Two cars don’t run us over in the morning, when it’s too cold and we’re too half-asleep to have done much of anything about it anyway. One flashes its lights and hollers a greeting, and we’re forced into consciousness sooner than we’d like.

This is it. The last day. Both Crankster and I can feel it. My entire body’s thrumming, all the pain from yesterday evening forgotten at the prospect of devouring the last twenty miles; it’s slavering for the pain, the pleasure, the sheer unbridled joy that is simply walking, one last time. I’m both anxious to have finished my first thruhike and woefully ill-prepared to face what that means. Continue reading →

Crankster and I wake at our accustomed hour, aren’t outside for more than a minute before a biker rides up from Durango-way, asking about water. Lucky man, water’s less than five miles from here for you. Us, we’ve got about fifteen-ish miles to the next source. He thanks us and rides on, and I fret about my water situation. As the idiot who ate an entire package of jerky last night, I also drank an entire liter of water to rehydrate said jerky in my stomach, so I have two liters and a full Gatorade bottle to make it fifteen miles. Should be fine. Should be.  Continue reading →

It’s the first of our three twenty-mile-a-day attempts to get us to Durango, and we’re rearing to go. I’ve gone and shocked myself by actually looking forward to it, wanting to see what a month of walking can do for my ability to walk a lot in a little bit of time. So we’re up and out early, carpe diem-ing and all that. Continue reading →

I pass a fitful night in Silverton – Crankster sleeps with the TV on, and after thirty-odd days of having little noise about when I sleep, it’s distracting, and eventually I get up and watch, HGTV’s House Hunters my guilty pleasure. I finally think she’s been asleep for long enough (and that I’m ready to go to sleep) at 1am; she turns on the TV again at 1:30. I put my buff over my eyes and manage to find unconsciousness.

We wake around 8, and Crank tells me she turned on the TV after hearing yelling in the hall – the ghosts supposedly lurking in our residence, perhaps. She’s not too keen on this whole “consciousness” thing, and after last night’s lack of sleep, I’m not too keen on this “hiking out today” thing, but both of us manage to get in the shower and, after securing a late checkout, out the door to do town chores. Continue reading →

It rains, sleets, hails all night, but we sleep warm and cozy save for moments where the wind pushes the sides of the tent down on top of us. It’s hard to get up in these conditions, but I pack up inside the tent and wait for a break in the action before daring to brave the outside. Continue reading →

The rest of us are hardly stirring when BlueJay gets up and out – he’s ready to be done with his triple-crown adventure; we all wish him well, and hope he makes it. As for the rest of us, we dawdle, for various reasons: it’s still too dark to see outside, NoDay doesn’t want to leave us, it’s supposed to be wet today. Also, this is really-really the last time we’ll see each other, and we’re gonna stave off those goodbyes as long as possible.  Continue reading →

The shuttle back to the trail’s supposed to leave at 8am; someone’s alarm goes off and I’m about 1000% sure we’ve missed it. Still, nobody moves, so I’m sure as hell not gonna. I luxuriate in the bed and the pillow as long as I can before finally getting up, one of the first to do so. Turns out it’s only 7am.

As the first up, it’s me who starts the chain reaction that develops into a frenzy of eight hikers scurrying this way and that, gathering things and sorting out gear and using the last hour to get ready to go. It’s a photo finish as all of us pile into the van, and then we’re off, up the winding road back to the trail.  Continue reading →

We wake to a light covering of frost on our tents, morning seeping into the valley around us. Today’s the day. My first fourteener. Period. End of story. I’m doing it. The sun’s shining, the LATS¹ weather report is clear, it’s nice and early, we’re camped less than a mile from the saddle – everything’s perfectly set up. I just have to get up about 900 feet in a mile to the saddle, and then another 1400 feet in a mile and a quarter to the top.

I didn’t know until now that one could be so confident about a positive outcome and terribly, undercutting-ly skeptical of that confidence all at once, but hey, that’s human emotion for you. Continue reading →