After the added challenge of snow and elevation in the San Juans, I felt the need to slow down. The daily freeze-thaw cycle in my shoes, combined with regular creek crossings, had wreaked havoc on the pads of my feet. There are many joyous moments in thru-hiking but the feeling of skin sluffing off in ones shoes, is not one of them.
On my second day in Lake City, I took my time sipping hot coffee, doing laundry, and lounging in the town square. Anything I could think of to convince my legs they would be ready for the next stretch of trail. I had slept in a soft bed the previous night and picked up a fresh pair of shoes. Things were looking up.
Ohm, Carrot, and I decided to thumb a ride up to the pass after a substantial dinner of fried food at Southern Vittles restaurant. With a stomach full of catfish, french fries and okra, we walked to the end of town closest to the pass. Then it started to rain. Taking cover under a gas station awning, I kept asking myself why I was heading back to trail tonight. Why was I denying myself another hot meal, a comfortable place to sleep, and the joy of watching a Minnesota Loons soccer match on a big screen TV. Just as my motivation to leave town was slipping, Landon skidded into the picture on his dirt bike.
A twenty-something, with the kind of energy that assures you he wouldn’t back down from a dare, Landon asked us where we needed to go. At the mention of Spring Creek Pass, he told us to sit tight and popped a wheelie as he blasted off down the quiet Main Street. A few minutes later we scrambled into the bed or his Ford Ranger.
Landon dropped us off and we bedded down just off the trail, near the top of the pass. A cold rain blew in just as I closed the half-moon zipper on my tent. It felt good to be tucked back under my quilt, knowing I’ll wake up before the sun and keep walking North.
Over the next three and a half days, Carrot, Ohm and I climbed to the top of Snow Mesa, summited 14,014 foot tall San Luis Peak, fought dusty ranch roads, lost staring contests with a moose and a beaver, and flowed along ridgetops as we swatted the first batch of mosquitoes to burst from Spring meltwater.
On my fourth day out from Lake City, before the display on my Timex read 11:00am, I arrived at Monach Pass. An early alarm and a desire to eat ‘all the food’ found me 15 miles north of where I had slept the night before. While the thought of walking another 1,800 miles to Canada feels monumental, abstract, and potentially hazardous, the thought of walking 15 miles to a hot meal seems reasonable, possible, and likely to end in Calzone.
I ordered a quick hitch down from the pass and to my surprise, Stuart delivered. He dropped me off at a local Pizzaria/Brewpub where I found a Calzone and quality pilsner. After a restful night in the local hostel, I’ll resupply and head back out. With the Calzone conquered, it’s time to tackle that 1,800 miles to Canada.