[Day 41] Weathered

The San Juan’s brutalized my body. I feel it. My legs are bruised from falling through snow traps and hitting boulders and logs below the snow; my right ankle is flat from cockeyed walking on traversing slopes; my skin on my back right thigh is burned down a layer from… well, I’ll get to that momentarily.

The day started bluebird, at least on my side of the San Juan’s. In the San Juan’s towards Silverton, clouds encompassed the mountains, and the high country wasn’t visible. I felt a bit disappointed that I skirted the storm, but it’s for the better. A three day storm with serious snow and no visibility at 12,000 feet would have made for risk getting into the rather inaccessible town of Silverton.

I climbed up to 13,000 feet and hit the high point on the Colorado Trail. The 486-mile Colorado Trail merged with the CDT southeast of Silverton near Elk Canyon, and the trails will be mostly concurrent for 234 miles (with a couple departures) through Georgia Pass near Breckenridge. The CT runs from Durango to Denver, and the relationship between the CT and the CDT is like that of the John Muir Trail (JMT) to the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).

Around this time, I noticed the wind and the clouds headed my way. I hoped the mountains southwest of me would hold back the storm for longer. Soon enough, lightning was striking a mere mile away, and I was in a hailstorm. At 13,000 feet with no tree line in sight, I was in a panic. I was an antenna on a mound of dirt. In attempts to get down the hill, I got cliffed out twice. Finally, I found a snow chute. I swung my pack off, grabbed my ice axe, mounted my pack, and entered a controlled slide leaning on the right side of my butt — my axe drilled in the snow above me and my hiking poles extended on my left side. I dropped probably 300 feet of elevation in 40 seconds.

At the bottom of the slide, I waded through snowfields, post holing as I went, towards a field of bushes. I crouched and analyzed the weather. By this point, the storm’s thundering front had passed north of me, leaving me in white-out hail. Adrenaline running, I hiked on. A mile or so later, I notice a bit of a burn on my lower right calf. I figured I lost some leg hair in the slide. I feel wetness on my right thigh, but it’s thicker than water — it’s puss. I burned off a layer of skin on my right thigh under my butt. Oozing blood and puss, I decided not to treat it yet; I still had many dirty, snowy, bushwhacking miles ahead, and I’d lose anything I applied.

I forged ahead, but I felt it. A flat ankle, bruised legs, and now friction burn on my butt — these San Juan’s did a number on me. Not to mention, my brain was fried from the near 140 miles of trail-less navigation over the past week and a half. Luckily, trail lead be to Highway 149 and Lake City with only a few minor snowfields and a couple sessions of hail and 30mph wind.

I hit the highway, and it was dead quiet. The southbound traffic was okay; many trucks sped by hauling items to the town of Creede. Northbound to Lake City was dead. I waiting for 40 minutes in windless hailstorm. Finally, a 1998 Tacoma came by, and I had a good feeling.

Seth, a hunting guide out of Lake City, picked me up. We drove down the pass to town, and talked much about hunting, the San Juan’s, and gear. He guided about half the time in Alaska, and he very much appreciated bush-plane style hunting: a group gets dropped in the backcountry for a week or so long trip, moving from camp to camp. He mimicked this style in his Colorado guiding, which varies from a more typical base-camp-and-wait style hunt. It sound like something I could be into — basically multi-day backpacking with an element of stealthy predating. We discussed about the weather too. For one, Seth was amazed I made it through the San Juan’s. He thought I’d come off trail from the north, where snow is much reduced, not the south. He noted that the spring season was very big and that it still felt like a winter-spring transition, not a spring-summer transition. The storm systems on the San Juan’s were early monsoon season behavior, weather atypically seen in later July. Well, I got lucky I decided to get out, because Seth said this system will probably sit on the San Juan’s for another week, dropping considerable snow.

Seth dropped me off at Southern Vittles, a Texas joint in Lake City. Lake City is a small town of 400 people, and you can tell about half of them are Texans. Southern Vittles waves Texas and Colorado state flags side by side. I chowed on a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, a Dr. Pepper, and cherry pie — how much more of a Texas meal can you get.

After, I walked in the rain to the Matterhorn Motel, and the owner Deborah checked me in for two nights — I’m taking a day. Not too soon after check in, it was time for another meal. I hit the Packer Saloon and Cannibal Cafe for a rib dinner with some Cokes. It was on point.

On my walk back to the motel, I started feeling a bit sick. My stomach couldn’t hold it in. All I will say is I flushed half of a $30 meal down the toilet. I figure my stomach significantly shrunk over these last segments of trail. It’s a likely case when you hike 10 hour days and eat a mere 1,500 calories per day.

I showered, cleaned up my wounds, and hit the hay. I’ve got chores, meals, and recovery to work on tomorrow.

Signing off,

Zeppelin