The CDT Part 4: Confidence and pace in Colorado

Outing, colleagues and beyond

Getting to Salida and the West/East Collegiates and beyond brought me back to the snow. I chose to walk part of the West Collegiate route and then walk along the road (adding several miles or so) to East Collegiates. The West (photo 2) had the views, the ridges absolutely stunning. The East (photo 1), faster kilometers and without snow.

In Salida, I stayed at the famous Butterfly House and had a warm place to rest while taking (even more!) antibiotics. Some hikers and I ate at the food truck and I heard another hiker playing guitar.

I also started hiking and camping completely alone, not seeing other CDT hikers sometimes for a couple of days, for the first time. The San Juans divided the different groups and bubbles. Some hikers took hikes to wait out the snow, others took the green and blue alternatives before me and were well ahead, some crossed the San Juans. This meant solo camping and encountering more day hikers and fewer CDT hikers.

Less hikers, more alone time

While I hiked alone before, the trails I completed before the CDT were more populated and therefore I couldn’t camp alone. I realize it still seems completely ridiculous to me, but I’m afraid of camping alone. Or I did before Colorado. Even camping with other people, I find that I am constantly alert or half-listening to sounds, and to sleep I need to take melatonin.

That changed in Colorado when I saw fewer CDT hikers. I carried melatonin and finally found that my fear of night sounds evaporated. Hiking all day alone and not seeing any CDT hikers, and then camping alone, was a new experience for me. In New Mexico, the bubbles were closer together and I rarely camped alone. But in Colorado I discovered that I could enjoy camping alone.

Solo bivouac camping

One night outside of Winter Park, a moose walked by my campsite while I was on my tarp. We had a stare-down, before I ducked back under my tarp and realized I probably shouldn’t be staring at him. It was an incredible moment because I was alone and the experience did not faze me. I was walking through their feeding space at night, only to find myself, an annoying hiker wrapped in a tarp.

The times I met people in central Colorado brought me a lot of joy and a lot of words about “loving and hating Colorado.” The climbs, the snow, the weather, the altitude. There was always something to complain about, although I recognize that I had the great privilege of experiencing these complaints. It was cathartic to meet other hikers, like we shared a common language even if we had never met. We always said the same thing, “this is the first time I’ve seen another CDT hiker in a couple of days!”

A rhythm in Colorado

Seeing fewer people, I began to find my grove. I talked out loud to myself a lot, listened to more birds, and sometimes classical music and podcasts. I swore to myself when doing the steep climbs. Seeing fewer CDT hikers and therefore truly being more “alone” felt important. While I hiked most of the Uintas alone and most of the PCT alone, and even though I technically hiked New Mexico alone, I always saw other hikers. This was a newer experience. I will add that technically I was never alone. I felt at home and at peace with the trees, the rocks, the animals, especially the pikas and the birds. I saw five elk and herds of elk while walking alone. Everything is alive and I really felt it while walking around the CDT.

Seeing fewer people made me more confident in my ability to not only endure bad weather, high elevations, and push through steep climbs with long miles, but also to handle it without having anyone to “bum into” during the day. Colorado made me run from lightning more times than I can count, and hail hit me on the head, and gave me a hard-earned gift.

While talking to myself earned me many strange looks from hikers who ran into me before I saw them, it also allowed me room for the trail to break up my path. Nothing was easy, I got very sick (stress impacts of life off the track), but it was rewarding in all the challenges.

I flew over Kokomo Pass during golden hour and passed two other hikers who I had no idea were ahead of me. I met one of the green alternative after San Juan, and we walked until the sun set and then camped near willows on a clear, cool night at the pass. I remember riding almost 30 miles that day, even in the snow, and I felt like I was back at home in the mountains. Important, after my return to San Juan.

Kokomo Pass (or just before)

One night after Kokomo

Feeling at home, but constantly beaten

Colorado has an amazing ability to challenge everything you think about yourself as a hiker. For a day hike, it’s an amazing state. For hiking, it is difficult. I found that being smaller, the elevation destroyed my body quickly. I developed a permanent cough (which thankfully went away in Wyoming) due to the dry air and altitude. However, something about doing this alone made me feel not invincible, but rather aware that I was a small person in a vast mountain range, and confident.

And the infamous Colorado weather. Walking 10 miles or more at 12,000 feet above treeline in a storm is not ideal. And sometimes, the weather dictates your day.

I once went more than a mile off trail, straight off a mountainside into the woods, to avoid lightning (with my hair standing on end from electricity on multiple occasions) at Silverthorne Alternate. The storm hit while I was above the tree line, and I slid along a rock cliff as fast as I could to descend a ledge and reach the trees. .

Silverthorne’s alternative is wild. No trails after the Ptarmigan Pass, some exciting stretches and interesting snow crossings. I would recommend the red line, having seen both. But my escape from a lightning day ended when I ran into another lone hiker and a female moose right next to where we camped.

Some fighting on the red line

A love letter to Colorado?

Colorado is not sunshine and roses. Almost every CDT hiker I met agreed on the same principles: Colorado is tough and wants to kill you every day. That being said, reflecting on it made me like it even more. I think my enjoyment and acceptance of camping alone and finding my footing after the San Juan attempts led me to this post. Also, the number of times I went up a step and looked back to see the last step I went up. A feeling of accomplishment just by walking.

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