Dreams vs. Reality for a Colorado Trail Thru-Hike

Hi there, Trek reader! My name is Rachel. Today we’re going to journey through several worlds to introduce you to who I am, and what my hiking goals were and now are.

The Dream World

First stop: background. I grew up in Minnesota, but moved to Colorado for college. You’re correct in assuming that I didn’t hike, camp, or backpack prior to that move. During my first year of college, I joined an environmental sustainability program. Through that, I hiked, did trail restoration, and camped on top of taking sustainability classes. My friends and I began hiking local trails, road tripping around the West, and backpacking short, overnight routes.

Last fall, I got The Idea. The Idea was inspired by my less-than-inspirational office job, where I sit, like many of us, staring longingly out the window like we’re waiting for our long-lost love’s train. But The Idea is about more than escaping the 9 to 5. I don’t expect to live in Colorado forever, and I want to explore as much as possible while I do. A thru-hike seems like, at its structural core, basically a big logistical nightmare. And I’m the type of spreadsheet-making, schedule-organizing, Type A personality who thrives almost as much planning something as executing. To a certain extent, I consider this an asset. But I also hope that multiday hiking will help me embrace more flexibility.

So, the dream world. Last fall, I got The Idea. The idea to gleefully turn in my two-weeks notice in July, travel to California for a camping trip, road-trip to Minnesota for a wedding and exploration of the North Woods, and return to the Rockies for a 3-4 week stretch on the Colorado Trail. After hiking the first ~100 miles as sections, I hoped to complete the 400 remaining miles as a thru-hike. That was The Idea. That was the dream world.

The Real World

Attention passengers. We are now crash landing into reality. As you can imagine, the start of March pretty much tore up the dream world. Before we talk about altered plans, let’s acknowledge some things:

• I was massively privileged to be able to work remotely during Colorado’s stay-at-home order. I maintained my regular income in a way millions of Americans were unable to. That means the stimulus check was a bonus for me, rather than probably-still-insufficient funds for basic expenses. That’s why a portion of my check went to four charities that mean a lot to me. So far, I’ve donated to Big City Mountaineers, the Equal Justice Initiative, and the Minneapolis Foundation. If your check was more a bonus than a lifeline, it’s easy and feels good to donate.
• My white privilege actively benefits me in every realm of life. Sometimes hiking seems like a low-cost sport, lacking the expensive lift tickets of skiing, for instance. But it’s important to consider everything that supports your hiking, whether for half a day or for months at a time. This includes the cost of gear, access to transportation, work that provides a reliable income, and often, the option to take vacation days or take months off work with no income. The economic privilege tied to white privilege goes back generations, meaning that historical contexts that may not technically exist today (think: slavery, Jim Crow, lawful segregation, redlining, and much more) do impact today’s context. White privilege doesn’t mean your life hasn’t had difficulties, it means your skin color hasn’t made it harder.
• It would be violent of me not to use this platform (however few my readers are, hi Mom and Dad!) to say that you cannot simply “leave politics out of the trails.” You cannot ignore the privilege and capital that has accumulated over centuries that allows you to hike, backpack, thru-hike without your skin color impacting those activities negatively. So if outdoor recreation is an important aspect of your life, join me in working through the resources compiled by the Trek here. Watch, read, listen, and take action too. 

Altered Plans

During the initial quarantine in Colorado, I completed the first few sections of the Colorado Trail on weekends. Those hikes functioned as pretty much my only physical activity during the quarantine. I was lucky to be able to complete them responsibly. I didn’t enter any stores or neighborhoods and hiked only with my boyfriend whom I live with. We wore masks and stepped off trail while passing others to maintain six-feet of distance.

The most recent Colorado Trail Foundation guidelines don’t advise abandoning thru-hike plans, but rather to make alterations to hike safely. Perhaps the more obvious adjustments include packing a mask and sanitizer and stepping aside when passing other hikers. Your fellow hikers may have traveled from all over the country and will return to those places after their hike. Other changes to consider include waiting longer for hitches and restrictions in hotels, restaurants, and resupply stores in town.

Other factors may not be as obvious. I didn’t realize until I was actually hiking Segment 5 that hard-working volunteer trail crews normally clear the trail blowdowns. It’s humbling to recognize that people hike and carry heavy equipment to maintain the trail for us, the hikers carrying often only the lightest gear to service only ourselves. Furthermore, the CTF expects more trail traffic this year. Partly from people looking to get outside their home. And partly from people who’d planned longer trails switching to the shorter CT. 

At this time (I’ve been saying a lot these days), section hiking seems doable while taking health and safety precautions. I’d love to say I’m still planning to exit the rat race and hit the trail for a multiple week adventure. But At This Time, I don’t think most of us can make firm plans more than a couple weeks out. While my goal is a few weeks of thru-hiking sometime in August, that’s a misty, shrouded future world and we’re not there yet.