After finishing, I took a day off in East Glacier Park Village, anticipating heading into the park to play tourist. I quickly realized that I didn’t want to play tourist; I’d much rather be out in the backcountry away from people. But, I didn’t want to deal with permitting. So, I spent the day mostly eating and contemplating my next move. The following day, I decided. Tickets were booked to Denver with intention of returning to the Collegiates and San Juan’s. There’s a lot of other places near or on the divide I’d like to see — the Tetons and Winds of Wyoming come to mind —, but I’ll save those for round two of my future CDT hike. My route was fairly true through Colorado, but I do have some clean up. Notably, I low routed 30 miles of the San Juan’s due to a three-day eight-inch snowstorm in early June. Then, I took Collegiate East instead of Collegiate West for a few reasons: I was sick of the snow, I was mentally exhausted from the previous 200 miles of route cutting, the awkward early monsoon season was dangerous on exposed ridge lines, and the oozing snow burn on my leg was showing signs of infection. That scar, by the way, is still very noticeable. I had a concerned tourist in Glacier ask me how I managed to bruise my leg that badly, questioning if I needed medical attention. No mam’ — my body is fine, but my head… yeah, that might need some psychiatric medical attention.
So, after a lousy couple days in East Glacier, I packed up from Looking Glass Basecamp and took the night train to Kalispell. I arrived late — 10pm. I walked a mile or so to McDonald’s to put unhealthful shit into my body. I was also tipped that some stealth camping was possible near the Whitefish River behind the McDonald’s. I managed to find a lumpy spot in tall grass. My back had some negative arch due to a dip in the earth made by a log. I survived the night, but awoke to dogs barking likely at my presence from across the river. I packed up and headed for the airport by 7:40am. TSA was impressed by my minimal carry.
My Alaska flight connected to Seattle with an hour layover. Along the flight, I appreciated views of the Selways and the Northern Cascades. I picked out Steven’s Pass and Lake Valhalla along the PCT. I want to do that trail again. I want to do the CDT again.
Then, I hoped to Denver. It was a crammed, stuffy flight. From Denver International, I took five hours of public transportation — the A-Line train to Union Station, a Pegasus Shuttle to Frisco, then a Summit County Bus to Leadville. Arrival to Leadville was 11pm and only cost $13. I dipped into the woods behind Safeway for another stealth camp.
I slept in until 9am undetected, packed up, and walked into the Safeway to complete my resupply. Of course, I went overkill on food. I might be able to do the Collegiate West and San Juan portion on this single resupply. Soon, it was 10am, and the hip Melanzana store was open. They had some cool items on the overstock racks. Yet again, they liked me enough that they let me go for seconds. You are not a professional hiker without a Melanzana of some sort. Food was obviously on the docket, and I grabbed ribs from Moe’s Barbecue for lunch and a San Luis pizza from High Mountain Pies for second lunch. The toppings were overly salty, but the doughy, yet crisp crust was true of this Leadville favorite. I’ll be back for more pizza and Melanzanas.
I walked to the south side of town and put the thumb up. Not ten minutes into my wait and a Danish women by the name of Elizabeth pulled over to offer a ride. And what do you know, she was headed for Twin Lakes — right where I pick up the Collegiate West. I expected this to be a double hitch to the Twin Lakes.
Elizabeth was very inspired by my hiking. She was in Colorado for a wedding — a friend she had met on the Camino de Santiago. One point that stuck from our conversation was the willingness to face discomfort. Elizabeth was impressed by my resilience and adjustment to more long-term discomfort. She gave me a hug, took my photo, and offered me a place to stay in Denmark should I ever find my way over the Atlantic pond.
I am a refugee of the trail. Bizarrely, the uncomfortable has become comfortable. I flee civilization for remoteness. Isn’t this journey supposed to be over? Why aren’t I home? Shouldn’t I settle and be satisfied in the continuous path that I laid from border to border?
I made insignificant southbound progress towards the Collegiate West route and called it for the night. I am not finished, and I doubt I will ever be satisfied or finished with the Continental Divide.
Signing off,
Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)
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