CDT Day 53 (7/10/23)

Miles 1241.3 (Red line 1454.3)- 1275.3 (Red line 1488.3) (34 miles)

Verbatim

There are so many bugs in this section. Also, Mount Zirkel is beautiful. I like the backcountry around Steamboat. It’s not awe inspiring, but it’s interesting and beautiful and it’s fun to play in. It will never draw the giant crowds of other CO locations. I wish I had a gravel bike. It would be great fun riding these forest roads in the evening time.

Today was a very good and very long day. I remember at 7am thinking I had thirteen hours more movement left. Well, here I am at 8pm finally not moving. Pepé and I tried to stop moving for an “outside dinner” for our last night in Colorado. By “outside” Pepé was indicating a dinner which occurs in the open air outside of one’s tent. The bugs are so bad that everyone is diving into their tent as fast as possible when at camp. it seemed like it could be possible to eat outside because the bugs really were absent today on account of strong winds and cloudy skies. But sure enough, as soon as we’d found a rock with a view to sit on they appeared with a vengeance. The ability for 100 mosquitoes to spontaneously apparate is a miracle even G-d cannot comprehend.

Of course. I’m tarp camping. So all my dinners are “outside”. As I ate my avocado and garlic couscous (Yum!) I wandered back and forth around the site doing “dinner miles”. It was the best strategy to keep the bugs off. This is Pepé’s first, and supposedly last, thruhike. His meals, when I met him, were really poor. He’s acknowledged that I’ve helped him up his lunch and dinner game, like by including avocados! But the apprentice has surpassed the master. Pepé packed out arugula and made an avocado/salad wrap. Damn. I need some lettuce in my life. It was a good last dinner in CO. A fitting way to end a beautiful, yet ruthless, state.

Lunch today far surpassed dinner. Up high amidst endless yellow wildflowers blowing in a firm and steady wind, we ate looking out at Mount Zirkel from the top of Lost Ranger Peak. One of the best lunches on trail.

The trail was wet today underfoot, but also had some rivers! The rivers were lovely for water, soaking, swimming, washing, and looking at.

I slept poorly this last night because of the incessant activity of mosquitoes and my bodies desperate desire for calories. I was fully awake at 11pm and ate two tortillas, chips, and breakfast essentials. I looked up and could see the Milky Way. Such a cloudy net of stars.

Post Note

As you can see, my world was almost completely encompassed by the reality of mosquitoes. I’ll never forget that last Colorado dinner. We were so sure we were safe! The alpine glow was stunning. There are many rock formations surrounding Mount Zirkel. The evening glow illuminated them orange. Shortly before stopping to eat Pepé and I had to cross a stream. I’m not sure why we thought to take our shoes off this time, it had been wet all day, but I can remember sitting beside the dirt road to pop em on and off. Stream crossings are something we haven’t really talked about yet. A quick intro, then, to the rational for and against crossing rivers and streams with shoes on…

Water crossings happen all the time on thruhikes. In the New Mexico desert they might happen infrequently. When infrequent, water crossings are something delightful to look forward to. You’ll try to plan your meal around a stop at one. You dunk your throbbing feat into the cold clear water and gasp. Then you enjoy. When you only have one or two stream crossings a day it makes sense to cross them without shoes on. Taking off, and then putting your shoes back on once across, takes time and leaves your feet vulnerable to laceration or bludgeoning from the pointy stones or rolling boulders under the water. You could end a thruhike if you’re not careful while crossing a stream. You’re also much more likely to fall in the water crossing barefoot, on account of your instinct to protect your dainty little feet.

Crossing barefoot is more dangerous. But crossing barefoot keeps your shoes and socks dry and allows for the water to really penetrate, wash away, and relieve your feet from all the accumulated dirt, sweat, and salt that’s built up. Want to keep your feet blister free? Keep your shoes dry. Soak your feet often (like every reasonable chance you get). Wash and change out your socks as often as possible. And massage daily.

Crossing with shoes on, however, makes much more sense if the frequency of water crossings is high. If you have to take your shoes on and off fifteen times today it’s not worth it. Just plunge right in, soak those shoes and socks, step out, and plop your way down the trail. You’ll be able to see what the other hikers are doing because their (and now your) wet footprints will extend down the trail for a hundred yards. Crossing with shoes on is protected, safe, efficient, and easy. But, having wet feet really sucks. The task of water crossings is why most thruhikers wear non-waterproof “trail runners” (something like an outdoorsy sneaker except are waaaaay more expensive than they need to be) instead of hiking boots. Trail runners are easy to take on and off and ventilate water and air really efficiently. If you plunged your boots during a crossing you’d be stuck with wet feet for two days and would miss miles while taking extended noon-day breaks to air out your footwear. Trail runners will feel mostly dry in an hour and a half. Just in time for your next water crossing.

So there I was, almost to dinner at the end of a very wet day of walking in CO. My feet had been soaked all day. So, I’m not sure why I decided to take them off for this last crossing. They’d probably dried somewhat and I wanted to keep them mostly dry so they could air out over night and then I would actually have dry shoes to put on in the morning. If that was my reasoning then it was stupid. My shoes would be soaked again five minutes after taking off the following morning. ANYWAYS. The point of this story is… that when I was taking on and off my shoes to cross the stream I was not, repeat was not, being assaulted by mosquitoes. That’s strange I thought… Maybe we’ll have a peaceful outdoor dinner and look at the alpine glow on the rocks? Nope. As soon as the sun dropped and the wind died the mosquitoes were out, frustrated by a day’s worth of building desire.

And then a final note, as I was struggling to find a campsite in the hard packed dirt I broke my new trekking pole. I’d been given this carbon (I thought it was metal) ski pole from a consignment shop in Leadville to replace the one I’d forgotten while pooping. I was pressing down on the shaft through the handle trying to drive the blunted point into the dirt. The carbon shaft split into four even quarters which ran down the length of the pole. Welp. I’d messed up another pole. And this one doesn’t fold, bend, or retract. I’d be carrying it to Canada.