Best Laid Plans- Colorado Trail: Segments 1-2
It all begins with an idea. Maybe you want to launch a business. Maybe you want to turn a hobby into something more. Or maybe you have a creative project to share with the world. Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
The original plan was to hike segments 3-4 over 3 days with a girlfriend, these were segments with little changes in elevation and abundant water. My friend had to bail due to family, so I went it alone. My husband agreed to drop me off for dead at my starting point, allowing me to leave my car at the end for an easy get away. The night before I realized it was a 3-hour drive to the end of segment 4 and another hour and a half to the start of segment 3 and an additional 2 hours for him to get to work (6 hours total). How did I miss this detail? Segments 1-2 were much closer, except dogs are not allowed on a portion of segment 1 due to Big Horn Sheep protection, we would enter at a different trail (Indian Creek) and catch up with Segment 1 later.
That morning was its usual cluster fuck… I woke up late and Google took us to the wrong spot. Panic set in and a slew of thoughts ripped through my brain. “What if we can’t find the trailhead for my car?”, “Did we drive 2 hours out here only to go home?”, “Fuck this, if I can’t find it I’m going home”. Tears welled up as I thought about how I may have to forgo this hike and go home only to spend for the time I took off work to pout and think about how unprepared I am. Luckily I brought the guidebook along. It gave better directions than google did. After stopping, turning my car in the opposite direction and spitting gravel, an impressive feat for my tiny Saturn Ion, I realized I was in the right spot. I hoped into my husband's car, on a wild goose chase for my crazy-ass ideas we took off for my starting point. I had him drop me off at what I thought was the trail in the middle of a campground, it didn’t seem exactly right but I decided to end the husband's torture. 2 girls looked at me as my dog danced around my legs hooting as I strapped on his pack. After Dan left I checked the map, suspicions correct as I found that the trail started at the main parking lot, not in the middle of this campground. We tromped down the road, the sun was starting to shine through the trees and a few chickadees sang in the pines, the only sound in the entire place. After another wrong turn, I see a sign directing “Colorado Trail” up ahead. I jump, with an extra 35 pounds, a few inches off the ground in an attempt to click my heels together. Malcom, my adventure pup is trying to figure out how to poop with his pack and is not as thrilled.
We’re in the right direction and moving quickly, except Malcom, who is at the end of his leash, dragging behind me. He didn’t realize that he had signed up to carry his own food, water and dog bowl. Balancing my weight on my back, I slowly pick my way across a babbling brook. I hear distant thunder rumble to my back and the forest grows dark as clouds move in. Pea size ice pellets bounce off my head, we beeline for the biggest tree and huddle, waiting for it to pass. Pulling on my pack's rain cover, Malcom looks at me wanting to go back to the car. The hail stops and we march on in a drizzle, the forest suddenly eerie, gone are the sounds of chickadees, likely hiding under leaves and brush to stay dry. We keep up a steady pace up the hill, passing first through aspen groves and then to more sparse pines and low shrubs. I catch glimpses of tree-covered hills and a subalpine lake in the valley below. The water's surface reflects blue. At the top of the climb, the trail branches with a left arrow reading Colorado trail. It feels like a good time to have some lunch, it’s already noon. Sitting on a log, I munch my vegan jerky and cliff bar. Dozens of hummingbirds zoom around, drinking from the bright orange flowers lining the path. Their tiny bodies move so fast, you can barely see as they dart overhead.
The trail takes a steady decline to Bear Creek, (labeled on the map as the only reliable water source on the 16.8 mile stretch of Segment 1) I fill up our extra bottles just in case we need water. Squatting on a rock, I stick the hose of my filter in the stream and start squeezing the bulb. Water gushes out the nozzle and sprays me in the face. “What the actual fuck!” I yell, Malcom looks up from his wading session, happy to have a break from his pack, “I used this thing last summer, why isn’t this damn thing working” I say to the trees. I take it apart and put it back together and after 15 minutes give up. I fill my bottles straight from the stream with plans to boil it tonight.
About 2 hours later, I reach the spot I planned to camp but it's mid-afternoon and I decide to keep going. 3 miles later I find a spot that has a good view of the mountains and doesn’t give me the willies. I get the tent up just as sprinkles tink on the canvas, Malcom heads inside and curls into a dog donut. I stomp away from my tent, counting steps, up to 100 and hang my food sack in an old tree. We hop into bed around 7 pm and I watch the mountains slowly get dark from our tent window and listen to the rain on the roof. I study my map, counting the miles that we have left. I’ve gone 12 today, this leaves 14 to go, a long but doable day hike. I can get home a day early and use the next day to mountain bike.
I wake at 5am, surprised by how well I slept with it being my first night alone in the woods. A few birds twitter from the surrounding trees and the sound of rain still pings off my rainfly and patters on the ground outside. A steady “drip” from the tree above me right over my head. I fall back asleep for an hour and poke my head outside my tent, the mountains are covered in swirling fog and it’s drizzling, what a shit day. I pack up our soaked tent and get our food out of the tree. Malcom wolf's breakfast as I stuff a few handfuls of trail mix in my face. The drizzle continues until we reach the South Platte River and cross the Gudy Gaskill bridge to segment 2, leaving us 10 miles to go. I drag 1 foot after the other up the steep incline, bent over at the waist, hands clutching my pack straps and sweat rolling down my face, I realize I only have ½ a liter of water in my bladder that is drinkable. Stopping and standing up straight, I realize that I also didn’t boil the river water in my dinner last night long enough. Its too late to do anything about it now but thoughts of blowout diarrhea from Giardia swirl in my head and whether my doctor will treat me before diarrhea starts. This keeps me going for the first ¼ mile.
After 2 miles I’m sweating, hangry, and wondering why I thought this would be fun. I drink a few sips of clean water and flip the bird to the next 2 CT trail markers I see. We stop at a campsite just before the top of the hill. I eat lunch and boil the last of my river water (3 cups worth). I share the measly amount with Malcom, wondering why I didn’t fill up his water bladder at the river. There are another 5 miles to go before reaching the car, we can totally do this. Packing up my stove, we have another ½ mile of uphill to go. Passing the spot we were planning on staying that night also brings on the downhill. My feet stomp in cadence with my singing “to the window, to the wall” as I swing my trekking pole, my back sighing in relief of no longer doing the brunt of the work. It's quite in this area of the woods, which is the reason for my singing, a flurry of wings comes from the underbrush and I scream bloody murder. My voice echoes off the surrounding hills. Malcom kicked up a grouse, I bend over cackling as I realize that was the most scared I’ve been the entire time. The trail plateaus into a burn area which has turned a forest into a meadow. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I see a few old deer kills. I keep an extra close eye on Malcolm who trails along miserably behind me. Checking the map on my phone, my trail app says that we are only 1 mile from the car, we cross the highway but there is no trailhead and no Saturn in sight. I recheck my phone, the app says that segment 3 starts at the road but I don’t see the trailhead anywhere close. I pull out my paper map and see that we have another 1.5 miles to go. Swearing, dragging my trekking pole and a bewildered pup we trudge the extra distance to the car.
I finally see the glimmer of my Saturn and do an audible “whoo hoo!” to the surrounding birds. Plopping my pack at the car and opening the cardoor for Malcom, I lay on the picnic table stretching, and look at my map, we hiked 15.5 miles today. Yesterday was not the 12 miles I thought but more like 7 miles. I come back to find Malcom asleep in the driver's seat. A crow circles overhead and I tell him to piss off, he’s laughing at me.
There’s no way I’m mountain biking tomorrow.
