Day 10: It's a bear! It's a beaver! It's a....

September 3: I woke up and hit the trail a little after 7:00. James was still packing up when I left, but he seemed in no hurry to leave wanting to stay warm in his tent. He did tell me that he didn't like cold, and I wondered how he'd fair later down the trail on the days when it got below freezing or it snowed. I still wonder....

Hiking by the Copper Mountain ski resort

I expected to find Gabe down by the Copper Mountain trailhead camped out and still recovering from his late-night hike, but I didn't see anyone camped near there. Did he get off the trail? Or was he just well-hidden behind a tree or brush? Get lost and camped in the woods where he slowly died of malnutrition and lack of water? I don't know! I never saw him again.... But I liked to think that he walked into Copper Mountain, got a hotel room, and took a day off to rest and recover. =)

The trail ran through the ski area by Copper Mountain, at the very edge of civilization before steadily climbing 2,500 feet up a moderately-steep grade to Searle and Kokomo Passes. Most of the day the trail led through trees which provided few views, but near the pass I finally got above tree line and enjoyed the expansive views--even if they were marred with quarries and other mining activities. Not exactly natural, but it was fascinating to see.

Between Searle and Kokomo Passes, I caught up with a bicyclist who was excited about something.

Definitely some mining activities in this area!

"Do you have binoculars or anything?" he asked.

"Not binoculars, but I have a camera with a zoom lens I can use for that purpose. Why?"

"I think there's a bear!"

My ears perked up this. I really wanted to get a photo of a bear! And I had a fancy camera to do it!

"Where?!" I asked, looking out down the canyon below, not seeing anything that looked even remotely like a bear.

Do you see a bear? Yeah, neither did I!

He pointed out, and I still didn't see it. He pointed again, and still I didn't see it. He pointed some more towards a bush maybe 30 feet away when I finally saw.... I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a bear. It was the size of a bear cub, but not a full grown bear. I hadn't seen it before because I thought it was far out in the distance--not 30 feet away! I was looking in the wrong place.

He seemed to realize that it wasn't a bear, though, and thought maybe it was a large beaver.

That didn't seem likely to me. A beaver? Here? There wasn't even a creek nearby. I hadn't been able to get a good look at the animal, though, because just as I finally realized where it was, it ducked into the brush and I lost sight of it again. I saw it for maybe half a second--not even long enough to get a photo. It could have been a beaver--it seemed like the right size and shape for that--but the environment didn't seem very beaver-like which is why I was skeptical.

I hung out at the location for about five minutes, hoping whatever the animal was might poke his head out again and I'd be ready to get a photo of it--whatever it was. The bicyclist continued on.

After five minutes, I gave up and continued on myself, and a few minutes later, I saw a definite marmot run by some rocks and duck into a hole. A marmot. Yes! That's what we had seen! It wasn't a bear! It wasn't a beaver. It was a marmot! That makes a lot more sense than a beaver.

But I still hadn't been fast enough to get a photo of it. Curse their shyness! I wish I had seen that first marmot sooner, though. He had stood out in the open for quite awhile while I was looking in the wrong place for him.

Further up the trail, at a nice viewpoint, the bicyclist had stopped for a break and I told him that he had seen a marmot. He seemed incredulous of the idea. "That was a big f**king marmot." Admittedly, I didn't get a really good look at it, but I didn't think it was an R.O.U.S. Maybe a little chubby, but otherwise it seemed normal to me. But I'm sure it was a marmot.

I didn't see anymore marmots, but a chipmunk started running around where we had taken a break and I started chasing around the chipmunk trying to get some photos. They was hard, though! Even with my zoom lens, the chipmunk was very small, very fast, rarely stayed still, and wouldn't let me get anywhere near it. At my closest approach, I was maybe 30 feet away. But I at least did get a few photos of that critter.

I had a tough time getting a photo of this chipmunk! But... I got the photo! =D

The mountain biker continued on, never to be seen again. He was heading downhill now and I had no hope of keeping up that fast of a pace!

The trail then steadily dropped about 3,000 feet towards Camp Hale--an old WWII training camp for mountain warfare training in snow and cold-weather survival and a prisoner of war camp for "about 400 of the most incorrigible members of Field Marshal Erwin Rommel's Afrika Corps."

During the 1960s, the CIA secretly trained Tibetan guerrillas because of the similarities of the terrain with the Himalayan Plateau. In 1965, the camp was dismantled and the land given to the US Forest Service.

So the camp is no longer there, although ruins of it can still be explored. Also, there are signs up everywhere warning of unexploded ordinance and to stay on the trail and don't touch anything if you don't know what it is.

I didn't see anything that might resemble unexploded ordinance, but I did see a snake which I was none-too-keen about touching. (I did, however, whip out my camera and zoom lens to get some photos of it!)

A snake sunning itself on the trail.

And a little further down the trail, just before the trail re-enters the woods and climbs out of the valley, I set up camp for the night. Right behind a sign warning about unexploded ordnance. =) I figured it would be safe to camp there, however, because clearly it had been used as a campsite by many people before me. If there were any explosives in that location, the previous campers should have long since found it. There was even a fire pit located there so I figured the immediately area had even been scouted for firewood over the years.

But still, technically speaking, I think that counts as camping in a minefield--a new first for me! =)

With my zoom lens, I could really zoom into the snake! Also, it made me wonder how often animals find unexploded ordnance then accidentally blow themselves up?

The trail passes a disc golf course by Copper Mountain--so a new hazard to watch out for: flying discs!

Copper Mountain ski area

There's even snow here for some sort of event!

It lies! There are no "easy roads" on the Colorado Trail!

Searle Pass

More signs of mining activity! I think this might have been a settling pond or something.

Oh, if only I could find explosives! How much fun I could have! =)

Cataract Falls

About 15,000 people were stationed here during WWII for mountain warfare training.

Don't let the blockade fool you. That's just to keep out vehicles--not hikers! I'd set up camp just before the trail dives into those trees ahead.

Camp Hale ruins

I set up camp behind this sign. =) See my pack? I haven't set up camp yet, but that's where I'd spend the night.

Day 9: The Great Rubber Duck Race!

September 1: I woke up at my usual time, in no particular rush since the post office didn't open until 10:00 on Saturdays. I ate a wonderful breakfast at the hostel, took a last, hot shower and packed up. My next stop would be Salida, eight or nine days away. Just as I did a last check around the bunk bed, I found my missing Polish flag. Yes! I had searched the side of the bed twice before without seeing the flag and I still don't know where it came from, but I was glad to have found it. It would be hard to find a replacement for a Polish flag around these parts. It also occurred to me that it was a pretty simple flag. I could maybe sew one myself if needed. But for now, it wasn't needed!

Rubber ducks everywhere!!!!

I left the hostel, arriving at the post office when it opened and mailed my laptop and a few other miscellaneous items ahead to Salida. Walking through Breckenridge to the bus stop was a little crazy, though, because I had forgotten that today was the Great Rubber Duck Race! Rubber ducks were everywhere! Giant rubber ducks, booths selling rubber ducks, people walking around dressed like rubber ducks.... rubber ducks everywhere! It was amusing to watch and it tempted me to hang around town to watch an actual rubber duck race, but I had miles to get done and had no idea when the race(s) would start. Nope, I soaked in the festivities for a bit, but continued on to the bus stop.

There, I met another thru-hiker: James, from New Orleans. I had actually met him briefly on my second day on the trail and talked for a minute or two. He had taken a few zero days on the trail, sick from altitude sickness, and I didn't expect to see him again. My second, unplanned zero day in Breckenridge gave him a chance to catch up, though.

Back at the trail, we started hiking into the mountains again.

The trail climbed almost constantly and steadily about 3,000 feet up to the highest pass so far on the trail, peaking at about 12,500 feet above sea level. The trail started moderately steep, then led into a small area that had burned in a wildfire a month or two earlier. The burn scars were still fresh, but the trail was now open to hikers.

The trail seemed to grow increasingly steep the higher and higher it ascended, an exhausting climb even without being loaded down with a 50-pound pack. My pace slowed to a crawl. Step. Step. Step.

I reached a clearing where I caught up with another hiker--Gabe, who I had met at the hostel and had left the hostel two days earlier. I was stunned to see him so soon. I did in an afternoon what took him two days to complete?!

He explained that the day he left, it poured buckets of rain, then he took a zero day on the trail yesterday to dry out. I remembered the heavy rain that fell in Breckenridge on my first zero day and remembered thinking how glad I was to be indoors and completely indifferent to it. Obviously, Gabe had been struggling during that time.

He also said that he was nearly at out of water because the climb up had been so much more strenuous than he expected. The problem with him being almost out of water, however, was that the next water on the trail was many miles away on the other side of the pass. I was a little concerned about the safety of Gabe. He was heavily overweight as it was and seemed to be struggling on the trail, unable to handle the rain and running out of water. He told me earlier than he hiked the PCT so I thought he knew what he was doing, but I was having second thoughts about that assessment. I tried to remember the exact words he told me. Did he actually say he thru-hiked the PCT, or just hiked it? He said he hiked it like he was a thru-hiker who had completed it, but maybe he just said he "hiked" it. Which could mean anything from a one-mile jaunt to a thru-hike?

I had picked up a lot of water knowing the severe lack of water for the next several miles, probably more than I really needed. I always liked erring on the side of caution and having too much water. Better to have too much water than not enough! So I offered Gabe about a liter of my water which he happily accepted. I'd be fine. Perhaps I wouldn't be guzzling down buckets of water like I otherwise might have done, but I wasn't going to go thirsty either. And I just dumped a couple of pounds of water that I no longer had to carry.

While chatting with Gabe, pikas jumped around in the rocks everywhere and I pulled out my camera, installed the zoom lens, then spent about 10 minutes stalking pikas trying to get that perfect photo of one. I got quite a few very nice photos of them, pleased again that I had that camera with me even though it was annoyingly heavy and bulky.

James caught up and took a short rest while I was chasing pikas and introduced him to Gabe. Gabe had left the hostel before James arrived so they had never met before.

We continued on our way, and I took the lead because I knew I hiked faster than both of them. Before long, I could look back and see James taking a substantial lead behind Gabe. I hoped Gabe would be okay, but I was a little worried that he barely had a liter of water. He drank the one liter he carried in less than a mile from the last water source, and now he had the one liter I gave him--but he had four or five miles to go until the next water source.

The trail continued climbing, eventually peaking at about 12,500 feet overlooking the city of Breckenridge. I wondered how the Great Rubber Duck Race was going. I took a snack and rest break at the top with its commanding views, and James caught up again maybe 20 minutes later. Gabe was still nowhere in sight, and we both hoped he was doing okay.

James paused to take a break and make a phone call, and I continued back down the other side of the ridge towards the Copper Mountain ski resort. I could see the ski resort far below, with Interstate 70 snaking by. It looked like a heck of a long way down, though, and it was.

Heading downhill, my speed picked up dramatically and I often had to slow down and make sure I didn't slip or hurt myself on the steep descent. Near dusk, I stopped at a campsite near a creek. I passed several small creeks the last mile or so before then. A couple with two loud, aggressive dogs camped nearby, and I found a place to camp safely away from them. When James passed by about 20 minutes later, I told him that he was more than welcome to join me in camp. It had been a long day and I knew he was tired. I also suspected that he also had no interest camping next to the aggressive dogs.

He had planned to hike further but took me up on the offer due to being so tired and spent some time guessing where Gabe was. Did he make it over the pass? We both suspected he'd probably stop at the very first water source he reached. There was a campsite near it--a nice campsite too! At the very least, he had to reach water since I had left him with just one liter and he'd probably finish that before reaching the pass and would be desperate for water.

I was a little concerned about Gabe, but not super worried. I knew he had a cell phone and if he really got himself into trouble, at least he could call for help. This section of trail had almost universal cell phone coverage since we were so close to Breckenridge on one side of the ridge and Copper Mountain on the other.

Then we chatted about other things. James complained about how cold it was in the morning. He was from New Orleans, after all, and wasn't used to the cold weather. I found this amusing. "You know it's going to get a lot colder before you reach the end of the trail, right?" It was early September now, and they say thru-hikers should try to finish the trail before the end of September if you want to avoid severe winter weather. You might still get a dumping of snow even in September, but it'll be getting colder--snow or no snow.

Long after sunset, our conversation started petering out and we were settling in for the night when a hiker with a headlamp passed by on the trail. I said, "Hi!" and we were a little surprised to discover it was Gabe. He had made it! Long after sunset, and he was cursing about how much he hated night hiking.

I wanted to ask, "Then why are you doing it?" but I bit my tongue. He passed several campsites before this one, though, and could have stopped at any of them. He didn't have to be hiking right now.

He also complained that he ran out of water several miles back. The last mile or two the trail passed several small streams, though--there's no reason he shouldn't have plenty of water at this point.

I invited Gabe down to camp with us. It would be a little crowded, but Gabe looked exhausted and didn't seem like he was thinking clearly--hiking in the dark without any water despite having plenty of places to camp and passing by several streams.

But Gabe turned us down, for some inconceivable reason wanting to push on. We wished him luck and were left dumbfounded. Gabe seemed to really be hurting badly and struggling. That in itself didn't surprise us, but why wouldn't he stop? Why wouldn't he pick up water if he was so thirsty and out of water? Why did he continue hiking in the dark if he didn't like night hiking? We had answers to none of these questions, but I had a feeling that Gabe might take a zero day tomorrow to give himself a rest.

And shortly after that, James and I headed off to sleep for the night.

Looking back towards Frisco and Dillon Reservoir.

This fire closed the trail for a short while a month or two earlier. The trail had since re-opened, but they didn't want people wandering off trail where a dead tree might fall on them.

It's a pika!!! We watched maybe a dozen of them frolicking in the rocks!

This one was getting curious about my trekking pole. He sniffed at it, knocking it off the rock which scared him off.

Adorable little creatures! And I just love the zoom lens that let me get these photos! =)

We can DIE?! Please, say it isn't so!

Copper Mountain ski resort is located on the other side of the ridge, with Interstate 70 snaking its way into the distance. The trail would go through the woods just to the left of the resort, near the bottom of Copper Mountain.

Day 7-8: The Breckenridge Zeros

Aug 31-Sept 1: The hostel provided a fabulous breakfast with bacon, eggs, and I don't even remember what all. It was a better breakfast than any hotel I'd ever stayed at! And it was included with the room price. This might very well be the best hostel ever!

Then I headed into Breckenridge for the day. Breckenridge was an exciting town for me to explore. Most trail towns are small places that I never heard of before I did whatever trail I was hiking, but I'd actually heard of Breckenridge before. Mostly in regards to the winter skiing there, which obviously wasn't happening on this last day of August, but it's always cool to finally see a place you've heard about for years.

I found a thrift store in town which I explored looking for a new set of pants. Nothing I found fit particularly well, but I was desperate for anything to cover me properly and wound up buying pants that were much too large for me--I figured that's what belts were for. And I definitely would need a belt with these pants. They were so loose, they'd fall off completely without a belt to hold them up. In all, it set me back $10. I also found a shirt  to wear while I was doing laundry. I could ship that with my laptop from town to town since the only time I would want to wear it was while doing laundry.

I also decided that I really needed a new raincoat given the regularity of the afternoon thunderstorms. I was still using the same one I bought while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. In 2003. It was thin, worn, and falling apart. It didn't really keep rain off anymore. So I would up purchasing a shiny new raincoat at an outlet store in town. I also decided that I needed to replace my umbrella which had seen better days. Seemed like I my gear needed a lot of upgrades! But that would be sufficient. For now, at least. =)

Then I headed to the gondola for a ride, which was free (!!!) and--even more important--fun. =) I rode it to the end of the line and stepped out for a quick look around. There were all sorts of activities around like a maze one could run through or a small putt-putt course. And ski lifts that would take you ever higher up the mountain (but those would cost money).

I hadn't been walking around for a minute before I heard someone trying to get my attention. "Why do you have a Polish flag on your pack?!"

Yes! A free gondola ride! I'll take it! =)

I hooked a Polish-speaking person! The flag worked! =) I started referring to the flag as a "lure." Or bait. I was fishing for Polish-speaking people, and I hooked one! Most Americans aren't going to recognize or care about a Polish flag, but it's unusual enough that it would certainly get the attention of anyone actually from Poland--and it worked!

"Dzień dobry!" I replied--good morning!--suddenly trying to think in Polish. I hadn't been thinking about Polish at all--my thoughts had been in English and the sudden change was a little disorienting and I had trouble thinking of what I wanted to say in Polish. "Uczę się po polsku." I'm learning Polish.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, confused.

"It's an interesting language," I replied.

The woman was from Łódź, the third-largest city in Poland. I tried speaking Polish for maybe two minutes at most before we fell into English at which point I learned that she was in the United States for the summer working (she was wearing a uniform that the employees there were wearing) but would have to return to Poland at the end of the season which I assumed would be relatively soon considering it was the last day of August. I asked her about Łódź--was it an interesting city? Would it be a good place to hang out for several weeks learning Polish? She didn't seem to have a high opinion of the city, though. I wouldn't say that she bad-mouthed the city, but she didn't seem very excited or complimentary about it either.

I wanted to practice speaking Polish a bit more, but she did have work to do. I thought about asking if she'd like to meet up for lunch or dinner--whenever she got off work--where I might be able to practice Polish some more, but the woman was quite young and drop-dead gorgeous and I didn't really want to make her think I was trying to hit on her or anything and decided just to let it go.

I've never seen heated sidewalks before! I might have to
come back here sometime in the winter and check them out. =)

Mostly, I was happy to see that my flag worked in drawing out a Polish-speaking person. It seemed liked a sound theory, but now I had actual proof that it worked! And if I could find one Polish-speaking person, I could find others! Not that I expected to find a lot of them, but I knew they were out there!

Late in the afternoon, I eventually headed back to the hostel where I spent much of the evening chatting with the other guests. When I checked the weather forecast for the next day, though, it called for a light steady rain all day from sunrise to sunset--which sounded pretty awful to me and I decided that I'd rather take another zero day and wait it out. Maybe switch it out for a sunny day at the end of the trail. That would be nice. =)

I asked if there was space for me the next night, which there was, and I booked the hostel for another night.

With the extra day in town, I decided that I'd take the free bus to Frisco and explore that area. I mostly emptied out my pack because there was a Walmart in Frisco and I figured I'd resupply there and I'd have to bring my haul back. But before leaving, I couldn't find my Polish flag. Sadly, I left for Frisco without it. I could walk right past a Polish-speaking person and not even know it. I looked everywhere for that flag and feared that it might have fallen out of my pack the day before without my realizing it.

The bus ride to Frisco was uneventful, and I walked around town a bit. It's a cute town, but I didn't really linger very long before heading to Walmart where I resupplied. The customer in front of me spoke Spanish with the clerk, so when I went up, I decided to speak Spanish too saying--in Spanish--I know you speak Spanish! I heard you speak Spanish! I want to speak Spanish!

I wouldn't trust any of these characters!

Actually, I wanted to speak Polish, but I doubted that would get me anywhere. But hey, I'd have fun speaking Spanish too, although I think I confused the woman when I forgot I was speaking Spanish and started saying "Tak!" (or yes in Polish). "Err... I mean sí!" I don't know how people can speak multiple foreign languages. I seem to get Polish and Spanish mixed up all the time.

But eventually I finished and took the bus back to Breckenridge. I was a little annoyed with the weather. I expected light rain all day never materialized. In fact, it didn't rain at all! And it really irritated me because I felt like I wasted a beautiful day for hiking, but it was too late to do anything about it then. I enjoyed my second day off, but I'd have enjoyed it more if it was pouring buckets of rain and I could watch it from under the protective cover of a roof or hot tub. (Oh, did I forget the mention? The hostel also had a hot tub. Best hostel ever!)

That's the Walmart in Frisco across the street.