Elk Creek Drainage

Water

Flowers

Above Treeline

7/26/2015


Above Treeline

It is a beautiful day for hiking.....beautiful.  It is just past noon, and I am in my tent already.  It feels really odd.  But after much internal debate, I am sticking to the plan.  I left Lake City this morning, shuttled back to Spring Creek Pass, and am heading toward Molas Pass, the trailhead that will take me to Silverton.  It is only about 54 miles of trail.  This segment of the Colorado Trail takes us to it's highest point 13,271 ft.  Almost all of it between here and Molas Pass (Silverton) is above 12,000 ft, and therefore above tree line.   There are a couple of other small climbs before the high point at 15.6 miles from the trailhead, where I started today.  During my time in Lake City,  I looked at my options and decided that I had two choices.  Do a really easy day of 8.7 miles, with a heavy, just resupplied pack.  But easy also, because I am well rested.  I took a zero day in addition to the first 1/2 day and night there.   Or choice two; to push hard, and do the whole 17.2 mile segment in one day.  Actually I would have had to go 1.3 miles into the next segment to get to a known campsite,  so 18.5 miles total.  I decided to do the easy day, and the climb tomorrow.  The weather forecast for today and tomorrow was good, I was told.....not so good for the weekend.  The younger hikers are all going to push hard the next two days, cover as much of the above tree line trail as they can.  The views will be good and no storms.  I want to do the same, but I know that my knees will be seriously unhappy, if I push that hard. 

The younger hikers that began their hikes at Waterton Canyon after it reopened on June 26th, have started to catch and pass me.  It first happened two days before Spring Creek Pass.  Now it has happened today too....more than once.  The competetive part of me resents being passed. 

(Woke up from a nap a while ago...boiled water..... and ate Chicken A la King.  I ate that meal first,  on this time out into the wild , because it was the heaviest of my freeze dried meals.  Now I do not have to carry it up to 13,271 ft. tomorrow morning.  Pretty doggone good for hiker chow too.  Slept like a rock for an hour and a half.  I am getting soft.  Aside from pack weight it was a very easy 9 miles today.   Got passed up right here at my tent site by a father 50?, and son 16?, team,  who said "Hi"..... and blew by me without breaking stride.  It is unusual that fellow hikers do not at least stop and chat for awhile.  Everybody chats.  They obviously are going up top, yet, today.  Hope the weather holds for them.  
Yes, I am jealous.  But also am being smart, I remind myself. )

It is interesting how easy it is for us to transition back into our home selves while on a hiking adventure, if we are not careful.  On a long hike you do have to cover some ground daily.  But I remind myself that I do want to enjoy this experience, and  to have fun daily.

On the Appalachian Trail the epic distance,  and the difficulty of the trail dominated hiking decisions.  We all hiked every day in spite of the weather....except  on the rare occassions when to do so was not safe....the Smoky Mountains Blizzard, the ice storm,  and maybe a lightning event.  We usually started at 7 AM and hiked until at least 4PM...often till 6 PM.....and sometimes until 8PM or later.  

Here in Colorado all hiking is dictated by lightning....period.  Because the elevations are so much higher, and the fact that hikers spend so much time above treeline and exposed....the potential for lightning dictates everything.  July and August are considered Monsoon Season by Coloradans.  It storms most days in the afternoon.  You do not want to be above treeline and exposed when it storms.  Therefore for me the hiking day starts with a 4:30 AM alarm....and the hike itself starts at 5:30 AM.  Some hikers start even earlier.  I personally have tried and do not like hiking by headlamp.  You walk into, and trip over stuff in the dark,  and it is harder to figure out where you are at.  Out here in these mountains, if you go the wrong way, you can be wrong for a long time.  The hiking day often ends as early as 1 or 2 PM.  Get going early, go up high, and then get down fast before the storms come.  That is the routine.  The result is less sleep, less time to hike, and more tent time out of the rain in the afternoons.  

Flash.  I am writing this piece this afternoon, and into camp hike two people that I do not mind catching me.  "Subaru" and "Jolly Rancher".  Far out!  Phil( "Bigby") and I met them on their first day in Waterton Canyon, and chatted with them again at Scraggly Trailhead while waiting for his dad to pick us up. 
After chatting with "Soob" and "Jolly" those two times early in their hike, I had decided that "Jolly" was just too sweet, too fragile, too jolly, to last very long on this trail.  I could not have been more wrong!  It turns out that "Jolly" has trained on a Stair Master with a 30 pound pack on her back.  They are both very fit.  She and "Soob" are two of the strongest hikers on this trail, and two of the most fun.  Had a great afternoon, today, visiting with them.  It is a real treat to see them again.  They are camping here tonight,  and then bound for Durango, bypassing Silverton....so carrying heavy loads.  That is how trail life is ........constantly bringing you unexpected joys. 

Hop In Back

7/21/2015


"Hop In Back"


I carefully stepped my way down the rock filled trail, way down from Snow Mesa......beating the lightning,  that almost daily pounds into that 3 1/2 miles of open plain, at 12,000 ft.  Stopped to make friends with one of the many Pika's.  (Pika's and Marmots may be the only living creatures that seem to actually love Scree (rocks, rocks , and more rocks).  Brushed my teeth so that my breath would not smell too bad  ....like I knew the rest of me did, after eight days on the trail.

( Hey, I rinsed my shirt, my face,  and my upper body in that freezing cold water of the stream,  just beyond and southwest of the Eddiesville Trailhead, that falls it's way to Cochetopa Creek.  Talk about freezing cold....the log bridge 7 miles back was washed out, and we thru-hikers all had to carefully cross the knee deep..... at the shallow spot,  current of Cochetopa Creek.  We lucked out.   Fifty percent more volume to that current and it would have been impassable.  As it was..... fording was doable....a tiny bit hairy....and a dangerous major bummer if you slip...and freezing cold...... but doable.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, rinsing my upper body at about 9 AM in the morning..... only three days ago.  No,  I did not rinse my pants, nor my lower body.  It was probably 45 degrees air temp and that water was absolutely freezing cold.)

So..... as I said...... I stopped before I got down to the highway, and brushed with my .85 ounce tube of Crest, in case I had to beg for a ride.  And then crossed the highway, to the trailhead parking lot.  I mentally noted that there was no pull off on the near side, the side I would have to hitch from in order to go toward my Post Office Resupply Drop in Lake City....... some 17 miles away.  No "pull off" means that it will be a lot tougher to get anyone to stop for a filthy, smelly, pathetic , old hiker.  And more dangerous.   I will have to milk the "old guy" sympathy card for all it is worth,  if I am forced to try to hitch my way out of here.
A guy, I met earlier on the trail, had told me that with my white beard, and my white Foreign Legion hiking hat.... that I looked like Ernest Hemingway.  Really,  he did.  So I resolve to go for the Hemingway look........well...... the shorter Hemingway look, anyhow.

Yesterday afternoon,  I had misjudged the distance that I had hiked a bit.  The result was that the last flat ground for potential campsites was a mile behind me.  Immediately ahead was 9.5 miles of high, exposed hiking.  Rain was coming.  I could see it.  I was tired and the one thing I would not do, was backtrack.  Thru-hikers do not hike back.... if there is any way to avoid it.
So I was creating a make shift tent site on the side of the hill at tree line.  Trying to make a spot before the rain came, as I knew it surely was coming, to that last place below tree line, a place that was safer from the lightning.
Today, I do not realize that the broken branch that poked me in the forehead during that mad scramble  to gouge a tent site out of the hillside, had actually gouged me a bit, in 8 different places across my forehead, and that instead of Hemingway, I currently look like an old bum who lost a street fight last night over the  remaining slug of whiskey in the jug.  I had seen the blood in two places on my hat...but thought both were the remains of critters or flies that had been squashed as punishment for getting inside the tent.  

I scoped out the cars in the lot.  No people in any of them....so I dropped my pack....took a slug of water,  and sat on a comfortable rock.  I unzipped my pants pocket, pulled out the gallon zip lock bag that contained my phone....(Did I tell you that it has rained seven of the eight days that I have been out this time?) and switched on my cell phone.  Hey.  I missed a photo op on a big bull elk that climbed to the ridgeline above me,  because of that Zip Lock during my first climb away from that, side of the hill, tentsite.  Anyhow I turned off Airplane mode, crossed my dirty fingers and waited.  No Service.  I could not call and pay for a shuttle.  I am stranded.  It was time to be Hemingway....and time to do some serious begging.

When you have no choice...no choice...it is easy to act.  I amaze myself at the desperate things I will do on these hiking adventures, that I would never do at home. 

A younger couple in a white SUV pull off the highway and motor past me and my rock chair.  I casually wait until they disembark  and then I pounce,  immediately. 
"Hi!!  How are yah? Great day for hiking.  Been up since 4 AM myself.  Yup.  Been up there at almost 13,000 ft.  So are you going to Lake City, or what?  Say, my name is "Hawkeye". (But I sure do look like Hemingway...don't you think?).  
While I am busy feeling them out...... and building raport...(Who says that sales training was wasted on me?)....another vehicle, a big white pickup pulls in...... does a circle and is heading past us new friends....... back toward the highway.  I stop talking in mid sentence....(Yes I can!  I don't begrudge your doubts on this,  but I tell you, that I did stop talking in mid sentence)....stick out my left thumb....and look like Hemingway!   
Yes!!!  The guy stops, and rolls down his window.  I am careful to stay 6 feet away, and do hope that I am not upwind of him.  As sincerely.....as old guy pathetically,  as I can....all the while looking like Hemingway....I state that I am trying to get to Lake City.  He gives me the quick look over, and says "Hop in back".  
Whoa....I was not expecting that...really was not.  My first thought is "Damn....I am upwind of him".  I force my tired brain to operate.  "Think...think.....I have it!".  
"Won't we both get arrested if I do that?" But he is quicker than me.  
"Hop in and we'll find out." He says,  and rolls up his window.  

Yes....yes....I know..... I know.  

At my age....and having considerable, and quite varied life experience, I must add.... a rational person would expect me to be wise enough to heed the voice of my inner self,  that voice of common sense. And right now that inner voice is sarcastically asking....asking in a way that said "Are you kidding?  Do You really need me to verbalize this for you?  Okay,  If I must I will.  It is what I do.  Listen up.  "Hawkeye",  Inner Voice to "Hawkeye"....Are you sure that you want to do this?" 

I heard the inner voice....honest I did....and I do appreciate it.  But I also know that I can not stay here at Spring Creek Pass.  I am on a hiking adventure. 

So I unsling my pack, hoist it over the tailgate .....and I do hop in.  

"Haven't done this for a long, long, time". I tell myself.  "What a fun way to travel 17 miles down the mountain to Lake City".  
My inner voice is silent....busy looking for something...anything....on which to hold on.

It turns out that highway #149 twists and turns down those mountains...... for 17 miles into Lake City. It one of those roads where you can look way, way, down into the valley...... way, way below............No! Stop that! Don't do it!  Don't look down!  Just look staight out the back.  Read the uphill 20 Mph signs.   And find something better to hold onto than this side-rail, or this adventure is over.  There... right there is an eyebolt tie down.  I can get one finger through it.  The force of the curves may rip my finger off...but it is my best hope for survival.  Hwy 149 is one of those narrow mountain roads somehow wide enough for two vehicles, traveling in oposite directions to squeeze past eachother, but where you feel that the vehicle is being pulled irresistibly off that road and over the precipice.   We are now whizzing down the highway taking all of the 20 MPH curves....at 40 MPH.  Every one is marked 20MPH for the uphill traffic..... with big, black inked, curves displayed on every sign.  I decide that I am ok with the truck hurtling over the edge....... as long as it takes the maniac driver , and the three woman who are with him too.   I will not be happy if only I get tossed out of this truck.  I want to believe that this driver's intent is just to have a little fun....to give Hemingway a Colorado thrill.  And that the man is not an escaped lunatic driving someone else's truck "off into the Wild Blue Yonder".  If that is true....... then this old timer really has no idea how hard that I am fighting, with all of my might, to stay inside the bed of this truck.  No idea! 

Two thirds of the way down the mountain, the truck roars into a pull off and slams on the brakes. 

"Oh great."  I think. "Now they are going to boot me out in the middle of nowhere.  At least I survived".  I console myself. 
The lightning...oh, I did not tell you about that one, yet....nor the rock slide, when half the mountain came down....Whew!!  But I am telling you about the most death defying thrill of this hike......so far!

Turns out the guy 75, looks 65, stopped so they could all see the scenic view, and read the placard about a famous major landslide that had occurred there.  I tell them about my moose video.  And we all become friends.  Then with great tact, but loud enough so that all three women can hear me....hoping that one of them was his wife, or even better his sister,  I mention to him that I am going to have to empty my drawers, as soon as I get myself a motel room.  He asks where I wish to be dropped off,  and I say the the Post Office, please.  Then I hopped in back....slid my least precious finger through the big eyehole and hung on.  I think my scheme worked, because we only took the curves at 35 miles an hour the rest of the trip down the mountain.  At the PO,  I showed them all my bull moose pictures,  and video of my bull moose grunting.  And we parted as friends. 

PS.  Now I have to go into town, and all the way to the other end of it, to buy more tent stakes.  It is a long walk. You know hikers hate walking when off the trail.  Maybe I will hitchhike.  I have washed most of the blood out of my hat, and cleaned up my gouged forehead a bit.  So, do you think I look like Hemingway?  "Hawkeye". 

Bull Moose and My Little Buddy

Wildlife

7/12/2015


Wildlife


At 3:30 PM today, I was walking back from downtown Salida and the Arkansas River, to my motel on Highway 50,  when I spotted this Muley Doe, in the photo,  munching on someone's shrub.... in a very nicely landscaped yard.

Last Thursday afternoon,  I was doing the first road walk of this hike,  and was walking down dirt road #291, headed for the Chalk Creek Trailhead,  through a residential neighborhood,  and watched a 2 1/2 year old Muley Buck walk up the wooden stairs in the yard and start munching on someone's flowers.  A block later,  I saw my first Elk,  a doe,  in a thicket,  next to someone else's flowers at 5 PM in the afternoon.  I was tired,  not sure that I was on the correct road,  and did not even think of pictures.

When I stayed at a new friend's house, back in Buena Vista, there was an Antelope doe,  with her two fawns, in the grasslands, beyond his back yard.

Way back on the trail.....on the night before I went up to Georgia Pass.... I had made camp in a pine forest,  and boiled my evening meal.  The flies were bugging me,  so I went into my tent to eat.  Two Northern Shrikes landed immediately....one on a stump 3 feet from the tent door.....the other maybe 8 feet away.  I could not have gotten both of them, in a photo frame,  at the same time....they were too close.  I did not think of it.  All I thought, at first, was that they would grab some of my gear and fly off.  So I yelled at them and scared them off.  Then I realized that I had just blown a once in a lifetime photo opportunity.  Still in my tent,(which was serving as wildlife blind),  I got my phone out, and got ready,  in case they came back.  This one in the photo did come back....but at 15 feet...... not 3 feet as the first time. 

When "Bigby" and I went back down to Denver,  to hike the first two segments of the trail, I got attacked by a lunatic grouse!  I was hiking along segment #1....innocently minding my own business, when I spotted a female grouse, with some yellow markings, sitting on a rock.  I took pictures,  and then started narrating a video. The grouse got off the rock, when I started talking....to hit the road,  I thought.  But no.  It got off the rock to attack!  Maybe she had eggs, or chicks nearby.   Or maybe she was just totally nuts!  She kept attacking me and would not stop.  I would carefully flip her backwards 8 to 10 feet, with my hiking poles.... to discourage her,  but she just came right back after me.  Finally I gave up, and ran down the trail 100 yards.  I looked behind me...... and that crazy grouse was gaining on me! 

On the second day, back near Denver, on Segment #2,  I started very early, and was the first one down the trail that morning.  I saw a total of eight mule deer.  Four of them were bucks.  Two that were traveling together were really good bucks.  I had somehow gotten the mistaken notion that Muley's were not that wary....but these Muley's would not hold still for pics.  The two big ones were standing in front of a big brown rock at 60 yards, and I did not even see them at first.  They do blend in.  Then they slipped over a little ridge on me.  The wind was right..... and I was up for the hunt........so I dropped my pack and poles,  got my phone (camera) ready,  and did a sneak on them,  in case they were right on the other side of the ridge.  No luck.  They had gone down hill 100 yards.  I enlarged a long distance photo  I took,  that is now totally blurred.  But am posting it, so that you can just barely make out their large antlers.   Those antlers still had two months of growing time left.  Trust me.  Those are two big bucks.  As I said, those muley's just will not hold still...... most of the time. 

While hiking up the Ten Mile Range Crest, before Copper Mountain Ski Resort,  I had my first sightings of Marmots and Pika's, in a giant rock pile.  The marmots were lying on the rocks( or were they laying on those rocks?  Hope my grammar instructors forgive me on that one.  Sorry it just did not sink in. ) soaking up some rays.  Whenever I tried to get close....they bailed. 
The Pika's were here......there....and everywhere...and not too wary.  They were very, very cute.  No. Don't even think about putting one in your pocket.  We are enjoying nature...not pocketing it. You have already seen those photos.
The next day, when I hiked over Searle Pass and Kokomo Pass, two Marmots were on the Colorado Trail, running up ahead of me.  They would run until they got about 35 yards ahead of me,  and then they would stop, and wait for me to catch up.  Then they would run another 35 yards.  This went on for a long time.  These two Marmots had played this game before.  I could tell.  I think they both finally got bored,  and left the trail for other fun,  because I was so slow, and no real sport for them.

Oh yeah..... one more.  I had just topped a hill,  on my way to the Tennessee Pass Trailhead,  last Monday,  a ways before Buena Vista, when hiking southwest,  and decided to take a break,  before I keeled over.  I was sitting on the ground there for a couple of minutes,  and suddenly heard the loud sound of claws raking tree bark.  A large animal was doing a semi-controled fall, down a tree...... about 100 yards into the woods, and directly downwind of me.   It made a heck of a racket sliding down that tree.  And it actually hit the ground pretty hard.  Whatever it was...........it was big!!
No.  I did not walk into that woods to investigate!  It was probably just a bear.  But as you guys are right now....at that time, I was thinking Cat.... really big Cat!  Here Kitty....Kitty.  Whatever it was,  got spooked by the fact that I had stopped,  and that it was getting a good whiff of me..... and so decided to get out of Dodge.  Whoa!

Rocky Mountain High

7/11/2015


Rocky Mountain High


We are making our way up the ridgeline..... heading toward the grassy saddle between two peaks.  It is later than usual.  In fact,  it is later in the day than I have hiked previously,  on this trip to Colorado and the Colorado Trail.  Yet there is no sign of rain....no storms coming.  It will be a clear, starry, night in the mountains.
Today has been warm, hot almost..... like all but two days have been so far, in the first three weeks of this hike.  But, as I said, it is getting late....though the sun's rays still light up the valley, as we continue our climb up to the saddle.

 A slight cooling breeze, just a puff of the cooling evening air, rises up out of the valley, and russles the thin stalks of a multitude of wildflowers,  that splash color to both sides of the trail.  Delicate little blooms of amazing richness and texture, still reaching upward for the those ebbing rays of sun.

Flowers....colors.... blend with the sandy soil and the rocks.  There are yellows, whites, oranges; the pinks of wild roses, every immaginable hue of purple and violet; the lavender of Columbine, and intense blue.  It is the blues.....blue blossoms,  that stand out most dramatically for me....tiny blossoms, the bluest of blue....blue bunches of Forget Me Nots.  The higher we climb,  the more blue mats of Forget Me Nots, we pass.  These are not giant blossoms, bending giant stalks, with their weight..... not garden monstrosities engineered by men in a hapless attempt to improve perfection.  No.   These alpine delicacies were forged by nature... not over generations..... but over eons. 

We climb higher still, and I am surprised by how good I feel.  Nothing hurts.  It is late in the day, and yet my knees are happy.......... my legs strong.  I am not even sweating, not even breathing hard,  as we travel up the narrow trail..... first coursing through stands of Aspen, their leaves fluttering in that mildest of breezes; and then higher, past pine and and spruce stands, seated precariously on those gravely slopes.   Evergreens so ancient and tall, that it hurts my neck,  and causes me to lose my balance,  as my eyes try to follow their path toward the sky.  They are giants,  yet mere specks, as are we on the face of this mountain....this hunk of rock.... that we effortlessly climb.  
My legs feel strong, the weight of my pack almost imperceptable.....strong legs and a feather light pack.....and late in the day.  
It is a bit odd, odd to feel so good climbing up to this saddle, so late in the day.  I turn and look back across the valley,  and see that we are surrounded by more mountains, and open spaces.

There are four of us smoothly floating our way up the mountain.  The two women, just ahead of me,  are both wearing hiking shorts..........  and they are both very fit.  They certainly have the legs on them...both of them.....serious hiker's legs.... or maybe they are mountain bikers..... and hikers too.  I have met some amazing athletes on this trip.... hikers, bikers, trail runners.  I do not recognize either of these women.  I am hiking with two very fit 60 year olds....two leggy, old babes, that I don't think, I know.  They may be younger than that even....maybe only 55 years old .....and leggy.   But I am not admitting to that.  I will just tell you that they are amazingly fit,  and firm,  60 something..... hikers.  I do a quick check of my pits.  This is amazing!  I have been wearing these clothes for four days....four days up and down these mountains.....and I don't even smell bad.  Oh this is good.  This is really good! 

The first member of our party, the guy up front, who is leading us up the mountain,  has not said a word as yet.  Well, neither has any of us said anything.  He justs stops periodically,  as we gain a brief flatter stretch of trail....looks back at the three of us, and smiles.  It is not that he smiles,  I realize....it is that he is constantly smiling.  Okay.  It is bigger than a smile, more of a continous ongoing, "Cheshire Cat" like, grin.  This guy is a constant, silent, beaming, grin!  In fact, we are all smiling.  We can't resist it.  We are all happy....happy....... and grinning..... and floating effortlessly up the mountain..... as the sun's glow slowly fades,  and the color of the trailside blossoms fades too.  

For some reason.... I am unconcerned;  even,  about where we are going.  I just want to know who these great-legged, old babes are?  And which of the two..... am I with?

The hiker up front,  our leader,  has a guitar strapped to his backpack.  I have seen that before, on the Appalachian Trail.  "Coolie Mc JetPack",  a young friend of mine,  had added his guitar to his hiking gear,  when he walked the AT through New York State.....and still carried it when we hiked together, for awhile, in Maine.  I remember that he played it for us,  at "The Cabin" Hostel. 

Still there is something odd.....yes, odd,  about this grinning guitar toting hiker leading our group.  He seems familiar. Yes.  I  recognize those goofy glasses.  And I am sure, I  know that grin.  
If I can just figure out which of these women with the incredible legs, is the one that I am with.....well, then I am sure that I can concentrate on, and place those goofy glasses, those kind,  happy eyes.....and that "Cheshire" smile.  I know this guy!  I know that smile! 

We have topped the saddle and make our way into the grassy meadow as darkness is settling onto the mountain.  We approach the campfire, and all is good.  All is really, really, good. 

No, I don't know who made the fire...... nor where they have gone.  Just go with it.  

What I do know, is that John has unstrapped his guitar, and is going to play his song for us.......... just the four of us,  on this most beautiful, summer night, in the mountains.
  

And I know that we are all happy.... very, very,  happy, as John begins to sing for us,  just for us......  as John always does.
  
"He was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year,  
coming home to a place he'd never been before.....
Colorado Rocky Mountain  High....I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky, 
you talk to God........ listen to the casual reply, 
Rocky Mountain High.....Rocky Mountain High......"

 I have heard John sing his song before, many times before tonight, but never..... before this moment, fully felt the depth of meaning that his words had for him.  
These are words from his soul. 
It was just a song for me until this moment.  Now I understand.  I know the depth of feeling that John has for this land...... for these magnificent mountains.  I hear it.  I feel it,  in his guitar....in his words.... in his voice.

In time,  the voice of John Denver is trailing off.......... because my dream is ending.   
As I wake, in my tent, to this new dawn, to new wonder ,  in this cool morning stillness.... I realize that I am still humming the tune of "Rocky Mountain High".   I think about John Denver,  and these Rocky Mountains.

 I love this place too.... as you do John.  I love these mountains.  "Hawkeye".  

Near Leadville, Co.

The People of Colorado

7/5/2015


The People of Colorado


I have looked at this journal, and even I cannot figure out what is going on.  There are lots of pictures of beautiful mountains, with snow on them.  Not much else. I better update you a bit.

We could not start our hike at the beginning of the trail.  It was closed due to flooding.  Colorado got a ton of snow, and then a ton of rain, in May.  We changed plans.

Teresa, a new friend,  picked us up at our hotel, drove us to her home in the mountains,  west of Denver at 8,500 ft.......introduced us to her three dogs, showed us around; where we could shower, do laundry,  and cook,  if we wished.  Gave us our resupply packages that we had mailed to her, told us we could use her Pickup if we wanted to go into the town , and then.............. poof, left to teach a swimming class, while we set up our tents in her yard.
(We had originally planned to meet Teresa at a trailhead, after our first 4 days on the trail.  Because of the two closed segments at the start of the trail, we called her from Denver.  No problem. She said, she would pick us up at the hotel, on her way home from Golden. Teresa works all day for the Continental Divide Trail Coalition,  then helps hikers the rest of her day.  Oh yeah, and teaches swimming too.)
Her three dogs settled back to their routines shortly after she left.  Their master gone, and three strangers in their home was just a typical day,  in the household of a trail advocate, educator, and fellow mountain lover.
She took us to the trail the next morning at 6 AM.

 So we started at Segment Three of the CT,  carrying very heavy packs.  We got overly excited, and hiked too far the first day.  I could not hike the second day.  Well, I did a total of 4.5 miles, hobbling alone, all day!  I started my five day prescription of Prednisone that my doctor had given me months earlier, to bring along on the hike, "just in case".   Heck, I did not even need it till the second day!  Hahaha.
( Wow.  Experiencing the first really hard rain of this trip right now.  Glad I am in this tent and that it does not leak.  The temperature just dropped 20 degrees, in 20 minutes!)

Anyhow,  at my insistence "Airborne" and "Sequoia" ventured on without me.  They did nine miles, up and over a little (now) ridge of 10,500 ft.  Airborne was seriously sickly the next morning...day three.  They got off the trail.  Got a ride from a "trail angel" about 80 miles to Frisco.   And eventually, both flew home.  Now that he is home and feeling better, "Airborne" is convinced that the medication he was taking to prevent Acute Mountain Sickness, from the elevation, is actually what caused his symptoms.  AMS is serious stuff, nothing to mess with.......
"Sequoia" went home too, to make sure "Airborne" made it ok, and possibly because the mountain passes toward Copper Mountain,  from Frisco were still impassable, at the time.  I think it is also possible that "Sequoia" went home because he had already heard my whole life story; and most of my political, social, and religious, opinions..... in the three days that I knew him. ( We did two days of altitude acclimatization in Denver before we started). 

If anyone is still reading this journal....I  know that you can relate to poor "Sequoia"! Hahaha.  In my defense, all I can say is that I was really....really..... excited about being in Colorado.  

So "Airborne" and "Sequoia" were done hiking the CT early.

On my way to Breckenridge/Frisco, I met a whole bunch of hikers on the trail.
One new friend, who now has the trail name, "Bigby", suggested that since their was a mountain of unmelted snow ahead, we go back to Denver, when we got to Frisco,  and hike the 28+ miles at the beginning of the CT that were previously closed, but soon to reopen.  He is from that area,  and volunteered his dad's home as a place to stay.
I said,  "Maybe you want to ask your dad first?" Hahaha.  "Bigby" is a great guy.
From Frisco,  I went back to Denver,  rode the lite rail south to Lone Tree, and "Bigby" picked me up at the station.   And now I have a whole family of new friends...all of whom are amazing people.  Remember....that I told you of the incredible help, kindness, and friendship, that hikers receive from others.
  

The closed part of the trail opened on Friday.  I stayed with "Bigby's" Family on Friday, 

and we started hiking the trail on Saturday..... with a whole mob of other Colorado Trail Hikers.
A herd of hikers had been backed up, waiting for segment one, at Waterton Canyon, to reopen.

"Bigby" slipped and tore (actually two small tears) his flexor muscle, on our second day down there.  ("Bigby" is 28, fit,  and blazingly fast....and has a career.  He is at his parents,  and hiking the CT, for the second time, because of a job change.)  He had a doctors appointment, could not hike on Monday,  so his dad drove me all the way back up to Frisco, a week ago, so I could hike.  "Bigby" and I, had initially planned to jump ahead to Leadville.... but the snow melted so fast that The Ten Mile Range near Copper Mountain was declared passable.  I picked up the trail where I had left it at Frisco.
"Bigby's" doctor told him that the tears shown on the MRI would probably not get worse from hiking,  so he is back on the trail......and I have seen him three times, including today.  

On Saturday he texted a friend by GPS (no phone service),  and asked if she and her husband would drive me into Leadville, so I could get to the PO to pick up my resupply box, before the 4th of July Holiday.  They did take me to Leadville,  and gave me their phone number, in case I needed more help. 

Wow! 

Oh yeah,  and my own gimpy knee has been "mighty gimpy".  One day, before I got to Kenosha Pass, which is early in this hike,  a woman,  that I have never met is approaching me from the other direction....and yells out,
"Hey Hawkeye!!".  Then she asks about my knee.  She tells me that I can come to their house and recuperate for a couple of days, if I want.  She tells me that she just put "Wooly" and "Skunk",  back on the trail.  They had been at her house for two days,  because "Wooly" had gotten fluid in his lungs , at the same spot that "Airborne" got sick.  I knew those lads..... so I asked  her,  if she took in their dog too?  And she laughed,  and said, "Of course".  It turned out that I had met her husband and daughter earlier, on the trail.  They are biking and hiking the trail. They rode by me later that day,  and her husband asked, "Hawkeye.  Are you coming with us?  Should we wait for you at Kenosha Pass?"
I said "No, thank you.  I think I can make it to Frisco." 
Now, all of a sudden, assisted by the magic of Prednisone, my knee is getting better...not a youthful knee, but way better than it has been! Whew!   

So.....I am now 185 miles into this hike,  and have made a whole bunch of new friends!
  

One more thing I should probably mention about this state, in addition to it's beautiful people;  (yes..... others not detailed here have helped me too)..... is that Colorado is spectacularly beautiful!!   

Holy Cross Wilderness

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Searle Pass and Kokomo Pass