[Day 32] Into the San Juan’s

After a late night of digital catch up, I woke up around 7:30am. I decided to be lazy in bed for a while. In the hurry of doing chores in the hotel, I left my room key in the door. This morning, the motel owner thought I checked out early by leaving my key in the door. He came in and woke me up around 7am. We both profusely apologized to each other and laughed it off. We joked about in passing over breakfast. I kidded that it was a lot less stressful than a bear entering my camp.

I checked out officially around 10:30am, and headed to Subway for an early lunch. My third sandwich was the same as the previous two: turkey, bacon, cheddar cheese, with just about all the toppings. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a fountain drink. Chama had a treatment mandate on its water supply. The run off from the rapid melt has been so turbid that it caused the mandate.

After my meal, I hit up Tumbleweed (the outfitter) for a couple final items: paracord, a poncho that covers my body and backpack, and a hitch to the pass. Janis and Sweet Tooth (from the outfitter) were passing by the Subway after their showers and laundry, and they hitched me to the shipping container.

Since I’m only the second person heading into the San Juan’s in a big snow year, the outfitter crew help evaluate the terrain with me. They walked me through the worst of the traverses and provided suggested alternates from their hikes in 2021. It was good fun talking trail with Janis, Sweet Tooth, and Tumbleweed; their endearing reminiscing indicated how much they missed it.

Janis and Sweet Tooth hitched me up to Cumbres Pass, we said good bye, and I was off. Snow walking was pretty immediate. I decided to do some practice self arrests with my ice ax on a small snow hill about a half mile in. It was a poor choice of hill, and after three or four tries, I decided I’d find a better spot later.

The terrain was steep and the snow was slick. I am starting to see the danger of what I am heading towards.

I made it 11 miles, and Colorado’s southern San Juan’s showed off. It was a stunning display of mountain terrain.

I set up camp on a mesa behind a singular tree. The area looked destined for wind, but there wasn’t any at sundown. I took a chance, and the dice rolled snake eyes. Around 10pm, my pitch failed I got out of my tent barefooted with my headlamp on and scavenged the earth for large rocks to load on top of my tent stakes. I didn’t even bother trying to correct my ugly pitch — I went straight for weighing down the problem spots (this is how I typically manage my issues in life). I’m sleeping in a cockeyed tent with panels catching wind like the sails of a sailboat. Lightning strikes far off in New Mexico occasionally light my tent; thunder is not audible.

Signing off,

Zeppelin