Colorado Trail Day 5: 20 July 2018
/I did not sleep well last night. It seemed like the late evening hours lingered longer than normal and although I was grateful for the opportunity to rest, I was bothered by the constant tossing and turning. I got up to use the bathroom numerous times. My mouth was still uncomfortably dry and thick. Around 5am, I started drinking huge glasses of water. I lay awake thinking about the days on the trail that brought me to Bailey. And while I was loving the trail filled with vibrant green pines sprinkled with the occasional aspen tree, the bountiful fragrances, special vistas roaming with expansive views - I was still not feeling my strong confident hiker legs beneath me or the healthy appetite needed to pack in the calories. I had arrived at Bailey yesterday feeling dehydrated and pretty much spent. Now after 1 night off trail, I was preparing to enter the forest again and resume the hike. I was grateful that we had decided to bounce 3 days of food ahead to Jefferson so we were not carrying 6 days of food but only 3. Our plan was to hike 3 days to Kenosha Pass near Jefferson, resupply from our bounce box and then finish the 3 additional days to arrive in Breckenridge where we would take a zero day. That was our plan. Breckenridge became the new goal. I could certainly hike the 6 days.
After packing up, I called Lorraine to let her know that we were ready to travel to Bailey. She arrived full of morning cheer and a huge smile. She dropped us off at the Post Office with instructions to have breakfast at the Cutthroat Café. She would come back when we were ready for the 8 mile drive back to the trailhead.
After completing our morning town chores and eating a filling breakfast at the Cutthroat Café, we were headed back to the trail. Lorraine dropped us off at the exact dusty spot we stood yesterday – the Rolling Creek Trailhead. And the start of Segment 4 into the Lost Creek Wilderness. With stout determination, I set my eyes on the trail before me and started walking along an old logging road that made up the trail for the first 5.6 miles of the 16.6 mile segment. We started at 8,527 feet. The logging road was filled with large granite and metamorphic rocks. The incline started almost immediately. I allowed my gaze to linger on the road above me as it curved around large groves of trees. And as soon as I reached the moment where the trail curved, I was faced with another incline equally as steep and daunting until here too the trail found a place to curve around the pine trees that lined the road. This went on for over 5 miles. And although the mid-day warmth was not as hot as previous days, I was once again dripping in sweat, my shirt soaked, my face lined with streaks of warm salty wet. There was nothing to do but continue upward. This was the increase in elevation we had read about. And it was very hard.
Eventually the trail veered off from the logging road and began a series of steep switchbacks. The trees along the path also changed from the fragrant pines to the shimmering beauty of groves of aspen trees. The white bark of the trees with slender branches covered in small circular green leaves that blew lightly in the wind were a welcome presence as we ascended. I gazed with renewed wonder at their contrasting colors and textures. Ed found a place to stop for a break and have some food. Julie and I spread out our foam pads and sat among the tall aspen trees. I laid back, closed my eyes and allowed my body to ease into quiet for a brief moment. I swallowed the dry flour tortilla filled with almond butter. I wasn’t hungry but I knew I needed the calories to get me through the day’s hike. The food tasted like cardboard. I still had not found the right hiking food that would agree with my limited appetite.
Soon we were back on the trail climbing. I can honestly say in my small history of hiking along the Appalachian Trail and the few days on the Pacific Crest Trail, today’s hike was the hardest, most challenging hike I had ever encountered. The miles and miles of rough steep grade into higher and higher elevations became both a physical and mental extreme challenge. My pace slowed to almost a crawl. I desperately wanted to reach the summit. I know that after one achieves a momentous goal filled with adversity along the way there possibly exists a special euphoric relief and springy excitement in the accomplishment. But for me, I just wanted to reach camp and throw my body on the ground and let myself slowly dissolve away. I had reached my limit today. I was facing possible defeat. But the climb wasn’t over. And so I plowed onward and upward. I met up with Julie and Ed for a final pause before the last mile. The air was now cooler and I found myself shivering as the sweat began to dry and chill my skin. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. There was only one thing to do to keep warm - keeping hiking. And I did.
Suddenly I came to a pause among the trees and through the bark and trunks I could make out the meadowlands lying ahead. And of course this meant we had reached the end of the climb and the next water source. We had read that there were numerous campsites near the water. I was so eager to find one and set up camp. We saw numerous tents among the trees that outlined the vast meadow with the stream cutting a slender wet line amidst the low brush. Ed decided to scout ahead to see if there was anything available further up the trail. Standing there near the water, the cooler wind began to blow harder. I was again faced with shivering as my body struggled to adjust with the temperature change after the physically demanding hike. I pulled on a windbreaker and wind pants which immediately began to regulate my body core. Meanwhile Julie went into the thicket of camp sites and came back to report that she had found one suitable for two tents. And that is where we decided to stop.
I needed a moment before setting up my tent. I pulled off my foam pad, lying my body on its welcome surface. I placed my arms over my chest and tried to calm down my body. After a few careful still moments, I began setting up my tent including the rain fly. Ed helped me blow up my sleeping pad. I spread out my sleeping bag inside my tent on top of the pad and then climbed into my tent to rest with my eyes closed. I wasn’t hungry. I was merely exhausted. But as soon as I heard Ed and Julie preparing their dinners, I rallied and made some ramen with chicken. I had a few bites when I suddenly felt uncomfortably ill. No! Please no! I barely made it to the edge of some nearby bushes when I brought everything up. So no dinner for me. Just like the PCT – all over again. Why does this happen to me?!! Here I am struggling to hike, struggling to live what should be an amazing experience, and once again my body betrays me and refuses to be strong enough to handle the physicality. I felt tears of frustration welling up, filling my eyes with brimming salty wet emotion. I brushed my teeth, prepared the food bag for hanging and fled to my tent, both embarrassed and angry. I had to make it. I had to find a way to hike. Today’s climb was astoundingly hard – bitter hard. And I did it. I hiked up that trail and struggled with every other hiker. And I made it. I made it! But now – now I felt small and scarily insignificant. I pulled on my sleeping layers and beanie hat and slid my body into my sleeping bag. I lay there, my breathing heavy and labored, my limbs still, my eyes creased. I reminded myself that I chose to be here. I chose to hike this trail. And I wanted to do well. I wanted to hike with my sister and Ed and feel confident, strong and mighty. To be a thru hiker – to have walked from Denver to Durango – sharing in the moments of a great journey – oh how I still wanted that experience. Even now having spilled my stomach into wild brush, my body shivering, I wanted to go on. Tomorrow had to be the game changer. Tomorrow I had to wake up feeling hungry and eager and more determined than I had ever been in my entire life. My entire life. With the wide and long meadow stretched out past the slim row of trees and the darkness of night overtaking the lingering light, I clutched my hands together over my chest. I clutched my hands together.
