Hitchhiking to the San Juan’s

I’d walked away from myself just as much as I’d walked away from society. 

After a month of silence, alone in the mountains, it was time to mingle with the other apes.

I travelled south, from Breckenridge to Fairplay and beyond by connecting local buses, to end up stealth camping in Salida. Then hitchhiking from Salida to Saguache to Del Norte.

From Del Norte I’d planned on taking the Great Divide Alternate back to the CDT, which meant an almost 20 mile uphill walk to get back to the official trail. By the time I got back into the mountains, elk were howling. A deep roar that rose to a high-pitched, piercing scream before ending in a series of grunts and coughs. Late into the night my tent was almost trampled when they’d been startled by my unexpected presence.

I hiked through the aspen and random rain storms forcing me to stop and seek refuge behind low bushes or under the rain fly draped over me in haste. As soon as the rain slowed, I’d resume hiking the never ending uphill climb. Back to snow covered peaks and a wind that wouldn’t stop. Filtering snow melt and eating golden Oreos with a view somewhere in the San Juan Wilderness.

Around Gramps Peak, roughly 12,000 feet in elevation, I was caught in a rainstorm on the edge of turning to snow. Thunder and lightning rumbled, striking closer than I’d like. Freezing and wet to the bone, I laugh because nobody knows where I am. Nobody would know if I died of hypothermia.

For the first time in a long time it felt like hiking was fun again.

The storm was getting worse, I was shivering uncontrollably, and there was no way I’d make it to lower elevation. I took shelter behind some trees, realizing there was no flat ground to set up my tent that wasn’t hard rock or puddles. But it didn’t matter, I had to do something if I wanted to survive.

Did I, though?

“Stop playing around,” the voice said when I searched my soul, and I burst out laughing.

Uneven ground, giant rock in my back, soaking wet, howling wind. I curled up in my sleeping bag at 3pm with at least a sixteen hour wait to get through the storm and see the sunrise. Once the uncontrollable shiver slowed down, I laughed again.

What a great couple of days!