A little walk into the Weminuche wilderness!

Well, I lived up to my promise of using my backpack for good times, and I didn't have to wait long. Larry and I were on plan for our annual backpacking trip in September, as an alternative idea for my taper for the upcoming Run Rabbit Run 50 miler. Ha. Would I EVER turn down a hike in the mountains, with cutting off the daily nonsense, and rather sleeping on the ground?!? Never!

Larry planned a cool biggish lollipop loop starting at Wolf Creek Pass, and something like 5 days/4 nights out there. It's a good thing he's a map kinda guy, and brings some serious paper maps to anywhere he goes, because I just follow the trail, and if it's marked poorly, I never know where I might end up - and, frankly, I rarely care much (unless I'm FKT'ing), as I figure I'd survive, somehow, and walk out, eventually...

We drove up and parked the car at the connector trail, and a mere 0.5M later hooked up with the CDT. Well, this is neat! I mean, I knew that big part of our outing would be on CDT, but it felt so real, the trail, the famous letters, which I followed so much while doing all kinds of CT adventures over the years, and as we "followed" so many youtuber's videos...I was giddy, and plus, Larry, quite out of the blue, offered, if I ever (ever) want to through-hike the FULL length of the CO CDT, he'd be happy to assist/crew, drop me off, pick me up once a week for a hotel shower and a hot meal, etc. Ouch, I wanna do it now! Of course, this is the end of the season, which we will truly be tested by in the next few days, and I won't even be able to do it next year, because a) I still have a job (see previous post, my longest possible time off, which is unpaid, by the way, is 2 weeks, and this 800 mile trek will take a good 3-4 weeks), and b) the whole reason behind giving up long trail FKT's (ok, of course there are more than 1 reason) is that I can continue to do ultra races, while my body still alows me (and by the time my body says "no more", I don't think FKT's would be in a picture, either). I already have plans for my racing season 2026, including a couple of 100 k's, and a couple of 100 milers. But of course...

Anyhow, that was a long sideways paragraph. Yeah, you can't let me use a blog, I go all kinds of directions in musings, and this is exactly why doing Instagram posts with its word limit has been rough on me. So, back to the trail, and CDT...Larry has done the first 4 miles of it to the lake on a couple of other occasions, those where he'd drop me off at the Durango end of the CT for my FKT attempts (and subsequent DNF's, sigh). We meandered and got to the lake - and took a break! 4.5 miles in, and I am sitting down, pack off my shoulders, eating snacks! Instead of shoving them down my throat as I hike! I mean, I kinda like it, especially after the Rainbow trail rush, and this single track is NOT multi-use, in fact, it's a Wilderness, what means NO motorised vehicles, and it's pretty smooth, and a single track! I'm loving my life. Our packs weigh around 34 pounds each (I mean, it's a fun trip, pack all you can, fill the space, ha - my 2-weeks attempts were below that, if by a little), so I enjoy a sitdown break. But, alas, we have to go - our daily miles, while on the easy side by my standards, are dictated by pretty rare water sources locations, and off we are, again.

Another 4.5 miles rolling terrain, and we hit another (2) lakes - and the big pass with the views. It's incredible, I chirp, I want to camp here so badly, we must do it on our way back! Yes, ok, but now, we MUST haul ass over that pass, because the weather is coming, indeed. Larry "the weatherman" is always acutely attuned into what's promised, and also reads the sky far better than I - if I even look up the sky (just as with maps, I am one of those who knows it's raining when I feel the drops on my head, or at least see the darkness around and hear the thunder). We pick up the effort, and with somewhat light rain hitting us, make it over our first introduction of what's going to be our terrain - a pass at 12,600, with the rest of the trip all above 12k. It sort of stops dropping water on us, so we make another sitting break with snacks. But, the sky is, indeed, getting darker, and we've got miles to go...

As I keep my excitement high, and a complete obliviousness to the miles or the darkness, Larry is feeling the backpacking trek - obviously, he hasn't done 40-50 mile days with a weight on his back for the heck of it, so that first day is always hard on normal humans. Plus, he does know the map, the plan, and the weather - and all of it weigh on him more than a pack. By the time we reach an intersection where our turn-off is to a Sawtooth trail for the loop start, the rain is real, with wind and a serious temperature drop, and we're over 13 miles into the day that, due to the 4 hrs drive, started pretty late. We hide behind the trees to put our rain gear on, I can't find my gloves in a hurry (I mean, as I packed at home, I was like: it's a fun trip, throw some stuff inside a big "other" old pack, and be good, although thankfully I did add pants and a thin puffy at the last minute). What a difference 2 weeks made! On Rainbow trail, it was over 90F during a day that I suffered, and a balmy 45F at night! I brought my 40 degrees ultralight quilt for this adventure, dummy! But, I'm ahead of myself. 

We began dropping down the Sawtooth trail, agreeing that the first water source and a flat spot combination is our stop for the night. We found both 0.5 miles down, and dropped the packs at 14 miles even. The rain lifted a little, so we quickly set up a tent while dry, and cooked up dinner. Here's a separate word - I dream of eating Ramen noodles, those cheap ass 50 cents variety, when I am on my FKT attempts. That first CT self-supported FKT was set in a normal through-hiking style, with hot Ramen every night, and I miss it. I think I drag Larry to backpack just to indulge in my guilty pleasure - this most unhealthy "meal" possible, and I love it. Anyhow, we ate, had tea - crawled inside the tent - and the rain poured. And poured. And kept doing it, also bringing fog to the area, through the whole night. Before we drifted asleep, I actually made an effort to look at the map Larry spread in front of me (oh, it was a cool one! so much to do! all I want is to explore every trail and nook and cranny!), and we both made a coherent decision: that "Big Lollipop Loop" is a big no-go. It's going down a lot, on a trail that is not maintained, and it's going to involve much route finding and wet grass slopping. We found a higher parallel trail that would cut some 4 miles off, and shrunk the plan.

Well, as it pounded water on our tent all night, we both, simultaneously, came to the same conclusion by the wee morning hours: that "other cut off trail" is also not a good option, with it being pretty much a wild path, and the weather as it was. With that, we settled on one coherent decision - CDT out-n-back it is. I mean, it was supposed to be a come-back on CDT anyway, but this trail is surely easier to follow along the ridge, a staple, and it'd have different views going opposite ways, I added. We packed up between the rain bouts, and started our way back up to the CDT, all wet from the get-go.

A couple miles of that, and the weather lifted. It stayed cool-ish and very foggy that day, which, by the way, added to my argument about different views we'd see on the way out and back. Our next water source gave us 2 possible options for camping: a lake on the side trail with 11.5 miles total, or a lake on CDT proper/Piedro Pass in 8 miles. We discussed both options and came to the idea to make a call as we come to the intersection to that side trail, weather depending. The fog made views quite surreal, and at some point, on a 13,000 feet ridge, we were, literally, in a milky soup. Pretty cool, if you ask me. 

But Larry, my clearly thinking man, was pressing me for the decision, and I, using some common sense (surprise!), proposed we go less miles and make sure we're set up for the camp - what meant CDT lake it was.

Interestingly, as we began a 3-mile descend off the ridge to the pass, we saw a sunshine up ahead, and it was nealry hot within half a mile from the campsite. Larry "the meteorologist" had to explain to me that sun means more evaporation and clouds squeezing (don't quote me on that, I barely tune in to all this science), and don't get hopeful. The lake was adorable! There were 2 more right near by, but ours was the best! We set up the tent, had tea - and what do you know, in 30 min after arrival, the thunder clapped. We crawled into the tent, and it went pouring, and pouring, and thundering - for an hour and half. I actually napped! I never do it even at home, but what are you supposed to do inside a square dome? Use time wisely! As the rain subsided, we got out, I cooked my gourmet dinner of Ramen and mashed potatoes mix, and even spent some time knitting, like good ol' times backpacking on my own, before my FKT era entrance! Eventually, the rain came back, again, and it was time to turn in for the night.

That night it wasn't actually wet the whole time, and by midnight, the sky got clear, with stars all around, as we both got up to answer the nature's call. But by the early hours, I started shiverng badly in my "ultralight quilt", while wearing every piece of clothing I had. WTH? We got up at 5:30 am, looked outside - and it became obvious: it's well below 30 degrees, our tent is solid frozen, as well as the ground itself. Yikes!

Packing up wasn't fun, hands frozen, feet in wet shoes not feeling the toes. Have I mentioned I used a $1 gloves from the supermarket? You can only guess their warming quality. We started an hour earlier than on day 2, as the storms were becoming a sure thing at 1 pm - and our daily plan (on the way back now) was longer than yesterday, all of 11.5 miles going up high rolling above 12 000 feet. For the first hour, despite consistently climbing for 3 miles, and having body that was feeling warm from the exercise, the hands and feet stayed absolutely frozen, aching badly. But, the sun eventually hit the ridge, and it was - AH! - so nice, that I started taking layers off, and then again, more layers off! That walk back on the CDT, after the previous foggy and cool day, felt like paradise! I mean, it was still cold-ish and windy at times, but the sun! The views! The exclamation points I kept using! The solitude! The quiet air! In those days, we only bumped into 2 people, separately, both through-hikers of the CDT. "Normal" people don't travel that far into the wilderness, especially as the seasons turn, and the weather deteriorates rapidly. But, this is what I love the most - the lack of people. To me, traveling by foot in high country, deep into the mountains, is an escape from the civilization. I don't want to see anyone, talk to anyone, even saying "hi" would be a burden. I want to be within my own mind and soul, sometimes contemplating deeply, sometimes thinking about nothing at all. To me, this is Zen - let the brain decide what it wants to do, and just let it flow.

It was day 3, alright, and Larry got his trail legs - we were cruising! Miles were clicking, and we only made our first break at 7.5 miles in, well over halfway into our daily plan. But, it was still a quick one - the puffy clouds were forming, and, literally, as soon as we got up, the sky started getting darker, little by little, and the wind blew. Uh-oh, there was still a high pass ahead of us, before we'd drop down to camp! We began putting a real effort into "cruising", what turned into "hauling", and we made it over the 12,600, with the view of our final stop, just as the darkest clouds covered the sky. Run for your life!

Ok, we skitted the slope to the lake, and quickly put a tent up. The bad weather held back for a good 30 min, giving us a chance to set up and even have tea, but then - the downpour was ON! And this time, it laster twice as long as on day 2 - nearly 3 hrs we were napping and getting bored, cooped up inside.

Eventually, it WAS over, and I cooked our last trail meal. We had enough time to walk around, talk about life, what it means to each of us, doing this kind of things, how each of us started with backpacking, back so, so many decades ago...the stories we know, but always willing to listen to. Because this is what makes this time special - you're in no hurry, no annoyance, and you are wanting to actually listen to your partner, tune in, share in...

It didn't rain that night, but the wind was howling. I was miserably shaking, yet again - Larry, the smart one, was all toasty in a real 0 degree bag. It is September, dummy, I thought. I do own a better option. I'm just not that serious about "fun" trips...

Oh, boy, if we thought the previous morning was cold, we had a surprise! It was another sub-30 WITH the North wind at 30 mph! THAT was cold! The water wouldn't boil, between the altitude (the lake was at 11,900), the temps and the wind, and I was concerned we'd run out of fuel (we did, as soon as it boiled). Larry couldn't feel his hands as he tried to break the tent. We hurriedly sipped our hot tea, took a photo of our absolute insanity, wearing everything we brought on the hike, and started out. Luckily, this time, it "only" took us a mile before the sun hit the valley, plus we rolled into the woods, protected from the wind. This was our "exit" day of all of the 9 miles total, and we were back meandering on the CDT mostly in the tree cover. Somehow, the views going this way were MUCH cuter than going southbound. Go figure - was it the way the light fell and highlighted mostly live trees versus the beetle kill ones, or just the angle of the sun rays at this earlier hour, or was it truly the prettier side, we don't know. But, it was nice, and we were grateful to have a very positive experience on our way back to the car. 

I always get melancholic on the last day. Part of me realizes that I have obligations in a real world, people who count on my presence, routine of the daily life, plus the hot shower/warm bed sounded fantastic, not to mention a good coffee...Yet a huge part of me fears this "real life", the noise, them people, the thoughts of the real problems (beyond the cold shivering nights): the kids who are barely alive, and it's always "a good thing" when they are actually booked in jail, because at least I know for a fact they are alive; the mother who's health is failing at 89, and I can't visit her because of the damn politics; my sister who's 66 and has to take care of her, alone, and I miss her so much (much more than mother, to be honest). I try to go along and shut down these thoughts, as what good does it do to dwell? Over the years, I learned to not get things to me. Resilience is definitely my biggest trait I rely on. But, it doesn't mean I can escape. 

And yes, there's this thing, the Rabbit 50 M race, in a week. I probably shall taper, not to mention, I am not sure I can still run, ha! All this hiking... Last time I raced a 50 miler, was 2.5 years ago. I have no clue how to judge the distance, and what to expect - and don't tell me I raced a 100k and a couple 100 milers. Every one is different, and all I can do is just go out, give my best, and hope only the minimum of things would go wrong, and that I can react to each of those timely and well.

These backpacking things, they trigger so much in me. I struggle with the divide between my love for the ultrarunning and my, much earlier developed, love for backpacking. How do I balance it all? While I have plans for the next summer races, I, of course, began rolling in my head what long trails I can take on, whether just as a "pleasure hiking trip", or, maybe, just maybe, a faster effort? An FKT sort of thing? Maybe not... Should I try and entice someone with me? For either of those options? And definitely absolutely, MORE backpacking trips with my love! Larry is amazing, and I am so grateful to have his support, whether to shuttle me and listen to me about my crazy plans and ideas, or to go join me - yes, he loves it, but let be honest, anytime you join me on the adventures, you gotta be a little apprehensive. Regardless, he does, and, out there, he is the MAN, thankful for his ability and the will to do it. I love him so much for that. It was sort of horrible, and sort of absolutely amazing. Not only war stories make for the best conversations (and posts), it was far more meaningful like that: not an easy cruise, but a test of the will, and the testament of our relationship. We never once argued, and that was something to cherish the most. Also, the miles might have seen as short, but we made them by 12:30, so double that, booger! 💯💪

The Fall is here, no denying it. The change is obvious, it is in crispness of the air early in the morning, in subtly changing colors, more yellow showing up, at first higher in the mountains, but also coming to town. I can't believe that another summer of playing in my favorite playground is soon coming to an end. It's not over yet, there will be more summits, more long runs on the slopes of Pikes Peak, before the snow settles in. Heck, the Leif Peeping season is not quite here, why am I so sad? This was a good time away. No, make it a GREAT time away, with someone who matters, doing something that is the core of my being. Here's to more of that.