CDT Day 32 (6/19/23)

Miles 712.4 (Green line 48.9)- 736.2 (Red line 852.2) (23.8 miles)

Verbatim

Today makes the first day of my second month on trail. I’m thinking about mileages and how all the CDT’s alternates make judging overall progress difficult. I’m about 100 miles off the red line pace for a 100 day thru. But, I’m about to take the Creede alternate, which will give me plenty of extra red line miles.

Today was a really exhausting day. There was lots of snow travel. Climbing up towards the ski resort was especially taxing. There were huge mounds of snow on the north slope while the southern slope was a cliff face. I could manage to avoid most of the snow by following Deer/Elk tracks right along the edge of the cliff. At times I was climbing vertically.

Snow makes it so easy to lose the trail and be forced to walk extra miles. There were some really frustrating snow traverses. There were some really taxing climbs through snow and blow downs straight up hillsides. I was exhausted by 5:50 so I stoped hiking. If it was normal terrain I’d have been on pace for a 30! So, I’ll give myself a pat on the back.

It’s beautiful being up high. Tomorrow morning I go up high and have some traverses or snow travel. It will be interesting to do those while the snow is frozen.

Post Note

It’s all about the animal tracks. How these animals maneuver while encumbered by massive bulk, massive racks, and without opposable thumbs is nothing short of heroic. Remember that as much as your hiking a “trail” really what you’re doing is moving cross country. The animals are specialists at this, and have been and will be doing it much longer than we will if we don’t destroy them first. The dirt ribbon itself, that is to say the formal trail, is a bit of a deception. It’s good to read the truth of what the animals know. When the trail is gone and the animals dictate the path over, by, past, or through the snow you’d do well to listen.

Walking on, over, and between mountains still laden with snow pack is all about timing. You have to use the freeze/thaw cycle to your advantage. This means you have to get up early. Step from your warm overnight cocoon into the brisk subfreezing air and whispering wind of a 3am mountaintop morning. Glide along the snow top. Crunch your way over blowdowns, switchbacks, and water crossings. But, beware the sun. Beware the very warmth which makes it possible for your habitation at these elevations. By 11:30 you’ll have stopped shivering, yes, but your blissful morning’s skate will have descended into the dark and cold pit of hell that is “post-holing”.

You can feel it coming. The snow starts to slush a little under the sun. You no longer get the satisfying grippy crunch of snow under your feet. You’ve removed a layer or two to keep from over-sweating. And then it happens. All at once, and all the sudden, you’ve fallen forward through the snow on your instep. You’ve pitched forward unexpectedly, betrayed by the fractious crust of melting snow. You feel the glacial scrape of the snow’s crust on your shin as you slide through and into the snow bank. You’ll be bleeding from thousands of shallow cuts by day’s end. You look down and notice that you narrowly missed the root, rock, or branch suspended in the snow which could have destroyed your unsuspecting ankle or sliced inches of skin from your leg. You right yourself. You step past the sunken leg. Lift up onto the crust. You’re free! Take a step and you fall right back in. It might phase you the first few times. But after a while it’s just the rhythm. You’re actually more surprised when you can string seven or eight good steps together.