Follow me on the CDT: Onto The Collegiates

It was reaching our 2nd hour on the side of HWY 149, trying to hitch into Creede, CO. This was now, by a long shot, the longest I'd waited for a hitch. Granted it was 9:30am but we thought being a weekend there would be more vacationer traffic. 

I heard the noise of an engine around the corner and stuck out my thumb, a huge smile on my face. The secret to hitching is convincing the driver through nothing but eye contact and facial expressions that their ride would be better off with you in the car. To my surprise and immediate delight the truck pulled over in front of us. I approached the driver door while Buffalo Bill and Jedi stood back by the passenger side. 

"Oh! You're not a guy!" 

"Hi! We're trying --" I cut off quickly, surprised. Not sure how to respond. In the truck were two older, close to elderly gentlemen. The driver was looking at me wonderingly. I looked down at my clothing, I didn't think I looked like a man...

"No I'm not," was all I could think to say, laughing out of lack of anything else to do. "I am with two men," I gestured to Buffalo Bill and Jedi not even 10 ft away. 

The driver and passenger informed us that they were going fishing 2 miles down the road. We could ride with them for those 2 miles. Since we had closer to 36 miles to Creede we declined the offer. This was becoming my most elusive hitch yet! 

It was not until 10:30am that we got a ride with a cyclist of all people. He was on a ride out of Creede and his wife was picking him up. Gratefully we climbed into the back of their pickup and I settled down by a timid mutt named Thor. It was a winding drive through the mountains into the valley to reach Creede, a former mining town turned tourist destination. 

While Creede now mainly attracts vacationing Texans, it is a great stop for hikers. The local bar has asked the age old question "what activities would be more fun with a beer?" Kips Bar and Grill knew the answer and installed washers and dryers inside. From my spot at the bar, enjoying happy hour specials, I could watch my laundry. From there a hiker only has to mosey a half mile down the road to the local baseball field to camp for free. I set up the Tyvek and my sleeping pad in one of the dug outs. It was a cozy spot for a night in town.

In the morning we said temporary goodbyes to Buffalo Bill as he headed to the next door to pick up a package. Jedi and I headed to the Creede post office for my care package from my mom. She mails my new shoes every 500 or so miles and my current pair were in a bad state. The waterproof socks combined with awkward steps of steep terrain bushwhacking had left large holes in the tops of my both my shoes. 

Given the difficulty of the hitch into town we decided to take an alternate route that followed a forest service road straight north out of Creede and would reconnect with the trail 14 miles from where we got off. The road was steep, dusty, and hot. I couldn't believe we'd been in snow just 48 hours ago. After Silverton we said goodbye to the high San Juans but the high altitude wasn't over. Instead of mountains it was high rolling plains and ridges the 34 miles to Creede. 

As the road steadily climbed in elevation we passed the remants of Creede's former life. Old mining buildings, caves, and even railroad lay abandoned along the way. It was a mix of walking through a museum and amusement park. I was pouring sweat just a few miles in when a flat bed truck pulled up. 

"I'm turning off in a couple miles but you can ride on the back till then if you want." 

This time we jumped on the opportunity to get a hitch a couple miles. Jedi and I climbed on the flat bed, careful not to burn ourselves on the metal. The only thing to grab was a chain by the cab holding a tool box and chainsaw in place. Anything, anything was better than that climb in the heat. 

The rest of the afternoon we trudged up the road to the official CDT and picked up the trail around the base of San Luis, a 14er. There was a smattering of snow pockets, all easily avoidable. It felt comical compared to what we had left behind. We camped in the valley looking up at the mountain behind us. 

The next 3 days to Salida passed in a blur. Gone were the steep peaks, and honestly most of the mountains. That isn't to say there wasn't any elevation gain, but most of the trail was through forests with only brief glimpses of the ridges around you. It was pretty enough in the pines and aspens, but it lacked the grandur I expected out of Colorado. There were high points such as our first trail magic in over 500 miles and celebrating 1,100 miles. 

We reached Monarch Pass, the road into Salida, in the morning. Luck was better here than Creede and we got a hitch within 20 minutes. The driver, well intentioned, did not understand the journey we were on and offered to sell us a car to make the trip easier. Life on trail really can restore your faith in humanity. 

Hitting a Colorado town on the weekend is ill advised. Every hotel was charging upwards of $150. While this is a normal hotel price, I was accustomed to the $70 rooms in New Mexico. The bigger problem is that even if you are willing to pay, you may not be able to find a room. If I have service in the backcountry I try to book a room 48 hours in advance but normally we get a room once we reach town. In Salida we got the last two bunks available in the hostel. 

The hostel welcomed all travelers but it was largely full of hikers. With snow throwing all of us on different paths we had not been with a group of hikers for a couple hundred miles. It was refreshing to spend the evening and morning swapping trail tales and enjoying the camaraderie.

I had butterflies in my stomach as we headed back to Monarch Pass and trail the following day. Very shortly ahead was the Collegiate Mountain Range. The Collegiates are a famed part of the CDT and have similar lore to the San Juans. After days of hiking through forests I was happy to leave the prairie life behind but nervous to venture back to high altitude. The high route, also referred to as the 'West Collegiates', can receive bad afternoon thunderstorms and there are many the story of unlucky hikers bailing down the valleys to lower ground. At least the most recent reports indicated there was no more snow. 

My nerves calmed as the alpine hiking I'd been dreaming of started to unfold. Snow melt lakes, marmots, ridges and valleys! I had missed them all! We camped along a river at the bottom of a valley, in the morning we would start the day climbing endless passes. The day started earlier than I liked with a wind storm. 

I woke at 4am to the loud creaking and groaning of the trees around us. In the valley, by the river, trees were everywhere and half of them dead from pine beetle kill. As always when setting up camp, Jedi surveys the trees in the immediate vicinity for widow makers (not to be dramatic.) There were dead and live trees all around but nothing seemed a problem in the breeze of the evening before. However in the early morning with wind gusting the forest was shaking. 

"Do you hear that? The wind is really bad. Are you sure those trees are okay." I nudged Jedi. He was already awake from the noise, listening closely. 

"They looked fine last night, I'm sure it's fine. The wind just has them rubbing together." 

CRASH. It would be comedic timing if it wasn't terrifying. A tree fell in the distance. 

"It was just one tree... and it was far away." He tried to reassure me sleepily. 

CRASH. Another one. 

"We are moving the tent right now!" I was already unzipping the tent as I choked it out. 

That proved easier said than done in a forest. It took two moves and by 5am the tent was set up in the biggest clearing we could find. Perfect for another 30 minutes of sleep. That was how we began the day of the Collegiate West. 

It was a long, beautiful, tiring day. In total we climbed 4 passes totaling around 5,100ft in vertical gain. Our reward was the high mountains of Colorado!! The Collegiates are no less smaller than the San Juans but they lack the ferociousness of them. The Collegiates are wide and broad with high, yet calmer slopes. There is a level of uniformity to each peak and pass that didn't exist down south where peaks are their own jagged outline. 

We went up passes and down the other side. We walked through valleys to reach the next pass. This was the hiking I had come to expect on trail. It was at odds with the steep traverses and ridges of the San Juans. 

Our first night on the West route we camped at the bottom of a mountain wall. The tent was tucked behind willows and a stream babbled close by. The wind of the morning had passed and the entire day was perfect weather. It will always be surreal to fall asleep somewhere so astounding, so wild, and so beautiful. 

The elevation of the day before was to be our new constant. Quickly 5,100ft felt comical after a few 6,000ft + days. The end of the route proved the most difficult. The 7 mile climb to Lake Anne Pass greeted us with an unmelted snow cornice. The cornice jutted out 15 feet over the descent with a sheer drop. It took careful maneuvering stepping down inch by inch to a rock ledge. The reward was a magnificent campsite at Lake Anne, looking up at the cornice like a distant memory. 

Mt. Hope Pass was the next challenge at 2,400ft vertical gain in 2.4 miles. Short, sweet, and steep. The prize at the top was a more satisfying reward than snow. A resident marmot. A resident marmot with a following. Comments on FarOut exclaimed his popularity and photogenicness. He did not disappoint! Despite high blowing wind, he climbed to the top of the cairn to skyline in photos. Every pass should come with a spirit animal. 

With the blessing of the Mt. Hope marmot we finished out the loop and celebrated at Twin Lakes.