A Modest Folly: Breckenridge to Leadville (Tuesday June 29

I packed up and split Breckenridge by noon on Monday. I get through a beautiful pass and hike along a beautiful ridge that lasts for many miles along the Ten Mile Range. I am up there for a long time as clouds continue their cloudy activity, but fortunately no storms develop. I finally hit the trail junction and head down into the trees. I meet a hiker (Bridget) and her dog (Boggy). I camp down the trail just a bit. It's nice to have some decent company. Bridget makes us coffee in the AM and as we have to pass through Copper Mountain Resort anyway we eat burgers but not after getting yelled at for shortcutting through a golf course. We head up up up towards Janet’s Cabin (part of the Alpine Hut Series…) and find a really good campsite and call it a day. As we loiter, a couple of maintenance guys (Willie and Skip) pass us on their way up to Janet’s and invite us up for beers that night. Willie explains what Janet's Cabin is (it's not, as I had supposed, a crazy old witch's house) and shows us an arrowhead he noticed that was right at his feet. It rains all evening so we stay put, but we do visit the Cabin the next morning and talk with the boys and have some tea. Pretty neat stuff, the Alpine Hut Thing. A lot cheaper than you’d imagine. They're all part of a system of huts, and one of these days I'll cross country ski the circuit, I hope. The Cabin itself is about 100 yards below tree line. We bid adieu and ascend further up to the pass and pause to enjoy the view and take pics of flowers. This area is near where the 10th Mountain Division was during WWII (see the movie Fire On the Mountain for more info). The hike down from the ridge was awesome and there was, somehow, a snake way above tree line. Go figure. We camp by a stream rolling down the hills. The next morning Bridget/Boggy and I say our goodbyes and I begin tramping into Leadville to pick up my mail drop. Before I make much progress, it starts raining pretty heavily and I stand beneath a lonesome grove of trees to wait while it rains. A car sees me and stops to ask me if I needed anything, which I didn’t, but I thanked him just the same. I take care of some Wilderness Business and conclude it just in time for this same car to come back around. That was really close. He’s a very strange and skinny guy from Indiana and talks a lot, which is normal for people who tend to get lonesome I've noticed (to talk a lot, that is. Not necessarily to be skinny). I get on my way and pass by some sort of prison structure and head up another big hill before descending to the highway to hitch into Leadville. By now the rain is all but over. A fella from Kansas who is a White Water Rafting Instructor gives me a lift all the way to the P.O. I pick up my box, dump it into my pack and head to the hiker hostel which is full but I still get to take a shower. I opt to camp in town up the hill a ways and then leave Leadville the next morning. Leadville is an awesome town with very few yuppies/rich people. There’s a view Mts. Elbert and Massive (among others…) from anywhere in town. Nice and small (very walkable) and cheap with good coffee shops, an awesome bookstore and a good outfitter. Some kind of miracle happens during dinner (spaghetti and so forth from the kitchen of Wild Bill, Proprietor) at the hostel and I end up staying at the hostel anyway in my own room with a TV and DVD player. Leadville was good to me, and the trail is getting more and more fun the further I get into it. I eat burgers (yes, after dinner) and visit the oldest Saloon in town that night and talk with a German mountaineering dude who is a much more noble American in Spirit than most of the people born here… I spend the next morning trying to find a watch in town and it takes a very long time (I decided I needed a watch because the one I had was broken and I was wanting to climb Massive and Elbert and needed to assure myself that I got up early) but do finally manage to get my stuff together and am hitching out by early afternoon. The guy who gives me a ride goes the wrong way, flips back around and actually drops me off in a worse location. I walk over to the proper highway myself and start thumbing again. A firefighter with his son gives me a lift and we talk about fireworks and forest fires on the way to the trailhead. In the real world, the working class and rednecks are more likely to give you a hitch than any yuppie with a bike rack on the trunk or one of those (no doubt empty) Yakima car-top carriers on the roof. This is my experience and I'm not really sure why though I do have my theories. Anyway, I finally make it to the trail head around 3 in the afternoon.