[Day 121] Unfinished

Radio check. Is this message received? Today will be my last day on the Continental Divide for some time. I am unsure if there exists any readership on my posts, but an audience was never my intention. My blog is intentionally search-engine restricted. For now, I prefer limited reach. In the future, if I find the compilation to be valuable to a wider audience, I’ll consider a more public access.

I won’t delve into details, but a family emergency emerged over the past few days. My family, however, urged me to continue with my plans instead of returning home.

I hiked my way over Chalk Creek Pass, yet another sharp up and down of the Collegiates. After Chalk Creek Pass, I dropped down to Boss Lake Trailhead. Instead of staying to the trail, I walked adjacent ATV access road with improved views of the valley. The road passed by a ski-in winter rental cabin. A sign advertised trail magic — creek-chilled sodas sat in an ammo box with a tent and all. After downing a couple store-brand colas, the road took me passed a pair of older, degraded cabins.

After ten miles, I arrived to the Boss Lake Trailhead, where I made my exit from the Collegiate West back in early June. The climb back up to Monarch Crest and the ski resort area was not particularly appetizing, so I continued the dirt road down to US Highway 50. A large shoulder gave me a prime hitching point to head west towards Gunnison. Practically instantaneously, trucks pulled over to hitch me west, but few were heading any further than the top of Monarch Pass. Finally, I found Dave who offered to get me 20 miles down the road to Sargents. Dave was a local who managed mine cleanups and often picked up Colorado Trail hikers. He dropped me in Sargents and wished me the best getting to Gunnison.

Sargents turned out to be not much more than a busy gas station and cafe at the highway. Gas-guzzling, lifted trucks hauling campers and off road vehicles regularly pulled over to fill up. The scene was drowned by the engine noise of ATVs and motor bikes coming off Marshall Pass Road to also gas up. With the traffic, a hitch west was going to be easy!

After resupplying, recharging, and refueling for the San Juan’s, I began my attempts to hitch west. After an hour with my thumb out, I took a break. Another hour of trial resulted in zero interest to help get my dirty ass west to Gunnison. I rethought my strategy. The workers must have been taking bets on me, because a gas station attendee threw me a piece of cardboard and Sharpie. Clouds rolled in as I stood on the highway with my sign — “LAKE CITY.”

An hour and a half and 500 cars later, I still found no willing vehicle. Gunnison is a college town! This was bizarre and seemed to be a sign. After four hours of thumbing it. a truck heading east — the opposite direction — pulled over and offered a ride to Salida. The sideways rain started as I discussed with the driver.

I called it. After four hours of no luck getting any further west, I took Randy’s offer to hitch east to Salida. Even if I got to Gunnison, I’d still need to get to Colorado’s most remote town, Lake City, to pick up the trail. Overall, the ATV season was unattractive, and I knew it was going to be happening in the San Juan’s. It’s not that I’m anti-ATV. In fact, I love off roading in my Tacoma and want to own a dedicated ATV someday. But, when you are hiking and looking for some undisturbed solitude, the revving of engines can be unappealing.

Adding to my decision to head to Salida, the family emergency sits in the back of my mind.

Randy dropped me off on Highway 50, and I walked my way downtown to the Moe’s, the Chipotle-style Mexican joint in Salida. Contemplating my housing situation for the night, I just so happened to run into Copenhagen, a 2019 CDT hiker who runs a “hideout” for hikers a few miles out of town. He was impressed by the story of my northbound push through Colorado this year. When I mentioned I was trying to get to Lake City to hike more of the San Juan’s, he told me it would take me a couple days of hitchhiking to get there. At this point, I decided my time on the CDT this year was expended.

He gave me a hitch to his place. For $25, I had an indoor spot to sleep, an outdoor shower, laundry, and a fridge of cold beverages. I booked bus tickets to Colorado Springs and subsequent flights home. Luckily, my buddy from the PCT, Monty (aka Cabana Boy) offered me a place to crash before my flight out of Colorado Springs. I’m excited to see a best friend; hikers were quite absent in my direction of trail this year. The relationships of the trail are built on shared memories, whether good or bad, and I’m excited to reminisce with Cabana Boy, whom I hiked well over 1,000 miles with.

Am I done with the CDT? No. I doubt I ever will be. I dream of yet another border-to-border hike of this trail.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)