In 2002 I completed my goal of climbing all 58 of Colorado's mountains over 14,000 feet. Looking for a new challenge, I decided to try to through-hike the Colorado Trail. Through-hiking the Colorado Trail has not been something I've always wanted to do. For that matter I really didn't know much about it until a couple years ago when a colleague at work mentioned his daughter was currently backpacking in Colorado. She had graduated and decided to hike the Continental Divide Trail, and happened to be passing through Colorado when we talked. I was aware of the long trails: Appalachian Trail (AT, 2,193 miles), Continental Divide Trail (CDT, 3,100 miles), and the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT, 2,650 miles) but mostly ignorant about the Colorado Trail (CT, 486 miles.) The CDT shares 234 miles of trail with the CT which brought it to my attention and I started thinking about a "shorter" through-hike.
The Colorado Trail spans from Denver to Durango, passing through six National Forests, six Wilderness areas, traverses five major river systems, and penetrates eight of the state's mountain ranges. Covering 486 miles and 89,354 feet of climb, the average elevation of the CT is 10,300 feet. It is divided into 28 segments to make it accessible to hikers of all skill levels and to accommodate different hiking goals. Almost every segment terminus is accessible by vehicle, allowing hikers to chip away at the trail slowly and to bail out if something goes wrong. That sounded like cheating to me — to really hike something you have to carry all your gear and camp along the trail. So rather than stage vehicles at each trailhead or hitchhike into towns for resupply, I arranged for friends to meet me where the trail crosses main roads to drop off a prepacked resupply box.
In March I started going for hikes in the foothills after work each day to do my best to prepare my feet and legs for what was coming. But I didn't do a very good job. My first day on the Colorado Trail I quickly realized that the shoes I bought for the hike weren't adequate. I could feel every rock on the trail and ended up bruising the balls of my feet. My emergency contact met me at the end of the first segment with insoles and my winter hiking boots. But even with better footwear, the weight of my pack was more than my feet could handle; the damage had been done. At the end of the fourth day I admitted that I couldn't continue and came off the trail.
After a day to recover I spent a lot of time figuring out how to reduce the weight of my pack — my 1972 Kelty XL external frame is a classic, but there is a tendency to keep adding things since there is still room in the pack. I also went shoe shopping for something sturdier but not as heavy as my winter insulated boots. I managed to reduce my pack weight by ten pounds, and with a new pair of (unbroken-in) shoes, decided to give it another shot. I was going to take it one resupply at a time — at the next resupply I would decide to either call it quits or keep going until the next resupply and re-evaluate.
Rather than return to the trail where I left, I returned where I was scheduled to be so all my resuppliers didn't need to get rescheduled. It seems that I had hit the magic combination: my pack weight seemed reasonable and without the extra weight the new shoes were comfortable and protected me from the rocky trail. I was able to hike farther than scheduled too, but I failed to account for starting at the resupply point instead of it being midway through that day's hike, so I was quickly ahead of schedule. Luckily my next resupply friend was flexible and able to move up a day. He was so flexible that he actually drove out the day before the resupply and hiked out to meet me on the trail with snacks, then went home and drove out again the next day, hiked out to my campsite, and joined me on my hike to the highway. While I was still slow as molasses, I felt good enough to continue hiking and would re-evaluate how I felt after another four days.
As I approached the next resupply point I was now almost two days ahead of schedule, but each of my next two resupply friends weren't able to adjust their schedules. Since I had a couple days "extra" food, instead we changed the resupply location and combined them into one. That was concerning as it meant more weight and I was worried that I would repeat the start of my trek. That first day after the resupply was rough, but I got through it. It was also my tenth consecutive day on the trail, which was the longest I had ever backpacked before. I now had the confidence that I could probably complete the whole Colorado Trail.
A few days later I had an extra long day hiking fifteen miles, something that in the past has laid me up for days, albeit in that case I was climbing to more than 14,000 feet. I was good to continue the next day, but I was faced with a concerning issue. My water purification process (ultraviolet sterilization) failed to work. Even brand new batteries failed. I spent an hour while hiking trying to figure out who I knew in the area and how I might get a new purifier dropped off before I remembered that I had a backup system; iodine tablets. I managed to get the UV partially working, so double purification and/or the tablets would keep me hydrated. I requested to get a water filter system added to my next resupply, unaware that due to the Labor Day holiday, most stores had sold out to all the weekend campers.
The next few days had a lot of climbing as I was traversing along the east side of the Collegiate Range. One morning I woke up in the clouds after the nightly rain. Hiking that morning in the clouds, while hearing the rumble of thunder made me wonder where the shelter from lightning was when you were in the cloud making the lightning? The next morning I awoke to frost covering everything. The aspen trees were already showing their golden color, which was concerning because an early autumn could make winter-like conditions by the time I neared the end of the trail.
After my next resupply I entered a six-day stretch over an area that I was the least familiar with: the Cochetopa Hills, located between the Sawatch and San Juan Ranges. There is little access to water for long stretches as the trail stays close to the Continental Divide. (And also no cell signal — only twice was I able to check-in with my contact.) For four days in a row I only had a single opportunity to refill my water. That meant I was carrying four liters of water — an extra eight pounds. Despite rationing my water, twice I only had a swallow or two left when I reached the next source. I also ran into my first Trail Angel who was providing hikers with water and snacks while collecting their trash where the trail crossed the highway. Then the next day I ran out of water as I reached the end of the segment. As I was looking at my map to identify the next source, a couple of weekend bikers refilled my water from their supply.
The next resupply marked the beginning of the San Juan Mountains. There would be long stretches of trail high above timberline with elevations above 12,000 and even 13,000 feet for miles upon miles. My first night I camped at 12,200 feet. In the morning the sun lit up my tent, then went away. Wait, that's not supposed to happen. I unzipped and looked out to see that I was just a few feet below the clouds and the sun had passed through the gap in just moments. Again hiking in the clouds, the mist turned into rain, and then into a sideways wind-blown rain. I took shelter behind a ridge, looking to see when it might let up. Until I realized that it was no longer raining, but snowing. I came out from behind the ridge to find the ground already covered with snow. I hurried the best I could over San Luis Pass as the guidebook said there was a campsite at timberline after the pass. When the trail started climbing again I double-checked and realized the noted campsite was after the next pass, which was currently up in the clouds and snow. So I found my own campsite at timberline and called it a day at noon.
The next day was overcast, but just as I left my campsite thunder rumbled. By the time I made it back to the trail it was raining sideways again. A couple hikers stopped and said the pass above us was in whiteout conditions so I returned back to my previous campsite. By the time the storm cleared, it was too late to try and resume hiking. I had now lost my buffer of being two days ahead of schedule.
Two days later as I was hiking across the broad expanse of Snow Mesa at 12,200 feet, a couple other CDT hikers informed me that there was a storm forecast in two days — with significant accumulation. I had not had any cell signal for a week but we exchanged contact information as they were heading into town to resupply. I looked ahead to where I expected to be in two days and it was not good — I would be in the middle of a long thirty-mile stretch above 12,000 feet, high above timberline with no shelter or protection from any storm and a long way from any possible evacuation points. I made plans to adjust my potential campsites to a couple cross-trails that would allow moving to a lower elevation if the storm was bad. Then I finally got a weak signal and received word from my morning hiking partners that the storm was expected to produce "only" 1-3 inches of snow, followed by rain the next three days. And also that they had bought a pulled pork sandwich for me and would deliver it to my campsite that night!
As I was hiking through the high ridges the next day I remembered that there had been a full moon just a few days before. So I thought that hiking until dark, resting and eating dinner, then hiking again by moonlight could get me five to eight miles further and closer to a potential sheltered location. When it got dark I "cowboy camped" by just laying my sleeping bag on my pad — no tent. Unfortunately I didn't feel like I got any rest, so that when the moon rose I didn't feel up to hiking. Around 4:00 a.m. I gave up, brushed the frost off my sleeping bag, and packed up.
Hiking by moonlight was peaceful, and since I couldn't see how high the climbs were they seemed to go faster. When the sun rose the skies were crystal clear, not a cloud anywhere. There were still no clouds mid-morning and I started to wonder if the forecasts were wrong or I had managed to out-hike the storm. And then I came around the ridge at the headwaters of the Rio Grande River to see the horizon covered with dark clouds. I estimated I had less than an hour to find some place sheltered to set up camp. I was still well above timberline at 12,500 feet and spotted several spots in the willows that might provide some protection from the wind, but was worried about swampy ground and drifting snow. Then I spotted a ruined cabin and decided that the partial walls would be a good windbreak and it wasn't low where snow would drift.
I reached the ruin just as a mom and daughter were returning from their aborted hike and they volunteered to help set up my tent. Just as we got the rainfly on the snow started. Since their picnic hike was cancelled by the weather, they gave their lunch to me and refilled all my water. I climbed into my tent as the pea-sized graupel came down in waves. After a while it settled down into a light snow, dropping about 2-3 inches when it finally stopped.
The next day I still had seven miles to go before the trail drops almost 3,000 feet along Elk Creek — I hoped to reach that point before any rain or snow started. I enjoyed "reading" the tracks in the snow of the chipmunks, rabbits, deer, elk, coyote, and a cat: either mountain lion, bobcat, or lynx. The melting snow turned to slush and then mud before drying out as I started to descend. I reached my campsite before the rain caught up to me, but that was the last rain on the trek: from then on it was cloudless skies.
My last resupply was the only time I left the trail. Not to go into town, but to a nearby campground where I shipped a box with my resupply items. Loaded up again for the last week, I was struggling to climb over Molas Pass, but after stopping when I finally had a signal after four days, it felt better when I started again. I think I just didn't have my hip belt properly set and it was restricting the circulation in my legs.
Similar to the trail through the Weminuche Wilderness before the storm, hiking through the Hermosa Creek Wilderness spends several days along the ridges, high above the creeks. Instead of my pack getting lighter each day, I was carrying extra water. Almost thirty miles with only two water sources: a very small spring at fifteen miles and a pond eight miles after that. As I reached the last segment, day hikers, mountain bikers, and tourists crowded the trail again. After I finished in Durango I then returned to where I left the trail after day 4 and "filled the gap," hiking to the point where I restarted.
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