It was a pleasant morning, with just the right amount of uphill and downhill to keep things interesting but not too painful. Yes, I did take some ibuprofen, but I took it more as a preventative measure than anything else.
The trail this morning went by meadows, then along a stream with wildflowers everywhere, and finally through a burn area that was rather beautiful because of all the fireweed flowers. The entire time I hiked I felt grateful to be doing so - I have no idea if my issue is going to resolve itself or not. All the other issues I’ve had thus far I’ve experienced before and therefore knew how to deal with/what to expect; this time, it’s something completely new and I’m not handling the uncertainty very well.
Along the way, I briefly spoke with an older couple going SOBO, who have been section hiking the CDT for a few years. This year they are going to Grand Lake. They told me to “just skip the basin in Wyoming and go directly to the Winds”. I laughed and said we have a continuous footpath objective, but then said that if my issue doesn’t resolve itself soon we might have to abandon that goal.
There was also a guy with his dog on the trail, who I’m pretty sure thought I was weird because I was walking down the hills sideways (my issue hurts less that way). When I got to the trailhead where Nick and I planned to meet, the guy (James) with his dog (Kera) was there, chatting with Nick about the military (James had also been in the Army). Kera is the nicest, gentlest dog I’ve met in a long time.
The hike after lunch started out with a 5 mile, almost 3,000 ft climb. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t terrible, mainly because we’ve hiked worse and survived so I knew we’d eventually get to the top.
I did make the mistake of thinking we were almost at the top several times before we actually got there. You think I’d know better by now - never assume you are almost there, especially when switchbacks are involved.
Nick and I got to the top around the same time, which was nice because we were able to take a break together and enjoy the view at 12,296 ft. Consequently, we won’t be that high again for the rest of the trail, which makes me a little sad - I do so love being up high.
While we were lucky that it didn’t rain or storm at all today (especially when we were making our way to the summit), the pleasant day took a turn for the worse after I left the lookout. I followed the trail from the lookout, pleased that it was still following the spine and that the downhill wasn’t too steep. After a while, though, I lost the trail. No biggie, that’s what the app is for.
I checked the app and was shocked to see that I was off-trail by a half-mile. Worse, the trail I had been on wasn’t the CDT at all, which meant I went wrong the second I left the lookout. Ugh. I turned around and made my way back, bumping into Nick, who had also taken the false trail.
We should have just gone all the way back up to the lookout - that would have been the smartest move. However, we figured we would just walk along the side of the mountain and meet the trail that way. It seemed like a good plan - why go up and then back down when you can just stay at the same elevation?
It was not a good plan at all. The side of the mountain was very rocky and steep with sections of scree thrown in to up the danger and adventure level. Nick fell, scraping his knee pretty badly. I exerted way more energy than I should have, trying to keep my issue from getting too mad (surprisingly, it felt fine whilst scrambling along the mountainside, but that could be from all the adrenaline). It was very slow going and very frustrating. In retrospect, we should have gone back to the lookout.
That being said, I don’t think anything would have prevented what happened next. Once back on the trail, I was cautiously making my way downhill when a sharp pain suddenly ran up my lower leg. I had already taken 1600 mg of ibuprofen throughout the day (two doses of Ranger Candy) so I was shocked by the sudden, extreme pain. Not knowing what else to do and being mentally exhausted from our off-trail adventure, I fell to the ground, pack on and all, and just lie there for a bit with tears in my eyes. My issue had apparently had enough for the day and was telling me in no uncertain terms to stop.
I wanted to listen, but we still had 4 miles to go to the next water source. When I finally managed to stand up, I discovered that walking at anything other than a snail’s pace was unbearable.
Nick watched me struggle in what I assume was horror. He didn’t want to hike ahead of me, and when I told him I didn’t think I would make it the 4 miles to water, he agreed.
Boyscout Mode: Activated.
Nick looked at the map and told me he was going to go ahead of me - just a bit - to the saddle that was about a half-mile away because he thought he might be able to find water down there somewhere. I crossed my fingers but prepared myself for 4 very slow miles.
While Nick was searching for water, I managed to get down to the saddle by walking sideways and whispering, “it’s ok, you’re ok, you can do this” to myself over and over (that seems to be my go-to mantra when I’m struggling). I was only at the saddle for a few minutes when Nick walked up, triumphantly holding a bladder full of water.
My hero. :)
While I purified the liquid gold, Nick set up the tent. We were both covered in annoying mosquitoes while we did our respective tasks, but now we are safe in the tent from the little bloodsucking monsters and all is well.
Along the trail:
Camp:
