Walking the Colorado Trail July/Aug 2014 -Lake City to Durango

2000 live sheep and 2000 dead trees

Day 27

From Spring Creek trailhead it was easy walking across the mesa. I had forgotten how high I was and wasn't worrying about storms as I usually did in such exposed places and no storm came. The path was easy to follow though it did divide at one point though the two tracks rejoined further along.

We would slowly rise to over 12000' before dropping down a bit to a marshy valley with a dubious water supply. Here were the first sheep I had seen since leaving England but it was the biggest flock of sheep I had ever seen. This made us concerned about the quality of the water. Although the valley was marshy the stream was down to a trickle and obtaining a useful quantity of water was difficult.

Yurt

Sheep guard dog

Nearby was a Yurt being occupied by a number of hikers. I think about three different groups had arrived at this spot. Some stayed inside the yurt and others including myself camped outside. The Shepard guarding the sheet came over for conversation. He was Peruvian and spoke little English though some of the hikers had a little Spanish. He worked on horseback and had at least two dogs with him. He told us there were about 2000 sheep in the flock and he was employed to look after them through the summer. He kept them in a tight group rather than let them wander.

One of his dogs was a traditional collie sheepdog but another was very similar to the patou dogs I had seen in the Alps. These are not herding dogs but rather quite fierce guard dogs. Not to be messed with, these dogs can't be intimidated. The next morning this dog came charging over towards us at the first sign of life from the tents. Fortunately it didn't eat any of us. I knew not to antagonise it by trying to scare it away or offering resistance. The best strategy is to try to ignore them to reassure them you are not a threat.

Day 28

Today we started walking through dead woodland with an almost continuous incline for the first seven miles taking us above 13000' to the highest point on the Colorado Trail (13,400'). I had gone ahead of Ted though we would hook up later. I was overtaken by a section hiker who had recently returned from Ireland. He was a teacher in a college in Denver teaching 'entrepreneurialism'. Ireland apparently provided a useful field study. He explained to me that one of the difficulties his students had with Ireland was the cooperation between business and politics. Small state ideology was well embedded in America to the extent that they believed the state had no role in developing business.

The scenery above the treeline was magnificent. At one point Ted spotted an animal he thought was a coyote and we walked off the trail to get a closer look. It was a fox. But I stopped to take pictures of the amazing vista. After walking on a further half mile I realised I had left my glasses behind where we had stopped. Ted kindly agreed to come back with me to help be look for them. I was very anxious about losing them as I would be unable to read maps or gps without them.

Our search was fruitless until I had an idea. I used the back of by camera to view the pictures I had just taken and used the alignment of rocks in the pictures to position myself. I then asked Ted to walk back from me keeping my body in line with a particular rock. He found my glasses almost immediately.

This amused us mightily as Ted was a cartographer. He had in fact been involved in mapping the Pacific Northwest Trail.

We were now in the Rio Grande National forest and in a few miles would cross the source of that great river. But more wild west lore before that as we dropped down into Carson saddle where the remains of mines worked by Kit Carson were. The road down was dreadful, very heavily eroded and difficult to walk on safely. The area was crisscrossed by several tracks used by ATVs. It was now after midday and the heat was oppressive though the build up of clouds was also a worry.

Cataract Lake

We stopped to have lunch among a few thin bushes offering little shelter. We had dropped down to about 12000' but before we would get to our projected campspot at Cataract Lake we would have to climb again another 1000'. We took water from a stream, but being so high and with no sign of livestock I drank it straight without filtering or chlorine tabs. It was georgeous. Another hiker passed us at this point, he had been at the yurt, but he was very tired and we would see him again later.

The climb was slow but magnificent. We dropped down to Cataract Lake and had set up camp by early evening. We had covered about 16 miles. Other hikers we had seen at the yurt arrived and we had a very convivial evening. These were part of a group that had set off together from Denver. They hadn't know each other before the walk and some with little backpacking experience were carrying to much. They were using walkie talkies to keep in touch in the hills. The organiser of the trek was the one we had met when we stopped at the stream. He was clearly unwell and I could hear him coughing through the night.

This spot by the lake made a wonderful campsite.

Ted  into the San Juan's

Day 29

A cold night. A frosty morning. Ted and I set off together again leaving the others to a slow start. Our keenness would serve us well as we escaped storms later in the day that held the others up. The trail undulated between 12 and 13000' and crossed some wonderful places with magnificent names like Maggie Gulch, Minnie Gulch and Cuba Gulch. This was the best of high ridge walking, but our old foe Cumulo Nimbus was stalking us.

We stopped for lunch at the source of the Rio Grande. The midday heat was strong and I was able to dry out my tent again and send the salty sweat on my feet south to Mexico.

After we passed the Stony Pass trailhead the build up of clouds and the distant roles of thunder became worrying. We were far above the treeline and in no place to be caught out by a storm. At one point we stopped among some rocks and considered going no further that day. The clouds were now massive and storms seem to surround us in several directions.

We met another flock of sheep.

Ted was walking the Continental Divide which would, in a few miles, part ways with the Colorado Trail. We set off across high open ground in the Weminuche Wilderness at a punishing pace. The skyscape was dramatic the distant peaks were breathtaking but there was no stop for picture taking. If the ground had been steeper I couldn't have kept up with Ted but it was flattish.

We came to a small cluster of ponds which was a potential campspot though we had both planned to go further to get to safety. However there was a tent already there which I recognised as Debbie's and I decided to say 'Hello'.

A frosty morning in Weminuche Wilderness

It was Debbie and she invited me to stop there. Good judgement told me not to but it was now latish in the afternoon when the threat of storms is less and I was pleased to see her. Ted had no intention of stopping and we said our farewells.

I set up my tent and Deb and I had a brew (cup of tea). Soon a couple of the hikers we had met at the yurt arrived and set up camp also. I worried that they were reassured by our presence that this was a safe place to stop. The sky was still heavy and the guns of the Western Front still audible.

But we got away with it, no storm hit us and when I was able to relax I found myself in glorious setting with fine company.

There was a full moon and a deep frost that night. When I got up in the night and a large owl swooped close to me.

Before sunrise

Day 30

Once again I was scraping frost from my tent and packing quickly to get moving to get warm. The route seemed clear enough and the highlight of the day would be the long decent of 4000' along Elk Creek. We planned to reach Silverton that evening.

Deb

I only ever missed a turning when chatting away with another hiker and Debbie and I missed the well signposted turn. Instead we followed an uphill trail that took us over a small peak. We took a right turn towards Eldorado Lake on a path parallel to the one we should have been on. We soon realised the mistake but I thought with map and gps and compass and a bit of daring do we might find a short cut onto the trail. We soon realised there was no safe way through and retraced our steps back to the turn we had missed. We had wasted an hour or more.

Decent into Elk Creek

As we descended the switchbacks down to the creek we noticed another hiker coming behind us at speed. I had guessed that Macbeth might catch us and he did. He had hiked since well before dawn by the full moon and had his own tale of taking the wrong track. We asked him to reserve us beds at Silverton Hostel as he was clearly going to be there ahead of us.

It was downhill for a full eight miles. On the way there were fascinating remains of past mining and terrific views of the Arrow and Vestal peaks.

Eventually we reached the narrow gauge railway that runs between Durango and Silverton. It started to rain heavily and we wondered if we could get the train to Silverton. We would then get the train back to this spot to carry on the hike. However we were already to late.

Arrow and Vestal

We had a long climb now of about 2000' to reach Molas Pass from where we could hitch hike into Silverton. I was short of water and filled my water bag from the Animas river which proved to be a big mistake. I realised the water was foul and tipped it out. I rinsed my container at the next stream, filled it up and added a couple of chlorine tablets. But It wouldn't be safe to drink for four hours.

I suffered on that climb. Deb was generous with the little water she had but we were both pretty thirsty by the time we found more.

As we climbed higher and higher we gained fine views of the valley we had come down that morning. Eventually we got to Molas Pass and the highway. We stuck out our thumbs and were having little luck until a truck that had passed us decided to turn around and come back to offer us a lift. The driver was very friendly and drove us up and down the main street in Silverton recommending different bars and cafes.

We would stay for a couple of days and try a few of them.

We eventually got to the hostel, met up with Macbeth and found our beds. The hostel had a range of options from a room to yourself, a bed in a shared room and an external bunkhouse. As it worked out Deb and I had a room each. She paid extra for the privacy and I was just lucky to have a room with several beds in it to myself.

Macbeth

Dinner at the Brown Bear Cafe yummmy. Drinks with other hikers at Handlebars.

The next day we had breakfast at the Avalanche which does very fine burritos. Silverton thrives on the daily injection of tourists arriving on the Durango Narrow Guage Railway. The railway was originally built to carry mined ore out of the mountains and is reputed to be one of the finest mountain railway routes in the world. I thought I might try it until I saw the prices as I was already seeing the mountains in an even more intimate way.

Much of the town is designed around the tourists and there are some very fine shops and bars in Silverton. I was tempted by the cowboy boots but no way was I going to carry them. I bought groceries for my final resupply before Durango

Brown Bear Cafe...a fine spot.

Handlebars was the choice for dining on the second night. The food was great and the setting impressive but the obsequiousness of the waiter drove me nuts. But I do think there is a cultural difference here. Americans I met enjoyed the attentiveness of waiters where I found it rude and intrusive.

The plan was to set off the next morning but when I got up it was raining heavily and the plan was to have breakfast in the Brown Bear and wait out an improvement in the weather. About six of us went off to devour a mountain of pancakes followed by a visit to Silverton museum.

The weather cleared by midday and the hostel offered us a lift back to Molas pass.

Day 31

Four of us had set off together. Macbeth was in a hurry and soon went ahead. PJ followed him soon after when it was clear the oldies couldn't keep the pace up. We passed a group of Llamas which I was sure we would see again but didn't. We had a late start and only made eight miles before we decided to set up camp. The alternative seemed to be to carry on another four miles to the next possible campspot and as this was a good one Deb and I stopped for the night. We lit a fire and had a pleasant evening swapping rude jokes.

Sheltering from rain again

I had an invite to a barbecue in Durango if I could make it by Sunday. If the weather held I might manage it.

The train arrives in Silverton

Day 32

The day started well and we made good progress over the pass south of Rolling Mountain and followed down to Cascade Creek. The vegetation in this area was interesting with large broad leaved plants a bit like hostas in abundance. I haven't identified them yet.

We reached the lake at Bolam Pass road after about 12 miles. The land was starting to rise again and the afternoon storm clouds were building.

We stopped at the tree line to consider our options as the next eight miles or more would see us on rising open ground. We decided to backtrack a mile to a campspot in the trees. No sooner had we set up camp but the skies opened and hailstones forced us to shelter.

It was an early end to the day. We could have tried again later but took the safer option. My chances of getting to the barbecue were now gone. There were a few motor campers near the lake which had fish in it and probably a good population of leeches.

Day 33

This would be a big day of about 23 miles much of it along ridges. We met a few mountain bikers on this stretch. I fact they had a problem with one of the bikes and we managed to overtake them a couple of times. They were very friendly and complemented us on the pace we were setting. We were coming to a long stretch without water sources and stocked up. But it was a hot day and we were keen to reach a camp spot with water. There were no major climbs to face but the walking wasn't easy.

The path came close to the road at times and we met motor campers who we imagined musty be carrying their own water.

When we did eventually reach a campspot it wasn't like we had expected. Collapsed trees criss-crossed the site and we just found space for our two tents. The water was down to a trickle and we had to take care not to stir up sediment while filling up. If we hadn't have found water here we would have had a further seven miles and more than 1000' of climbing to the next reliable source. I don't think either of us were up to that.

This water spot wasn't at the point described in the data book but a bit further on. The point described in the book at 11.7 miles from the trailhead was unusable for camping.

We were now walking at our individual paces and Deb was going ahead. By the time we got to the water she was in well in front and I had to call her back.

I was a bit anxious that a dead tree could fall on us in the night and Deb thought she could see bear scratch marks on one.

Day 34

The walking was stunning. We had camped close to the treeline and would be above it all the way to Taylor lake in about eight miles. This was a situation where the height profiles in the guidebook are deceptive. On the small diagram the route looks like a fairly gentle but undulating incline. It is nothing of the sort. Each of those undulations is a steep rocky climb and they just keep coming one after the other.

There are striking views across the valley to distant ridges.

Deb was waiting for me at Taylor Lake where we had lunch. There were quite a few day walkers in this area. Dropping down towards the lake I met a group walking up who asked me if they would soon find water. They had none. In the strong sun I didn't think they would get much further.

We had a bit more climbing to do before we would reach the long seven mile downhill which would take us down to about 8500', lower than we had been for weeks. At this point we met a hiker coming the other way who was yo-yoing the trail. Having reached Durango he was heading back to Denver. He was trying to keep his weight down by carrying less water and mainly drinking where he found streams. This didn't seem like a good idea in this area where the next water could be 20 miles ahead. Anyway he knew the trail as well as we did having just completed it.

The long downhill was a good track though popular with cyclists who were a bit of a hazard. Although we were heading back into the trees the day was hot and the lower we went the hotter it got. We stopped a number of times just to cool off in the streams which were now plentiful.

The vegetation was also changing with a bigger variety of trees some of which were massive. The path mainly followed the steep valley sides. It was a bit like descending into new world of waterfalls and birds. The valley offered few places where camping would be possible.

Near Taylor Lake

The path would rise again before Durango which we expected to see the next day. We found a beautiful campspot by the river near a bridge just where the path started to rise again and stopped there. There was still plenty of daylight. I washed in the river, wrote up my notes played my whistle and thrilled at the fact that I was only 14 miles from the end of the trail.

A couple of young hikers joined us later in the evening. Their plan was to take another two days to finish which struck me as odd.

Day 35

Deb went ahead and I didn't see her again until Durango. The path was easy to follow but started with a 1000' climb to remind me I was still in the mountains. I met a couple of people coming the other way and thought they were doing a great pace if they had walked out from Durango trailhead that morning. But maybe they hadn't.

Another picture of a frozen tent

As the morning wore on the mountain bikers increased in number. The area had more and more trails so I occasionally had to check that I was following the right one. Water should have been plentiful but at one stop the source was heavily spoiled by cattle.

I got down to the bridge over Junction Creek where I met a young family dipping in the water. I was so hot I needed a dip myself but they didn't mind.

It was about two in the afternoon when I reached the trailhead. There was no brass band to greet me and I was so hot and footsore my initial feeling was one of relief.

I got a pleasant lift into Durango with an Irish Mexican couple, an Irish woman married to a Mexican man. They teased me a bit (in a friendly way) about my irishness and dropped me near a motel where I booked in. I hadn't thought about where the best place to stay might be but organised my laundry and contacted Stacy, a contact I had been given, to plan an evening out.

With Stacy at Carver's

Stacy took me to Carver's which has a micro brewery and offers a free beer to everyone completing the Colorado Trail. I was certainly going to claim mine. Stacy had done the trail herself a couple of years previously. She had some great stories. We bumped into other hikers at Carvers including Macbeth who I was very please to see. I had hoped RJ might still be around but heard he had left the day before. Macbeth was eventually defeated by the fine helpings. It is not often you see a hiker not finish a meal.

The Irish Embassy

Next day I met up with Macbeth and Deb for lunch before my next adventure.

We went to an Irish pub calling itself the Irish Embassy. The waiter had a fake Irish accent but didn't recognise that mine was real.

I had met a man in France the previous year who lived about 40 miles from Durango. He had offered me hospitality for a few day. I phoned him and he arranged to pick me up at the Strater Hotel. I would have a few days of luxury and the finest entertainment in stark contrast to waking up in a frosty tent.

He would take me for a jaunt flight in a biplane. We would

Wheeling out the bi-plane.

Yes that is me.    (Picture by Jenna Buffalo)

 (Picture by Jenna Buffalo)

visit the Mesa Verdi and return to Denver in a private jet over the route I had just walked. I wouldn't see much because of the cloud but was able to photograph Twin Lakes from the air.

From Denver I was heading to Cleveland to visit cousins I hadn't seen for more than 40 years. The next few weeks would be no less exciting. I was on a roll.

At the Mesa Verdi

Flying back over Twin Lakes.

Walking the Colorado Trail July/Aug 2014 -Denver to Salida

Brittle Prickly Pear cactus (Opuntia fragilis)

Planning this walk had preoccupied me for more than a year but a trail is always different from the image built up reading books, maps and other people's blogs. One of my favourite bloggers said he never got his feet wet once on the trail. Each year is different in terms of frequency of storms, availability of water, prevalence of forest fires, snowpack on the high passes.

One could design a grading system for years which would describe my trip as Storms frequent, Water plentiful, Fires non existent and Snowpack not a problem. Yes my feet got wet. Maybe a category for bears and pine beetle should also be added. But I'll stop before I spoil the story.

The essentials

A few things make me a little untypical of a CT hiker. I'm 63 yrs old but I did meet others my age just not many. I am not American, I didn't meet any other non Americans though I know there were a few. The Colorado Trail Foundation website lists two other hikers from the UK who completed the walk in 2014.

Big walks are becoming an annual event for me since recent retirement. I completed the 500 mile Pyrenean Traverse in 2012 and walked most of the GR5 in 2013.

I arrived in Denver about 8-00pm local time. It took a while to get out of the airport. I stopped briefly to note the hurricane shelter, I'd not seen one of those before. I had an unexpectedly friendly chat with the immigration officer, previous experience had prepared me for rudeness. His paliness was genuine. He hadn't heard of the Colorado Trail but was interested.

The next surprise was a $3 charge for a cash withdrawal from an ATM, surely just at the airport I wrongly surmised. The next was that the bus into Denver would only accept exact fare. I decided to take a taxi.

My health and travel insurance from the
British Mountaineering Council

I could see rows of great thunder head clouds where the Rockies should be. They weren't a surprise.

My hotel/ hostel provided further culture tremors (rather than shocks). A friendly reception gave me a key to a room. Every room on the floor had been kicked in and instead of having a replacement lock had a cage door installed over it. Shit I thought, that must be to keep the bears out, watch your valuables.

I was to excited to sleep immediately but woke in the night to hear friendly conversation and lovely music from somewhere not far away. I think it was shift workers having a break.

Start of trail

In the morning I approached the kitchen tentatively...bears you know, but soon fell into warm conversation and very strong coffee. I was mad keen to get on the trail though. I knew I had to make some token effort to say hello to this interesting (so I'm told) city but after breakfast in a diner near the mint (which I didn't visit) I got a train out towards Waterton Canyon. I made a series of silly mistakes resulting from not planning ahead how I was going to get to the trailhead. I hadn't bought groceries in Denver, thinking I could find somewhere along the line. I did but it involved city walking in the heat of the day and another taxi to the trailhead.

I reached Waterton Canyon about 2-00pm and it was hot as hell (so was I) and no shelter for six miles. Little black flies like houseflies were everywhere and I soon found out that they bite even through thin clothing. I found nothing interesting about those first miles but fell into conversation with some cyclists near the Strontia Springs dam. I impressed them with my stories of the Tour de France. It seemed incredible to them that only a few days earlier I could have been watching the race in a place called Europe.

The trail is well marked.

I hiked on a few miles more to Bear creek. There were three young people camped there already but they didn't mind me setting up nearby. They explained that I could follow the creek back to the reservoir and have a dip and a wash. I had read in blogs that bears had recently been a nuisance in this area and duly hung my food from a branch but nothing was going to disturb my sleep, not even the high jinx in the neighbouring tent.

Day 2

No condensation in the tent, food still where I hung it. Silence from the neighbours so I took care not to disturb them though I felt odd about heading off without a farewell. Porridge for breakfast would become the norm. The guide book divides the Colorado trail into 28 segments. It is easy to think of these as day walks but they are not. They are routes between trailheads i.e. places where the trail crosses a road or track. Trailheads often have toilets, parking space and notice boards. Starting day 2 I had 8 more miles to go to complete segment 1, and I was hoping by the end of the day to have completed segment 2,, oh mice and men.

The next stop would be the South Platte River trailhead which looked like a popular spot. I crossed the river and sat down to enjoy lunch. A few distant rumbles of thunder were audible but no rain. Did I say no rain? The clear skies filled quickly and the archetypical afternoon storm that I had read about broke. I hunched under my umbrella and sat it out for a couple of hours. The next stretch was uphill for six miles with no campspot on the way. I got about a mile when the storm broke again with heavy hail and decided to retrace my steps to the trailhead where I could camp for the night. It was a wet slippery return.

Woodland camp

I found the campsite and two tents already there. I put mine up in the rain and climbed in but the rain didn't last much longer and I got to meet my fellows who were two men of my age from Boston who were themselves walking the full trail.

They went ahead of me in the morning and curiously I never saw them again. It is common on long trails to keep bumping into the same people, not because you are walking close behind or in front but because everyone takes occasional days off. Later in the walk I would get to know some hikers quite well through crisscrossing interactions in towns or campspots (even though they were much younger and faster than me) rather than walking together. My friends from Boston must have kept there heads down and moved speedily ahead, which was fine as I didn't like them.

Day 3

Heart leaved Arnica ( Arnica cordifolia)

I was feeling the need to get a few miles under my belt. Today with the uphill ahead I was feeling the drag of my pack. Despite wishing to be a lightweight backpacker I never really achieved it. But I was starting to see some wildlife. The area, I was warned, would be bleak as there had been a large forest fire here but I think it was recovering well. Lots of old dead tree trunks but ground cover popping up. This was the only day on which I saw eagles. I saw deer and was scolded by a couple of kestrels. I had never heard of kestrels scolding humans. The path must have come close to their nest. I didn't understand what was happening at first but they started to swoop towards me calling. Reminded me of the behaviour of terns. I met a hiker coming the other way who told me of seeing a bear with her cub. He was carrying about 5 litres of water which surprised me. He was just entering a ten mile stretch without water that I was coming out of but two litres had seen me through.

It is always good to meet people coming the other way so you can ask about such issues as availability of water.

Hooded ladies Tresses (Spiranthes romanzoffiana)

I was coming up to a road near a fire station at Buffalo Creek. There is an outdoor tap on the wall at the back of the station where hikers top up. Another mile would see the end of segment 2. I sat under some trees to snack. I saw a creature I still don't know the name of, some sort of cricket/grasshopper that leaps very high making a wild clacking sound like a Chinese firecracker. It doesn't just leap up and down but seems to be able to give itself another spurt without landing. Its action is totally random and at times later in the walk I've nearly been hit by them. Well that piece of excitement over and along comes a runner. I had seen her earlier going the other way. She told me she was training for a 100 miler, not the Leadville 100 but another one. She had already completed four 100s. We discussed blisters and chafing which were starting to be significant issues for me.

I had another 8 miles to go to my planned stop and blisters were becoming a problem. The area I was passing through was reminiscent of Cornwall and its granite tors. Here was an abundance of large rounded granite structures. The weather broke again. No thunder this time, not for me anyway, though other areas were getting a pasting. It was well into the evening when I arrived at Cross Meadows campground. These campsites are like nothing you see in Britain. They are full of large trailers and campervans spread out over a large area of woodland. It looked like a major hike to find a reception. Fortunately the people I asked for directions invited me to camp on their patch. As this must have been a quarter of an acre I wasn't going to be in their way. Again I hung my food on a tree close to the bear-proof rubbish bins and slept well while the skies opened.

Everyone I met on my walk was scrupulous about filtering water from streams. The dreaded gardia seemed to stalk the trail. I carried chorline tabs but tended not to be worried about high up fast flowing streams unless there was clear evidence of livestock which there very rarely was. But hand hygiene didn't seem to have the same importance. None of the public toilets at trailheads or this campground had washing facilities.

Day 4

My plan today was simple. Start slowly, rest a little, walk 5/6 miles to a spot near a creek near a road from which I could hitch into Bailey. I needed to get a grip on a few issues. I was carrying a heavy pack but didn't have the basic essentials to deal with chafing clothes and blisters. I'd bought food for a few days but I was going slower than hoped, partly because of the weather, and I was running out of oats and meths.

Trail passes through a rifle range.

Off I went about lunchtime, slowly up a river valley. I stopped by a nice deep pool for a wash and felt relaxed knowing I had stacks of time. The trail took me through a rifle range which, this being Sunday, was busy. I trusted they were all shooting in the other direction. I found the campspot mentioned in the guidebook and set up camp. The weather was glorious but the stream here was very low, but usable. I was the first to arrive of several people who would camp here that night so a sociable evening lay ahead.

The first was Brian. Brian was exhausted. He had just completed 22 miles and was carrying a very heavy pack. I think he was also suffering from the altitude, though we were only just above 8000ft. He was carrying a bear proof cannister for his food. I had considered getting one and decided against it on grounds of weight and cost but it was interesting to see one. I didn't meet anyone else using one. We talked about guns, immigration and the British NHS. He thought the NHS was under political control and you needed to be on good terms with your local politicians to get decent care. He was a true believer that the state was a necessary evil and only an armed citizenry could keep it in check. I really enjoyed Brian's company and was sorry not to bump into him again.

I was carrying a satellite beacon, as a safety precaution, which had a texting facility enabling me to send messages home and also to upload my position to Facebook for friends to see. There are a couple of brands popular with hikers. Brian carried one like mine and another hiker passing through our camp also had one. The other thing we had in common was that we were hiking solo. I don't think I met any solo hikers who weren't taking this precaution.

A young couple from Denver arrived and set up. They were just out for a long weekend tramp and were useful for local knowledge and bear stories. I also found out at this stage that since I had started walking there had been two deaths and several injuries from lightning strikes in Colorado. The big storm I had stopped in two days previously had been lethal. I was warned, pay serious attention to storms above the treeline. I had grown up with the message 'don't shelter under trees in a storm'. The advice here was “make a bee line for the tree-line if caught out on a ridge”.

Day 5

It was a short walk to a dirt road that led into the small town of Bailey about 8 miles from the trail. A dirt road with no noticable traffic on it. My guide book also suggested that Bailey was only good for 'gas station snacks” I wanted oats, bread, meths, coffee and especially vaseline.

After about ten minutes a car pulled up and offered me a lift. He took me in, told me the history of the town, fed me a few more bear stories, and directed me to the general store and the gas station. He said if I was ready to go back to the trail in 30 minutes he would take me back. I was going to have my shopping done and be back on the trail for 10.00 am.

If you ask for meths in Colorado you get funny looks. Denatured alcohol can be bought at chemists but on the trail hikers look for garages to buy Heet. Heet is pure methylated spirit which is added to the petrol tanks of sporty cars that, in freezing weather, get crystals in their carburettors. This comes in a yellow bottle. There are also red bottles of Heet for diesel vehicles but that is something else. In 30 minutes I did my shopping and fell in love with Bailey.

When my driver got me back to the trail there was another hiker trying to thumb a lift in and my driver turned around and went back to Bailey with him.

I walked 10 miles along the trail that day through Lost Creek Wilderness, another slow day. I found a spot with a mobile signal and phoned home. A few miles further on I caught up with the Denver couple (Dave and Michelle) I'd met the day before. They were going slower than me, I was glad somebody was, but I enjoyed walking with them. We broke through the tree-line to wonderful open meadow and set up camp in woody patch near the stream. This was the most beautiful spot I had yet seen on the trail. I hadn't learned to read the landscape properly yet and didn't appreciate that I was now in the beaver's territory. That winding stream, those ponds, the low willow scrub were the product of beavers. It is really something to be in a landscape shaped by a mammal other than man.

It was the flora and fauna of the Rockies that really told me I was far from home. There were many plants I had never seen before though a few that I had. Cranebills that I am familiar with in my back garden were common. I had never seen a humming bird before but one came right up to my face.

The paths for the first few days had been compacted granite gravel and hard as walking on a road. I was glad to be into wilder country.

Another curious thing I noticed. My water tube has a magnetic clip on it so that it can attached to my rucksack. Often it would trail on the ground when I sat down. I didn't mind but it was permanently covered in magnetic dust and gravel that it picked up. This would continue to be the case throughout the walk.

There was a big storm during the night.

Day 6

Mistmaiden (Romanzoffia sitchensis)

I had a slow start as I had to take time to dry out my tent and sleeping bag. I also had a wash in the stream and washed my socks. I was now in the Six Mile Meadow. Six miles of beaver ponds and scrub willow taking me up to 11,000 feet. The morning was beautiful and once over the top was downhill zigzaging through woodland to a steam at the bottom. I tried having lunch here (near Long Gulch trailhead) but the flies were bad. I was now into segment 5. I was moving fairly steadily though had to stop a couple of times for hailstorms. Thunder was the music of the afternoon but I felt safe in woodland. However the ground started to rise again but by then the storms had passed. It was late when I stopped to camp at Rock Creek. It was a lovely little spot though not far from a house and there was a bit of rusty old metal rubbish nearby. I had got my tent up when another hiker came along, a hairy young man. We chatted for a bit. He was moving fast and aiming to complete the trail in 20 days. His pack was much lighter than mine but he was also carrying an umbrella, just like mine except that his was a Golite and mine was a Rohan though clearly off the same assembly line. He gave me his trail name, Macbeth, but declined my invitation to join me as he hoped to do another mile or two before stopping.

I actually saw a lot of Macbeth over the next few weeks as he took a week out of the hike. Although he was much faster than me we arrived in Durango within a day of each other and celebrated our achievement together

Day 7

I packed my tent wet deciding to stop in some airy spot and dry it there. I often do this if the morning is dull or I'm in woodland where drying will be slow. Macbeth hadn't actually gone much further and I reached his camp while he was still packing though he soon overtook me and was off like a hare. Saw a Blue Jay.

I was heading towards Kinosha Pass. Kinosha Pass is the trailhead nearest to Jefferson, another possible resupply spot. Jefferson is South Park of irreverent cartoon fame though it consists of a cafe and a garage. It didn't take long to get a lift though I was sat in the back of a pickup with a couple of large dogs. I had brought an ereader with me and I think it was climbing into the pick that I broke the screen.

I ate a big lunch at the café but the selection of food to buy wasn't great. There were three other hikers there walking together. They were good company for an hour but had decided to camp by the store for the evening. One had used it as a post drop and asked his family to post him some AA batteries. They sent a box with about 100 batteries in it which he was going to be unable to use or carry so he was offering batteries to anyone who wanted them. I took 4 but don't think I used them.

My lift back to the pass was with a man installing solar panels. He explained the system was very popular on outlying farms where mains electricity would be very expensive to install.

Rain droplets have frozen over night on my rucksack cover.

He dropped me at the pass where another hiker, in a silly hat, asked me how easy it had been to hitch into Jefferson. Americans don't mind silly hats as long as they are light and keep the sun off. In my experience French hikers by contrast like to wear very smart hats... just saying. I told him it was easy and headed off. He had seemed little agitated and I left him to it. But, as with Macbeth, RJ (as he was known) was someone I would get to know well and become fond of.

I walked another 6 miles and camped by Jefferson Creek. I had passed Deadman's Creek deciding the name was uninviting. I noted in my journal that this was a very uncomfortable night comparable to another uncomfortable night I had spent on the Cuillin Ridge on the Isle of Skye, but the memory of it is gone other than that in the morning the rain cover on my rucksack was covered in frozen droplets.

Day 8

Today was to take me up to 11,874 feet, at Georgia Pass the highest point yet. It was a long slow haul and I was in need of a bit more oxygen than available. I was passed by two others on the way up. The first was Eric who I met again at the top. The other was a guy who offered to trade dope for food. I wasn't interested in his dope but offered him some food but he said he would wait for me at the top. He didn't.

Eric was an economics professor who was trying to do the trail at speed. However he acquired a knee injury and had to drop out the next day at Breckenridge. He walked most of the next day in pain.

The views at Georgia Pass are magnificent. I was starting to develop side effects of the altitude, getting a dark cluster of spots in the vision of my right eye. This was quite distracting but it passed in 3 or 4 days.

It was a long decent from Georgia Pass taking us down below 10,000 feet again. There was a good campspot at Swan river. This was an area where parties came out to play with their all terrain vehicles. I lit a fire and had a pleasant evening. Two other hikers camping in hammocks set up near by and lit a bigger fire and the sound of revellers carried on through the night. It was fine by me.

Eric had gone ahead coming off the pass but his knee injury slowed him down and we camped in the same area.

My Guyot from Georgia Pass

Day 9.

Colorado Colombine (Aquilegia coerulea)

We had about 13 miles to go to reach the Breckenridge trailhead where a free bus will take you into town. On the way there we would complete the first 100 miles of the Colorado Trail and climb another 1200' hill. The decent to the highway was horrible leading to a RV camp. I'd not seen an RV yet.

I had come to see wilderness and although I enjoyed the human scale of places like Bailey and Jefferson I didn't want to stand on a busy highway waiting for a bus. Eric had contacted his parents who were picking him up in Breckenridge so I left him at the side of the road and headed back to the trail.

The area around Breckenridge suffers appallingly from pine beetle. Dead trees are everywhere collapsed at awkward angles as the heart is eaten out of them. The damage across Colorado is phenomenal. Millions of trees along the sides of a wide valley will be dead. The thin lodgepole pine is often left standing waiting for the fire which will clear the forest. Larger trees twist and buckle. You can lie in your tent at night and hear trees fall. Some of the camp-spots listed in the guidebooks are unusable either from the fear of falling trees or because the ground is criss-crossed with fallen trees making it difficult to put up a tent.

This was a damp summer which had two major advantages. The first that there was water in streams that might normally be dry at this time of year and second that the massive fires that will eventually clear all this dead wood are delayed a little bit longer.

Dead trees mean few birds and fewer mammals. The living woodlands full of jays, woodpeckers and squirrels and chipmonks, abuzz with moths, are wonderful. The dead are just dead.

I had another 1000 feet to climb before descending into the valley I would camp in. I camped by a small stream in a lifeless and depressing wood. The only signs of movement were the dots in front of my eyes.

Day 10.

Dead lodgepole pine

I was infected by the bleakness of the place when I rose. Porridge and off but a few hundred yards I met Bibs who had camped further along the stream. I hadn't noticed her arrival. She was another speedy hiker and with a 2500' ascent to Tenmile ridge I wasn't going to try to keep up with her. It was a long haul up to the ridge. Human contact blew away the dead forest blues. 

I met a family group near the ridge. One Deb was walking the whole trail and the others were accompanying her on a day hike. They had a sweet little dog with them. They steamed off ahead of me but I would see Deb again. Coming the other way I met a group of three women about my own age. They were Coloradoans walking much of the trail. One was a Trail Angel, Addy. It is the privilege of Trail Angels to allocate trail names and she named me 'Mr Oddity'.

En route to Tenmile ridge. I wonder what the dark rock on the scree slopes is.

Tenmile Ridge

I met Bibs again at the top and we walked down the other side to Copper Mountain, a ski resort, where we had lunch together. It was larger and busier than I expected. She was young and chatty and talked about things I knew nothing of, like baseball. We carried on for another 6 miles where I stopped to camp. She ploughed on and our paths didn't cross again

On way to Searle Pass

Towards Kokomo Pass

Between Searle Pass and Kokomo Pass popular with mountain bikers

Common red paintbrush (Castilleja miniata

Day 11

Today starts with a long hike to up above 12000' to Searle Pass, Elk Ridge and Kokomo Pass. The area is not to distant from Breckenridge and is popular with mountain bikers. The path stays above the tree line for quite a few miles but thankfully there were no storms. Though it rained heavily in the evening. This was a glorious day with bright sunlight and expanding vistas and plentiful water stops.

Kokomo Pass

This was another spot popular with cyclists and at the top some of them were showing signs of oxygen deprivation as they were day trippers out from the towns rather than long distance travellers getting acclimatised to the altitude.

I met Addy and her companions again at Kokomo Pass. And walked with them to a camp spot at a creek. This was back down at 10,000', below the tree-line. It was still early afternoon but they had decided to set up camp. I gave my feet a good chilling soak in the creek and played my whistle for a while before setting off again.

Addy, a Van Morrison fan

The path takes you through the old Camp Hale military camp, used to train mountain commandos during World War 2. I expected it to be a bit more interesting than it was. Here the path started to climb again and it started to rain. I walked another couple of miles to a campspot. There was a tent already in place so I called to the occupant asking if they minded me setting up beside them. It turn out to be Deb who said she would be glad of the company.

The rain eventually ceased and we lit a fire and yarned well after nightfall.

Leadville

Day 12.

My plan was to take a day out in Leadville to rest a little and get my laundry done. Deb and I walked together to Tennessee Pass. The day was heating up. We parted there I standing at the side of the road thumbing a lift and Deb starting off on segment 9 into Holy Cross wilderness.

It wasn't long before someone stopped. This was a gentleman in a fairly posh car who didn't quite understand that I was walking to Durango and was offering to take detours to get me closer to my destination. He described himself as an entrepreneur and talked about the opportunities presented by the legalisation of marijuana in Colorado.

He dropped me at the tourist office in Leadville and drove off. In the office I realised I'd left my walking poles in the car. Walking up the street I met my entrepreneur walking towards me with my poles. He had spotted them in the car and turned around.

I found my way to the hostel though not before another driver stopped and gave me advice about camping spots, cigars and oral sex. This was an interesting town.

I LOVED Leadville hostel. No-one hiking the CT should miss this stop. It was very homely with BB King music playing continuously. The hostel owner was very helpful though just a little prickly. He went through a routine of explaining the rules and facilities to every visitor and you could imagine him getting fed up. I could dry out my sleeping bag in the yard. I could borrow town clothes while putting everything in the wash and I could borrow a bicycle for getting around town.

Leadville Church

RJ turned up as did the two hammockers. There were a few interesting characters staying at the hostel and I was tempted to stay another day but resisted.

The town had lots to see and buy but one of the benefits of hiking is that it is easy to resist the temptation to buy anything you are going to have to carry. I dined at the Golden Burro, a lovely spot. My only comment is that a salad that is mostly cheese and ham shouldn't really be called a salad.

Leadville ouses history. The town is not 200 years old but mining here has transformed the landscape mostly by hand. Fortunes were made and lost. Life was cheap and the history of misery and exploitation can't be romanticed. Jesse James passed through. I couldn't look at the spoil heaps without seeing the thousand of human ants who broke their lives here.

I had a long chat in the dorm with a young man of 18 who had decided to abandon the trail. I wasn't sure whether to console him and tell him he was doing the right thing or to try to encourage him to continue. He said sure people would be impressed if he walked the 500 miles but people were impressed anyway that he had walked more than 140 miles. 

Leadville railway station in the evening light.

Day 13

I got a lift to Safeways early with an interesting evangelist who was vigorously campaigning against divorce. His car was covered in posters describing divorce as adultery. He was very helpful to me and despite being totally at odds with his beliefs I found him congenial company. I don't think he was trying to convert me so he was spared the disappointment of failure.

Anti divorce campaign car.

Over breakfast I talked to a resident who was doing genealogical research. He had found an ancestor called Daniel Malone who left West Meath for Virginia in 1642. There is a story behind that somewhere.

We returned to the hostel where I packed up. I walked out the road to hitch a lift back to Tennessee Pass. The day was getting very hot. A woman and young child gave me a lift. I enjoyed their company and they were in much more straightened circumstances than me so I regretted not offering generous payment for the lift. It is amazing how much you can get to know of someone in a short lift.

At Tennessee Pass I found a box of trail magic. Trail magic is food and drink left by the side of the trail by some good person for the benefit of hikers. This particular box, I found out, was kept supplied by Leadville Hostel. RJ got a lift from the hostel to the pass by the owner coming out to restock the box. If I hadn't been impatient to leave I'd have had a lift with him.

My COSAR card.
I've smudged the address.

The next few miles were plagued with mosquitos. I met Jim who was hoping to get to Lake City but running out of time. He had climbed, over the years, all the 14000ers in Colorado. RJ caught us up and we eventually set up camp together at the high point around 11500'. We had looked at a spot near a Porcupine Lakes but the mozzies were intolerable. As the light started to go we could see distant lightning but could not here thunder. It was quite magical after a glorious sunset. Jim recited a poem and I played a couple of tunes on my whistle. Shooting stars confirmed the evening to be a good one.

Day 14

I managed to photograph this moth at
the point of take off  from my leg

RJ stormed ahead today planning to get up Mount Elbert. Jim and I started together talking about the supermarket retail business until he decided he need to move more quickly. I don't think it had anything to do with the conversation. The weather broke badly in the afternoon with hailstones the size of marbles. I made it to Mount Massive trailhead, where a large Moose deer grazed close to my tent. I had done about 18 miles which was good for a day disturbed by hail showers. On the way down to the trailhead I met a man walking with his son, maybe 12 years old, walking up. They were heading to a campspot to spend the night before climbing Mount Massive in the morning. The boy already had a nasty graze on his forehead from slipping crossing a stream. I asked him if he had damaged the rock he hit but neither her or his dad appreciated the joke. I do hope they bagged their peak.

The two mountains, Massive and Elbert tower over this stretch of the trail towards Twin Lakes. I still had a mind to climb one or two of the great 14000ers but was finding the job of walking the trail satisfying enough.

Day 15

RJ or as he calls himself now Dr No

At Twin Lakes the trail divides in two providing a variant route (Collegiate West) for 82 miles through the Collegiate peaks. This is a wilder and more remote route than the traditional route which most hikers still use. I had been debating with myself for a while as to whether or not to go this way. I was a little frightened. This route would take be up above the tree-line for many miles. As dangerous storms were a reality I couldn't ignore and resupply points fewer and further between I was slow to opt for this route. But had I come to Colorado to settle for second best? What likelihood I would ever be back.

Avalanche meadow,
you can see how it got its name.

I headed off for Twin Lakes for a restaurant lunch and hopefully buy food and fuel for a few days. I met John who was in training for the Leadville 100, probably the premier cross country race in the world. He had a few more scary lightning tales. Lightning had definitely replaced bears as the biggest hazard. After lunch RJ moseyed into town and we had a beer with a couple of other hikers. We were all thinking Collegiate West but I was planning a little shortcut. I saw no point in walking the long around the lakes to get to the trail to Hope Pass when I could join it more quickly going in the other direction. For the others following the route according to the book was important. So we parted. Having sat in blazing sunshine enjoying a beer half an hour earlier I was now in another downpour with lighting burning the sky like an arc welder.

Determination had set in and threats from the thunder god were not going to turn me around.

Grave

It was a long 3500' climb to Hope Pass. It was pissing down and the ground was rough. I decided to stop at Avalanche Meadow at about 11000'. I met a couple of rangers who were looking for a group of English people who were late in returning from a day hike. Then I bumped into an English man who was looking for a route back to the trailhead. I set him straight.

By the time I reached Avalanche meadow the rain had stopped and I set up camp. Near to where I camped was an old grave (I assume it was real), a long overgrown pile of stones with an improvised cross on it tied with a strand of leather. Yes I was in the Wild West.

Grave at Avalanche Meadow.

The Collegiate Peaks from Hope Pass

Day 16

18 miles today over Hope Pass (in bright sunshine) and Lake Ann Pass (in a thunder storm). Fantastic views of Mount Hope, Mount Huron and the Three Apostles and a long valley walk before a brutal climb to Lake Ann Pass and a further four miles to anywhere suitable for camping.

CDTer with Mount Hope in the background.

The climb to Hope Pass from Avalanche meadow was glorious on gentle switchbacks. I met a guy at the top coming the other way on the Continental Divide Trail, typical of CDTers over 60 and lean as a stick. I got his picture but don't remember his name.

I found the climb up to Lake Ann Pass (12588') quite a struggle. I was very tempted to stop at the lake where camping would have been simple rather than climb a further 800' up a bouldery slope. The path through the scree wasn't clear as a couple of the switchbacks were concealed by snowpack. About halfway up the slope a thunder storm came in very quickly. It was short but nasty and right on top of my head. I don't think I have ever been closer to lightning strikes. I was in exactly the situation that I should have been trying hardest to avoid.

I didn't know at the time but RJ had reached the lake and set up camp while I was on the scree. He found the experience of the storm frightening enough from there.

I crossed the pass watching the storm move on. I was left in bright clear air with the setting sun bringing out the full texture of the landscape and helping me dry off.

I had 1500' of decent and a 4 mile hike to reach my intended camp-spot. As I went on the paths were rutted by trail bikers and my campsite was barely suitable and offered no views or pleasure. I just got the tent up in the last light of the evening and went quickly to sleep.

Coming down from Lake Ann Pass

The amazing thing about adrenalin is that it works. I can be stumbling along under the weight of my pack feeling I can't go much further when something happens to give me a fright, maybe just a stumble. Then I'm off with renewed energy hardly knowing I have a pack on my pack.

Day 17

I packed up quickly and walked a short distance to a point where I could be cheered by the rising sun. I brewed up and had breakfast there and managed to get my tent dry. The trails for the nest few miles were grim as this was an area used by trail bikes. Often the trail was so rutted I had to walk off if for safety. I only met one rider though and despite warnings I had heard about riders being hostile to walkers I saw no sign of this.

Elephant's head Lousewort (Pedicularis greenlandica)

After about 5 miles the trail signs started to disagree with my book. The little gem of a guidebook that everyone uses is the Colorado Trail Data Book. This is small and very well designed but you do need to make sure you have the most up to date version as the route can change year to year. I did have the latest version but a newer one was needed to account for the most recent change. Alongside the data book I was using a gps loaded with waypoints downloaded from the Colorado Trail Foundation website. Other hikers I met were using an app on their Iphones. An idiosyncrasy of the data book is that the waypoints in the data book are not the same as the waypoints you download. At this point my waypoints were right and my databook was wrong and would be for a good few miles.

However, let it be said that the new route is a big improvement. It is six miles uphill from the turn-off to Cottonwood Pass. I was worried about water. I wanted to camp as close to the pass as I could but near a stream. On the way up I met an interesting group coming down, a man two young girls (say 10 and 12 yrs) and two dogs. They told me they had walked from the Mexican border along the CDT. I don't know whether to be sceptical or amazed. But they were able to reassure me there was plenty of water ahead.

View from Cottonwood

I crossed a couple of streams but set up camp at the next not wanting to risk going much higher. I was at the tree line. There was a suitable spot so I stopped and put up my tent though it was still early evening. No sooner was my tent up than I heard a voice and along comes RJ. I invited him to join me but he wanted to go a bit higher and look for a better spot. He found one about a half mile further on so I packed up and joined him. It was an ideal site. We lit a fire.

Day 18

RJ on Cottonwood summit 

I headed off first in the morning but RJ caught me at Cottonwood Pass. There was a road at the pass and a number of cars parked. The weather was wonderful and we enjoyed a leisurely walk to the peak at at about 12500' and took some photographs. We were both nervous about the weather realising that we would be on or near the ridge for the whole day and subject to whatever the weather threw at us. We could see the early signs of building cumuli. Further along we met a woman on her own with her tent spread out to dry. We stopped to chat and told her we didn't want to stop to long. She had a bad knee and could only walk slowly. She was walking with a friend who had gone on ahead but would be waiting for her. They had walked from Twin Lakes and were going to Monarch Crest following the Collegiate West route.

We carried on and about a mile further on met the other woman. We strode on briskly. I could keep up a good pace with RJ until we hit an incline and then it was my heavy pack as much as my age that slowed me down.

Refuge from a storm

The path started to switchback up to a pass rising to 12800'. I would never become so acclimatised that I was unaffected by this altitude and my progress was slow. I could hear the first rumbles of thunder as a storm cloud started to grow overhead. I carried on up watching the cloud drift away. But the cloud was growing faster than it was drifting and was over my head when I reached the pass. Great views but no lime to linger for pictures. RJ had probably gained a mile on me by now but waited for me at the shoulder of Mt Kreutzer.

We sat for a while snacking and watching the build up of thunderheads. There were two distinct stormclouds which looked as though they could eventually merge and we speculated on what that would mean. It didn't take long to find out.

Seeds of the storm

It was raining heavily as we set off along a very stony path in a barren landscape. Again RJ pulled ahead and I was doubting the wisdom of trying to cross the next pass. Lightning flashes were happening every few seconds and I could see bolts hitting the ridge above me. I became obsessive about counting the seconds between flashes and thunderclaps.

I rounded a bend near some bushes and heard RJ call me. He was crouched in the bushes for shelter. I joined him. We sat on his mat and cowered under my umbrella considering what our next move should be and wondering what was happening with the women we had met.

'Wounded Knee'

Soon we couldn't discern a time gap between the lightning strikes and the thunder and decided to make a b-line downhill in the hope of getting to some trees. We got absolutely soaked but found a spot and in pouring rain got our tents up. To much excitement. And we had only done 9 miles which would mean running low on supplies.

Day 19

Oh Shit!

The weather still looked a bit uncertain in the morning but we packed up and made our way back uphill to the trail. Our target for the day was to get to St Elmo for resupply. St Elmo is an old ghost town where a general store and B+B have been reopened. The first ridge over a shoulder of Emma Burr mountain would take us back up to 12800'. We met another CDTer on top and stopped for a chat. RJ ploughed on but I decided to stop in this airy place to dry out my tent and sleeping bag. I saw no point in carrying unwanted water.

I took the next stage at a stroll trying to relax and enjoy the mountains rather than churn up miles and the gap between these ridges was wonderful. But once over the second ridge I had a drop of about 2000' taking me well below the tree line and onto a dirt track where I hoped to pick up a lift to St Elmo. There were a few things wrong with this plan. Firstly there was very little traffic apart from ATVs. In fact I had stumbled into a ATV convention. Secondly the only food available in St Elmo was hot coffee and bars of chocolate. But the gods were watching.

After about 30 mins a vehicle did stop and offer me a lift. This was a couple out from Denver on a weekend of ATVing though their vehicle doubled up as a 4 wheel drive. The road was a mess and the ride very bumby. They gave me a bag of trail mix and told me some lightning stories though I now had enough of my own. When I got into St Elmo I met RJ and the two women we had met on the trail. RJ had renamed the one with the bad knee as 'Wounded Knee'. They had had a rough time in the storm and decided to abandon the walk. They had arranged for a lift to pick them up and take them home.

They also gave us their spare food and there was lots of it and it was good. So despite St Elmo being absolutely the wrong place to go to resupply we walked out well stocked.

RJ with Wounded Knee and her friend.

We had a very cheery time chatting with our new friends while they waited for their lift. But soon RJ and I had to go back to the trail. RJ went first. I followed about 30mins later by which time the rain had started again. I didn't get a lift on that road despite being passed many times so ended up walking 4 miles back to the trail in the pissing rain but guess who has got an umbrella. I noticed that I was walking much more strongly at this lower altitude.

I got to the trailhead, found a very good camp-spot and set up camp. No sign of RJ but I was sure I hadn't seen the last of him.

Something twanged one of my guy lines during the night and I started to reconsider bears.

RJ contemplating an easier way of getting to Durango

Day 20

Dank horrible low mist. I wondered how long this bad weather was going to continue so I texted home and asked my partner to check out the weather forecast for this area. The reply came back;-

Thun storms for 7 days except wed when rain likely all day.

Not very encouraging.

I set off uphill into the mist hoping it was going uphill to, it was. I climbed about 2000'. Eventually the path started to follow on old mining railway track downhill all the way to a trailhead eight miles from my start. The rain came in heavy again but I set off slowly. There was another high pass coming up at Chalk creek and I was nervous of crossing it in uncertain weather. I met a camper at Hancock lake. He had set up his tent not expecting to go any further. We talked for a while and the mist on the pass lifted. I decided to go. I got over without the feared storm sneaking up on me and proceeded down the other side. The walk downhill was unpleasantly wet but the path eventually turned into a track and I came upon two log cabins. I looked in the first on wondering if it would make accomodation for the night though I had ideally planned to walk another few miles to Boss Lake reservoir.

The cabins were a mess but in the second one I found RJ huddled in his sleeping bag trying to get warm. He had gone uphill from the trailhead the day before and had a cold miserable night. He was now very tired and very cold. I decided to set up nearby. I didn't fancy a cabin and put my tent up, though a night in a cabin would have been more comfortable, shit I'm a hiker.

I fed RJ cups of tea and we chatted into the evening. By morning he was in flying form again.

A shoulder of Bald Mountain

Day 21

RJ and I set off together but he broke ahead on climb to the top of Bald Mountain past Boss Lake. This was a 2000' climb by a very beautiful route that wound about a bit and past further lakes levelling out for a time before throwing another steep ascent at me. It was a tiring climb.

Once up the path stayed up above 11000' for 12 miles. Much of this was along a ridge with fantastic views which included the views of building storm clouds. I felt nervous in such an exposed position and didn't linger though the opportunities for photography were enticing. The drama of the sky was as picturesque as the landscape.

The path eventually leads to the Monarch Pass ski resort and again meanders around the resort rather than offering a direct route. This is not an interesting part of the trail.

I was still carrying a wet tent but it wasn't until I got close to the highway that I felt comfortable about stopping to dry it. The threatened storm hadn't materialised and the sky was now bright.

After drying the tent and having a bite to eat I followed the trail to the highway and found a suitable spot from which to hitch a lift. It hadn't been part of my plan to go to Salida. I thought it just to far from the trail at 22 miles but there was another 100 miles of trail to Lake City which was my next resupply point.

After a while a magnificently large and shiny cattle truck pulled up and offered me a lift. The driver was a Mormon who explained to me that he had passed a hiker a little way back up the road and felt bad about missing an opportunity to do a good deed. He believed there was a purpose in our meeting and told me much about himself, his family and recently deceased father who had been the same age as me. He dropped me in the middle of Salida. I asked for directions to the hostel which was about 10 mins walk from where I was dropped.

When I got there that bad penny, RJ, was checking in and for a moment it looked as though he had got the last bunk.