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 →

There’s frost all over everything when we wake, and I’m even more sore than I think I should be, but we’re shoving everything into our packs wet in order to get an earlier start than yesterday. We manage it, if barely, and we’re off down the hill towards Cochetopa Creek.

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NoDay and I spend a freezing cold night in her truck – or, at least, I do; she, at least, has an inflatable pad, where I have a half-inch of ZLite between me and metal of the truck, and it’s about the same amount of metal between me and the cold night air. I learn the hard way why insulation is key, especially when you’re sleeping a couple of feet off the ground.

Wet plus metal plus cold equals frozen. At least they’re clean?

So while a pair of socks and a pair of underoos are frozen as stiff as my pride, my laundry outside fared a little better – not quite dry AND not quite frozen. We take time to let stuff dry in the growing sunlight, say goodbye to NoDay’s truck, and then we’re on our way.

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I wake in the night to a large critter rumbling around near my tent, freak out, fumble to turn on my headlamp – it lumbers away. Talking to Crankster in the morning, she’s pretty confused as to why I turned on my headlamp when she got up to relieve herself; I feel embarassed obligated to explain that I wasn’t trying to watch her pee.

Today should be a little easier on my foot – it’s twelve miles to the next water source, and thirteen to where we’re meeting NoDay, and then we make however many miles we make. Crank’s also given me some leukotape to hold up my arch¹, and tonguepads to stick on the insole of my shoe, so between the two I can hopefully limp² myself the rest of the way to Durango.

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After another evening of not being crushed by widowmakers, we’re up early, out before 8, a welcome change to the last leg of my journey. Time to be productive. With the exception of one particular down, it’s supposed to be a day of gentle ups, but I’ve been burned on that before.

Still, the day is shaping up to be a pretty one.

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We wake early-ish and struggle through hangovers of the too-much-fun kind to pack up camp. I’m not ready to leave the comfort that the people around me are creating, the quiet it creates in my heart. I remind myself I never wanted to do something like this again, and I think I was right – it’s hard, so hard to leave. Yesterday was one of those lifetimes in a hiccup, those days that just seem to go on for forever, that just feel right, and that are still somehow over too soon. We drag our feet until it’s late, until we can put off going no more.

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