. Once off the mountain I made quick miles. Full details can be found on my log at www.trailjournals.com/sangabrielcdt
Cuba NM is home to the best hostel I have yet visited. I stayed three nights for free thanks to my willingness to do some yard work. OOO arrived a day after I did and we built a 16 foot wide yurt for the owner!
My hunger was kicking in strong now and OOO and I split a meal. We ate over three pounds of pork, with tortillas, peppers, onions, corn... I topped that off with a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
The next day in minimal rain, we hiked up into the San Pedro Parks area. There was still snow on the ground in spots. There were some downpours which made the clay dirt exceedingly sticky. each step picked up pounds of mud. I would take three or four steps, then scrape my shoes, *step step step... scrape...* repeat.
Ghost Ranch made for a welcome break. The weather cleared up and I hiked up into more alpine terrain. This is the last leg in New Mexico. Just before the border, I started encountering considerable snow pack. The trail climbs above 11,000 feet for quite a few miles, affording hikers with views of the high desert, 4,000 feet below.
---
Thanks to persistent thunderstorms, I decided to take a lower route along a river rather than risk high ridge walking on the now more official route.
“I decided to to take the low route along the river, rather than walk a ridge in thunderstorms and risk being electrocuted, right? Sorry to disappoint you, my veracious reader-fans, but I wasn't electrocuted. There were no bolts of searing white electrons, not even a low voltage fence. (for hikers, it's Ley map NM4 upper right corner, for others, try and hang in there) The shaded triangle is private property. The red route SKIRTS the triangle to the east. I missed. "You know this is private property!" a husky... burly... bear-like man, wearing full camo said. Three other pairs of redneck eyes were glaring at my bearded bedraggled, hippyish self. "Well... Uhh... is it? But the map... here, uh..." I stuttered, looking for the nearest food co-op or socialist bookstore to hide in. None could be found. After a few tense minutes (probably only a few seconds) the man with beer kegs for forearms spoke. "Well, I'll tell ya what I'll do pardner." I expected he would merely turn me in, rather than field dress me on the spot. "I'll let ya go through, just don't stop til your on the other side." I scurried away. "I gotta send another complaint to the forestry.", I heard him say as I set a new land speed record for the north end of the shaded triangle.
To skirt this land, a hiker would have to walk cross country on a sometimes steep sidehill along the barbwire fence. The river beyond is beautiful. ICY cold water tumbles... well it tumbled for me, early monsoons and all... it runs (yawn) down gullies and through rocks. After I turned north (Lay map NM3 near #6), there was a mean bit of cross country travel. If you hike left, you'll be fine. It's steep up and steep down, but no trouble. I went that way. However, I first tried to go right, but I ran into a sheer cliff with a precipitous drop off, to what could be a bloody death on the sharp rocks below.”
~Me, May 27, 2009
---
It was May 28th. I was in Chama, mile 603, ready to enter the daunting, high alpine, craggy dramatic, icy South San Juan mountains of Colorado.
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