Create, co – The Trek

I stop at the edge of the road outside the pagosa springs with a freshly broken heart and 7 days of food. I keep my thumb and return to the route of the continental division. My package is heavier than ever, I still have my ice ax and micro picos. I had packed enough food, planning to stop at Lake City, but I’m nervous how long I could take. One day, alone, in the last section of the mountains of San Juan I had taken 14 hours to walk 9.2 miles. I was exhausted at the end and I actually established the camp before the sun fell behind the mountains, a rare first. I couldn’t imagine getting another mile from me, even if I had to do it.

To create or not to create?

I was in conflict. As a purist, he had wanted to take the red line through San Juan, the Creede cut, the brown line, did not offer the high mountain views of the red line, but it was much shorter and would give me the opportunity to maintain my continuous path while also potentially lift other hikers. I decided during my stay in Pagosa Springs to follow my original red line plan, until everything changed. In my emotional agitation of my freshly broken heart, the idea of being alone without the reception of the cell phone, fighting incessantly through the snow suddenly felt impossible. ‘Come and rest in Boulder for a few days’ My friend Kyra sent me a text message when I explained my heartbreak and snow exhaustion. Suddenly there was no other place in the world he wanted to be. I changed my mind. I would come to create as soon as possible, from there, I would hook myself to Boulder.

Nobody wanted my food

I started offering my 7 days of food to all the hikers I met. No one wanted my cheese block or sides of Knorr. I have no idea why. My package was heavy and I tried in my fragile state to drown as many calories as I could. The route to Creede was developed with coatings and ticks on the prowl behind each corner. I picked up a pair of shorts in paying that I immediately hated and ended up using my light rain pants throughout the duration. I felt disgusting. I was crying without stopping, sweaty and itching and swollen for trying to eat as much food as possible. I kept having to find the weed to dig darker cat holes. (Ask me about my poop story in this section!) I could not bother to stop and filter the water very often. Nothing felt as important as getting to create and then Boulder for the end of Saturday.

I arrived in the midday sun on Saturday. I wondered at the ranger station before the promise of a photo with a smoked bear, then I asked a brewery and saw some friends, hummingbird, jeans and jets. It would be the last time I would see them. I drank a beer and made my poster with Boulder. It was reluctant to go, fearful of what this meant for the future of my walk, but I couldn’t continue like this. Everything hurts, especially my heart.

Hooking Boulder

It was more difficult than I thought about taking this first creation trip. I sat in my herd, still in my rain pants sweating desperately in the small shadow I could find. There was little traffic. Boulder was 6 hours by car and expected that if he was lucky to be able to get there in 7 hours. Finally, a sweet family of 5 that had been selling tamales picked me up. I entertained the children in the back seat on my adventures, to walk through their huge and beautiful country, with wild animals, to travel from the other side of the world with my gray eyes to have this epic adventure. The next trip was from Colin, a hiker who did everything possible to approach Boulder, and then the next trip after that he bought me the best sandwich of my life (fried chicken with hot honey from Ottos in Fairplay, Co, Iykyk). He left me at the main door of my friends and there I spent 5 days resting, washing my quilt and eating before deciding that I needed to give this path another chance. I had no more excuses not to return to the road. It was time. I needed to know if wanting to be there would be enough.

The way back to cree

Unfortunately, getting from Boulder to Cree was not so easy. I decided that I did not want to leave the Denver area, so I got a bus from Denver to exit. It was a Thursday morning and when I got out, I protruded my thumb and obtained my first trip from a man who made it clear that he had only picked up because he wanted the company of a younger woman and kept trying to kiss me on the cheek. I left quite fast.

It was difficult to hook this route. There was little, or no traffic on these roads on Thursday compared to Saturday.

Jerry, or Cowboy Jerry, while he told me that it was known as my next trip. I spent an hour sitting on his mini bus as he took puffs from his pipe and assured me that Without a doubt, it would be attacked by a wolves package and simply has to Put my tent next to a tree during the night to get to the tree and escape from the wolves when they would surely approach my store during the night. There was no other way in which I could escape them and without a gun would be trapped in the tree until the search and rescue arrived or the wolves surrendered and abandoned me. I have never uploaded a tree in my life, but you will bet that that night I camped next to a tree and I fell nervously imagining the great yellow eyes of the wolves sniffing my tent.

I felt relieved when I left as in spite of their intention to protect myself against the wolves, the reassuring legs on my bare legs began to get nervous. I expected the next trip to be easier.

The next trip came from Tom, an old officer of the retired law that lives outside the network in the rural area of Colorado. He picked me up, and again, his intention to protect me only reminded me how vulnerable it was really. My skirt felt too short, my British accent too unusual. He spent the time telling me how careful I needed to make horstop as a woman, how lucky I had that I had picked up, not someone else and how I shouldn’t enter a car with a group of men or a truck driver, how dangerous it was. How should I not be alone, didn’t I have a boyfriend to protect me? Once again, despite his best intention, I felt shocked and fearful and remembered my new singleness when I left his car grabbing the $ 20 ticket that insisted that he drink a hot meal.

I didn’t want to keep hooking, but I was still one hour to create, I had no choice. I stay there for a while with me Crey cardboard signal. A man passed and offered me food, clearly assuming with my backpack that had no home. No one else stopped. I was still shaken from the last hooks, desperately aware of my short hiking dress and was not especially excited to try to take a walk when suddenly, a car turned around and was the father and his 2 daughters, the family that sold Tamale, who had collected me when I left Cree. I am not religious, but the security of this family and the relief I felt was instantaneous. God has put you back on our way! The father said and I had to agree. They took all the way to create and pressed 6 homemade and hot tamales in my hands while we separated and wished me luck. I am very grateful.

Cruel

So there was, for the kindness of all these strangers, I had connected my steps through this small mountain city and started the treasuryly steep ascent towards the mountains through the ruins of this small gold mining city. Creed was a large part of this year’s trip at the CDT, for the uncertainty and emotions I experienced there. I had never planned to go to this little and picturesque mountain city

I don’t think I raised again.

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