[Day 37] Entering the Weminuche

Do I seem to be moving fast? Well, when I am walking, not at all. But, in terms of rest and town time, yes. It is intentional.

For one, there is an excitement to see what is ahead. Getting into town is nice for all of about three hours. After I’m fat and merely taking care of chores, I want to get back out. For another, keeping myself moving prevents leg lock — literally and mentally.

Particularly in the midst of weeks of daily considerable endurance exercise, I experience this condition after a day off where my tendons and ligaments in my legs lock up with a sore pain. The PCT was the last time I had it, so my description is very much lacking. I did not experience it after my week off in Santa Fe, but I presume I took long enough off to bypass the effect.

Leg lock exists mentally for myself. I lose the focus to hike tens of miles a day after significant breaks. Time away — especially days — warps my brain such that a few tenths of a mile might feel like a mile in terms of distance and time.

In town, I feel the most lonely. Bizarrely, I get anxious about being lonely on the trail, but I rarely feel loneliness out there.

Today was a rougher day. I didn’t put my finger quite on it, but I wasn’t moving with purpose when I kicked off from Wolf Creek Pass at noon. Jeremy, the Uber driver, dropped me off. A few tourists stopping at the pass engaged me to ask what I was up to. Then, I walked off. Immediately, as I expected, the snow and a nonexistent footpath encouraged lack of focus.

I made eight and a half miles of not feeling great. The day ended with post holing in the slushy snow and snow traps of pine forest, before I reached a frozen lake in a basin. Laying in my tent, I fancied the idea of the Creede Alternate four miles ahead. It cuts a straight line up Colorado through the town of Creede at lower elevation, snow-free country, essentially bypassing 100 miles of San Juan, on-divide mountains.

Will I take the Creede Alternate? Doubtful — no. Someone needs to start the trail into the San Juan’s, and thus far, nobody has shown any will. It’s almost June. Time to cut a path in the mountains. Into the Weminuche Wilderness I head.

Signing off,

Zeppelin