CDT: The San Juans are calling!

The San Juans are calling and we answered. They demand everything we have — and then some. They test our strength with relentless climbs, rugged terrain, and trails that seem more imaginary than real. But they also give back in ways that make the struggle worthwhile. Golden valleys stretch endlessly, teeming with wildlife. Elk bugles echo through the crisp air, and sunsets bathe the peaks in hues that defy description. As we leave the smooth tread of the Colorado Trail behind, it’s back to overgrown paths, scratched legs, and moments of doubt. Yet, every challenge only amplifies the rewards, reminding us why we came here in the first place.

CDT Day 99 — Hitchhiking with an 87-Year-Old

In the morning, we hit the post office in Creede, where at least one of our packages showed up. The good news? My meds are here. The bad? Still no new shoes. My old ones are hanging on by sheer determination — no holes yet, so what’s another 100 miles, right? There’s an outdoor store in town, but of course, no Salomons. Gambling on unfamiliar shoes feels too risky — it could be a game-changer or a blistery nightmare. Instead, we bounce it ahead to Pagosa Springs where it will hopefully show up eventually. By then, these shoes will have survived 700 grueling miles, and I’ll really need replacements.

Lunch is bratwurst and chile fries at a little hot dog stand. We learn the difference between chile (hot green pepper) and chili (meat) today. At least it’s a good deal. The food in town certainly doesn’t impress.

By late afternoon, we’re hitching out, we throw our thumbs to the sky and the first car stops: 87-year-old Silvia with her sweet dog, Maggie. They had just finished a 3 mile hike, which truly impresses us given her age. She’s a gem, chatting away as she takes us to a waterfall detour. One of the most rewarding aspects of thru-hiking are kind people you meet, and there are a few that you will never forget. Silvia is one we will never forget. We exchange addresses to send postcards later. We hug and wave as her car disappears down the road — it feels like saying goodbye to a friend. 

87-year-old Silvia with her sweet dog Maggie and Ryan enjoying the waterfall

Back on trail, we run into a hilariously tipsy trio: Chimney, Tripod, and Chewy. We share stories and laughs until we part ways at a water source as Tripod eats an abnormally large calzone he packed out. As we climb higher, the mountains light up with a fiery sunset, painting the sky in deep reds and golds — a breathtaking welcome to the San Juans. We find a spot for the night in a rocky meadow, nestled next to some bushes. 

The San Juans welcome us with a stunning sunset

CDT Day 100 — Mountain Madness

The day begins with a sunrise that feels almost magical, the sky painted in soft yellows and purples. Pikas dart and scurry through the rocks, their tiny squeaks a soundtrack to the morning. A martin dashes around with a freshly killed mouse in its mouth which reminds me I need to have a snack.

The San Juans

We climb high ridges, reaching the lofty high point of the Colorado Trail. The ascent is long but mostly gentle, with a few steep sections that make us catch our breath — not just from exertion but from the jaw-dropping views around us.

Highest point of the Colorado Trail

During lunch, Randi catches up, and the three of us spend the afternoon hiking together. Clouds roll in, bringing a sudden chill and a light drizzle. The trail takes us through dramatic passes, over saddles, and into valleys framed by towering peaks. Moose dot the landscape, their massive forms adding to the wild beauty.

Moose in the San Juans

One valley stands out — a painter’s palette of soil colors, from cool grays and blues to fiery reds. As the weather turns harsher, the cold bites through, and gloves become a necessity. A storm is brewing.

We push on and find a flat spot — a precious rarity in the rugged San Juans. There’s no shelter, but flat will do. Rain hits just as we pitch our tents. It’s a rushed, clumsy affair, but the priority is getting warm and dry. Inside, we scarf down hot comfort food, promising to fix the lopsided setup later. The rain eventually stops, and the sky treats us to sunset hues, soft and vibrant against the jagged peaks.

As darkness settles, the wild calls of elk bugling echo through the night. By 4 am, the wind roars to life, and an hour later, rain returns, drumming against the tent. Not quite the restful night we’d hoped for, but part of the adventure all the same.

CDT Day 101 — Elk Serenades and Moose Sightings

There is so much wildlife in this valley we camp in, elk bugles wake us up throughout the night. It feels as if we are surrounded by other worldly creatures, as the sound they produce doesn’t register in our brains. We peek our heads out of the tent to try to spot them, but it is still too dark. As we start packing up, I see a bull moose heading in our direction. We make eye contact, and he swiftly changes course away from us. Dawn begins and as light slowly reveals our surroundings, we can see we are indeed surrounded by elk. We start to hike with the rise of the sun, but the elk have the same idea. The sun, like a Las Vegas illusionist for their final trick, made all the elk in the valley seemingly “disappear”.

A morning moose

Behind every ridge and every pass, there is a new world with epic views. The valleys are alive with movement: big herds of elk dotting the surrounding valleys, moose, marmots, and pikas all make an appearance. But elk dominate the landscape, and we must see close to a hundred of them throughout the morning. 

While stopping for lunch, we catch movement on a distant ridge. Something canine is pacing there, and when a bird flies overhead, it leaps towards it. We’re guessing it killed something that the bird is interested in, too. Curious, I zoom in with my phone’s camera. The image confirms it’s a coyote.

The morning climbs are a slog for me — I feel weak and low on energy. Mornings have never been my thing; I seem to hit my stride in the late afternoon when others are running out of steam. But by the time we reach the final climb, I find my groove, powering up the steep, unrelenting trail without stopping. The reward is worth it — the top of the pass reveals a breathtaking scene. The Rio Grande Pyramid rises majestically before us, flanked by jagged, tooth-like rock formations that create a natural window.

After 10 miles, we leave the Colorado Trail behind. And instantly, the trail becomes rough again. The good old CDT how we know it. I haven’t missed it. It’s overgrown, with blowdowns forcing us to crawl or bushwhack around them. The first fallen tree leaves my leg scratched and bleeding, and poky bushes add more scrapes to the mix. Rocks cover the trail, making descents slow and tricky, while sparse signage has us constantly checking FarOut to navigate junctions.

Ute Lake

Despite the challenges, we press on, eventually reaching Ute Lake. The tranquil water offers a soothing end to a tough but rewarding day, and we set up camp, ready for whatever the CDT throws at us next.

Starry night in the San Juans

CDT Day 102 — Lost Trails, Golden Valleys, and a Window to the Sunset

We’re up early today, a rare achievement. Randi heads off with ambitious plans to reach Pagosa Springs in two days, requiring him to do bigger miles. We watch as he grows smaller in the distance before disappearing altogether. He’s incredible fast, only slowed down to hike with us. 

The San Juans remain breathtakingly beautiful, but physically demanding. After nearly four months of hiking, our bodies are wearing down. I can’t fathom how some thru-hikers manage to string together multiple thru-hikes in a year without much of a break.

By midday, we finally reach the Window and the Rio Grande Pyramid — landmarks we admired from afar two days ago. Up close, they’re massive, far more imposing than I imagined. We stop for lunch right below this stunning feature of nature. There is a little lake and Ryan braves the icy water for a quick dip, while I bask in the sun, soaking up its warmth instead.

The Window and the Rio Grande Pyramid

The trail takes us downhill to a sprawling meadow, where we take a wrong turn. It’s not until half a mile later that we realize the mistake and have to backtrack. Frustrating, but that’s the CDT — welcome back! Even when we find the right direction, the trail still isn’t clear, and we end up having to cross a river. My shoes, already on their last legs, gave me sore feet the last time they got wet, so I opt to ford it barefoot. The shallow water isn’t tough to navigate, but the rocks painfully dig into my soles. Back on track, we face yet another climb. This one is brutal, with high, scratchy bushes clawing at us as we push through. I’m back to cursing the CDT again. 

But then the golden hour arrives, transforming the landscape into a wonderland. Elk bugles echo around us as the valley below glows in shades of amber. We crest the climb just in time for a spectacular sunset, the sky ablaze behind the ridge of the Window and the Pyramid. I imagine there’s a time in the year when the sun sets perfectly within the Window’s frame—what a sight that must be.

Epic San Juan sunset

We set up camp behind a small rock wall, a welcome shield from the wind. I’m completely spent — hungry, scratched up, and utterly exhausted. Twenty miles today took every ounce of effort and a full day of hiking, but the beauty of the San Juans makes it all worthwhile.

CDT Day 103 — Knife’s Edge

It’s getting harder with every day. Four days of relentless climbs are taking their toll, and it’s showing in our pace — our mileage is decreasing. It’s impossible to eat as much as you would need to, like 4,000 calories a day. We’re dragging, and I don’t know how some hikers manage to move fast through this unforgiving terrain.

The day’s highlights include pretty alpine lakes and the walk around Knife’s edge. The Alpine lakes shimmer like jewels, offering brief moments of peace. But then comes Knife’s Edge — a narrow, sketchy traverse that lives up to its name. The trail clings to the side of the mountain, forcing us to lean into scratchy, unforgiving bushes that threaten to shove us off. Erosion has eaten away parts of the path, leaving us to cautiously place each step while I’m mumbling that I don’t like this. I don’t really trust my shoes or my legs at this point. My shoes because they’re worn out and my legs because they keep stumbling over everything, from rocks to my feet. I can’t imagine doing this with snow and yet, people did it, just a week ago after that last snowfall. I’m happy it all melted away by now. This is exciting enough as it is for us. 

Hiking along Knife’s Edge

We exhale in relief when we make it to the end, only to discover that the traverse isn’t over. It continues on the other side of the mountain, though thankfully, the second stretch is far less nerve-wracking.

After that adrenaline rush, we stop for water, not realizing it’s the last source before camp. The evening rewards us with a breathtaking ridge walk bathed in the golden hues of sunset. The views are stunning, but the effort to get here leaves me utterly drained.

Despite hiking all day, we’ve only covered 20 miles. Every step feels heavier, and the exhaustion lingers longer than usual. Typically, I can shake off a bad day, but this time, it’s been days in a row of grinding fatigue. We’ve got one more full day of hiking before we reach the highway and the promise of town. It feels so close yet so far away.

Afternoon ridge walk

CDT Day 104 — Reservation for two on the Struggle Bus 

I wake up still feeling miserable. It’s not the trail — it’s my body. Every uphill makes me nauseous; every downhill feels like someone’s punching me in the gut. My stomach is a disaster, making eating feel impossible. Ryans face and ears are incredibly burnt, blood blisters showing up and opposed to me, he’s always hungry. Somehow, we scrape through another 20 miles, but it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The struggle bus should have a loyalty program.

In the morning, we run into Chewy and Chimney again. Turns out, we’re not the only ones having a rough time. Chimney had a full breakdown yesterday, and they only managed 17 miles. Tripod bailed out to Silverton as his airpad failed, and his back was bothering him. It’s oddly comforting to know we’re not alone in this struggle. I am out of snacks and Chewy kindly shares some of their extra food with me.

In other terms, it’s another gorgeous day. The San Juans don’t disappoint — blue skies, jaw-dropping ridge walks, and views that stretch forever. It’s almost enough to distract me from how much I want this day to end.

The San Juans don’t disappoint — blue skies, jaw-dropping ridge walks, and views that stretch forever.

At the end of the day, on our last downhill to our planned campsite, there is suddenly a man standing on the side of the trail, startling me as I didn’t expect anyone to be there. All I hear next is the word “cookies?” His name is Smiley, a 2016 CDT thru-hiker from Pagosa Springs, now on a little loop. We sit with him, eating his Oreos and chatting about the trail and town. As usual with locals, we take the opportunity to ask him about the food in town. I honestly don’t feel like food at all, I just want a shower, a bed, and rest. But it’s all Ryan is thinking about lately, and I would be the same if I wouldn’t feel that miserable. The San Juans really put a ribbon on the absolute ass kicking that Colorado gave us.

Smiley is sharing his cookies with us

Under 10 miles to town tomorrow, and I’ve never wanted to get there so badly. My mind wanders to that scene in the book World War Z — the Chinese doctor being reassured by his friend with the words “Everything’s going to be alright” when the zombie apocalypse is about to start. It sends a shiver down my spine every time I think about it. Will everything really be alright?

CDT Day 105 — Frosty Trails and Warm Encounters

Our boots crunch on the frost-coated ground, a sound that’s become the soundtrack of our mornings this past week. I feel much better today, and we’re able to crush the remaining miles pretty quick. Soon, we are spurred on by the sight of the highway glinting below. If only we could spread wings and glide down to it! Instead, the trail teases us with a few more ups and downs.

Time to get to town

As we descend, we meet Janine and Tom, a sweet local couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They stop us for a photo, delighted to meet thru-hikers. They share how their daughter is considering taking up thru-hiking herself and offer us their number, in case we would need anything.

Finally, we emerge on the highway. Our hitching luck is strong — within minutes, we’re riding in the bed of a truck. The drive down is stunning, winding through golden aspens and rugged rock formations. Pagosa Springs, here we come. 

Hitching to Pagosa Springs

As we hop out, our driver shares their own adventure plans — they’re off to the Grand Canyon for a rim-to-river hike. Before parting, they hand us a Mountain House Meal with a smile. Trail magic strikes again! We get some food at the Cajun restaurant in town, I finally pick desperately needed new shoes, followed by some more food. Then we hop on the public bus to the other end of the spread out town, making our way to the comfort of our hotel for the night.

Finally receiving new shoes in Pagosa Springs