CDT sidequest El Dorado: Argentine Spine to Mount Elbert

Day 73 – How much ridge is too much ridge?

By now, the ritual of packing up had become muscle memory: rolling up the quilt, shaking the frost off the rainfly, my fingers sting from the cold as I stuff gear into my pack, fumbling slightly in the cold – no gloves.

When I finally hoist the pack onto my shoulders, I turn to look at the valley below. The world feels endless from up here, ridges spilling outward like the creases of a crumpled map. Far below, the cutoff, the low route, but the wind tugging at my jacket reminds me that I have made my choice. Onwards.

The Argentine spine is a cruel rollercoaster, up and down, loose rocks, a faint spur, no trail, some cairns, wrong cairns. I pass abandoned mining equipment and wonder about the feat of getting it up here, about the men working in these mines. I haven’t seen another hiker since leaving Lumberjack (dang, all these trail buddies with weird names) two days ago. It seems to be just me and the mountains.

This much is too much: back in the green

I love ridges, the sweeping views, feeling the wind on my face, but by the afternoon of day 73, I have enough. When I finally see the trail dipping down into a lush, green, forest, relief washes over me in a slow, undeniable wave. The wind stops howling, the sun actually feels warm now. The tension that had coiled in my shoulders melted away. Relief wasn’t joy, not quite, but it was close.

The faint, rocky spur, that was easy to loose while daydreaming and admiring the views, is replaced by an almost ridiciously wide trail. I walk between big pines, passing an abundance of flat, sheltered camp spots, it almost feels like being in a park. And then I see it: the first Colorado Trail blazes.

(apparently CDT hikers are considered horses? neighhhhh)

Day 74 – once, we were normal

I turn around almost annoyed when a car slows down next to me. It’s too early to talk, my hands are cold and I feel slightly guilty for taking this road to cut a few miles. But when the sprinter van slows down I see Scott on the passenger seat. Well, it’s two of us cheating then.

Around Breckenridge, I see the first Colorado Trail hikers – unmistakingly recognizable by their pack size and entertaining quirks such as kitchenware dangling from their backpacks (I wish I was joking).

The next miles are smooth, the Colorado Trail passes by Copper Mountain Resort, where guys in baggy pants are practicing snowboard tricks on an artificial ramp. There are trail runners, dog walkers, cyclists. Suddenly the trail has become surprisingly crowded and yet it feels lonelier: the difference between us and them is stark, undeniable. I feel, look and smell like an outcast.

A lifetime ago I was like them. A clean outfit for my trail run. A shower waiting at the end of it. But living a regular life is so far away now. A lifetime ago trails were just a part of my life, now it seems the trail is my whole life.

 

Day 75 – getting a divorce

The car makes a big swerve, music is blaring when I open the passenger door. A young woman behind the steering wheel, covered in tattoos and smiling warmly, “Come on in”.

“You’re married, divorced?”

I shake my head.

“I’m just coming from my divorce lawyer. 15 years and caught him cheating on me” 

“Wow, I am so sorry, what a dick!”

She shrugs and blows her gum into a pink bubble. “Now I can do whatever I want, right? I just shot a music video, gosh, so much fun. Also, I quit drinking and now, meeting you? That’s a sign I should travel more. Life’s good”

“Life’s so good”, I reply.

“Where ya going?”

I tell her the address and she takes a right off the main road.

“Mind if I come?”

“Not at all”

We’re standing in front of a two story building, not far from downtown. 

“Looks alright. Are you scared?”

“Nooo”, my voice sounds too high pitches to be calm. Not scared, just nervous. “Seriously, I’m fine. He’s cool”, I give her a reassuring smile, a non verbal code between women.

“Here, take my number. Call me if you need anything”

Bailey is one of my favourite people I met. We hug goodbye and I enter the empty house. A peach and a handwritten note waiting on the counter. 

Day 79 – what’s heavier goodbye or my backpack?

In the end, I stayed in Leadville for another day, and then another day and the another day. Each morning leaving seemed impossible until I felt foolish for staying so long.

Goodbye was, oddly heavy. No, it felt, almost wrong. After only been a few days something had changed. The CDT is still the same, but I guess I wasn’t. But there was no time to ponder, I had miles to catch up.

When I turn around to the parking lot of Tennesse Pass, I see the Prius has already disappeared. Silently. “You’re here to hike”, I remind myself. But sometimes I wonder, if these long distance adventures are really about putting one foot in front of the other, or, if we’re actually here for something else?

(Shoutout to Mountaingoat for this trail magic)

Day 80 – pushing on, Mount Elbert

The elastic of my headlamp glows in the dark. I fumble for the button and the inside of my tent lights up in bright red. It’s 4 am and weirdly I’m not even tired.

Next stop: Mount Elbert, another 14er. Lazy as I am, I have decided to slack pack and leave my tent and backpack down here at the campsite.

Slowly, I make my way up through the dark forest before the trail climbs above tree line. A faint violet shimmer on the horizon, sunrise. There’s no one else around, it’s a Thursday, I think. 1.5 miles below the summit, little white bullets shoot down on me, hail.

I sigh, „classic Colorado“ and pull the hood of my rain jacket closer around my face. The ascend to Mount Elbert isn’t steep or technical, it’s just very long. I stop and turn around but instead of a dramatic sunrise in vibrant colors, I look down on a bed of clouds. Cloud inversion, it’s called. More hail, but I don’t mind, the physical pain distracts me from my thoughts.

“They were right”, brushing my cold fingers over the wooden summit sign. “This view is worth it.”

New, familiar friends

On the descend I run into the first day hikers. “Did you make it?” They want to know. “Uhm, yeah. You’re almost there!” I don’t understand their question, why wouldn’t I?

Back in the valley, I quickly break down camp and continue for stop nr 2 of the day: Twin Lakes.

“Who are you?” A short, skinny woman asks. The question is a bit odd, I look at her confused. “Pinecone” – “I thought it’s you!” She replies cheerfully. “Who are you?”, I ask back. “Starship”

Friends of friends, a smile spreads over my face. Bob, the owner of the general store, gifts hikers free coffee – since I’m hiking the CDT stoveless, a cup of hot coffee is quite the luxury. Blissfully I sip on the brew while sharing stories and trail talk with Starship, I forget whatever I was worried about.

Before hiking out, I schedule a job interview for Sunday morning. Being halfway through Colorado, the end of the CDT is inching closer and with that, the return to the “real world”. To my own surprise, I am looking forward to it, even though this thru hike is still amazing and if anything, has become even more amazing in Colorado.

Now I have to make it to town in time for this online interview. Starship and I hike together before the climb up Hope Pass tears us apart.

The CDT / CT cuts through a beautiful valley and passes an old mining village which is a museum now. It’s dark when I set up camp and I climb into my tent exhausted. I’ve been awake since 4 am. Too tired to worry.