CDT: From Golden Aspens to the Fury of a Snowstorm – Leadville to Salida

The few days between Leadville and Buena Vista have been a whirlwind of challenges and surprises. As we battle icy winds and face tough decisions on the exposed ridges, unexpected kindness from strangers transforms our struggle into a story of gratitude. Here’s how it all unfolded.

CDT Day 90 — Forest Wanderings

We get tortas from the Mexican Food truck at the end of town and then hitch out. Before long, Justin pulls over to give us a lift. He’s a fellow wanderer, hailing from Ohio, fresh from a summer gig in the Tetons, and now traveling around, picking up hikers on the go.

Wandering the streets of Leadville

The trail is not very exciting today, as we only go in ups and downs through the forest. We climb towards a saddle that offers little in the way of views. Audiobooks keep us entertained as the miles slip by. My mind starts wandering to Mount Elbert, the tallest mountain in the Rockies and the second-highest in the lower 48. Should I? Could I? Honestly, I’m tired, and so is Ryan. Neither of us feels like conquering anything today. I didn’t sleep much last night, no idea why, though. I only had a bit of Coca-Cola, I swear!

The “view” from the saddle

As evening falls, we find a serene campsite by a bubbling river. Dinner is a satisfying bibimbap, and the sound of the water promises better rest tonight. 

CDT Day 91 — Golden Aspens

Most of today feels like a quiet march through the forest. The trail winds endlessly under a canopy of green, offering little in the way of views, but at least water is plentiful. After some back-and-forth, we decide to skip Mount Elbert this time and save it for another adventure. It’s hard to pass up the highest peak in the Rockies, but pushing forward feels like the right choice. The San Juans are calling!

Golden Aspens

The day takes a turn for the spectacular as we approach Twin Lakes. Yellow aspens line the trail, their leaves fluttering like tiny golden coins in the breeze. The sun filters through, making the forest glow as if lit from within. The soft rustle of the leaves feels like nature’s applause for our journey. I can’t help but wonder why aspens only turn yellow and not red like some other trees. I looked it up, so you don’t have to: Aspens have a special yellow pigment called carotenoids hiding under the green (chlorophyll). They simply don’t make the red pigment (anthocyanins) which requires energy and Aspens might not gain enough benefits from it to make it worthwhile. Red pigments provide protection against sun damage and help trees recover nutrients, but Aspens are already well-adapted to sunny, high-altitude environments, relying on other strategies, like their interconnected root systems, for survival. 

Golden Aspens line our path today

Twin Lakes itself is the definition of a one-horse town: a small General Store and, at this time of year, a single open restaurant. The General Store caters well to hikers — ramen, instant potatoes, freeze-dried meals, bars, and even a 10% discount with free coffee for thru-hikers. 

Twin Lakes, Colorado

We gather what we need to get to Salida, and then head over to the lodge to have dinner. We dig into dinner: a passable burger, a BBQ chicken sandwich (which raises the existential question — why does a burger become a sandwich when you put chicken on it?), and a rich brownie for dessert. And my new love — a Shirley Temple — to drink. With all these calories, I feel ready to tackle Hope Pass tomorrow, where a big climb awaits us. 

As we eat, we meet Huckleberry, a weed farmer from British Columbia with a wild story. He tells us about working for a Polish gang in Canada that rented an entire apartment building to grow weed illegally. Now, he’s gone legit, growing cannabis in Colorado, and proudly shares photos of his plants glowing in the sunset. Apparently, hikers aren’t the only ones who go by pseudonyms.

Cozy Twin Lakes Lodge

After dinner, we head out of town along the highway and take a dirt road alternate to reconnect with the CDT. The only catch is a cold river crossing! It’s the first in ages, thanks to the Colorado Trail’s abundance of bridges. To avoid soggy shoes before camp, we take them off and wade across. The icy water bites at our legs, but it’s shallow and easy.

Just past the crossing, we find a grassy clearing for camp. The sun sinks behind the mountains, leaving a red glow in the clouds. As darkness settles, coyotes start to howl all around us, their calls echoing across the valley. 

Camp for tonight

CDT Day 92 — Fall Colors on the Collegiate West

The day begins with the climb up Hope Pass — over 3,000 feet of ascent that turns out to be gentler than expected. My legs feel strong, and maybe yesterday’s calorie feast worked its magic because my energy is finally back. Still, my hiker hunger is in overdrive, and I snack nonstop all morning. On the way up, we run into Semper Dry, who’s battling a cold and looking worn out. He’s slower today, so we cross paths several times — a rare occurrence, given his usual long-legged pace. We first met him coming down Grays Peak, where he already looked drained, but like all of us, he’s racing against the looming winter. There’s no time to rest.

Hope Pass

Hope Pass is breathtaking. From the top, we gaze into a valley alive with autumn colors, rugged peaks framing the scene like a postcard. The descent is steep but short-lived, giving way to a gentler trail that winds through golden aspens glowing in the sunlight. During our lunch break, Noodle strolls by — a familiar face from our 2022 PCT hike. He’s doing the Collegiate Loop, and the surprise reunion makes the world feel small and wonderfully connected.

Fall Foliage on the Collegiate West

The next challenge of the day is Lake Ann Pass. The climb is steep in places, but we’re slowly making our way up. We keep having more big elevation days. Colorado is definitely hard work. We pass the serene Lake Ann, already tucked in the shade, and traverse rocky fields to the pass. At the top, we find Semper Dry again, and together we soak in the golden glow of the setting sun spilling over the mountains.

Descending Lake Ann Pass

The trail hugs the mountainside as we descend. It’s a newer section of the CDT, and FarOut has no icons here, leaving us guessing about water and campsites, as I don’t understand the location comments about water and campsites. With the sun sinking lower, we pick a random flat spot to pitch our tent, surrounded by solitude.

An upcoming storm is brewing over our heads, expected to roll in tomorrow afternoon and linger through the night, bringing snow. If it gets bad, there’s a bailout option to Buena Vista, but for now, we cross our fingers that the worst will hit while we’re sleeping. Colorado keeps us on our toes.

CDT Day 93 — Battling the Snowstorm

The morning is fooling us with blue skies

The day starts with blue skies, giving us false hope. Maybe it’s not going to be that bad. But Colorado has other plans. We hike downhill, then start climbing toward Cottonwood Pass. I manage to soak one foot slipping off a rock at a river crossing, and the hiker hunger is relentless. With snacks running low, we declare a two-lunch day, starting early. As we finish the first one, the clouds roll in, shrouding the sun that had been throwing our shadows just moments before.

The clouds roll in and bring the first snow

When we get in the open area, the cloud cover gets more solid, wind starts howling, and we have a bit of hard, dry snow. The views are pretty, though. It still looks reasonably fine when we reach the parking lot of Cottonwood Pass. So, we keep on hiking up to the ridge. But it escalates fast. The weather unravels quickly to a full-on assault — snow blasting our faces, the wind howling louder with each step. By the time we reach the ridge, I’m stumbling sideways just to escape the icy gusts. My mind fixates on the tiny rock shelter at the top, notorious for being a day-hiker toilet, but at this point, I’d take anything to block the wind.

The weather still looks reasonably fine before the snowstorm hits just minutes later

I crawl into the saving ring of rocks that gives a bit of relief from the storm. We’re contemplating what to do. A look at the map reveals the grim reality: the trail follows this exposed ridge for at least seven miles, with no protection apart from scattered fir trees. It’s clear we can’t continue, this ridge is not for today. And then? Bail out to Buena Vista? Or attempting a lower route? We retreat down the mountain, running, while snow swirling furiously around us. I feel like Elsa from Frozen, except the cold definitely does bother me.

Start of the Snowstorm

By the time we reach the parking lot, we already decided to get a hitch into Buena Vista. No way we’re staying out here. The scene here is surreal. A group of tourists in flip-flops and shorts screams and giggles while posing for photos by the “Cottonwood Pass” sign, oblivious to the raging storm. It’s way more fun if you can retreat to a heated car. We shiver on the roadside, thumbs out, freezing our butts off, hoping for a ride. Luck strikes when two kind women offer us a lift, they just returned from a small hike up that very same mountain we just came from. Their warm car feels like a miracle as we thaw out, chatting about wildlife on the way to Buena Vista. They’re both wildlife enthusiasts, and it’s a pleasure to talk to them about elk and moose around here. On our way down, the snow turns into rain. Getting into the warm car suddenly makes me realize how cold I really am. It takes a while until my hands thaw out, but I can’t stop shivering. 

Once in town, the cold still lingers in my bones, and the storm has driven everyone into the restaurants. We squeeze into one just before it closes. The food is mediocre, but the tea is hot and warms me up from the inside. A quick search about accommodation in town shows only one availability left for almost $300. There is a campground out of town that has a bunkhouse for hikers, but even that is booked out, the tent sites are too. It’s Saturday, the storm is raging, and the town is packed.

We head over to the laundromat to take a hot shower there. It’s nice and warm in here, there are outlets, all we need. Then we go to the grocery store nearby to stock up on snacks and discounted pastries. We still don’t know where to stay and meanwhile it’s raining heavily, so we go to the Chinese restaurant next door and have some more food. Rain pours relentlessly as we debate our options. Wally from the grocery store told us we could camp by the river. But it’s still raining cats and dogs, so we run back to the laundromat to wait until the rain gives us some time to walk over to the river and set up camp. 

I post a story on Instagram on how we got out of the snowstorm. Giggles, a fellow German thru-hiker, reaches out to me, that she knows people in town and tries to arrange something for us. Meanwhile, the owner of the laundromat shows up and offers us a ride down to the river to camp. We gladly take it. His truck is covered in a bunch of snow, giving us an idea of what it looks like further up the mountain. We’re glad we’re down here. Everything is better than the snowstorm.

While we’re about to set up camp around some big puddles and high school kids getting drunk, a chain of kindness unfurls. Giggles reached out to her friend Jessi, who was unable to host us tonight, but Jessi contacted her friend Leslie, who might be able to help us out. Mind you, it’s already after 8pm by this point. We call Leslie who offers us to stay in her Airstream, she’s heating it up for us right now. Jessi is picking us up, she was already out looking for us at the laundromat. She drives us to the coziest haven imaginable. 

By the time we sink into the Airstream’s soft, warm bed, we’re overwhelmed with gratitude. Leslie even invites us to breakfast tomorrow morning. This day tested us, but it ended with unexpected generosity and a reminder of how amazing people can be. What started as a fight against the storm ends in pure comfort, like a fairy tale twist — minus the singing snowman.

From Snowstorms to an Airstream haven, thanks to the chain of kindness

Reunions in Salida

We made the call to skip ahead to Salida, a move that would save us time and get us through the San Juans without detouring through the Creede Cutoff. Sure, we’re missing out on 40 miles of trail, but sometimes you’ve got to roll with it. We hitch a ride to Salida in the morning and spend another night there.

The town is a gem — quaint, full of quirky character, and, as we discover, home to a standing wave in the river where you can surf! It’s a wild contrast to the mountain weather we left behind. Down here, the sun breaks through around noon, and the warmth is a welcome change. The mountains, though, remain stubbornly cloaked in clouds.

Then, I finally meet Giggles in person. We’d known each other from Instagram — both PCT 2022 hikers — but today, we get to share a hug and a real conversation. She passed us on the Big Sky Route while we were on our way on the longer red line. She helped us out yesterday by hooking us up with some incredible Trail Angels in Buena Vista. It’s surreal how small the hiking world feels when you run into friends like this.

Moxie, a friend from our PCT days, rolls into town to visit. It’s been two years since we last saw him, and it’s like no time has passed. He’s been busy — setting the FKT on the IAT and hiking parts of the AT — but today, he’s all ours. With a car at his disposal, we spend the morning catching up and getting a little more help with our gear. As if that wasn’t enough, we run into Randi, a familiar face we met on the trail before. He’s just come off a brutal attempt at the Nolans 14 — hiking 14 of the 14,000-foot peaks of Colorado in a row. He got five done before the weather forced him to bail. Trail magic is real, and it’s been in full force recently.

We head to the post office, hoping for a package of shoes that Ryan so desperately needs. His current pair is falling apart — soles flopping, profile pretty much gone, holes everywhere. When the package doesn’t show up, we’re faced with a decision: stay here and wait, or find another solution. With the sun shining and the weather perfect, we opt to get moving. After some quick town-hopping, we find a running store with a discount on a pair of Altra Olympus shoes. Crisis averted, Ryan is back on his feet.