CDT Days 31 and 32: Difficult transitions

Thanks for your patience while I publish regularly. Sorry for grammar errors in this, this is how it was written on the road. 🖤

Day 31: 24.5 miles, rise of 3,750 feet, ~ 1,000 feet of descent

Leaving just after buffet breakfast in Ghost Ranch, the steep climb and out of the desert was not as bad as he had built it. I soaked with water in the box of the box on the edge of the colorful cliffs and then began through the equally colorful rocks. Somehow, the path remained shaded, at least inside and outside, for most vertical gain and did not overheat.

When I had reached the first place of water rest, I felt renewed from my stay in the ranch and optimistic. I grabbed my water bag and went on a rock in the murky cow peanut pond and, with Splat. The rock crushed to the right and also both. Well, both for the washed socks and the new trail shoes. I discarded it since the air was so dry, and I told myself that the bright sun would work, it is a disinfectant magic. The CDT changes its relationship with the poop anyway. You get much more close and staff than I never thought I would, even after all my life.

A friend of the path he had met in Ghost Ranch had also started lunch at the last water stop during the next 11 miles. The cows pond was surrounded by five baby cows, and it was only informal about filling me there because I had already done it without problems. Mama cows hanging nearby, I immersed my water bag while the calves stayed there and looked at me, without fear in their eyes.

Continuing from the cows pond, the path opened to landscapes that now seemed red. I was finally excited to be in the foothills of the mountains! The impatience of the mountains was inside. I turned on some nostalgic music while weaving the covered extensions of grass, tears began to fill my eyes. And then, approximately a minute in letting me cry, the blood began to shoot my nose! He began to cover my sleeves and hand, since I momentarily panicked due to lack of water to wash it. It was dry and vocated safe. I cleaned my hands in the grass and continued, forced to walk the few remaining miles of the day with my head up, since every time I left it, I would start sprouting again. I guess I’ll cry another day.

At least the Prado del Arroyo in which he had to camp was beautiful and the alces were willing to share. I complicated water and put lip balm on my nose, reminding me that I was just a few days from the colorado border and water.

Day 32: 26 miles, 3,350 ‘ascent, 3,150’ decrease

I walked a few miles for breakfast, in a lake full of fishermen. The difficult transition of trails, passing many roads and rebuilt the pieces of path, sometimes deviated from the available maps and required that one constantly pay attention to avoid walking along a random road. The sporadic and non -fluid path seemed to be the physical incarnation of what I was feeling. I still needed a day for myself after all (which, it wouldn’t come to pay), but I wanted to be where I wanted to be. And I knew that at this point I wanted to be in Colorado.

My water filter seemed to be filtering slower than ever, and I saw the more or less 20 fishermen with an yearning for bottled water or soft drinks. I felt the same when I had lunch at Lake Laguna that day and there were a dozen campers around. But nobody really paid attention to me, and I was not yogi. No, I just accepted drinks and food if they were offered first. I curse myself for not being more selfish because I really wanted a cold drink.

Vallecito Creek proved to be as cold and wonderful as I expected, and I sat in the middle of him while talking to a hiker, Nathan, who had just started on the road in Ghost Ranch. Negotiating eight hours/week with work, he was establishing his first time in the hope of having time to do most of the path. He frustrated when his new stove kept flying. I assured him that it did not matter how long you would have gone through time, there was always a learning curve with equipment and mistakes were always made. I suggested to reinforce it with rocks, and he inclined the burned directly against a trunk. «Well … do not burn the forest,» I warned, grimaced by the fact that the new Thrukikers neither necessarily practices safety against fires or LNT.

It was nice to get to the reservoir in which I was camping with a couple of hours left over before dusk, instead of simply throwing my camp at dusk as I had usually been doing. The cows and the wolves filled the air while moving towards a good position to sleep. Today I feel more alone on the road. This path had many difficult transitions and constant changes. So is life.

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