Pleasantly Surprised

CW End of Segment 5 – CT Segments 16 & 17

Glen had been watching the weather. The large system dumping rain—and snow in the mountains—was set to move out Wednesday evening, September 30, with several clear days behind it. We were itching to get one last backpacking trip in on the Colorado Trail this fall, so we decided to go for it.

Trail magic before we even stepped on the trail.

The logistics for this section, from Monarch Pass to Highway 114, were going to be a little tricky. Fortunately, Glen’s brother and sister-in-law, Dave and Sue, were house- and dog-sitting just outside Salida, only about 20 minutes from Monarch Pass. The homeowners, avid hikers themselves, graciously offered us a place to stay the night before we headed out. Sue made a yummy curry for dinner; we exchanged stories about our summer adventures, and the next morning they got up early to make us breakfast. Even better, Dave and Sue offered to move our car from Monarch Pass to our ending point at Highway 114. Trail magic before we even stepped on the trail.

It was still dark when we pulled into the Monarch Pass parking lot, though the sky was beginning to lighten. The temperature gauge read 37 degrees.

I was excited to be back on the trail but also a little hesitant. A month had passed since our last outing. We had stayed close to home waiting for grandbaby #3 to arrive and then made a trip to meet the little guy. We kept hiking during the break, but we had lost some of our backpacking endurance. To make things more interesting, these sections have long stretches without reliable water, so we were each carrying four liters. At 34 pounds apiece, these were our heaviest packs of the year.

As we finished our last-minute packing, we spotted a couple of black foxes scrambling around the perimeter of the parking lot and visitor center. What a treat!

The first five miles from Monarch Pass complete the Collegiate West section of the Colorado Trail, known for its high-alpine beauty. As the sun rose, the sky turned pink and revealed surrounding mountains with a fresh coating of snow. Thick fog filled the valley below us while moody clouds hung overhead. Around every bend, another scene seemed worth stopping to admire.

The fog lingered well into the late morning, and the temperature barely climbed above 45 degrees. Higher on the trail, the wind was strong enough to knock us sideways and make it hard to walk in a straight line. Somehow, even that added to the fun of being out in the wild together.

We had hiked these five miles before as part of the Monarch Crest Trail, but the snow and fog made it feel completely different. On a cold Wednesday morning this late in the season, we didn’t expect to see many people. Instead, several mountain bikers came through, bundled against the cold and out looking for an adventure just like us.

Near Marshall Pass, which marks the beginning of Segment 16, we met a solo woman riding the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, a long-distance cycling route stretching from Canada to the U.S.–Mexico border. We stopped to swap stories and encourage one another in our goals. Different destinations and different modes of transportation, but a shared camaraderie that seems to come easily on the trail.

By late afternoon, we had hiked 16 miles and were ready to call it a day. We found a beautiful spot on a high-alpine prairie to dry camp—camping where there is no water nearby.

Although it was late in the season, we crossed paths with several southbound CDT and CT hikers. Two solo hikers rolled in around sunset and camped nearby.

Sometime during the night, we woke to coyotes howling in the valley below us.

The next morning brought bright bluebird skies.

To be honest, we hadn’t been particularly excited about hiking Segments 16 and 17. Guidebooks and blog posts often describe these sections as less than ideal. Cattle graze in the area, much of the trail travels through trees, and there are long stretches without reliable water.

But once again, the trail surprised us.

Yes, there were plenty of miles through the trees, but then the forest would open onto broad mesas covered in grasses turned golden by the season. Frost clung to low-growing tundra plants, while fall foliage added striking reds and oranges.

Every now and then I’d notice a hardy alpine flower still pushing out a single bloom. Earlier in the summer, there had been entire fields of them. Something about that lone flower hanging on as winter approached pulled at my heart—a small picture of persistence and beauty.

The aspens were spectacular, and whenever the trees opened up, we caught glimpses of distant snow-capped mountains.

Timing makes a difference.

Cooler temperatures. Fewer cattle. Golden aspens. Snow-covered peaks.

The recent storm left the ground wet and created large puddles along the trail, but reliable water was still scarce. On Day 2, we hiked nearly 19 miles to reach Baldy Lake, a necessary stop to refill our water.

Nineteen miles with our heaviest packs of the year reminded us of something Project 491 has taught us again and again: our bodies can do more than our minds sometimes believe. Each time we do something we weren’t quite sure we could do, the next hard thing seems a little more possible.

The following morning, we had Baldy Lake to ourselves. We made coffee, took a short walk around the lake, and watched the sky change colors as we packed our bags.

Fourteen miles remained between us and our car.

There were more golden aspens, a couple more encounters with CDT hikers, and then, just a few miles before the end, we passed the 300-mile mark of Project 491.

The final two miles followed a dirt road—not exactly the grandest way to finish our backpacking season—but the aspens were in their glory, transforming what could have been an ordinary road walk into something beautiful.

A pleasant surprise.

As we hiked the last stretch toward our car, dark storm clouds began rolling in. I found myself thinking about Dave and Sue, who had moved our car two days earlier, and about something a friend told us when we first started this journey:

You’ll be surprised by the people who are willing to help you accomplish this goal.

They were right.

Some of those people have been part of our lives for years. Others were complete strangers until the moment they pulled over to give us a ride, offered us a place to stay, or helped us somewhere along the way.

I think we live in a world where we hesitate to inconvenience people or ask for help, even though we’re often more than willing to offer that same help to someone else. Project 491 has reminded us that we don’t have to do everything on our own. This journey has been richer because of the people we’ve depended on along the way.

So thank you to everyone who has followed along, encouraged us, given us a ride, moved a car, opened your home, or simply been part of the journey so far.

Project 491 is officially on hold until next summer, but adventure isn’t.

See you around the next adventure.

~Moose