Day 2 Colorado Trail 17 July 2018
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We awoke in the very early morning just as the sun was beginning to rise. I hadn’t slept well the first night on the trail. I tossed and turned on the small thermarest sleeping pad while listening to the night sounds - wind high overhead blowing through the tall trees, Ed and Julie shifting in their tent, and the occasional call of a night bird. But the usual stick breakers were not scavenging around our tents. The sky was lit up with stars and so the darkness of night was not pitch black. Rather the tall trees in star light shadow were slightly visible standing tall surrounding our tents.
I now have a system for breaking down camp. Of course I could be more efficient. But when your first wake up and realize it’s time to hike, you have to get your gear in your pack. I would often rather just lie there for another hour. But as I hear Ed moving about, I get up and get to work so I am ready when it’s time to start hiking.
Today we hiked close to 12 miles. The first 5 miles took us down the mountain to the South Platte River which was flowing with astonishing speed over and around rocks lying in its path. We spent considerable time on the shores filtering water, drinking at least a liter to prepare for the start of Segment 2. Segment 2 is 11.5 miles. And it’s a dry section meaning that there are no natural water sources. In addition the trail goes through a large dry burn area so there is very little cover from the sun. And it’s hot. I left the South Platte River with 4.5 liters of water to get me to the next water source which happened to be an emergency spigot at mile 10.1 in Segment 2. A firehouse building just off the trail allows hikers to get water from the spigot at the back of the building,. I took extra water in case we didn’t make it to the spigot had to dry camp again.
The burn area was actually hauntingly beautiful. The entire landscape was dotted with tall burned trees, blackened and charred. Some still had a few branches broken off along their once mighty arms so that they stuck out in sharp jagged ruins. The trail travelled upward along this once green forrest. The hot wind blew along the ridge lines providing welcome relief from the growing heat. You could see far and wide across the burned scarred mountains. I was reminded of the PCT numerous times - long water carry, hot, exposed landscape, dusty and very dry.
I began to feel the dryness in my mouth. And soon I found that I was no longer hungry. The warm water from my water bottle was not refreshing. I reminded myself that it was only day 2 and I needed time to adjust to this new climate and to be hiking 10 hours a day again. But the painful reminders of the PCT were present as much as I tried to push them aside. I forced myself to eat when I could. And I continued to drink small sips at frequent stops. I had to keep myself hydrated. I truly do love to hike. But when your body is rejecting the hiking demands and you start to feel dehydrated, exhausted with no appetite, you start to feel ill. The thought of food becomes unappealing. Even drinking water becomes difficult. The mouth becomes so dry, the lips crusted. But I refuse to let these physical results of hiking stop me. I refuse to relive the experience of the PCT. Hiking in the heat of summer takes a lot out of me. I can only hope that my body will adjust. Today is only day 2.
After another climb out of the burn section to the top of a ridge, dark clouds began to form around some of the distant peaks. The temperature dropped and the wind began to blow. We hiked on trying to find a campsite to set up our tents before the storm hit. Thunder echoed from the approaching mass of deep billowing grey. We came upon another group of hikers we had met on the first day - Frank and the 3 New Hampshire men. They were already camped with their tents set up. There was space for us as well. As soon as we dropped our packs, the rain began to fall in heavy loud droplets. We quickly set up the Big Agnes rain fly and ground cloth. While Ed secured guy lines to stakes, Julie and I huddled underneath listening to the rain pelt the rainfly. The dirt was so loose that some of the stakes came up and the tent poles came loose. Julie and held on to them and did our best to secure the fly while the gusts of wind tried to bring it down. Thunder erupted again and again but I didn’t see any lightening. The summer storms had started. And we would just have to get used to them as we hiked over exposed mountains and ridge lines. I just lay on my back feeling completely exhausted and nauseous. But I was also very excited by the sudden change in weather. The air was now cooler. I felt a slight chill as the wind hit my moist skin and sweaty wet clothes.
The storm did pass. And soon we were setting up camp at another location further down the mountain. We made our dinners. I had ramen chicken with real pieces of chicken from a foil pack. While it was delicious, I found I couldn’t eat the whole thing. When will my appetite return?
As we settled down for the night, we again heard distant thunder and saw storm clouds making another approach. We set up our rain flys just in time as the edge of the storm hovered over our camp sprinkling our tents with light rain. Listening to the thunder and hearing the drops hit the fly, I thought about the day and did my very best to consider all of the wonderful landscapes and colors, fragrances, wildlife and weather I had experienced in a single day. And I reminded myself that hiking is hard. But those moments that fill you up with great beauty or dramatic weather layer the hardness with the wonder of the world. And I hike to see the world and exist in a place that inspires and transforms. Today was filled with great running rivers, turbulent weather, vast exposed landscapes, comradery, challenge, rare beauty. And lying there I also had to remind myself that hiking this trail is a privilege and something I chose to do.
As the storm settled, I tried to also settle my mind. Darkness approached. And I simply said a quiet thank you and let sleep over take me for another night.
