Not 15 minutes after I stuck my thumb out at Cumbres Pass and I found myself transported into a spotless Ford F-150 headed for Chama. Highway speeds always feel a touch unnatural after a month of moving at three miles per hour but my host was kind and I was excited for the comforts of town. First stop was the post office, where I collected a package mailed to me by my parents. It contained my lightweight ice axe and microspikes, for the snowy trail ahead, a bundle of thoughtful and healthful snacks, and two cans of Spotted Cow beer. As I sat in front of the Post Office, looking a bit like I was having an impromptu yard sale, a couple walked past and, upon confirming my hiker status, handed me an apple and two fresh apricots. No matter what the news reels say, there are good folks in this world.
I enjoyed the fruit and connected with some other hikers at a local coffee shop. A group of 3 had an extra bed in their hotel room and offered me a place to crash for the night. With my package acquired and lodging sorted out, I took care of laundry and a dinner, and retired to the motel porch for a cold Wisconsin-brewed beer.
The following morning, Twain made breakfast for all of us in the little studio kitchen and I baked a round of cinnamon rolls from a tube. If hunger is the best chef; hiker hunger wins James Beard Awards.
A group of six hikers hitched a ride back up to the pass with Scotty. Crammed into his Suburban like sardines, he regaled us with tales from his time on a volunteer Search and Rescue team and left us with a single piece of advice: stick together.
For the past month, the topic of conversation at every hikers coffee klatch has been snow. Specifically, the snow levels in the Southern San Juan mountains. How fast is it melting? Do I need an ice axe? What is the earliest date it is safe for me to start the section? For me, the answer to these questions has been: not fast enough, yes, and around June 7th. Fortunately, the snowmelt has been cooperating and I felt confident as I headed north of Cumbres Pass into the San Juan Wilderness area.
The first day I covered 12 miles and it was immediately obvious the stakes had changed. The trail quickly rose above 12,000 feet and occasional banks of snow covered the trail. The group I had left the pass with was quickly spread out over soggy, slush-covered, slopes. While south facing aspects had mostly melted out, north faces still held significant snow.
Over the next four days I spent every moment carefully placing each foot fall. Hoping my size 13 Hoka Speedgoats would live up to their name and manage to stay on top of the snow instead of post-holing through it. They didn’t. Each morning started with crisp, hard snow pack, easy to walk on top of in flat sections but less fun on steep slopes and passes. As the temperature rose in the early afternoon, the snow softened and slowed my progress. The cold slushy snow sucked the energy from my legs. At times it felt like I walking up the down escalator, needing to put in twice the effort to cover the same amount of ground.
On day two our little group fractured. Ohm and Dharma Bum, two guys who had joined the post-holing party late in the day, wanted to cross the next pass and tack on a few more miles, while the rest of the group decided to make camp for the night. With plenty of daylight and a little Snickers-inspired energy in my legs, I decided to join them.
In the mountains of New Mexico, even above 10,000 ft, I would typically cover 25-30 miles per day. My third day in the San Juans I managed 15 miles and plopped into my sleeping bag at the end of the day completely exhausted. While traversing a steep snowy slope, Dharma Bum had slipped and taken a 60ft fall. He wasn’t carrying an ice axe, The fact that he was able to stop his slide down a steep snow chute with trekking poles was nothing short of a miracle. I would later learn that three search and rescues had to pull hikers out of this section.
Walking through southern Colorado in early June is tough but, as is often the case, also incredibly rewarding. Each day, I saw the sun rise over snow covered ridges, spotted elk and mule deer in alpine meadows, and drank in the colors of the first mountain flowers.
The last two days to Wolf Creek Pass were a little less eventful. There were still a few steep snowy traverses, lots of elevations to gain, and plenty of opportunities to trudge through valleys full of snow. My wet shoes froze solid each night and putting them on each morning was an adventure in and of itself. Though the going has been hard, it has also been a beautiful challenge.
I arrived at Wolf Creek Pass just as Carrot was unloading his gear from his dad Dave’s suburban. Last night had been spent just three miles south at the top of Wolf Creek Ski Resort, with a view of the chairlift and an excellent sunset. Dave and his highschool pal Steve had made the westward trip from Michigan to provide some trail magic for Carrot and spend some time on their motorcycles in the Colorado mountains. They were staying in Pagosa Springs another night, and with Carrot back on the trail, offered the spare room to Ohm and I. As my dad would say, “It’s better to be lucky than good.”