Day 60 – The Angel Intervention
Day miles: 19.2
Trip miles: 1145.9
I woke up by the dilapidated cabin foundation. There wasn’t much condensation in my tent, which is always nice. I hurried to get going, mainly because I had a full day of hiking ahead and I wanted to get to Grand Lake as soon as possible so that I would have time to resupply, eat some food, and poke around a bit.
I started down the trail at a quick pace, enjoying the relative cool of the morning. It would be hot by Colorado standards before too long. As I barreled along I came upon a log bridge over a creek, and on the other side of it were two huge moose! It looked like a male and a female, one being larger than the other. They stared at me and then moved off the trail behind the trees on the other side of the creek. The larger one moved farther away, but I got a decent shot of the other. Two moose, and this time close up! It was already shaping up to be an interesting morning.
I moseyed on until Monarch Lake came into view from the ridge through the trees. On my way down to its shore, I passed some kind of old furnace. It was huge and looked like it could have been part of a locomotive at some point. I could see the rectangular opening where the fuel (wood or coal) would have been shoveled in. Somehow it had gotten left behind, a piece of orphaned history that could neither fade away nor carry its story with it.
I made it down to the shore of Monarch Lake and took a few moments to feel the water and appreciate its beauty. The water wasn’t cold like I had imagined. The backdrop of the mountains and their reflection across the mirror surface were sublime.
Some water fowl slowly made their way through the water from whence they came to where they were headed. It felt like the kind of place where time could stop for you if you wanted. As long as you were ok with standing still while the rest of the world moved on, Monarch Lake would be there for any and all metaphysical journeys.
I stopped just before the lake parking lot to empty out my trash in the bin. It was still pretty early on a Sunday morning, but the parking lot was quite full. I walked down the road along a string of cars that were parked parallel to the forest. Three women of college age were organizing their backpacking gear in the back of an SUV.
As I walked by, one of the women came up to me and asked, “What do you do if you see a moose?” I must have looked caught off guard (I was), because she quickly followed up with “There’s a baby moose right there,” and pointed from their car into the woods. Sure enough, there was an adult moose and calf, extremely close to the car, both of which seemed to be really enjoying what they were eating. I was blown away – a baby moose!
The calf was a much lighter brown than the parent, and just stood there happily eating some type of vegetation. I stared in awe, and then answered the question by saying we should respect their space and not get closer, and just keep an eye on them to make sure the adult moose didn’t in any way seem bothered by our proximity.
I should have taken a picture. I wish I had taken one. But, satisfied with their safety, the women then started peppering me with questions about my hike, what they should do if they saw a bear, etc. It was their first backpacking trip. I wanted to tell them that they should worry more about mosquitoes than bears, but there was no doubt in my mind that there was a can of Off! bug spray in at least one of their packs.
The moose family quietly moved on, out of photo range behind some trees. Four moose in one morning, and a baby one at that! I was on cloud nine.
I wished the group of three good luck and headed on down the dirt road. Following the road I reached the south end of Lake Granby, which was quite large. Other than some car camping spots at the south end and some weekend boating activity, Granby did not seem to be built up with private houses and land development.
The CDT largely followed the shore of the lake, sometimes taking me high above the water, and other times leading me down to its edge. The day was already heating up, and I was tempted to skinny dip at one of the little beaches. There were a lot of boaters whizzing by though, and I really wanted to make it to Grand Lake sooner than later, so I kept going.
The trail departed the banks of Granby and took me through a marshy set of meadows. I ran into two older ladies who asked if I was a thru-hiker. They were jovial and warned me of some upcoming, shoe-swallowing muck. I was impressed that they were out there in that terrain!
There were indeed swampy bits ahead, but I navigated them fine. The stagnant water had a rank odor to it though – I was definitely glad I didn’t step into any muddy sinkholes.
I kept hiking to the next body of water, which was Shadow Mountain Lake. It was also beautiful, but much more built up than Granby, with houses lining the hills above it, and plenty of water recreation of all kinds happening. Even from afar I could tell from looking at the homes that there was a lot of money in the area.
The trail led past Shadow Mountain Lake over a bridge that people were jumping off of into the water below. Across the bridge was the town of Grand Lake, named after the lake it was built along, which I could not yet really see.
I walked along in through the town. It had a single main street lined with shops and a few restaurants. It was definitely cute, and definitely busy. There were people walking around, driving, looking at the shops. Grand Lake was a happening place, and I hadn’t seen the half of it yet.
I headed west to the outskirts of town and went to the Mountain Food Market to resupply. Although it was the best option in town, choices were limited and prices were high. Most of what I ended up buying was processed sugar. I remembered the words of the cashier in Winter Park when I decided not to get another fruit cup after she spilled mine. “It’s healthier than all the other things you’re buying.” My load in Grand Lake wasn’t really any better.
I sat outside the grocery store after packing away my food, ate some snacks and drank a Dr. Pepper. I was starting to think about where to eat lunch when a lady came walking up to me and said “Hey thru-hiker!”
She sat down at my little table and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Karen and she was the trail angel for Grand Lake. She used the word “the” purposely, as in she was the only one.
She asked me what my plan is, so I told her I was going to grab a bite to eat and then find a place to camp as close to the beginning of the Rocky Mountain National Park loop as possible. She then invited me to camp in her yard, informing me that the only hostel in town was full and there was no legal place to camp before the loop. She said she already had one hiker staying with her, and would have a few more by the end of the day. She said I could shower and do laundry – I was blown away! She had already solved a problem I didn’t even know I had yet, so the term “angel” was very apropos.
I graciously accepted her offer, and when she was done her grocery errand she drove us up the steep hill to her house. Another hiker named Vader was there. She pointed out where I could set up my tent, do laundry, shower – she even had a small drawer with loaner clothes in it. I still very much wanted to go eat in town, so I asked if she wanted to join me for lunch. I figured it was the least I could do. She agreed and suggested a Jamaican place, so I figured why not. I usually go with the local recommendations.
She drove us down the hill and parked in town where I had first walked in. The place was even more abuzz now; people were everywhere. It looked like everyone in town was on vacation from somewhere else, though it was Sunday, so I’m sure there were plenty of locals and part-time residents out and about too.
The Jamaican place was fairly large. It was called One Love and had a laid back Bob Marley theme to the decor. I ordered a jerk chicken sandwich, curry fries, and a limeade. Karen and I got acquainted while we ate.
Karen spent her summers at her place in Grand Lake, but lived the rest of the year at her home on the big island in Hawaii. She was a retired event planner and seemed to be a bit of a political activist based on some other things she was involved with.
Mostly we just talked about travel. She seemed to have been everywhere, and I have been a good number of places. I never did figure out how she came to know about the CDT but she definitely seemed like the kind of person who didn’t miss a beat. She said she wished more of the locals would get involved in supporting hikers.
After lunch we walked next door so I could grab an ice cream. There was a line out the door, but it moved fast. She took me down the street to see Grand Lake up close. There was a marina area and short boardwalk, and then a public beach area. They were all teaming with people in bathing suits enjoying the hottest day of the summer so far.
The lake was gorgeous, and relatively small in comparison with Granby and Shadow Mountain. It’s about a mile wide and a mile and a half long. From a book at Karen’s house, I learned that Grand Lake is actually the largest naturally occurring lake in Colorado. The mountains behind the lake offer up an iconic reflection on its surface, lending it all the charm one could want from a body of water. Boats and watercraft of various kinds dotted its surface. Everyone seemed to be happy.
Indeed, Grand Lake had a certain charm to it. It was the kind of place where people “summered,” where romances blossomed, and memories were made. I could almost picture Gillian and I with a house on the hill, looking down at the mountains reflected in these majestic waters. The attraction of Grand Lake was powerful, but, I have also learned that some places are optimal in the ephemeral. I have vacationed in quaint locales where, despite their charms, staying for any long period most assuredly would have been accompanied by diminishing returns. It is easy to be wooed by a veneer, but more of something isn’t necessarily better. I think recognizing this is important, as I can be optimally satisfied without more when I understand the difference between pursuing dreams and chasing ghosts.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Grand Lake was such a place, best experienced in short stays so that it can retain its idyllic impression in the mind. I would further consider this later tonight when the sounds of loud partying drifted up the hill from the main strip. Nevertheless, Grand Lake would always be grand to me, because I would be leaving tomorrow.
After our walk down to the water, I asked Karen if there was anywhere nearby where I could get a sandwich to take back to have for dinner. I felt like I hadn’t taken in nearly enough calories on this town stop. She asked if I was interested in turkey sliders and said she would grill some of those, so I said sure. I probably should have still gotten some food somewhere though, forgetting that normal people just don’t know what it is like to have that powerful hiker hunger.
We drove back to the house. Vader was hanging out in the yard. I chatted with him a bit and set up my tent. I then threw in a load of laundry and went to take a shower, but almost immediately had to go to the bathroom. That jerk chicken sandwich just blew right through me. I was glad that Karen had turned some music on and was in a different part of her house.
It was nice to get clean and to have some loaner clothes to wear while my laundry finished up. Later in the evening Karen asked if Vader and I wanted to play Scrabble. I kind of wanted to catch up on my journal, but she seemed to really want to play, so I said ok. Vader passed, probably smelling the ringer that I could not.
I should have known it was not going to go well for me when Karen started talking about the official Scrabble dictionary and the rules around challenging words. I tried to put up a good fight, but got clobbered by over a hundred points. I could tell she loved winning though, and I’d had fun.
During the game Karen brought out her turkey sliders. They didn’t have buns so they weren’t that filling, but I was super grateful for them and ate the whole plate (Vader is vegetarian).
Two hikers from Marietta, GA showed up to witness my lexicon flogging. By 9:15PM I was exhausted and waived the white flag. I needed to get some sleep if I was to get up early tomorrow.
Karen drew us a map and explained what she said was an easy way for me to get to the beginning of the RMNP loop tomorrow morning without backtracking through town. Instead of going down the hill, I could pick up another trail from the road we were on if I just followed it back up behind the old Grand Lake Lodge. This sounded good to me!
The Caribbean fire in my belly visited me again before bed. Eating at One Love may actually have been One Big Mistake. I was glad to be feeling ok otherwise and grateful for the wonderful wildlife sightings today, as well as the kindness of a stranger. I went to bed listening to the sounds of Grand Lake at night, and thinking that, despite its charms, tomorrow would be a good day to leave.
Day 61 – The Map
Day miles: 29.7
Trip miles: 1175.6
I got up early, though I overslept a little after snoozing my alarm. The Jamaican curse bid me good morning, though I also hoped it was goodbye. One Love, huh? More like One Truck Stop and Seven Years of The Clap. Nevertheless, I felt better as I hiked out of town. After all, I had the map.
Karen had told us that there was a way to get to the RMNP loop junction without walking back through town. She drew a map and said that it was easy. All we had to do was follow the road her house was on around behind the Grand Lake Lodge, then pick up a trail behind that building. You can see the map for yourself – it looks quite simple right?
Maybe it was the morning’s twist of my guts into dreadlocks, but the path seemed anything but straightforward to me. At first, the road seemed to curve like the map, but the lodge wasn’t just one building. It was a maze of little cabins and small parking lots. I walked by a beautiful small outdoor amphitheater with a view of the lake. I skulked around some cabins and then crossed over a stone wall into a parking area. I walked by some old-timey cars in what appeared to be a garage by the main building. All the while I was looking for the trail I was supposed to pick up.
I finally found a paved road behind all of the sprawling buildings, and saw a trail sign and a dirt road leading off into the woods, which was all burnt from the 2020 fire. There was a bag of garbage ceremoniously dumped at the beginning of the road. “At last!” I thought. I started down the road happy to be back on track.
This happiness quickly turned to unease, however, as I started to feel like the road was angling a bit too much north. I had thought that Karen had said the trail went right to the junction at the beginning of the RMNP loop, which is where I wanted to go. It didn’t take me that long to realize this was not the case. I kept checking FarOut and discovered that I was going to hit the cutoff trail about a quarter of the way up it.
So yes, in a roundabout way the trail could lead to the beginning of the RMNP loop, IF I cut south on the cutoff alternate. But, if there is one thing I hate to do, it’s cut backwards on a route to get to the beginning of another. It is my own hang up really, but when I got to that junction, I knew I wasn’t going to turn back south. One, I didn’t want to backtrack. Two, I wasn’t even sure if the larger loop was open. Three, the state of the burn area I was in was pretty bad – every tree was dead – and I knew this wouldn’t improve on the loop trail. And four, between waking up late and spending more time trying to follow the map and find the connector trail, I was going to be hiking quite late to get out of RMNP to where I could legally camp. So, I just turned north on the cutoff trail and started walking.
It didn’t take me long to run into another twist – a fence across the cutoff trail stating that it was closed. If the cutoff was closed, then I have to imagine that the main loop would have been as well. There was a side trail at the closure that ran back out towards a paved road, and that seemed to be my only viable move, so I took it.
After a mile or so I hit the road and again pointed myself north. I walked three or four miles and eventually joined up with the CDT just outside the north end of the RMNP loop. This time I was able to get back on trail and move forward without more closures.
I was disappointed to miss the loop, but it probably would have been closed anyway. Even if not, 21 miles of burned forest is a bit much. In the end, it worked out not as I could foresee, but as it was meant to be.
The first thing I noticed when I got back on the trail, but still inside RMNP, was the presence of mosquitoes. They were swooping and swirling everywhere. I picked up my pace, but it was not enough to keep them off. I stopped and put on some Ben’s 100% deet. Nothing keeps the mosquitoes away like the sheen of a good half life.
I crossed over a road and through an overgrown meadow and came to a creek. I saw two ladies on the other side, motioning to me and shouting. “There’s a plank!” they said. Sure enough, through the trees there was a plank to cross over.
I tiptoed across as it bent under my weight, and when I reached the other side I saw that it was the same two older ladies I had seen before Grand Lake who had warned me about the muck. For a second I wondered if they were real, or mere apparitions sent to keep my feet dry, but I reminded myself that I’m just not that special. They said they thought they might bump into me today, and sure enough they saw me earlier when I was walking down the road. We discussed the mosquito situation briefly, and then one of the ladies said that I was about to do a lot of climbing. She was right.
I left them to their hike wondering how they were choosing their short trail jaunts. First mucky wetlands, then mosquito-filled meadows – maybe they would find a section of blowdowns next? Either way, I was impressed with their commitment and fortitude to see what was out there. Most people just walk the paved path down to the waterfall with the view that everyone sees. If you can find beauty behind the muck and mosquitoes, you’ve got a recipe for life.
I spent the rest of the day climbing. I ran into Waldo a few times and chatted with him for a bit. I made my way up and over Bowen pass, which was about 11,400 feet, then down again through a valley and a long section of burn. The burn was complete; all of the trees were dead. I suspect it was also part of the huge 2020 fire. The only life present seemed to be these large clusters of lavender and blue flowers. The contrast between the purple and blue of the plants and the charred black of the trees was surprisingly stunning. Death yields opportunity to life, even in the worst circumstances.
The next big peak was Parkview Mountain, our last one over 12,000 feet. Waldo was going to summit and keep on going. It started to rain lightly as some storms were hanging around. I wasn’t sure yet what I would do, but I definitely felt tired. Then, as I was climbing up a ridge, the Jamaican mafia appeared in my gut again and I suddenly had to run off trail to go see a man about a horse.
I hiked on after that, but as the wind picked up a bit and I got to my last opportunity to camp before losing the trees to elevation, I decided to take it. I had hiked enough miles for one day and I did not want to tangle with the Jamaicans on an exposed mountainside. It ended up being a good decision, as I had to move quickly to battle stations on several occasions, including jumping out of my tent at midnight and waking up the mosquitoes for a late-night snack.
I was grateful for a good day of hiking, despite some twists and turns today, and to have a place to camp that set me up for the climb tomorrow. I hoped my stomach issues would not linger tomorrow. Fortunately, I did not feel sick or in pain, but that One Love just kept hanging around….
Day 62 – The Drag
Day miles: 20.4
Trip miles: 1196
I started the day climbing up Parkview Mountain, my last peak over 12,000 feet. The mosquitoes joined me for most of the climb, but fortunately left me alone at the top. It was a tough climb, and I felt drained.
The views from the top were beautiful, so I decided to take a snack and sunscreen break by a small warming hut at the top. It kind of looked like a concrete bunker with a lightning rod affixed to it. A marmot had made its home in a hole dug at the base of the structure’s foundation by a small rock wall. It was not shy, and hung out nearby. It kept its distance and stared at me curiously at first, but then proceeded to go sit on a rock in the sun and warm itself. It was very cute.
After sitting there for a while with my friend Marmie, I descended down the other side of Parkview, leaving my 12K views behind, fully transformed into memories now. The descent was steep, but before long I would go up again. This would be the theme for the rest of the day.
Indeed, I spent the remainder of the day going up very steep inclines, often with no switchbacks, and then down again, only to repeat the cycle. Over and over I did this. When so looked at the map for the day, I had thought it was going to be a bit more of a breeze after Parkview. It definitely was not.
Mosquitoes were definitely a factor in this section, so I applied some deet to try to avoid getting a lot of bites. I really felt like I was dragging. I was tired and every climb felt like a chore, so I took a lot of breaks. Perhaps Colorado realized it wouldn’t have me for much longer and was trying to squeeze all of the juice out of me it could.
Complicating matters, it seemed like every time I ate something, the Jamaicans showed up for some gastrointestinal revenge shortly thereafter. It felt like I buried a body in the desert for every snack I ate.
Needless to say, I was happy to make it 20 miles today. I didn’t feel bad; I just felt very tired. I pushed all the way to a dirt road at the top of one of the last bigger climbs. It was painful because I had to carry a lot of water there (I am starting to encounter some drier stretches now), but the views at the top of the ridge were gorgeous. I knew I could camp up there with minimal condensation, and since the weather was good, I would even get a sunrise view.
I found a spot with a few trees and a good view and set up camp. I was surprised that there were still a lot of mosquitoes, despite the breeze and relative exposure. I had a very loyal group of supporters, I suppose. I went to bed ready to rest and grateful that I had set myself up well for the next day, despite being tired. Tomorrow I would be road walking – first the dirt road, then to a highway, and then another highway that would take me to Rabbit Ear Pass where I could hitch to Steamboat the next day.
Day 63 – The Road
Day miles: 27.6
Trip miles: 1223.6
I woke up to a beautiful sunrise. The Jamaicans had not interrupted my sleep, nor did they seem to be hanging out in the dark alleys of my bowels this morning. The mosquitoes were awake, but groggy, flitting about in the morning light like drunken sailors not her sober enough to swab the decks.
I got myself ready and began a long day of road walking. At first, it was all somewhat rocky forest road. It went up and down, but was never too steep. It was almost like yesterday’s punishing series of ascents and descents had never happened. My quads would tell you otherwise, of course.
I saw a few deer on the road, and the mosquitoes weren’t too bad at first. At first. But, as the road gradually descended toward its inevitable junction with CO highway 14, the land became grassier and my vampiric friends grew in strength and number.
An older gentleman on an all terrain vehicle stopped to say hello and offer me water. His trailer was just down the way. I thanked him, but I was about to hit a creek where I would fill up. I planned to carry out 5 liters for the rest of the day. It was getting hot and I did not want to use the water sources by the highway, which might be full of agricultural runoff. Also, the water in front of fields along roads tends to be fairly stagnant (sometimes by design for irrigation), and thus is a haven for flying vampires young and old to comfortably raise their families. I would just carry water.
I loaded up on water from the little stream and continued on. The insects worsened. Cattle were around, but they seemed to prefer my tender flesh. I applied more deet, but that did not seem to bother the flies. One fly, which looked like a normal house fly, managed to draw actual flowing blood with its bite. That was a first. Usually it is the little black flies that do that. Nevertheless, this is just part of a long trail. There will be biting things. I will donate a lot of blood. I will feel fiery and itchy from the bites. Mind over matter – I must continue on.
The road walk on CO14 was long. It later joined US40 at Muddy Pass, which goes south to Kremmling or northwest to Steamboat Springs. The CDT walks along US40 until an inconvenient mile before Rabbit Ears Pass, where it veers off on a dirt road somewhat in the direction of Dumont Lake. I say inconvenient because cars are flying along US40, so if you are trying to hitch to Steamboat, unless you get lucky with someone coming down that dirt road, your best bet is to walk the mile to the pull off at Rabbit Ears Pass and hitch from there.
I passed the day listening to podcasts and swatting at hordes of mosquitoes. When I hit US40, I remembered my very long road walk there from Kremmling in 2019. It was painful, but I also remember the comedy of seeing all of the FM Light & Sons signs along the way. FM Light & Sons is a shop in Steamboat that sells western attire. They have yellow signs everywhere, including on CO14, advertising their various wares.
My road walk was not without some last minute excitement of the Caribbean flavor. Thinking my stomach was all good, I ate a few snacks when I hit US40. As I climbed up and around towards my turn off for the CDT, the Jamaicans in my stomach awoke and decided to have a party. I clenched in desperation as cars wizzed by, jerkily hiking as fast as I could, willing the seal not to break. I finally found a little pull off just in time. It was a close call. Just for the record, I am not sure if I would have yanked my pants down beside moving traffic if I’d had to. I guess you never know until that moment comes.
Unfortunately, when I finished my little Caribbean vacation, I realized I had been standing in an ant nest and they were now crawling up my legs. I danced around as I pulled up my pants, swatting them off and trying not to trip over. It was a spectacle. Fortunately, none of the ants bit me. They probably knew that my meat was a little rotten at this point.
I made it to the dirt road turn off that was the trail, and all things considered, with my dignity somewhat intact. A guy had even stopped and offered me a ride, but it was almost 6PM and I wanted to go into town in the morning to maximize my stay.
I camped close to the highway off the dirt road. The mosquitoes were vicious. I dove into my tent and, for the first time, could not get the door to zip shut. My tent zipper had been broken for a while, but if I messed with it for 30 minutes or so, I could always get it mostly shut. Not today. It was finally done. Fortunately I keep a handful of safety pins on me, so I pinned it closed pretty well. The mosquitoes bopped around, but they weren’t smart enough to navigate the areas where they could have found a way in.
It took a lot of time to deal with the door – over an hour. Luckily I was picking up a loaner tent from Zpacks in Steamboat while they fixed the zipper, so if it had to permanently fail on me, tonight was the best night for it. I went online (I had cell signal by the highway) and finally found a place to stay for tomorrow night. There aren’t any hostels in Steamboat, and places are quite expensive. I wasn’t happy about that, but it would be good to rest – I had a long day of chores ahead of me in town.
I went to sleep with one eye open, watching as mosquitoes got close to the weak points in my pinned door. I was grateful that this had not happened earlier, and that I would be in town tomorrow to begin the process of getting my tent fixed and to take care of the other various necessities.
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