Small town Colorado is refreshing. I woke up around 8am, and headed for breakfast at Chillin Internet Cafe. It’s a small joint. Like a movie set, I rolled in to a counter serve situation with a table of locals and the sheriff talking town gossip over morning coffee. I was greeted with a drawled hello from the sheriff.
I ordered up a hot chocolate and a breakfast burrito and listened in on the talk of the town. In another corner of the hotel-room-sized dining area, two semi-local women talked amongst themselves. Supposedly, according to these two, the town is half Texan, half Coloradan in the summer, and mostly Coloradan in the winter. The drawls were heard at most my stops, and Texas memorabilia is sported on the trucks and in the restaurants.
After breakfast, I walked the rainy, gloomy town for a bit. I headed to the ice park to see the ice climbing walls as I waited for the San Juan Soda Co. to open. They were melted out, but some ice remnants remained. Next, I got myself a chocolate shake at the old fashioned, bar style ice cream parlor.
Lake City is a perfect hiker town. It’s seven blocks long, maybe four significant blocks wide. Highway 149 runs right through town, and main street, the only other paved road, parallels the highway one block over. I walk to my needs — food, post office, laundry.
It was time for chores. Firstly, the people at the post office helped ship off my snowshoes. Emily, the postal worker, double boxed and tapped them up well. The postal attendants in these small towns are kind, service-oriented people. They know everyone and everything. It’s been thematic along this trail and the PCT. Post offices are communities in these small town. Many people have P.O. boxes. As I was there, people were patting me on the shoulder and offering me rides around town. A man mistook me for a worker at the outfitter outside of town.
Next stop, I gathered my food for the next stretch. I have a couple dinners left from shortened last stretch, so I filled up on snacks. At the country store, the owners were surprised. I am their first hiker. Everyone’s been surprised I survived the San Juan’s. Again, locals were talking it up with me — Joe, Davis, Regal.
My final big chore was laundry. I typically hit this first in town, but I needed to break a $20 bill at the country store. I sat for 40 minutes and got my pictures uploading as my wash ran. It was done before 3pm. I headed to the motel, made sure all my gear and clothes were drying, packed my food bag, and headed for a late lunch. Again, I did Southern Vittles — country fried steak with a Dr. Pepper.
By 5pm, I rested at the motel, waiting on dinner. I hit the Packer Saloon again, and had the chicken alfredo and stuffed mushrooms. I couldn’t finish it.
Back at the motel, I did my final prep packing, drying, and cleaning. I was planning to hit the trail the next morning, but I was hobbling around my hotel room — my right ankle puffy and my friction burn oozing and tightening up.
Debra, the motel owner, and I chatted yesterday, and she offered me a lift to Spring Creek Pass. I noted how grounding it felt to be in small town Colorado. Interestingly, she point out that Hinsdale County (Lake City’s county) is the most remote place in the lower 48 states.
I woke up, and I could tell the hiking would be a struggle today. Laying in bed, Debra, the motel owner stopped by my window to check in. After hearing how I was feeling, she offered me a free third night. Like I said, small towns are different. I gratefully accepted a bed for another night.
Since chores were done, my second day off was spent tending to my wounds, sleeping in, and importing routes into Gaia GPS. I was hoping to hit the trail at a decent time in the morning to match a full day of mileage. But, I awoke to my right achilles still plenty thick and tender. My mom begged me to stay one more day, so I did. Okay, three zero mileage days should be enough to recover from the San Juan’s.
Signing off,
Zeppelin
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