Follow me on the CDT: San Juans, Part 2
I came around the corner and my heart dropped. The entire mountain side was coated in white. This was going to take hours. I scanned quickly trying to find anything brown to indicate dry ground but it was only snow and trees. There were faint tracks to show where other hikers had chosen to make the traverse, which does save time in navigation. I eyed the snow shoots, nervous about walking across a miles long traverse.
As always Jedi led the way. He would stomp foot holds in on the icy sections or break in the post holes if the snow was soft. Stepping into and out of 3ft deep boot marks was tiring. It felt like being in a stair stepper rather than hiking, but on the steepest snow shoots I preferred the post holes to walking on top of the snow. I had slipped on a snow shoot a couple years back, nothing bad enough to need to self arrest, but enough to spook me to the danger they can present.
We did not have snow equipment. The snow was too soft for both microspikes and snow shoes. This also meant we could use trekking poles instead of ice axes. A collapsed sturdy trekking pole allows you to stabilize and get good grip in the snow. We did have waterproof socks. Even kicking through snow or stepping into fresh snow melt, my feet stayed warm.
We walked in a line, Jedi, myself, and Buffalo Bill. Jinx has dropped down to a low route because she does not enjoy the heights of the snow shoots. The traverse seemed to stretch on forever. Jedi would kick preliminary holes, I would stomp more snow in them, and Bill made sure none of us fell. I checked my watch and it was nearly 10am. I couldn't believe it, we had gone only 4 miles. Across just 4 miles I was already breathing heavy, ate both my morning snacks, and my legs felt like dead weight.
We were nearly across the traverse when a cold, wet something struck my face. Hail. Colorado is known for its afternoon summer storms. They blow in around 2pm, deluge rain for 30 minutes, and then move on. It was too early for the afternoon storm and yet dark clouds were quickly pushing in above us. To the best of our ability we speed hiked over slick rocks and mud to pines trees a quarter mile away before the worst of the precipitation began.
I pulled out my oversized Walmart brand rain jacket. My poncho had been the worse for wear from the snow earlier in the week. I had ripped a hole in to when I fell ungracefully in a snow bank. Before that I had already vowed to shred to it pieces when a gust of wind blew it up over my pack, wrapping it around my head. For 5 struggling minutes snow pelted my unprotected body as I fought successfully to pull the poncho back down. In that moment I decided I would get something less pliable to the wind.
I'd lost count how many times I had changed my clothes now. It was a seemingly hourly occurrence. With sun out the air temperature was above 60 degrees, perfect for shorts and a sun shirt. Now add freezing snow. I constantly vacillated between wearing another top layer or taking my thermal leggings on or off. Then of course there is the changing for rain.
Decked out in rain gear, we set off again as the clouds parted for sun. All of us were antsy to make some miles and didn't bother to stop to change. It would probably rain again in 20 minutes anyway. Here the trail turned to a south facing ridge and was finally free of snow. We followed on top of the ridge for hours. It was like walking across waves, up to the crest of a ridge then down the other side to immediately start upward. I could have one foot step downhill while the next up was pointed uphill. Despite this we were flying. We didn't stop for many breaks because it seemed as soon as your sat down the clouds would leak out some preserved weather on you. If I was going to be miserable, better to be walking than sitting.
The most fascinating part of the ridge walk was the large snow drift 4-5ft across running across the top of the trail. It was a Chinese Wall of snow. Your eye could follow the ridge for miles, all the dips and climbs, outlined by the snow wall. As I stood next to it, I had my first appreciation for how much snow we had been wading through. It was easily 2ft taller than me!
The Chinese Wall left us as we headed down from the ridge to a small lake/stream and then climbed again to turn sharply around a jagged mountain side and start a traverse. Not just any traverse but the most infamous one of the CDT - Knife Edge. The 12 inch wide trail is cut loosely into a mountain wall that slopes down at a 40 degree angle. Nearly 700 ft below the trail the slope cuts even steeper with a sheer drop to a river below. From the top I couldn't even see how far the drop would be.
A majority of the trail was still under snow. The steep snow shoots did not look inviting. I peered down to investigate a "low route." There was no defined trail so it would involve an equally steep descent over skree to cross the snow shoots much further down. If the trail looked like 90% chance of falling the low route was about 75%. It took us 1.5 hours to cross on the low route, accomplishing only 0.9 miles of trail. I slipped on the skree multiple times. My heart beat jumped, my neck would go cold, and a light-headedness took over for a few seconds with every slide of the foot. Internally I battled between wanting to move quickly to get through as fast as possible but needing to go slow enough to be surefooted. Once across the snow shoots the only path through was to push through willows. While it felt safer than an open expanse, the willows made a poor path. My skin was scratched raw after only 50ft and then each subsequent step was walking through razor blade.
When we reached the lake on the far side of the valley my heart finally started to beat normally. A weight of anxiety was lifted off to know the worst was behind us. I hadn't realized how tense I was until my muscles relaxed. Every muscle had been pulled tight just waiting.
By a miracle we made our mileage goal of 15 miles for the day and camped on dry ground. My body hurt in a way it never had on a thru hike. My legs weren't a normal sore, my quads burned when I squatted down. My biceps and pecs were sore from clutching my trekking pole to support my body weight. Carrying a pack was now the easiest part of the hike!
It was another 2.5 days to the side trail into Silverton to resupply. Each day was long and tiring and brought new challenges. Hail and rain was a common afternoon occurance. There was another long traverse that necessitated dropping down to cross but besides taking time and adding elevation it was tame compared to knife’s edge. By the second to last day, the trail started to follow a more typical mountain hiking pattern of coming up and down passes. While there was still snow it was easier to climb up than across. Coming down became the best part of the snow! Glissading is the term for controlled sliding down a snow bank or shoot. The Tyvek I carry for a tent ground sheet made an excellent sled to keep your skin intact and dry.
Our last night in the high San Juans was a proper send off. We had climbed over an unnamed pass to experience the most epic views I've ever seen on any trail. The moody sky accented the steep, looming peaks and made you feel tiny in the vastness. This view alone made the long days worth it.
The descent was as untamed as the view. The valley spilt and the trail stayed on the north facing slope buried under snow. It was tedious bushwhacking on the south facing slope, but there was at least dry trail. We climbed down talus and willow fields. The descent was immediately followed by a straight up ascent to Hunchback Pass. At this point I was becoming accustomed to the lack of switchbacks. Bent over my trekking poles, my heels wouldn't even touch the ground on the steepest parts.
The top of Hunchback Pass features more sweeping views and a perfectly flat space big enough to comfortably accommodate our two tents. Over the past few days the one weather phenomenon we could count on was storms in the afternoon and clear nights. With that we set up for the night poised at 12,500ft. Naturally this was the night that storms blew in. In the morning we climbed bleary eyed from our tents each of us having held a trekking pole in place for 30 minutes. I am amazed that no guy lines or Dyneema ripped in the high winds.
The sleepless night was quickly forgotten with the promise of TOWN. Only 8 miles to trailhead! Those 8 miles took the entire morning. An icy glissade removed at least half of Jedi's butt cheek and took me a solid 10 minutes to grapple down. Buffalo Bill as always is nimble across the snow. The real slog was flat ridges under 4ft of snow. Nothing technical, but just brute power of walking through snow. Part way through Jedi and I celebrated our 1,000 mile mark with whiskey shooters. The snow was a lot more manageable with a little bit of liquor in your system.
Reaching Silverton was a celebrated victory! We were through the worst of the snow and had the chance to explore an untouched part of the country. If I had to do it over again, I would still choose to take the high route. It was an experience that grew me as a thru hiker.
