CT Part 5- The One With the Wrong Turns

The Band is Back Together!

Kai hitched a ride with a friend to Buena Vista so my whole pack was reunited to start the next leg. After 5 days off he was amped up and ready to roll. I was super excited to have both pups back with me again.

Magical Mountains

We started the day with a hefty climb out of the Cottonwood pass trailhead, straight into the heart of the Collegiates. For ten miles we stayed above treeline, weaving up, down, and around the peaks and passes. Everytime we topped another pass there was countless more mountains waiting on the other side. It gave new meaning to being “in the mountains”

We stopped to eat at the top of a pass for the most epic lunch views I’ve ever had. I’d been told that the collegiates were magical but my jaw still dropped at every turn. I think I had goosebumps for the full five hours it took to get back into the trees. Unbelievable.

Once below treeline we stopped at a stream to fill up, cool down, and make a plan. My options were to camp in two miles for an 18 mile day, or wait five miles to get over a pass for our biggest day yet. I decided not to push it, but I knew that would mean a tough day to come.

The Struggle Begins

We made camp in a meadow by a small stream around 430pm. It was hot and there wasn’t a single tree handy. I positioned the dogs under some bushes to have some shade and I laid next to them in the sun.

I was miserable. Too hot to read or write or sleep, I just laid there uncomfortably, wishing for time to hurry up so it would cool down.
It eventually did and I had a beautiful view for dinner, but I couldn’t quite shake my bad attitude.

We started the next day with a climb back up over the trees. We ran into some old railroad ruins. I snapped some pictures and started following the road before thinking I better double check my maps. I pulled up far out to see my dot not quite on the line. I waited a few moments to see if it would adjust.

It didn’t, so I checked my location. I was .4 miles away from the trail. Ok, no big deal. I turned to look in the direction of the trail, and realized I had just come down a series of very steep switchbacks. Switchbacks that came down the wrong side of the mountain.

To make matters worse, the .4 mile distance was a straight line, which meant I’d easily double or triple it as I weaved back and forth along the trail. I tried my best not to be upset as I struggled my way back up and over to the other side, but I knew with the number of miles I was planning to cover over these three days it was a costly mistake. Not to mention the mental defeat of so much extra climbing.

Cool Views and Cooling Off

Over the next several hours we ran into numerous alpine lakes. I oogled at their beauty, but, exposed to the hot sun, the pups enjoyed them for different reasons. Elijah is not much of a water dog but he was happy to get his feet wet. Kai on the other hand stomped right in to every lake we had close enough access to.

During one of their swim breaks I checked the map to make a plan. With an 8 mile dry and exposed section coming up I realized my only option was to stop at the last lake before it began. That would leave nearly twenty miles for the next day before going into town. Something I didn’t think was realistic for the dogs after two long days, at least not if I wanted them to keep hiking later on.

So I decided we’d meet my dad at Monarch Pass, I’d drop the dogs and my camping gear, and I’d hustle through the last ten miles on my own.

The Struggle Continues

We once again had a big climb for breakfast. I’m not sure if it was steeper or if I was more tired, but I was moving way slower than normal. I really take pride in getting to the trailheads at the time I estimate to my dad for pickups, so once we made it over the hump I picked up the pace a little to make up time.

It was pretty rolling hills for a while, then we ran into Monarch ski hill. I had another hiker a ways in front of me, but within sight. I used him as a double check for my navigation. Checking the map then looking forward to spot his route, making sure they matched.

I passed the three major waypoints on the map and continued down the road. I had made up a lot of time but still needed to hustle the last mile and a half if I was going to be on time.

Suddenly I realized I had lost sight of my carrot. Not surprising, there was no water on this stretch so I was stopping often to give the pups a drink.

I came to a fork in the road and pulled up my map to figure out which way to go. My little blue dot was on the opposite side of the ski hill from the trail. I waited. That couldn’t be right. I had just passed a waypoint maybe 15 minutes ago. There hadn’t been a turn since then. The dot didn’t move.

I tried not to panic as I looked back. We had just hustled down miles of pretty steep dirt road. I did not want to climb back up.

I looked the direction I had been heading in. I was sure I could see the highway not too far in the distance. I decided to go toward it, more keen to walk on the shoulder of the highway than take the hit of reclimbing another incorrect decent.

Following roads and paths toward that black line in the distance I found myself in the parking lot for the ski resort. At least that was somewhere I could use as a landmark. I checked to see if I had service and thankfully did.

I pulled up Google maps to find my route to the trailhead. It was two miles up the highway. I looked at the narrow shoulder, then to my panting dogs whose pads were already unhappy from the hot sand.

Defeated, I called my dad and asked him to meet us at the ski resort instead.

Letting Go

I am not a purist in judging other people’s hikes, but I really wanted a connected footpath for mine. I’m a rule follower and anything else felt a bit like cheating. I considered for a moment having my dad drive the dogs as I walked my way over.

Then I let it all go. Perfection is surely not the point of this hike. For what? For who? This is my hike and who cares how if I miss a half mile.

When my dad arrived I had a weight lifted from my shoulders, just happy to not be lost anymore. When I sat down in the van and took a sip of a cold drink I knew I wasn’t getting back on trail that day.

I was mentally beat from my mistakes, and physically beat from the gnarly climbs. It would mean my first deviation from my well laid plan, and would add a full day to my hike. But I had just decided this hike was about enjoying it, not about making big miles, getting done fast, or hiking a perfect hike.

So we drove into Salida to enjoy the day.