Follow me on the CDT: San Juans, Part 1

Embrace the brutality. It's the unofficial moto of the CDT. I'd never heard the moto until recently, and honestly a couple months ago I would have thought it was melodramatic. Now... Now I understand. 

I pull out my phone to check our standing relative to the trail for the 10th time this minute. Sleet immediately hits the screen and I have to pull off my glove to wipe it away. Normally I can walk and use my phone but the wind is so strong it whips my poncho in my face if I don't turn my back to it. We left Chama this morning in clear skies up beautiful green slopes. Six hours later I am standing on a wide ridge dotted with snow while a wintry mix pelts us from all sides. This was an improvement from the wind stinging hail. Just an hour ago, we had to duck under trees for shelter at the strong head wind that sent the ice pellets directly in our faces. 

The trail was weaving in and out of snow coverage making it hard to follow. The dark skies and loss of peripherals from hoods are not helping matters. My shoes are soaked through and my feet ache with cold. The exposed parts of trail have become a marshland from melting snow. In short it is wet no matter where I step. 

The wind keeps swirling my poncho open, letting sleet underneath onto my warm layers. I consider taking them off to store them safely away but I am too cold to follow through. I see Jedi and Jinx ahead, their rain coverings whipping frantically around them. I know we were not going to make it 20 miles today. We would be lucky to make 15 miles. As soon I reach them it was clear they were thinking the same thing. Jedi suggested making it another mile to climb down the ridge a little to find a wind block. We were anxious about descending completely to a lake in case there wasn't dry land. 

I was immediately disheartened as we started the descent and saw it completely covered in snow. We fumbled through some post holes and skirted trees trying to climb down as quickly but safely as possible. At the first sight of flat and dry land we unanimously agreed to call it. If we thought the weather was bad before it started in earnest as climbed into our quilts. The trees around us provided an excellent wind block but we couldn't avoid the snow coming down around us. 

This was my lowest point on trail so far. By all indication of snow level reports, there was not supposed to be any left. The storms of the afternoon left my poncho torn and more storms were predicted for tomorrow. Despite knowing all of these discomforts were temporary I was frustrated and fed up. Why can't anything on this trail be easy?!

We woke to at least an inch of snow covering the ground and our tents. The sky now held no sign of such a storm. Blue sky did a lot to cheer us up but all of us were cold. I put on nearly all the clothing I had - leggings with rain pants over top; sun shirt, mid-layer, puffy; gloves. Our shoes and socks were frozen, no where close to dry. 

Quickly into the day I realized that the snow from yesterday was only a tiny smattering compared to what was waiting for us. By 8:30am we were standing on a wide, sprawling ridge face that was a stark sea of white. The terrain was not steep and this removed the fear of sliding down, but it was completely covered in at least 4 feet of soft snow. There was no sign of a trail to follow. 

Relying on the maps in our phones we started to trek through the snow fields. Using topo map versions we can roughly tell where the trail weaves through the ridges. However a trail designed in dry conditions is not always the optimal route in snow ones. We took liberties in surveying the landscape to strategically choose when to depart "trail" for more manageable snow. 

The snow from the night before coated everything around us. The terrain looked untouched. Even the boot marks of previous hikers were not obvious far away. We were therefore surprised when a hiker came up behind us. Buffalo Bill had been ahead of us early in the morning but decided to head back due to the high snow level. On his return he noticed our fresh bootmarks. This is a testament to how confusing the terrain was that he didn't pass us on his way out. Instead after seeing our bootmarks he followed them to come up behind us and ask to accompany us through the section. 

At this point we had been post holing for an hour and only moved 1.5 trail miles. The snow was soft and deep enough that you sunk to your hip with nearly every step. It is the equivalent of doing one legged squats with weight on your back. I found myself out of breath after only 5-10 steps. At one point it was easier to crawl, using my trekking poles to disperse the weight on my hands. There was a slim chance we would make 20 miles today and even slimmer we would make 20 miles tomorrow. At this rate we would run out of food before the next town. 

Our best option was to take a bail out trail 12 miles from our camp the night before. This trail would lead down to lower elevation and let us take forest roads into the next town. With that the 4 of us set out to trudge through 10 more miles. By the time we reached the bail out trail junction it was 2:45pm and hailing once more. My feet were numb, which was preferable to sharp pain of cold. Multiple times snow had collapsed around my leg, trapping my foot and shoe. The feeling is what I imagine having concrete poured around your leg would be. It was too solid to pull my foot out and if I could there was nowhere to gain leverage. When I put my hands down to tug  my leg, my hands would sink feet deep. Cold and tired, my only option was to dig my leg and shoe out. 

A couple miles down the bail out trail the snow started to thin. I took more steps on dry ground rather than in snow banks. However, we had traded one hurdle for another. In dropping so much elevation, we now had to contend with water crossings. At 12,400ft the snow melt was wet marshland, but at 10,800ft it was a roaring river. There were 3 total crossing ranging from knee to hip deep and all in swift currents. Compared to the fresh snow melt above the river water felt warm on my feet. 

We arrived to camp completing 18 miles but feeling the weight of 30 miles. Gloriously the weather had improved from the hail earlier, and though cold, there was no more snow. It took a couple hours in my quilt to warm my feet back to comfortable. This gave me plenty of time to consider the trail options going forward. 

We were now at a crossroads. We could stay on this low elevation route and miss all of the San Juans. There was a second low elevation route that avoided the San Juans as well but didn't cut off quite as many miles. Then there is the high route that we now knew was under more snow than we expected. Not only was I desperate to see the San Juans in all their glory, but taking low routes would get us to the next mountain range, Collegiate’s, before the snow has sufficiently melted there. We just did the largest section of trail not under snow... So where do we go from here?! Waiting around in a town was not in my budget or timeline. 

It was frustrating not knowing the best option. It was supposed to be a low snow year! Why was this happening? I mulled it over and over, as I knew everyone else was doing as well. A phrase I'd heard from a former thru hiker kept returning to me: "In a thru hike you are experiencing sections not in their intended season." Early June is definitely not the season for high elevation hiking in Colorado. Though there had been higher than average late snow fall and a cold May, this was simply how the San Juans ARE at this time of year. Maybe it wasn't a cosmic plot to keep me away, maybe I needed to better align my expectations and preparations. 

We could easily take the low elevation route the remaining 35 miles to Pagosa Springs where we could gear up for the high elevation route going forward. If worse came to worse we could always bail out again, but I was determined to try! 

The following day we had easy miles to a small town for a homemade breakfast and lunch. We were able to thaw and dry our tents. The warm sunshine and dry socks had us optimistic about giving the high route another shot. 

The remainder of low route was a series of forest service roads weaving in and out of the valleys. For once walking on a dirt road was a pleasant change. The scenery was still beautiful as mountains rose up around us and creeks bubbled below us. Looking up at the snow 2,000ft above us made me simultaneously happy to not be trudging through it and determined to make it back up there. The miles flew by and at 8:00am we were standing on the side of the highway to hitch into Pagosa Springs.