The Colorado Trail: Waterton Canyon to Breckenridge
Days 1–6 // mile 0–104.4
Day 1 (8/2/20): 16.6 miles
Waterton Canyon to the South Platte
Ally and I began our journey from the Waterton Canyon trail head just as the sun had started to heat up the surrounding area. It was a mellow walk along a wide bike path for the first 6 miles and I swear, the world’s most beautiful people must live within a 20 mile radius of the Denver area. Gaggles of men and women with perfectly toned and tanned bodies ran past Ally and I, what seemed like every ten minutes. I suddenly felt acutely aware of my hairy legs and bulky backpack, not in an embarrassed sort of way, though, because I was happier doing what I was doing, to be honest. As we neared the end of the bike path, we encountered a lone bighorn sheep. He proudly strutted across the packed gravel with his massive curled horns and then bounded up a cliff face. Not twenty minutes later, we ran into a small herd of bighorns lounging near the trail! A rare sighting, especially for having only been walking for a few hours. We climbed and descended, and then climbed and descended some more; the switchbacks were gradual and seemed to add miles to a hike that could’ve been much shorter. I was used to the AT’s brutal directness—i.e. straight up and down mountains, graded switchbacks a mere afterthought—when I looked down the slope towards the South Platte at the end of the day, I laughed aloud at the cruisy path the trail made. Earlier in the day, we met a fellow hiker named Nick, who told us about how he was building a house out of adobe on his very own piece of property in southern Arizona. I am always so fascinated by how other people live in this world, and I found his way of life to be quite inspiring.
I sat alongside the river that evening after dinner and contemplated all that I was grateful for, while watching a pair of hummingbirds dart about above the water. Their emerald backs shone in the dusky light, little tails tucking and swiveling, wings beating frenetically—their flight was the embodiment of grace and agility. I felt peace wash over me.
Day 2 (8/3/20): 16.7 miles
South Platte to Tramway Creek
Ally and I broke camp at the South Platte River and where on the trail by 7:45AM. The first part of the day was brutally hot and fully exposed to the sun. We walked through a desert for the first half of the day, carrying all the water we would need—about 3L (6.6lbs) each—because we would not be able to fill up again until a spigot at a fire station, 10 miles later. I could tell Ally’s feet were hurting, and I worried about our progress. I told myself that I was lucky to even be out here, who cares how long it takes to finish? But I am an obsessive mile counter, and I wanted to walk and walk and walk and not stop. Which was truly insane, when I really stopped to think about it. So instead, I focused on the plants and their mighty determination to survive in this harsh place; the juniper, ponderosa, and yarrow, the tiny ball shaped cactus clusters that barely poked their heads out of the sandy soil, the purple aster and something yellow and happy that looked a lot like a Black-eyed Susan, the solton, similar to agave, and the sparse stands of fir trees. I imagined what it must be like to live so exposed to the sun’s powerful rays, and suddenly how far we walked in a day didn’t matter. The lesson the Universe was giving me was one of patience and presence, all I had to do was remind myself why I was out there in the first place.
At the fire station, we filled up our water and took a long break. Ally propped her feet up on bench and I sent my family a text. We chatted with a few other hikers and all of a sudden, Ally seemed to rally, she wanted to hike six more miles to the creek, rather than stop sooner. I was thrilled because I knew it would set us up for success as far as reaching Jefferson on the 6th, was concerned. The trail stayed hot and fairly exposed for another 3 miles, and then we began to descend into a forest. We passed over a few intermittent streams and then saw “our” stream, Tramway, and subsequently our home for the night. Thunder had cracked and boomed around us during the last 30 minutes of our hike, and once we’d set up our tents, cooked dinner, and hung the bear bags, it started up again. The storm was right over us! And to be honest, it was kind of thrilling. Here’s to another wonderful day of hiking on the Colorado Trail!
Day 3 (8/4/20): 16 miles
Tramway Creek to North Fork Lost Creek
As of today, Ally and I have walked just shy of 50 miles of the CT. The distance was hard won towards the end, with a long climb from 8,279ft up to 10,483ft over the course of about 7 miles. Both of us experienced extreme dry mouth, burning nasal cavities, and disconcerting heart flutters, but in spite of it all, we made it over the climb and subsequently through the first portion of Lost Creek Wilderness. We are now sitting pretty at a lovely campsite over looking a gorgeous meadow with North Fork Lost Creek running through it. I am so grateful to be out here, to hear the ravens caw and see the chipmunks dash over logs, to interact with nature in the way that one does while walking all day long through it. Life becomes simple and yet, one’s focus is broadened. Nature provides possibilities, uncertainties, and wonderment; it is both my inspiration and my “why”. My feet are surprisingly sore, and my heart, unsurprisingly full. Another glorious day spent wandering through the woods is coming to a close.
Day 4 (8/5/20): 16.4 miles
North Fork Lost Creek to Johnson Gulch
Today Ally decided to leave the trail so that she can spend some much needed time with her family. I was disappointed to hear of her impending departure, of course, but also happy for her; she said that walking so far each day had given her time to think about what was important to her. I’m beyond impressed that we were able to cover 65.5 miles in 4 days, that’s a great distance. Tomorrow we will arrive at Kenosha Pass, and subsequently our Jefferson resupply. A friend will pick her up from the pass that evening; I will hike on.
The first half of our hike was rather monotonous, we climbed a gradual pass for what felt like ages, and then the descent was really rather nondescript, and hot, very hot. It wasn’t until we got across several small streams and through a series of blow-downs that things got more interesting. Suddenly the view opened up, a grassy valley sprawled plushly to our left and rocky outcroppings loomed above us on our right. We passed through small stands of Aspen, their dark eyes watching us as we passed, and we found ourselves privy to a flock of black and white flecked wood peckers, making themselves at home in the bone white branches, among the quaking leaves. Camp tonight is by far our best one so far, and rightfully so since it’s Ally’s last night on the trail. We are perched high on a knoll, overlooking the valley we traveled through, with mountains rearing up behind it. The elevation is having a wearing affect on me, but I suspect my body will adjust, eventually. We are sleeping at 9,500ft tonight.
If you look closely, you can see the mother and baby calf behind my tent.
Day 5 (8/6/20): 23.3 miles
Johnson Gulch to Middle Fork Swan River
Last night was one of the most eventful nights I’ve ever had on trail. First, I fell asleep around 8PM to the deranged bleating of cattle—I say “deranged” because it literally sounded like the animals were being tortured; I’d sat out watching them graze in the valley hours before, though, and knew they were quite content—and slept soundly (somehow) until about 11PM. Then came the lightening and thunder, making me acutely aware of just how exposed my tent was, perched out of reach of the trees and on a hill. I counted the seconds between flashes of light and rumbles; it was moving away. The storm only lasted about 20 minutes and by the time it was over, the cows had migrated up the hill and were munching their cud loudly and stomping their feet right outside my home. Suddenly, I heard Ally say, “Hey, no!” It almost sounded like she was sleep talking, though. I sat up and looked in the direction of her tent. She was standing up, facing the woods. “Hey, no!” She said again. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I think I heard a bear,” She said. I couldn’t fathom that she could hear anything over the sounds of rumination going on in our immediate area.
The night progressed with more baffling cow sounds, thoughts of a bear on the prowl, and prayers for no more lightning storms. I don’t think I slept more than 4 hours total.
The morning dawned sunny and crisp, with a giant, black bull sniffing and snorting inches from our tents, and a mother cow nursing her calf not too far away either. We went through our normal routine, breaking down camp and cooking breakfast. And our 6 mile hike to Kenosha Pass was uneventful and picturesque. We managed to get a hitch to Jefferson almost immediately, and once there, we split a burrito and talked to another hiker for a while. I did my miniature resupply to get me to Breckenridge tomorrow, and called my mom. I was truly bummed that Ally would not be continuing on with me, this was goodbye.
After getting a ride back to the trail, I felt slightly off. I had really enjoyed having company the last 5 days and I was really impressed with how hard Ally had pushed, despite blistered feet and soreness. Once I started really moving, though, the miles flew by; all of a sudden, I was breaking out of tree line on my climb up Georgia Pass.
The view was spectacular, and as I gasped and sputtered my way to the saddle, I took note of the strange pressure I felt in my head, and my inability to fully catch my breath while walking at my usual 3mph pace. When I reached the high point, at 11,874ft, I paused and took a few pictures. Mt. Guyot reared up on my left and the Continental Divide Trail came sweeping in to join me on my right. I was elated! The mountains were massive and I’d never been this high before. The descent was long, but not infinitely so, I reached my desired camp at the Middle Fork Swan River before I thought I would and was welcomed home by a a fellow thru-hiker. When I told him my name, recognition flashed across his face, “You’re B’s friend!” I learned that B was, in fact, Two Step, who I knew from my thru-hike in 2017 and was stoked to know I’d almost caught up with her. Perhaps I’ll see her in Breck tomorrow!
Day 6 (8/7/20): 15.6 miles
Middle Fork Swan River to Highway 9 (Breckenridge)
I woke up to a very chilly morning. Upon crawling out of my sleeping bag, I immediately put on every article of clothing I had—including my detachable hood, which looks like a space helmet—and broke down camp with a pair of ice cold hands. The day was clear and lovely though, and I was on the move by 6:45AM. I passed a sled dog farm early on, their chorus of howling, whining, and barking echoed eerily through out the valley, sounding a bit sinister and haunting. When I caught a glimpse of the compound through the trees, I saw at least 30 huskies waiting to be fed.
My big climb of the day really kicked my butt. I’d been moving at a solid 3.5mph pace, and then I hit close to 11,000ft and my chest started cramping and I couldn’t catch my breath. I paused, drank water, focused on breathing deep and slow, and then pushed on at a crawl, paying careful attention to how my body was responding. At one point I felt anxious, anxious that my lungs would fail me and force me to turn back. But I countered those thoughts with feelings of gratitude for how well they had taken care of me thus far, I finally made it up and over the climb with little other problem. I charged up and over the last two small hills and stopped momentarily to get water from Horseshoe Gulch, realizing then, I’d only drank one liter in the last 11miles. Not good. The day was heating up, my mouth was paper dry and my lips cracked; by the time I got to the bus stop on hwy 9 I felt like a dried out sponge. All I could think about was the burger I so desperately wanted, though, so I chugged my remaining water and waited for the bus.
Two more hikers showed up and we chatted about what lay ahead. I was feeling good about it, but somehow talking to other people about the distance, elevation, and potential challenge, only served to create within me, doubt. I decided not to feel into the feeling, and stay positive.
Once in town, I checked into my hostel, showered, handed off my laundry to the woman in charge (a blessed relief) and then went into town to get my burger. It had everything on it. Maybe one day I’ll write a post describing my fantasy burger in great detail, but I’ll spare you for today.
I called and talked to my mom and my grandmom, and then hit the grocery for a resupply, where I ran into Two Step! Woohoo! We created a major traffic jam in the snack isle while we played catch-up. Finally parting ways with well wishes for each of our hikes and deciding we’d probably see each other again in Twin Lakes.
I am feeling worn out, and happy. I believe tomorrow will be a good day of walking, but for now, I’m going to remain horizontal for at least 12hr.
Thank you for reading!
I’ll catch up with you again in about another 100 miles!
