Week 11: On top of the world, looking over the edge

Fraser to Steamboat Springs

July 8 – July 17th

156.4 miles (Or something

)Day 65: Fraser Nero Continued

Maire (who will now be known as ‘The Oracle’) dropped us and our packs off at the Headwaters Trail Alliance. A warm mellow hub, dedicated to maintaining the 1000 miles of local trail, poised to aid hikers in any way they can.July is usually their busiest time seeing CDT hikers. We’re the first they’ve seen.After The Oracle suggested she could deliver a resupply box to Grand Lake, which is our next, really small ski town which would be a really expensive to resupply from, we went back to Safeway to fill a box.Then over to the outfitters for gas, and to the laundromat to de-fumigate. We sat in the new brewery while we waited for our clothes. Joyfullness.The Oracle came for us at 4pm ish and whisked us back to her house. We set up camp in the yard, hung our washing and wallowed in the safety of a family home.After we’d washed our stinking bodies we sat under their roof, on sofas, drinking beer and chatting with Chris, husband to The Oracle, who herself was now making incredible pasta sauce related smells from the kitchen.

We also sat with their offspring, Kimo, and Rihanna, and Kimos Girlfriend Emily who worked in an ice cream palace in Grand Lake (our next stop). She agreed to take our resupply box and greet us with it, and ice cream once we arrived in 4 days.

Could life get any better?

Maybe, if The Oracle was also a masseuse.

Day 66: Leaving Fraser

We woke at the usual time, though we weren’t leaving until 8:45am. We can’t seem to sleep in.

We began to pack up, and just as we were starting to desire caffeine, The Oracle brought out a whole pot.

Seriously, this woman.

She drove us to a breakfast spot, ensured we had a lift out of town and waved us goodbye. I forgot to take a photo.

I can’t express what a complete joy and a treat meeting her and her family was. So needed after our tough stretch before.

I indulged in a hearty breakfast which sat with me for some time.

Stephanie, who we chatted to in Safeway on our second resupply came to pick us up, and drove us 16 miles back up the pass, refusing any gas money.

All our answers lie in Safeway.

We set out for Mt. Flora feeling good.It was a pretty swift 3 miles to the summit and by the time we’d arrived the wind was physically moving us. On the way up we heard 6 differing opinions on the conditions ahead from day hikers. ‘impassable’ was a popular opinion of our route.

We decided against a recommended shortcut across the ridge, which may have saved 4 miles, but would have not only taken longer (due to the ups and downs) but also been far less pleasant due to my least favorite element bashing us about for probably 4 hours.

No, we decided to stick to the CDT. It was a beautiful route, descending gradually down a stunning ridge.The wind grew less and we stopped in a small rock hovel, home to a rusty red marmot, and with him squeaking at us, we made tea and ate avocado’s.Onward and the snow patches were back. Due to the distinct lack of footprints we could tell barely anyone had taken this route yet.

I know of about 3 people ahead of us and I also know they didn’t come this way.I can’t express how vehemently anti-snow I have become. It slows everything down, not just because its physically slower, but because we lose the direction of the trail and have to aimlessly wander until we find it again.

We climbed gradually up, and down steeply to the base of Mt. James. There have been some hiker mumblings which suggest this marks our last major climb in Colorado. I want to believe this is true, but I just don’t.

We came off trail to take a slight detour which parallels the trail, to a Loch Lomond (because we’re now apparently in Scotland).

Some guy on the app said it was the best place he’s ever slept. I’m not sure it’s going to rival the dog bed under a friend’s table on New Year’s Eve where I slept, aged 7 after too much Baileys and ice cream, but we’ll see.

This will put us about a third of the way up Mt. James, leaving the other joyful thirds for tomorrow.

It wasn’t half bad, except as we were going to sleep, Shelley farted so badly she said “I think the tents going to get up and walk away” she warned me it was going to “hit me, like a lead tonne of bricks”.

I’m reconsidering our engagement.

The last few weeks in Colorado have been exhausting. Snakes altitude sickness, rugged terrain, covered in slowing, threatening snow; post holing, bush whacking off trail, aggressive river crossings and a continuous feeling of peril has taken its toll. Today felt a little like the turning of a corner, hopefully into easier days and higher mileage once more. No doubt I’ll soon find something else to moan about.

Day 67: Increasing the distance

Today began like any other. We had a steep climb to rejoin the CDT on the ridge to Mt. James. A breathless 2 hours to 4056 meters. We celebrated with coffee and granola on the top, before the steep descent.

On the way down we met Double Down, Smack Down and Human Torch. These were the first Southbound CDT hikers we’d met.

They’d hiked from the Mexican border, North through New Mexico to the Colorado border, then flipped up to mid-Wyoming and headed south from there. When they reach the point which they initially flipped, they then have to flip back up to Wyoming and head north to Canada. This is even faff to write, let alone achieve.

I’m so glad we didn’t do this. Though, I do hate snow.

They gave us some tips for good bars ahead, including the smallest in Colorado, 20 ish miles ahead on a ranch.It was really nice to see some other humans.

Onward, and the elevation profile suggested life would be easier after this.

Lies.

We had a trail-less, slanted, rocky plod along a ridge. The way, marked only by elusive posts and sometimes a cairn. Up and down for 5 miles. The end of the ridge brought us down to a sad, desolate, windy trail-head where we ate lunch. We huddled for shelter by a sign and made tea to cheer us up.Up again to another ridge which we dropped down the back of, skirted along, then back up once more.

The wind desisted as we fell off the back of this last ridge, and dropped very steeply down into the woods.The woodland made a nice change from exposure and wind. Until of course, the mosquitoes. Streams were now abundant.

Our pace picked up and we made a few more miles before selecting a perfect spot, by a river for camp.It was only 5:40pm, but the day had made us wearisome and the dead wood all around, was calling for us to make a fire.

We had a full 2 hours of blissful sitting.We both has some chores, including patching up holes in waterproofs, taping up poles and sewing (yes Mum, I did some sewing) my sleeping bag liner which I can’t seem to stop putting my foot through.

Evidence

Silk is just not a material which suits my personality.

Day 68: Colorado apologies and calms its ridiculously steep self down

The terrain was extremely favorable today. For the first time in a while we made it 7 miles before breakfast.

Talk of weddings mostly filled out day. (namely our wedding) we’ve pretty much got it sussed.

We made it to Monarch Lake at noon and given that the day was particularly sweaty, we couldn’t not get in it. After a cool refreshing dip, I was pretty much sweating again the moment I got out.We saw a large black and yellow butterfly sat on the trail. Snakes spent a good while trying to photograph it, all the time exclaiming out loud, that no one ever keeps, or wants to look at these kinds of photos.A target for Snakes since she began planning this trail in April 2018, was Arapaho Valley Ranch, the smallest bar in Colorado. We made it here in brilliant time, and found it to be a desolate empty ruin. I nosed about and found the blue haired lady we’d been told to look out for. She told us the bar wasn’t open until 7pm but that she’d open the store for us to get a soda.

The fridge was broken so the soda was warm.

This whole ordeal was most disappointing.

We pushed on, having saved time and money not drinking in the currently closed bar. Hopefully Clap and Taz Baz, 1.5 days behind us will have better luck.

The trail now paralleled another lovely lake, it was incredibly hot and exposed. The heat exacerbated the smell of human poo and dead animal which seemed to line the trail.

(Maybe it was us)

Upon reaching much needed water, we realised Snakes had somehow managed to loose the bleach we use to purify water.

I’d like to point out that, much to your surprise, I haven’t lost anything on this jaunt, and Snakes has lost 3 items.

We found a spec of shade to enjoy lunch and prepared ourselves for the short climb we had ahead.

It was still extremely hot and exposed.For the first time in Colorado, a river I’d banked on hydrating us, was dry.

It was only another 3.3 miles or so to water, but this was far too far.

I spent the climb deep in thought about my brother. I remembered how he was graced (genetically) with all the finesse I lacked. He would sew, and do my hair, and he had table manners…

Mum used to joke about sending me to Switzerland to finishing school.

I miss him.

Though I’d rather not miss him while hiking uphill, it’s already hard enough to breathe.

We made it up and down and gorged on beautiful river water, probably full of viruses. Delicious, hydrating viruses.

19 miles on the day so far, another 3 would see us 4 miles out of Grand Lake tomorrow. We could saunter in for breakfast.

Except, for the boundary sign for the Rocky Mountain National Park, which expressly permits NO CAMPING without a bear canister and a permit.

Bums.

Now we’re 7 miles out of town, we don’t want to walk in and spend money tonight, and we don’t want to risk walking on, camping illegally and being fined. (Being eaten by a bear isn’t an issue, as long as we don’t cross the boundary into the National Park, as bears know the rules).

Fortunately, just before the sign is a beautiful camp spot right on the river. It’s only 5pm, but we really don’t have a choice but to stop here, go swimming, and enjoy the rest of the evening.

Our mega tent, what a babe.

19.5 miles on the day.

Day 69: Into Grand Lake

We woke early, as usual, believing a few of our belongings had been removed from the outside of the tent (we slept in just the fly so Snakes could visit with her friends, the stars).

As it turned out we’d just left said missing items lying around outside. After a short time looking, they were safely recovered.

A swift and breezy 7 miles through early morning misty meadows and wet swamp brought us out on a road leading to Grand Lake.We stopped at a bakery for a sincerely disappointing breakfast.

We left for the hostel, which was situated up a large hill.

We settled in and showered, pulling extremely dashing outfits from the hiker box, before heading into town to launder everything we’ve ever touched.

The laundry was handily situated next to a brew pub which served giant pretzels.Snakes took care of the laundry as usual, while I made a most important phone call and drank beer.

We walked to the shops and bought all the necessaries for a megaspaghetti (one word).

On route back to the hostel, we stopped by the ice cream (palace) where Emily (from Fraser) was hard at work. She pointed us in the direction of our resupply box she’d driven up for us, and we pointed her in the direction of the ice cream we required.

(A huge thanks to lovely Emily for doing this and again to Maire for setting it up)!

Back to the Shadow Mountain hostel for wine and cards.

Admiring the (as Maps would call it) features of interest in the local gardens on the way.

What a beauty.

At the hostel, I overheard the woman in the office on the phone to someone who sounded like a hiker, booking a room for tomorrow. I interrupted her on the off-chance it was Maps, it was.

We had a quick chat on the phone, much to the genuine joy of the office lady. Maps would be camping a few miles out of town tonight, we arranged to meet for breakfast tomorrow.

From here, the CDT swings East, then North and West in a large 24 Mile loop through the National Park. It ascends back up to over 12,000 feet, AKA Snakes’ death zone.

A common option is to cut the loop off with a 4 mile alternate and head North, then due West to Steamboat Springs. (81 miles away).

We’ve opted for the latter. We feel we’ve walked too far already for a sideline walk of 20 extra miles, we want to head in the direction of Rawlins Wyoming as quickly as possible. 8 days of altitude, snow, postholing wet feet and climbing still await us.

Besides, Pooch is now in Wyoming and we need to catch his tiny ass. (Never going to happen).

Day 70: (Accidental) Zero 11

We cleared out of the hostel after coffee, leaving our packs to be looked after.

Downtown we went to the all you can eat breakfast buffet at the Fat Cat Cafe to meet Dutch, Bear and Maps. It was a ball of a breakfast. I had 5 pieces of pie and together, we recounted all our stories of peril and laughed at all our recent misfortunes.

The British owner of the Fat Cat came over to see if we were OK, then proceeded to talk at us for 26 minutes, without breathing, about her financial situation since 1986.

5 of us sat patiently listening, until it was appropriate to run for the door.

Sally, a total mentalist. 

Maps, Bear and Dutch all decided not to walk the RMNP loop too, so we decided to stay another night to be reunited with pals.

Dutch, Bear, Maps (looking about 12), Bambi

We disbanded to complete individual chores.

Snakes and I returned to the hostel. We didn’t want to pay for another night, as we are trying to save pennies. We quizzed the hostel to see if we could camp there, we couldn’t.

We looked into nearby campsites, but a $30 permit was required, to sleep in our tent. Bloody National Parks.

Kayla, the wonderful receptionist at the hostel remembered a trail angel she knew, Karen, who may let us camp in her yard.

Karen was out of town, but told us where we could find the key to her house, and that we could help ourselves as long as we were out before the cleaners arrived the next day.

Gosh damn!

Before long we were smugly sat in Karen’s comfortable living room with beer and pizza watching Jurassic Park and Bohemian Rhapsody.Taz Baz arrived in the late afternoon and joined us in our beautiful Palace, to spend the evening repeatedly offering everyone his whiskey, no matter how often I told him I didn’t like whiskey.

Bear, who’d met a guy and gone out on his boat for the day came up in the evening.

We got word that Cliff, who’s been really struggling with the altitude, was awaiting the bar to open at the Smallest bar in Colorado, 13 miles out of Grand Lake. So everyone was alive. This was great news.

It’s hard to tell where the half way point this trail is, as no one will know their actual mileage until the end; given all the alternates.

Statistically if you’re going to quit, you either do it in the first couple of weeks, or about now, roughly half way. Sick of the thought of doing what you’ve just done, all over again.

Common reasons for getting off trail are.

1. Mental/physical exhaustion

3. Injury

2. Financial / family issues

Statistically on the CDT the success rate / completion rate is usually higher (than the AT or PCT) as the majority of people on this trail have experience on a long distance hike. Last year susses was 46%. I’m hiking in the company of three women who are on their first thru-hike (Snakes, Maps and Cliff) and they’re still here. Gosh they are cool.

We’re now starting to hear of a few hikers dropping out. Leaving us on this still bleeding edge.

Day 70: Lunch comparisons

We left the warmth of Karen’s house, early, but not before coffee.

Maps had to join her (walking) dots so had to walk through Grand Lake main street, luckily this passed a bakery from which she bought many treats.

Snakes an I took a quicker route, as Snakes left her charger in the hostel.

We agreed to rendezvous there and while no one was yet awake on reception to give snakes her charger back, we sat and drank their free coffee and ate pastries.

I think I consumed more calories in Grand Lake than anywhere else yet.

By 8am we left, and marched through the woods, which kept the sun off us nicely.Before long, Dutch had joined the train and we made good time to the trail-head. We saw a moose lady and her moose baby. I took a picture but it looks like a field with two small brown smudges in it, and no one needs to see that.

Maps, Snakes, Dutch

Onward and we gently ascended 7 miles up to Bowen pass. This ascent, although long, was nothing compared to the past mammoths.We executed lunch half way up and had a complete and thorough conversation about our eating habits and rituals. I had a Bagel with avocado and some of Maps’ sun dries tomatoes. We talked in depth about our experiences with Giardia while we ate, which wasn’t the best topic of choice.

It was intensely humid. I was sweating from all the places.

Dutch took off as he is a small goat. He got his name from frequently entrapping farts in his sleeping bag. Sweet guy.

We made it to the pass and rewarded ourselves with a windy sit down.

Bear, who may as well be a bear, joined us.

We pushed on another snowy 5 miles over the pass, the trail became slightly difficult to follow, which slowed us some.

There was no water at our desired end point, so another 1. 3 miles steeply downhill saw us at a stream where I dumped my pack regardless of the suitability of the camping, which was average at best.

We sat by the stream and made a lavish supper while sipping wine from my water bladder. This would all be rather satisfactory, except you must picture us on the dusty floor of a rocky road, sat cross legged wearing waterproofs, and socks and sandals to discourage the bastard mosquitos.

Day 72: Exhaustion

Today was one of my most exhausting days. 6224 feet and 19.3 miles.

The humidity was back, but today, the sun was out, totally naked and laughing at us.

The climbing was immediate and lasted for a long time.

We saw moose, which is less exciting if you imagine them as pretty much horses, and more exciting if you remind yourself how much more likely than bears they are to kill us.Water was limited, we stopped for breakfast at an early 4 miles, as we didn’t want to carry too much water up the hill.

A cornice lay over the ridge we needed to access, this wasn’t too much of a problem, as long as one didn’t look down.The ridge was relentlessly up, clouds above, were of course blackening around us.I was made less anxious by the knowledge that on the summit was a storm shelter.We arrived, still alive and having not been struck by lightening, but we’re acutely aware we had almost 3 more miles of ridge walking to survive.We descended steeply one mile down to a saddle where we needed to eat. Though time was of the essence, so was energy.

Back up to an easier second ridge and it became clear, we were in the clear. Two very separate storms had passed in front and behind us. We remained in sun while thunder cracked around us.A steep bastard of a descent lead us through the most blow downs (trees blocking the trail) we’ve encountered. When one is beyond exhaustion, climbing over these beasts is most displeasing.

We made it to water and lay in the trail making cups of tea. I’d been dreaming of this since lunch.

We had 3.7 more miles and 300m of ascent. Time for music medicine. Pooch’s playlist was up next and it was perfect.I had to stop after a mile as I was feeling like sleeping. A stuffed a granola bar down me and it made all the glorious difference. I was pooped by the time we arrived at camp.

We swiftly set up camp and made a fire.Despite feeling totally sparko, we stayed up until way past our bedtime (10pm!).

19.5 miles on the day

Day 73: Wyoming where are you?!

We were both exhausted this morning, but made it out of camp by 6:20, an undulating, exhausting 6.6 miles to water for a lengthy, lethargic breakfast. I filled my 900ml pot with frosted wheats, and inhaled my coffee.

I don’t eat cereal at home, but it’s the one meal out here I’m yet to tire of.

We pushed on, and managed the last major piece of climbing before things got easier (I’m sure I’ve said this before). At some point I’ll learn that this never gets easier.The snow was behaving.

It’s two months to the day since Dylan died and I still find myself entirely shocked. This morning I woke from a dream of him, and had to gently come around to the fact that dreams are all I have now.

I was listening to my Auntie Stella’s playlist, it featured both Talk Talk and Kate Bush. These two, I’d been actively avoiding as it causes me to sob in memory of my childhood, where the house was filled with these amazing artists.

And so sob I did. All the way up the hill until breathing was totally impossible, and I had to stop and bask in a giant view of so many things bigger than me.

We now joined a dirt road and would be on this for the remainder of the day. There was about 500m of ascent, but the general trend was downhill. This was well deserved.

When there is nowhere to pee, pee anywhere

We ate lunch after a patch of rain. Lunch is now instant mash, as we’re trying to psyche ourselves back up to bagels or wraps, which has worked as I’m now so incredibly bored of bloody potatoes.

Maps joined us and carefully put together her 13 ingredient wrap while we dribbled on her sleeve.

We trundled on down the road. The easy terrain allowed us to switch off, stop focusing on navigation or snow or tripping and just walk.

We arrived at our camp spot, just before the forestry boundary. A couple were set up in their camper and offered us water, which we gladly accepted.

The water has become desert-like once again, with stagnant cow trampled ponds occurring. Almost time to revive the filter to rid the floating floaters from our life source.

We sat among the flowers and filled our belies with beige.Town day tomorrow.

23 miles on the day

Day 74: Steamboat Springs

After a night being woken by a plethora of mating calls, we packed up fast. Today was town day.

2.4 swift miles on the dirt road brought us to a possible shortcut highlighted on the app.

This worked a treat and cut off around 2 miles while giving our feet a break from the hard road. There was a minor amount of trespassing involved, for which we were continuously reminded we would be prosecuted (if caught). The Americans love an angry sign.

We arrived at a creek just before our goal (the highway). We’d been advised of a dam, made by beavers, on which we could cross, which we did, but not without getting wet feet.A smooth morning.

We now faced a 10 mile slog down the highway. Prime music time.On route Snakes found a friend and decided he’s coming with us. She named him Rabbit.

She’s never been happier

We received a speedy hitch, from a guy named Dylan, who lived in Dillon, he took us to Steamboat Springs, a town which has been mythical to me since I first heard of it a year ago.

We landed in a perfectly adequate bar and filled our poor stomachs with carbs.

We decided nothing remotely productive could be done with the rest of the day, so we checked into a motel and drank cocktails.

Make sure you tell snakes how much you like her new top she ‘found’

____

I write daily installments of this blog, each evening. Its become a ritual I enjoy. I then get to town and curse my way through reassembling that which has fallen out of place once I’ve connected to the Internets. I’ve had to come to the library for this one as my phone and I had a minor falling out.

There have been times when I mostly want to lay my phone under a rock, and stand on it.

Mostly, it’s been a connection to you, a connection to home, and I’ve loved it.

I write with an air of chirp, as humour and laughter has become a lifeline to me. Not least because this trail is so hard, and the year we’ve chosen to do it has made it harder; but also, (and mainly) because if I delved into the depths of the grief, longing and the pieces that I sometimes fall into, (at the very least, every day) I fear this may become a place you would not want to return to.

I don’t write to people enough at home.

With that, I’ve been thinking of those careless empty messages we send to one another, like : “how are you?” and thinking how easy, thoughtless, effortless, and therefore meaningless they are.

I’m sure we’ve all done this.

What kind of a response can we expect from that?

Compare what you give, matched with what you hope to receive.

News, is the most precious gift we receive out here, it connects you back to me. It takes effort, time and care for you to tell me how you are, that’s why it means so much.

If you have a spare ten minutes and you’d care to, write and tell me about you, Lord knows I’ve gone on enough about me.