After a week in Lake City recovering from COVID, I head out to Silverton.
Day 1 – Carson Pass – about 100 miles to go
It’s only 33 miles, but the next stretch from Silverton to Wolf Creek Pass (and The End) was around 90. I wasn’t sure how my lungs would work, and was in no mood to carry 120 miles of food. Plus I was trying not to hurry. I had to get home, but there was a fine balancing act between dawdling and racing through. So I grabbed 2 days of food to do the 33 miles, and a coffee for the road. I stood outside the coffee place in the shadow, watching the sun melt the ice on steaming rooftops. The valley that Lake City is in runs N-S, so the sun rises above the east side. First it touched the yellowing aspens on the upper west side, then as the sun rose, it reached the first houses. It was cold; down jacket and gloves kind of cold. The river running through Lake City doesn’t help either, you get a nice, dew-ey, frosty microclimate. I found a spot in the sun to wait. Looking north into town, I saw other hikers hitching – the same way as me, but before me on the road; thus stealing my hitch. Bad karma.
An overloaded SUV pulled over, with two normal people in the front, and two hikers in the back; Milkman and Chezwick, who among other things, has the Fastest Known Time on a Calendar-Year Triple Crown. He hiked all the of the trails (PCT, CDT, AT), in 1 year, in order, with no skips or flips. In 231 days. Powered by caffeine, nicotine, and ibuprofen. An interesting guy. After trekking across Snow Mesa (remember that, miles of 12,000 foot plateau) in a blizzard, he and Milkman had run into these weekend folks the day before. Through a logistical mixup the weekenders had an extra hotel room, so they gave it to the two hikers, then offered to hitch them out in the morning. We got back up to Spring Creek Pass around 9 or so-ish.
13271 feet
Milkman, Chezwick and I hiked out together, swapping stories, talking about the Triple Crown, and adding/removing layers constantly as the weather and wind shifted. We passed a freshly-killed sheep, probably a coyote had done it. Fresh as in, still bleeding into the stream. There ARE wolves in Colorado, but supposedly in the NW corner of the state, although maybe near Gunnison. Close enough. But still very likely coyote. We mused on this for a bit. After a while, I needed a break, and both of them left me in the dust.
The weather was great, my lungs were good, and the sun was shining. I was really enjoying the solitude up at 12,000 feet. I hit the highest altitude of this whole 2025 adventure, the 13,271 foot marker marks the high point of the Colorado Trail. In this section of the CDT, they run together. Above 13,000 I feel the altitude. It’s different for everyone, but I’m usually good up to 12, I slow down above 12,000 feet, and above 13,000 the air is noticeably thinner. Above 14k I am really slow. But a good sign for my COVID lungs that I could still push the miles. Rested legs helped, too.
Carson Pass
The day ended at Carson Pass, a pass (duh) leading west over and down into the San Juans toward the Rio Grande valley. Yes, that Rio Grande. There were remains of a few old mines, common in the Colorado high stuff, and a lot of dirt roads cut by ATV people, complete with an obligatory fire ring. I hiked down off the ridge a little until I found a flattish area. There’s a sort of “Goldilocks” zone where you’re not on the ridge in the wind, and you’re not down where the cold air is going to settle at night. Some noodles and I was out like a light. I was thinking things like “every day should be like this”, and “I should do this more”. Lungs were good.
I realized while up here that the altitude was why my noodles were coming out gross. At 12000 feet, water boils at about 190F, so things were boiling but not cooking the same. A lot of gluey noodles. Or cheap Mac & Cheese maybe, but I usually bought the good Kraft stuff. The exotic brands usually have significantly less pasta per box. And I’m cheap. And there were no vegan options in Lake City.
Day 2 – Carson Pass to Stony Pass and Silverton
A cold, icy tent morning. Numb hands, as I shook out the fly, which had a little ice from my breath. I usually sleep with the outer doors open for ventilation, but it got cold. Before long, I was sweating in the sun and looking for water. Last night was a dry camp; the peril of camping high. All the water runs downhill. It’s a bit of a race with yourself and your water supply. You’re figuring that you can hike, drink, cook, eat, and hydrate, and still have enough left in the bottle come morning. Then you polish that off while brushing your teeth, and think “there must be water in the next 4-5 miles or so”. You’re betting on it.
It turned into a gorgeous September morning. Not a cloud in the sky, and not much breeze. Before long, I found water, and ran into “The Seths”. Two kids, both named Seth, were hiking together. I had been ‘warned’ about them as not-true hikers, as they had someone meeting them at road crossings with new food and such. HYOH, I figured. They were pretty cool, but eventually dusted me.
Colorado Trail
Later in the day I ran into a group of Colorado Trail hikers. So clean, so peppy, clothes so new. We talked about trails and stuff, and one of them asked me if I had done other stuff. When I told them I was 100 miles from finishing the CDT, one said “A triple crowner! It’s an honor!”. I hadn’t really thought about it in those terms, but it felt pretty good.
It was a high, empty day – the Seths accelerating away from me, unseen, and nobody behind me. I was too far ahead of the SOBO “bubble”, having jumped from Lander to Salida. I had the entire Rocky Mountains to myself it seemed. Tiring, and low on snacks, I came through one last pass and down into the valley where the Rio Grande starts. The same Rio Grande that flows all the way south through NM and along the border with Mexico. It was funny to just ‘hop’ over it. I filled my bottles, and drank some straight from the ground in some sort of ceremony. This was the 2nd big river I’d seen the headwaters of, the first being the Missouri river at Lemhi Pass in Idaho.
This is real John Denver country. The San Juans are the Jewel of Colorado on the CDT.
Stony Pass
While at the stream, I ran into a couple of hikers. I figured they must have parked at Stony Pass, which is a good 15 miles from downtown Silverton down a rough road; you’re not going to just have traffic on the road. Where there’s dayhikers, there’s a car. I pushed on ahead to the Pass. I had planned to camp there, the topo map looked like there were some good spots. And there were, but there was also a pickup truck. I figured I’d get down the mountain and avoid another sub-freezing night.
The days in September follow a predictable pattern. It’s after the summer monsoon, so the only moisture is what boils up from down below. Early morning the sky is clear and dry and cold. By midday you get cumulous clouds. In the evening, the wind picks up, then dies as the air cools. After a few pictures and my last snack, the hikers arrived, and after a few pleasantries, offered me a ride. Halfway up the pass there’s a USFS campground; their destination. But they drove me more than halfway down, through some gnarly rocks and boulders. Anything less than a full time 4WD high clearance vehicle would have died.
Hobo camping by the road
I walked down the rest of the way, through an increasing amount of Private Property signs on both sides of the road. One of the dirt roads lead down along the valley side by some old mines; also Private Property. I was tempted to pull the old Woody Guthrie manuever, but there was daylight left, and a road to reach. Finally, at the bottom of the valley I reached the road; more dirt. The roads between towns in this part of CO are dirt. And they don’t carry a lot of traffic. Balancing time and distance, I started walking, quickly down a side road that might have been the old highway. Sure enough it wound along the valley floor and river, past more No Trespassing signs. Eventually, the main road had split away far enough that there was a no-man’s land between the old river road and the new “highway”, and I made a quick, stealthy camp.
The river echoed through the valley, and once the sun dipped below the rim, that seemed to be some kind of sign; the pickups and ATVs disappeared from the main road, and again I had the mountain to myself.
Day 3 – Silverton, CO and Stony Pass – 87 miles to go
I woke up to clouds, and got on the road as quick as I could. If weather was coming in, I wanted to be in town. My gear is good, but why hike through rain or sleet when you don’t have to? I hoped to catch a ride, but there was nobody on the road. I walked the whole way in. Eventually the road DID turn into asphalt, at least the 1 main road that went straight into town. All the outlying roads were dirt. On the way in I saw beg wet bear tracks right in the road ahead of me. Based on humidity and temperature, I estimated the bear was there about 20 minutes before.
I went to the Coffee Bear, where a buddy from the PCT in 2017 had told me “if you’re ever here, I’ve got you”. Turns out he didn’t work there anymore, but the owner remembered him! A coffee and a breakfast burrito later, I charged up my phone and watched the CT hikers come in to grab coffee for the road. Northbound hikers had come just from Durango, and the southbound ones were headed there in a few days. Their excitement was a little infectious. I walked through town, and headed for the grocery store, a tiny, expensive affair, that had plenty of snacks. I ate on the porch, and hid from the afternoon rains. The two CT hikers that I had seen in Lake City were there, we chatted for a bit.
I wandered around town, soaking in all the tourists, little dogs on leashes, and kids. It was a weird experience. Hardly a metropolis, but so busy and so full of people, I kind of didn’t know what to do with myself. The hotel/hostel place looked weird, so I grabbed a cinnamon roll, topped off my phone, and headed out.
Hitching out
I stood at the edge of town for a while. One guy stopped, said he was friends with a trail angel and had to run errands, but would be back. In less than 20 minutes another guy stopped and hitched me out. When I explained where I was headed, he even drove off the main road and up the (civilized part) of the dirt road to drop me off as high as he could. Years ago he had lived up there in one of the houses, and was familiar with the area.
I started walking, up and up and up and up. My plan was basically to make it to the Pass; I had 87 miles to go, and 5 days of food. I could hike slow and still make it. I felt a little pressed for time, racing the weather and Real World things, but at the same time, you can only carry a full pack up a very steep road so fast.
Eventually some side-by-side ATV people caught up to me. They offered me a ride, but there was nowhere to sit. “If you want to toss your pack in, you can stand on the trailer hitch and hold on”. “Hell yes”, I responded. So I rode, Roman Chariot style, up the hill clinging to the back of the ATV. Kind of like how I rode out of the Winds in 2022 while sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck. “Don’t let go, don’t fall”, was my mantra.
Stehekin
It really wasn’t that bad, and before long I was at the top! Since I had time to spare, and since I didn’t want to camp right in the windtunnel that was Stony Pass, I pushed on down the valley a little, finally camping at a nice overlook. Whether because of the geometry of the hills or the weather, I was able to clearly see the Belt of Venus off to the east as the Sun set behind me. Neat.
At this point I was in full-on enjoyment mode. It was my Stehekin, the final 80 or 90 miles just a postscript, an easy coast, regardless of the true conditions, a victory lap.
