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 nothing 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 campers 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 mountain 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 miles 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.

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.”

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.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

Gear, Gear, Gear, More Gear, Even More Gear.

September 30
Gear

It is always fun to list gear. And so here is what I used on my PCT hike.

Packs
GoLite Pinnacle, 25 oz frameless pack
I had no idea how t pack it, so it failed and was miserably uncomfortable.
At Idyllwild I switched out to a much larger internal frame pack, the GoLite Odyssey. It was huge, but light, and carried weight well. I used it until Donner Pass where I shed my winter gear. I then switched to a GoLite Jam2. With a roll up foam pad, it was perfect for my newly found love of all thing ultralight.

Pad
3/4 length Thermarest Z-Rest
I used this up to Donner summit with no complaints. At Donner Pass when I switched packs to a Jam2 I switched to a half length Ridgerest. This was all I needed for the rest of the trail.

Sleeping bags
Mountain Hardware Phantom 32 sleeping bag
I used a Phantom 0, zero degree bag in the sierras which was completely overkill, but I stayed very warm. I switched back to the Phantom 32 and didn’t zip it up once for the rest of the trip.

Tent
Shires Tarptent Rainbow. 32 ounce, single wall. It did have some condensation issues, but all single wall tents do. It kept out the bugs and worked well in the torrential rain of Washinton.

Cooking
I used a soda can alcohol stove made by Frankosaurus. He had a few extra. I had made my own, but it didn’t work well. I used a giant 1.3 liter titanium pot for cooking. I gave up cooking in Old Station, near Lassen, and began hydrating food in a peanut butter jar. This worked great! I would go stoveless again.

Hydration
I used a pump filter. Hiker Pro. 11 oz and fairly reliable. I was never ill, and I did drink straight from many water sources, especially high up. I drank out of soda bottles, and carried four liters for the driest sections. That dropped to one or two in the sierras, and Washington.

Clothes
For the most part, I wore long sleeves and pants. Light hiking pants and a button up violently orange shirt. My favorite other layer was my Marmot Driclimb Windshirt. It was warm, and I think I wore it every morning. I used it as a pillow, and as an extra layer of warthm at night if it was that cold. There were a few icy nights in Washington. I also had a puffy down jacket in the Sierras. The long sleeves saved me from the scorching sun. I mean, how many people do you see who live in Asian, and African deserts wearing shorts, huh? I think THEY know what they are doing.

Raingear
I used a $1.99 poncho until central Oregon where I switched out to a heavier nylon poncho, and used Dryducks rain gear for Washington. They are not very durable, but very cheap and worked better than any raincoat I had ever used. I think that I would simply use a poncho next time. Coats are too cumbersome, and don’t ventilate very well, even classy expensive ones.

Shoes
I started with Salomon light hiking shoes from REI which had no support.
In Idyllwild I was shipped a pair of cheap Nevado hiking shoes I had worn at home very happily. With Insoles they were tolerable. They were trashed within 250 miles.
In Agua Dulce, I switched to Merrell Moab Ventilators which were comfortable and minimally supportive. I wore two pairs of those between Agua Dulce and the end. I used a new pair of them for my mop up tour, and still use them for wrk. They are very durable, but not fast drying, and not very supportive.

Baseweight
I never accurately measured. But here are some rough estimates.
Campo to Idyllwild: 12 lbs
Idyllwild to KM: 13, Bigger pack
KM to Donner Pass: 17 lbs, ice axe and bear canister add a lot
Donner Pass to Shelter Cove Oregon 9 lbs, small pack and more careful packing
Shelter Cove to the end:10 lbs, added rain gear
Ashland to road 17: 7 lbs, bare essentials

I Didn’t Know Marble Was This Flammable.

September 15
Ashland to Etna, sort of

I was hosted in Seattle by extended family. They treated me to my favorite northwest ice cream, Tillamook Mudslide. Very good stuff for a half gallon container. Normally a thru hiker has to watch their diet very closely upon finishing a hike. They still feel as if they need 5000 calories a day, even though they are not burning that much. But in my defense, I still have 150 miles to go. I have more, but I have decided to hold off on the stretch from Sierra City to Chester. Due to fire, that section was closed for nearly all of this year’s hikers.

I left Seattle with a giant turkey sandwich in my possession, arriving by train in Salem to visit more family. I must have ate 20 pounds of cherry tomatoes before leaving by bus the next day en route to Medford, where I hitched to Ashland to start hiking south.

After nearly a week of zeroes, it felt great to be walking again. What am I going to do with myself when I get back home? I thought.

After 15 miles, I found a cooler stocked with sodas! I don’t recall whether I have discussed “trail magic.” This is when a hiker finds something unexpected n trail such as a cooler full of sodas, fresh fruit, a guy making sandwiches, a guy giving rides and letting hikers stay at his house. People go out of their way to support hikers which gives us much needed morale boosts. I could have survived the 75 degree late summer day without a root beer, but is was a bonus.

I camped high up, under a stout pine tree. With clear skies and views of lights from distant towns, I “cowboy camped” under the stars.

I wanted an early start so I could knock out as many miles as possible the next day. It was now late in summer and daylight had decreased. I was up at dawn, about 5:30 and walking 15 minutes later. From my camp above 6000 feet, it was a long mellow descent to Siead Valley, home of the famous five pound pancake challenge. The trail was easy and the weather was pleasant. I made highway 96 at about 7:00, 43 miles into my hiking day. I had hoped to get this far, not expecting to go further. But with a little daylight left, and nothing but road to walk on, I decided to go further. It was another 8 miles to Grider Camp, near the northern border of the Marble Mountains.

And so at 9:30 pm, in the dark I arrived at my destination, sore and tired after about 15 hours of hiking and a 51 mile day. I laid down my tyvek ground cloth , pulled my sleeping bag out and fell asleep quickly.

Feeling refreshed in the morning, I moved futher south, gaining elevation into the Marble Mountains. About 10 miles in, I reached a bit of a clearing with a view south. Ahead of me was a plume of smoke reaching thousands of feet in the air. I took out my compass to check how close to the trail it might be, and quickly turned around and jogged back to highway 96.

Upon reaching Etna by way of hitching, I received news that that a controlled fire had jumped and exploded into an inferno, somewhat close to the trail. It is not in the cards for me to hike the Marbles this year. I tried twice!

So with two full days to go until being picked up by family in Yreka, I jumped on trail just south of the Marble Mountains and headed further south. The views in the Russian Wilderness are rather like northern Washington, just slightly more arid. The terrain is steep, but the trail traversed the ridges pleasantly.

On the third day, early in the morning, I was done. I now had continuous footsteps from Chester to Etna, and the Northern Marble Mountains to Canada. This, I told myself, was enough. This was the trail this year.

In total, I walked nearly 2500 miles.
If I encounter closures the next time I hike the PCT, I will find alternate routes to connect my steps. But I have no regrets for this year.

before I started, I had never been out for more than five nights, and had never hiked more that 50 miles in a single trek. I had never had to resupply in a town between sections of trail.

I met a lot of great people out there this year, hiking sections with Zoner, Frankosaurus, Zorro, Lei Low, Tarzan, Zelda, Ninja Tortoise, Scratches, Oasis, The Sheik, Lumbar, Voyageur and Forrest. I met many more, too many to mention.

So I am hooked. I thought maybe this would break up the time in between years and years of school, but I feel like more. I spent the last 700 miles planning on future treks.

So what is on the docket for the next few years? Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, Northern Forest Canoe Trail, Te Araroa (the longest trail in New Zealand,) Sendero de Chile (Length of Chile) GR10, GR11, Sail around the world? It will be exceedingly difficult to settle down. Stay tuned for more!

Dim Sum and Den Some!

September 4
Bridge of the Gods to Manning Park

After two beautiful days of sun in Skykomish I returned to the PCT and once again torrential rain. I made 23 miles under the protection of my poncho and camped with a couple people who had llamas.

The next day was closer to 30 miles, crossing several of the infamous northern Cascades’ creeks. I cannot recount views, as I had none. I ate Huckleberries and met one southbound hiker.

Day three was more of the same, but as the afternoon progressed, it got much more interesting.

I dried out my gear in the first sun I had seen since Skykomish when I was met by more hikers, Mapman and Robin, as well as Serpico and Chris. After drying my gear I climbed the 2000 feet with Serpico and Chris to the higher wildflower fields on the shoulders of Glacier Peak.

Coming up was the infamous seven miles stretch of 400 blowdowns, 400 trees crossing the trail. This included old growth monsters, ten feet wide. It is said to take up to seven hours to make it through.

The three of us started down toward the the equally infamous Suiattle River, more to come on that momentarily. “I thought it would be trees wrapped by vines, cris-crossed into a torturous pattern, impassable… no, not even close. It took us about two hours! I thought of it as a sort of obstacle course like the TV program Ninja Warrior! We vaulted small logs and ducked under monster dead spruce logs.” ~ San Gabriel’s journal dated August 26, 2008.

Then came the Suiattle. This is also from my journal from August 26.
“I have been warned about the treacherous and possibly fatal Suiattle River. There is a scene in Mel Brooks’ Robin Hood Men in Tights when Robin, Achoo, and Blinken must cross a river guarded by Little John. Achoo in his infinite wisdom points out “This ain’t exactly the Mississippi.” I felt a bit like Achoo upon reaching the Suiattle. Though the water was silty and swift, it was shallow and had a very stable log across it, which I walked without much of a thought to the danger gushing by below me. It wasn’t that bad.
There is something that I have learned on my voyage this year: Don’t believe what people tell you! I was told Apache Peak was dangerous, so I took the alternate. After that I vowed to look for myself. The sign at Santiam Pass was… foreboding but hilarious! The area turned out to be safe and navigable. And the Suiattle River was an easier crossing than most of the Sierra rivers and MUCH easier than the gushing torrent I faced before Steven’s Pass.”

The next morning I awoke early and made 21 quick miles to the nearest road. This happened to be the road to Stehekin, an isolated one way gravel number with access between the PCT and the hamlet on the northern end of the fjord-like Lake Chalan.

Here I found Voyageur and Forrest, who had arrived at noon, on the earlier shuttle. I crammed my tent into a nook between trees on the steep grade in the free camp ground.

“The little hamlet exists out of time on the northern shores of dramatic fjord-like Lake Chalan, a glacial fed 50 mile waterway that feeds the Columbia River. The elevation here is about 1500 feet but the mountains tower above the icy deep water, disappearing somewhere in the omnipresent clouds. In the town, a few buildings are scattered along the shore, a post office, restaurant, inn, and a considerable number of residences. There are also a fair many cars, but I have no idea where they get gas! It’s a 50 mile fairy ride to the nearest stoplight!” ~ Me, 8-27-08

“There is much hullabaloo about the Stehekin bakery. The three of us went to said bakery for breakfast, sharing rolls, scones, coffee cake… I must say I am impressed! For a small town Bakery it was very good! The scones were top notch. And the rolls were exceedingly sticky and flaky, simultaneously! I left overly full with a bag of bagels for less than $10. That is less than I would spend on a stack of pancakes and orange juice at any restaurant! I will make a similar return tomorrow before trekking out for the final 88 miles.” -~ Me again, 8-28-08

Delayed by an unfortunate backpack mixup, Forrest and I left after Voyageur on the afternoon of the 29th. It rained several times, but not for very long. We camped in a huckleberry field.

Voyageur was still ahead of us on the 31st and were given news of this several times during the day. Forrest and I awoke, south of Hearts Pass with an inch of snow on the ground. With my hands tucked into my pockets, we paced quickly along the grassy alpine hillsides. We were met by a Hiker named “Phew” So named for the sound she made. “Are you San gabriel and someone else?” She asked Forrest, who was 50 feet in front of me. “Well he is San Gabriel and *I* am someone else.” I think Forrest earned a trailname.

At about 3:00 after fairly ridiculous mileage we finally caught up with Voyageur. We had decided to finish together when we were in Stehekin. And so now we could. We camped early after descending from our last bit of trail above 7000 feet.

From Hopkins Lake, our last camp, it was a mere seven miles to the border. We all had our celebratory border food. Voyageur had prepared a no bake cheesecake which he planned on topping with Huckleberries. Forrest had some classy chocolate, and I had kippered hearing and crackers, in honor of my Norwegian heritage.

On the last switchback with views of the border swath we descended to the border monument. 2650 miles separate the two nearly identical monuments, though the one at Campo was significantly more sun-bleached.

We took an hour at the monument eating our various treats and taking photos under partly cloudy skies. I was overjoyed to be there, but several hundred miles of burned forest in California nagged at me. “gotta finish, gotta finish, gotta finish gotta...” a mantra continued in my head. But for now, I would celebrate.

We were joined presently by Mapman and Robin.

In all, seven hikers left Manning Park en route to Vancouver the next morning. The five of us, accompanied by Lumbar, with whom I had hiked in the Sierras, and Lucky, who I had met in Old Station and Cascade Locks, rode into the bustling metropolis of Vancouver in the early afternoon.

Voyageur and Forrest had made a contact in Leavenworth. That contact had a loft in Vancouver! So we base-camped out of said loft. We enjoyed Indian food our first evening. Voyageur left the next day. Now to find Park Lock.

Vancouver has one of the larger Chinatowns. In 1996 or so I had eaten the most incredible Dim Sum at a restaurant in this very town. I had an address. From the loft it was only 10 blocks to my destination. I looked across the street to the windows on the second story of a dilapidated structure. There it was. I had walked 2500 miles to dine here... Or that’s what I told myself. Racks of clothing blocked the entrance. I looked longingly into the windows for signs of life. The woman who was peddling clothing blocking the entrance shook her head apologetically at me. I circled the other block, only seeing the hours listed in Chinese. I tried again the next day.

I also visited the University, where I had once thought of attending should I pursue a doctorate. I made a pilgrimage to the Olympic village, under construction on the waterfront.

Heartbroken, I left Vancouver with the second best Dim Sum I had ever had in a cardboard box. I had eaten a dozen steamed buns, “Bao” and numerous other dumplings.

One day I will return. For now, I am satisfied and headed to Northern California after I visit family in Seattle and Salem.