[Day 48] The Ivies

Today has been my latest start on trail — ever. A night of continuous rain followed by a three hour hail storm discouraged morning hiking and encouraged sheltering in my tent. Four lightning strikes within a quarter mile of my ridge line campsite further subtracted from any desire to pack up. Finally, I was packed and hiking around 10:30am when the hail subsided. I assumed from launch that today’s mileage would be much of a wash. The CDT sets new precedent for my expectations every day.

Before noon, I made the four miles to Mt. Princeton Hot Springs, an upscale resort right along the Collegiate East trail. Since my day was not to plan, I caved and decided to eat at the resort’s restaurant. Within a matter of hours, I went from sitting soaked and dirty in a tent with battering hail to eating next to the wealthy resorters as they sipped their wine.

After my $30 burger and cheese curds, I went to the resort’s market for a $5 energy drink. A fellow smoking a cigarette on the hood of his truck asked me what I was up to. Eventually, he got to the topic of protection from animals, and he demanded I start carrying bear spray. As a former green beret, he said not carrying bear spray was “the dummest thing he’d ever heard.” I appeased and said I pick some up in the next town, though I have no intention of carrying any until Wyoming. I got talking with another resort fellow who recommended using Pine-Sol as a scent deterrent for bears. I’ve been sleeping with my food every night, which is by no means recommended practice, but I’d prefer dealing with a culprit black bear myself than dangling it from a tree like a piñata. I’ll try rubbing the Pine-Sol on my trash to mask my food scent.

Before 1pm, I continued on from the hot springs. The terrain quickly climbed, approaching a steep ascent up a saddle on the side of Mt. Yale. Despite the Collegiate East’s lower elevation, it certainly does not skimp on the climbs. Today’s mile of climbing over 22 miles demonstrates such. Atop the finger of Mt. Yale, I came across a few bristlecone pines. These resilient trees are an enduring species with lifespans as long as 5,000 years; the oldest tree, known as Methuselah, lies above 10,000 feet in the White Mountains of California.

After a short, but slow mile of snowy post holing down from the 12,000 foot saddle of Mt. Yale, I made camp in the trees opposite a meadow near an old, degrading, log shelter. I suspected animals would be about, as is my experience with the remains of a shelter, but I wasn’t going to hike on to another camp.

Around 11pm, I heard something rustling in my things. I didn’t get the best look at this creature before it scampered out of my vestibule, but I deduced it was a marmot by size. I grabbed my backpack and critical items that should remain unchewed, and I zippered up my mesh liner. Well, I forgot my trash in my vestibule.

Around 3am, I woke up to find a few wrappers out of my trash bag. The marmot had dug to the bottom of my trash. For what? He removed the gauze pad covered in puss and blood from my skin burn and ate it gone. My stomach turned a bit at the realization. Why did he skip the numerous Twinkie-covered wrappers littering my trash? I guess he preferred the taste of fleshy wound to the preservatives of sugary snack cakes.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)