Day 11: Labor Day Festivities

September 4: Happy Labor Day! For today, it was Labor Day! My plan was simple: A short, little hike covering about 20 miles. My topo map suggested that the terrain wouldn't be too hard. A little bit of up, a little bit of down, but nothing particularly steep or prolonged.

And the day certainly started off that way. I made good time coming out from Camp Hale, walking along mostly flat terrain. Almost immediately out of Camp Hale the trail followed parallel to Highway 24, busy with traffic, and I was glad I stopped when I did. I hadn't heard any traffic from my location, but it would have bothered me along this stretch.

The trail eventually crossed the highway, running alongside a scenic meadow, then along a trail so utterly flat and wide that I was certain it had to be a rail-to-trail. I knocked out the first ten miles--half the trail!--a little after 11:00 in the morning. I was burning up the trail!

The trail then headed into the Holy Cross Wilderness, which I was happy to reach because it meant the annoying parade of bicyclists had come to an end. The first few miles of the morning they weren't a bother--it was too early for the bicyclists to have hit the trail yet, but the previous day it seemed like they'd pass by me every five minutes which grew increasingly annoying. But since bikes are banned in wilderness areas, they had to take a large detour on roads going through Leadville. (Leadville is also a popular resupply point for hikers, but I intended to skip it.) Without the bikes, I could count on one hand the number of people I saw all day. Which was surprising to me given the fact that it was Labor Day. A lot of people go out and hike or backpack Labor Day weekend, but Holy Cross Wilderness did not appear to be one of those places!

Not that I had a problem with bicyclists. They were generally all very polite and friendly, but the sheer numbers of them--seemed like I passed at least a hundred of them the day before--wore on me.

But I petered and found myself tired and dragging the second half the day. It wasn't as flat as the first half, but still it was nothing steep or strenuous. The very end of the day included a steady 2,000 foot drop--which wasn't particularly steep but I walked down like it was uphill. I just lost my motivation.

I made it to the Timberline Lake trailhead, which had prominent "no camping" signs in the parking lot, so I pushed on. Not that I really wanted to camp in a parking lot anyhow, but I was definitely done and on the prowl for a campsite. I walked maybe five minutes further down the trail and found a nice site not far from a creek. I didn't know if that close to the parking lot counted as part of the "no camping" area, but it was late in the afternoon, getting dark, and I doubted anyone would ever be none-the-wiser.

So I called it a day, counted up my miles and discovered I had completed a solid 20.0 miles for the day. My first 20-mile day of the trail. Maybe that's why I was so tired....

I found this bench along the trail and couldn't help but rest and give it a try!

That's an odd warning....

Good thing they warned me about this bridge. I might have missed it and walked right into the ditch otherwise! (Not....)

This bridge didn't come with a warning, and I accidentally walked into the creek. *rolling eyes* (Totally kidding!)

Boundary of the Holy Cross Wilderness. The box near the right has permits for people to fill out.

It looks like it's been a long while since this permit box was maintained, though! I couldn't find any unused permits, so I never actually filled out a permit for this wilderness area. Probably an illegal act on my part, but I'm a bad-ass and didn't really care. =)

A campsite visitor!

Another campsite visitor!

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.