CDT: In Between Mountain Goats – Winter Park to Leadville

For the section between Winter Park and Leadville, we are following the path of the mountain goats, climbing 14,000ers, traversing the Argentine Spine, and vibrant aspen groves. Colorado, you’re kicking my ass, but you’re insanely beautiful. Between scrambling up Torreys and Grays Peaks, dodging mountain bikers, and soaking in marmot-filled ridges, the trail continues to test us while rewarding us with jaw-dropping landscapes. Town stops in Breckenridge and Leadville provide much-needed breaks, with Leadville stealing our hearts as one of the most charming and welcoming places we’ve visited on the CDT.

CDT Day 83 — Sideways Snow

After our usual morning routine of post office and finding a good sandwich to pack out, Vinny drives us back to Berthoud Pass. The road twists and climbs, and with it, the rain begins to fall. Sitting in the car, cozy and warm, we glance at each other, half-joking about bailing for another indulgent day in Boulder. But we hold on to hope — maybe it’ll clear up. Outside, the first hints of autumn splash across the trees in yellows and reds, a vibrant change after weeks of high-elevation tundra.

We stop for soup along the way, a small comfort as I nurse my sore throat from yesterday’s taco mishap — I choked on something unknown. I don’t know if something is still stuck or if I just hurt myself, but swallowing solid food hurts. Liquids are easier, so I’m chugging water and tea like it’s my job (that’s actually how we ended up in that beautiful teahouse). It’s improving, but slowly.

At the pass, Vinny drops us off under a drizzle. The goodbye feels oddly tender, like we’re kids being sent to summer camp. My new pink Frogg Toggs jacket makes its debut as we start climbing the mountain across the road. The climb quickly warms us up, the rain ceases, and we take off our rain jackets. My Achilles tendons scream in protest — clearly not thrilled about a steep ascent right out of the gate. We pause to stretch, the switchbacks teasing us with alternating skies: stormy gray on the left, hopeful blue on the right. I would rather not end up on the left side.

At the top, a ridge walk unfolds, promising jaw-dropping views if only the weather would cooperate. Instead, it pelts us with sideways snow and gale-force winds. My hands go numb, my clothes soak through — fleece, puffy, leggings — everything except the rain gear I foolishly didn’t put on again, thinking it’s going to pass quickly. I also don’t want to stop in this awful, exposed place. I just want to get down. Running along the ridge, I’m alternating between screaming and crying, desperate to get off this frozen hellscape. I’m so cold.

Finally off the ridge, I wrestle my rain gear on, but it’s too late; my gloves, puffy, and leggings are already soaked. The snow stops, and we descend into calmer winds. Moving keeps me warm, but we’re drained.

We don’t make it very far today. We get some water at the next creek and take advantage of a nice sheltered campsite between the trees. My sleeping bag wraps me in a cocoon of warmth. I think my sleeping bag is my favorite piece of gear this hike. I never get cold at night, which is very important to me, and it keeps me cozy when I get cold at camp. It’s a little heavy, and takes up quite some space in my backpack, but I don’t regret anything.

Dinner is our packed-out sandwiches, an unexpected delight. Snarf Sandwiches in Boulder nailed it with their Feta Artichoke creation. We savor each bite, trying to ignore the constant hum of the molybdenum mine nearby that follows us since we went down the ridge. Its conveyor belt, stretching 15 miles to haul ore into town, drones on like a relentless white noise machine. Ryan likes it; I don’t. I prefer quiet at night (or in general) but my ear plugs will help with that just fine.

It wasn’t the easiest day, but the warmth of camp and the promise of quiet moments ahead keep me grounded. Tomorrow is another climb, another ridge, and hopefully, without sideways snow.

CDT Day 84 — Altitude kicking my ass

Wind covered up the noise from the mine while we’re still nicely sheltered in the trees. The morning delivers an incredible ridge walk — sweeping views, rugged terrain, and endless beauty — but it comes at a cost. The elevation gain is brutal, the high altitude takes its toll, and the cold wind cuts through me like a blade. Just before the final climb, everything catches up with me. My heart pounds, my legs feel weak, and I’m suddenly lightheaded. I need to take a break. Only 200 feet to the top, I tell myself. Just 200 feet. But those 200 feet feel like 2,000. 

Shaky and exhausted, I push forward. Twice, the wind knocks me flat, and I cry out of sheer frustration and fatigue. Two days in a row now — tears on the trail. The PCT never made me cry. But even through the exhaustion, while catching my breath. I can’t help but marvel at the landscape. The ridge stretches like a natural highway, leading to a towering mountain ahead. Below, green meadows cradle shimmering lakes, their beauty defying the harshness of this moment.

Slowly, achingly, I reach the top, where Ryan is waiting. I collapse onto the ground, letting the wind whip past me as I catch my breath. It’s downhill from here, and as we descend, I feel my strength return.

The wind fades, the sun warms our skin, and we stop for lunch in a cozy spot sheltered by scrappy little trees. Bread and caramelized onion butter are on the menu. We were able to find lactose free butter at the Wholefoods in Boulder and Ryan created one of my most favorite comfort foods. In the sunshine, with food in my belly, the world feels good again.

We continue all the way down to the Interstate, trading the biting wind for the gentle warmth of the forest. Shorts and shirts make their first appearance in what feels like forever. Day hikers and their happy dogs pass us, though some leave trails of overpowering detergent or perfume. We reach the parking lot, where surprisingly clean porta potties feel like a small luxury.

An underpass takes us beneath the Interstate, and we follow a smooth bike path for an easy, climb-free hour. The path is lined with mushrooms and sweet, ripe raspberries, which we happily snack on. No bikes today. It’s a pleasant reprieve, but the next challenge looms: the climb to Grays Peak, with 14,276-feet the highest point on the CDT.

We don’t plan to summit today. Instead, we hike up the dirt road to the trailhead, where we’ll camp for the night. Even pitching the tent feels like a huge effort — every squat to stake the corners leaves me breathless, makes me catch my breath and gets my heart rate up.

Today marks our third-biggest elevation gain on the CDT, hot on the heels of our biggest elevation day just a few days ago. Tomorrow will be no easier, but it’s all worth it. Grays Peak is a milestone, and I’m not about to miss it. The Silverthorne alternate may be easier — lower, shorter, faster — but we chose this. I only need to survive this, it’s going to get easier after. Right?

CDT Day 85 — Five Summits and The Argentine Spine

The night is far from restful. Our campsite near the parking lot turns into a hub of midnight activity as hikers arrive for their sunrise missions, chattering loudly and slamming car doors. By the time we crawl out of the tent, the parking lot is overflowing. Everyone thinks they’re clever for starting early, but I can’t help but shake my head. If they’d just start later, like I do in the Alps, they’d avoid the crowds, get easy parking, and don’t freeze their butts off. But hey, to each their own.

We continue climbing toward Grays Peak, stopping at the last water source to fill up for the day, as we want to take the long ridge walk along the Argentine Spine. We’re carrying a heavy load, especially Ryan, who seems to have developed a hoarding obsession with avocados — he packed out seven! Because they were discounted, of course.

The first stretch is mellow, but soon the trail steepens. At the junction to Torreys Peak, we ditch our packs for a lighter ascent. What a relief! The climb feels almost easy without the weight. Torreys is only 3 feet lower than Grays Peak and technically not on the CDT, but it’s only a small detour, so we might as well. The wind picks up near the top, and we spot a duo attempting to make coffee — only to realize they’ve forgotten a lighter. After asking around for one, they at least get some matches to finally get their caffeine fix. Another hiker summited in jeans and Converse, as he didn’t plan on any hiking on his Colorado trip. What else would you do in Colorado?

Descending Torreys, we spot a mountain goat perched on a cliff, striking a regal pose. We grab our packs and head toward Grays Peak, connected by a short trail. Grays is calmer and less windy, a welcome change. But before long, we’re off again — and promptly take the wrong ridge. I didn’t see another trail, so I assumed this was the one, without double-checking on FarOut. 

This ridge is stunning, though, with jaw-dropping views, so we’re distracted snapping photos until we realize our mistake. Our ridge is the next one over. Frustrated but determined, we backtrack, climbing back up to the right trail. We’re adding quite some bonus elevation today — as if it wouldn’t be hard enough on itself. Lunch is a heated pot of ramen, as cold soaking failed to deliver edible results in the cold. By this point, we’ve only covered 5 miles, and the hardest part is still ahead.

The climb to Mount Edwards is next-level intense. Everything leading up to here was a walk in the park, compared to this ridge. It looks pretty intimidating, and it is. The ridge is sharp, narrow, and unforgiving — a mix of Class 3 scrambling and knife-edge walking that demands full focus. To the left: certain death. To the right: a slim chance of survival. It’s slow, nerve-wracking work, but the views are indescribable. It’s easily the sketchiest section of the CDT’s red line so far, and I understand why many hikers take the Silverthorne alternate. You definitely shouldn’t be afraid of heights if going that route. And plan a lot of extra time and food. But despite the challenge, it’s spectacular.

Finally, we reach Mount Edwards, where a family of mountain goats lounges casually on the cliffs, perfectly at ease where we’ve just scrambled for our lives. Their calmness is enviable. From here, the trail eases toward Argentine Pass, where we find a jeep that somehow made it up the rugged dirt road. That must’ve been a hell of a ride.

Now we face a decision: drop down the red line and climb back up later, or tackle the Argentine Spine — an insane high-altitude ridgeline of more 13,000er peaks. The Argentine Spine is shorter but probably similar elevation gain, just not all at once. But it’s more exposed and stays in high altitude, while it’s easier to find sheltered campsites somewhere down on the red line. We go for the spine. Other hikers said they needed 4.5 hours for it. It’s already 3 pm, but we think we can make it.

The Argentine Spine doesn’t disappoint. The ridgeline is a dramatic rollercoaster of ups and downs, offering 360° views of the surrounding peaks and valleys. We bag three more summits, soaking in the sweeping vistas. Looking back, we see the entire ridge we’ve traversed so far, stretching all the way to Grays and Torreys. Another fluffy mountain goat watches us from a distance, unbothered by the harshness of this high-altitude world.

After the fifth summit, we start to get tired. My knees ache from the steep descents, and it’s still about 2 miles to the red line. Even there, camping will be exposed, but we find a semi-sheltered spot near an old mine and decide to cowboy camp right here as we still have a good amount of water left. At 12,500 feet, it’s higher than we planned, but the recent warmer weather and our trusty air pads give us confidence. Ryan’s air pad, freshly retrieved in Boulder, couldn’t have come at a better time.

We’ve covered 12 grueling miles today, which may not sound like much for a full day, but with five summits and the Argentine Spine, it feels like an accomplishment. We might have to go into Breckenridge or Frisco to get some more food for the rest of the way to Leadville. For now, I’m ready to let the stars keep watch while I close my eyes.

CDT Day 86 — Another Epic, Hard Day, Ending by Finally Reaching the Colorado Trail

Last night was pleasant — nobody was cold, and the wind stayed away. The wind is still blowing cold in our faces and I need gloves in the first hour of hiking, but it’s much better than it’s been recently. No frozen grass around us anymore either. Maybe that section before this, called “Never Summer”, lives up to its name. As we pack up, a big buck appears above us on the ridge, a quiet reminder of the wild beauty surrounding us.

We finish the Argentine Spine Alternate, but of course not without doing one last steep climb. Before rejoining the red line, we spot a little shortcut to the much-needed water source to save a bit of the climb. We’re thinking about skipping it, considering we still have to climb up again. But there is nothing for another 10 miles, so we bite the bullet to be safe. So, we stash our packs — despite the risk of mountain goats chewing on them for the salt — and hike down to a half-frozen trickle. It’s all we need, though, after carrying water all the way from yesterday morning.

But the hard part doesn’t end with finishing the Argentine Spine. More steep ascents, more ridges, and peaks that feel endless waiting for us on the red line. This section of the CDT is by far the hardest stretch, probably, the hardest I’ve ever backpacked. We’re starting to feel tired. When does this get easier again?

We follow ridgeline after ridgeline, peak after peak. Grays and Torreys still loom behind us, marking where we started this epic traverse. Mountain goats, pepper the rocky slopes, unfazed by the harsh terrain.

Geneva Peak is the toughest challenge of the day. It’s not just steep; it demands scrambling over exposed rock with dizzying drop-offs. Holy smokes. But the views… they’re extraordinary. If you do have the time and the nerves, don’t skip this section. Yes, it looks like a big detour on the map, far away from going straight south towards Mexico. And climbing 10+ peaks in two days seems intimidating. But it’s worth it, the views are earned the hardest way possible. I keep thinking about CDT hikers back in the day, with external frame backpacks, 40 pounds on their backs, navigating with paper maps. If they could do this, so can we.

Here and there, dirt roads cut across the landscape, and 4WD vehicles buzz by like it’s an amusement park. Some of the steep roads look impossible, dangerous, certain death on every side. But still, there is a road onto every ridge around here. Nuts. I rather risk my live hiking than trusting in control over a vehicle for sure. One ATV is stuck on a slope, proof that even engines can’t conquer everything.

We refill our bottles at a murky snowmelt pool, filtering cautiously this time. Filtering is rare for us — our “sloth” philosophy prioritizes efficiently conserving energy and time over extra steps. I know, risky. So far, this worked out without getting sick. But this water definitely screams for caution. It takes a while to collect from the cleaner trickle right at the snowfield and to filter. But now we’re good on water for the next 5 miles. Water is scarce up here. But at least it’s not been hot, so we don’t need as much water as you might need in the heat of the summer on these exposed ridge lines without a hint of shade. Ryan’s red neck shows that altitude and lack of sunscreen isn’t a good idea, even with the temperature being low.

And then, we hook up with the Colorado Trail. Suddenly, we’re on a real trail —  very well graded, signed, and there are even switchbacks! There are trees, water, and campsites everywhere. It feels surreal, like re-entering civilization after a lifetime in the wild. We’re almost emotional, seeing trees again, like long-lost friends.

The Colorado Trail promises an easier path, and our pace picks up. After the last two days of brutal peaks and ridgelines, it feels like a victory. We’re going to follow the Colorado Trail for most of the rest of Colorado.

My knees are sore and we’re exhausted. Time for a town stop. And I heard from a fellow hiker that there is an Oktoberfest happening in Breckenridge right now. I guess that settles the decision between Frisco and Breckenridge. I’m not interested in the beer, I’m interested in some Bavarian treats. Seriously, I miss Bavarian food and whenever I can get my hands on it, I’m not going to miss out.

We find a perfect campsite, tucked into the forest by a real river with a bridge (!). It’s flat, sheltered, and peaceful. Tonight’s feast is well-deserved: a big dinner followed by a mudslide dessert.

After surviving this hard stretch and with being over halfway through the CDT, I start to think I’m actually able to make it. I didn’t think I’d make it this far, not with a bone necrosis in my foot — a condition that’s supposed to make hiking impossible. When I prepared for the trail, my doctors told me to “just stop hiking”, but here I am. Screw them. I’m proving what’s possible, one brutal, beautiful mile at a time.

CDT Day 87 — Oktoberfest Mania

The morning starts with a relatively dull walk through the forest, including some PUDs (pointless ups and downs). Interrupted by mountain bikers flying downhill. We’ve already heard about this Colorado Trail annoyance — always needing to listen for bikes sneaking up behind us and diving out of their way. Why not build a separate trail for bikers? It’s beyond me.

I feel exhausted, fatigued, the challenges of the last days apparently are taking a toll on me. Sore knees, an aching foot, and a deep fatigue that makes standing up or bending down a chore. Rest isn’t just a luxury; it’s a necessity.

At the highway, we sit down at a bus stop, but before the bus arrives, a car pulls up. Lia, a section hiker rocking a Leadville Melanzana hoodie, offers us a ride to Breckenridge. Grateful, we hop in and are dropped off right at the heart of Oktoberfest.

It’s chaos. The streets are packed with people, the air is loud with music, and the crowd feels overwhelming. The food stalls are tempting, showcasing all the Bavarian classics my heart craves — Schnitzel, Goulash, Apple Strudel, Pretzels — but the prices are outrageous. $15 for a small bowl of Goulash or a Schnitzel sandwich? $9 for a medium-sized pretzel? Seriously? Nope. We’d be broke before we felt full.

To make matters worse, the crowd buzzes around us like we’re the attraction of the day. Our backpacks and dirt-streaked clothes scream “hiker trash,” and people shout questions at us over the noise, invading what little personal space we can carve out. Even Ryan, who’s usually less phased by crowds, looks ready to bolt.

And bolt we do — straight to a supermarket for a quick fix of soda and sandwiches, just as the rain starts to fall. Then we head over to a lovely Asian restaurant that is an absolute haven. The pho is warm, flavorful, and fairly priced, but more importantly, it’s peaceful. The lovely waitress, along with her mom and sister in the kitchen, makes us feel at home. The place is empty, except for us, and we even get to sit next to outlets. Bliss. The good thing about this Oktoberfest is that everybody is out there and nobody is in the grocery store or restaurant. 

As the rain chills the air and drives many festival-goers away, we decide to give Oktoberfest one last chance. We splurge on a $9 Apple Strudel. And it’s pretty good! While savoring it on a bench, a couple next to us strikes up a conversation with us and eventually offers a ride to Frisco. We decided to spend the night there, as it’s much cheaper than in this touristy town that we already have enough of. Once, there is this free bus from the trail to all the towns around, and we didn’t get to take it. But I’m not going to complain, this is pretty nice.

The rain finally sets in as we leave Breckenridge, and the forecast predicts two nasty days ahead. Reflecting on the sunshine and clear skies during those last epic ridge days, I realize how lucky we’ve been with the weather. For now, a warm bed in Frisco and a bit of downtime are all I can think about

CDT Day 88 — The Day Of The Marmots

We didn’t expect much of today. But holy cow, it turns out to be surprisingly awesome. The forecast threatens rain, and we start by skipping a 14-mile section to Copper Mountain via the free bus. After some back-and-forth, we decided this shortcut made sense. The skipped section didn’t seem particularly special, and after taking longer than expected on Torreys and Grays, saving time felt wise. And as we covered more miles by doing this than hikers doing the Silverthorne Alternate, we don’t think it matters.

Copper Mountain is pretty much dead at this time of the year. The restaurants I hoped to grab a tasty sandwich from are all closed. I didn’t even think about checking for that. The only options are Starbucks and a small general store, so lunch becomes microwaved burritos. Not ideal, but enough to fuel the climb ahead.

Hiking up the ski slopes under chairlifts, we quickly return to the mountains. The Colorado Trail, smooth and well-graded, makes for easy hiking despite occasional rain showers. As we ascend through the trees, I discover a delightful miscalculation in my Excel sheet: the upcoming section from Leadville to Twin Lakes is only two days, not seven! This revelation feels like finding hidden treasure — it means our schedule is far better than expected, and finishing Colorado by October is within reach. This feels like finding $50 in the pockets of your old jeans.

The climb rewards us with sunshine at a saddle and the most unexpected treat: big groups of marmots. One group of eight lounges on the rocks, completely unbothered by our presence, while pikas dart around in the background. We stop to watch their adorable gathering, captivated by the scene.

A bit of rain returns as we near Elk Ridge’s highest point, but the clouds lift just in time to reveal a turquoise lake framed by jagged peaks. Stunning. And then, another marmot family — a larger adult with three smaller ones. I’m thinking it might be a mom and her three offsprings. They nuzzle and play, perfectly framed against the mountains and glowing light. I could stay there for hours, feeling like a Disney princess surrounded by marmots, pikas, and squirrels, all surprisingly unafraid of us. It’s such a wonderful thing to be able to watch them that closely.

We continue down to Kokomo Pass and eventually into the forest, descending enough to reach the vibrant golden aspens. We made much more progress than we thought we would in half a day. With the highway to Leadville only a few miles away, we decide to call it a day at a beautiful campsite near a rushing river, nicely sheltered by trees.

Gotta love the Colorado Trail, providing everything that makes hikers happy — gentle grades, gorgeous scenery, wildlife at every turn, and perfect campsites. The only drawback is the mountain bikers that race down the hill and threaten to run us over if we don’t jump aside fast enough. But today, thankfully, there were no mountain bikers. Marmots and aspens over adrenaline junkies any day.

CDT Day 89 — Running Away From the Incoming Storm to the Town of Leadville

We finish the short walk to the highway, surrounded by the glow of fall colors and a rainbow stretching over cloud-draped hills. Along the way, we pass bunkers built in 1942 to train soldiers heading to the Alps in Europe during WWII — a small but intriguing slice of history.

With a storm forecasted to bring wind and snow this afternoon, we decide it’s another town day. And we’re not disappointed. Leadville greets us as a refreshing change from the polished ski towns we’ve seen. It’s got a unique blend of small-town Montana grit and Colorado charm. A little country and a little hipster. Think dive bars mixed with cozy coffee shops — definitely our kind of vibe. Leadville is famous for being the highest incorporated town in North America, located at 10,158 feet. There would be a glacier in the Alps, but here there are trees and houses.

After 20 minutes of hitching, Alicia, fresh from a doctor’s appointment in Vail, picks us up in her Toyota Tacoma and drops us right in town. She works in Leadville so it is our lucky day! We have a few hours to kill before our 3 pm check-in at Inn the Clouds Hostel, so naturally, we turn to food.

First stop: the Amish hand pies we’ve heard about on FarOut. Verdict? Meh. Next, we head to City on a Hill, a wonderful coffee shop filled with local art and epic mountain photography. Vegan and chorizo burritos, salsa on the side, and a cozy leather couch make for a perfect morning snack. Soon, the place fills with hikers, all wearing brand new Melanzana hoodies, which is located in town and a favorite among hikers. 

I have never heard of this brand before hiking the CDT. Not a surprise as you can’t order them online, so they’re not available internationally. You have to go to the store in Leadville, normally by appointment only, booked out months ahead. Thru-hikers can sneak in though, by providing a terminus photo. I don’t really understand what the hype is about, but in Leadville it’s practically a uniform.

We end up talking for at least an hour and a half. This is the perfect way to complete our morning, but it is now lunchtime and our internal clocks are telling us to eat, again. High Mountain Pies is our next stop for pizza. I am usually apprehensive about pizza in the USA, but this one comes highly recommended, by my trusted fellow European hikers. We go with the Greek salad and a large “build your own” pizza with feta, artichoke hearts, and tomato.

We go out to the back patio to sit, and it is surprisingly spacious, as the inside is quite small. The Greek salad is decent (better than some past trail town options), but the pizza? Outstanding. Not floppy, that slice standing at attention, crispy light and dang near perfect. Ryan dives into conversation with other diners, and I tune in and out — it’s always the same topics, so I often zone out.

Now with full bellies, we head to the post office to pick up a box which has our beloved self-made dehydrated dinners, new nyloflume bags, and warmer gloves for me. Finally, we check in at the hostel, greeted by Shannon, who kindly gives us a tour. We are polite, but honestly, we just want to pee and relax.

The storm arrives but, as Colorado storms often do, passes after 20 minutes of hard rain. Still, we have no regrets about staying in town. The hostel bikes, surprisingly well-maintained, take us to Safeway for our resupply, including Ryan’s go-to: a half gallon of chocolate hazelnut Tillamook ice cream. A wrong turn on the bike path gives us an unexpected but beautiful sunset detour, making the mistake worth it. Back on track, the sidewalk ends abruptly and we mountain bike the last stretch to the store. I almost get hit by a van that doesn’t see me while going over a green light, which insights a quick bit of rage in me as I keep saying Americans never look for bikes or pedestrians. I almost got run over when going over a green light so many times in the USA already. Ryan says I’m not wrong.

Back at the hostel, it is bustling with new guests, mostly hikers of both the CDT and the Colorado Trail. We put on warmer clothes to head out to dinner. The walk is lovely, and the downtown area looks even cuter with the lights on. Quincy’s is a steakhouse frozen in time. The cozy booths with cushy leather, classic vibes, decent prices, and unexpectedly good Filet Mignon make it a memorable experience. We enter right into the bar area, and we listen to a man with an empty cocktail talking nonstop to a couple other seemingly uninterested fellas at the bar. Roy Rodger’s and Shirley Temples are on the menu; Ryan says he hasn’t seen them in 20 years. I’ve never heard of these drinks, go with the Shirley and like it a lot. Our steaks come with salad, baked potatoes with whipped butter and sour cream, and soft bread with horseradish. We both have clean plates by the end of our meal and the check comes out to $60, including tip. What a deal for Colorado!

 

And can we talk about what a gem the Leadville library is? Every corner is thoughtfully decorated, and the reading room in the back feels like a step into another era. I find myself marveling at the creative ways this library serves the community. I spot a poster for tomorrow’s event: a Banned Book Week Author Talk with readings, Q&A sessions, discussions, and interpretations. It sounds amazing. If we had more time, I’d love to join in. In the summer, they even offer free stargazing tours! Man, I love this town. It continues to impress me and every little thing we discover makes me love it even more.

Leadville quickly climbs our list of favorite CDT towns. The mix of charm, history, and hearty food wins us over. We’ll gladly come back someday.