Creede to Silverton (Thursday July 22 - Monday July 26)

I took my time in Creede.  I lived at my little campsite up on a hill outside of town and kept trying to put more weight on.  I ate like a horse every night and I ate good food with huge portions.  I enjoyed Creede, but wasn’t too sad to leave it behind.  I spent a good bit of effort trying to plan my escape route without paying for a shuttle back up the way I came.  I did not want to walk up a blasted road, a long road at that, to get back up to the point I’d descended in first place.  The weather in Creede was quite rainy and even unpredictable.  The way it usually works is that it rains in the afternoon if it rains at all.  This is due to water vapor rising up in the morning from the valleys and lowlands as the earth warms up and then cooling as it hits the cooler mountain air and then it rains.  Thunderstorms are not unusual, and this seems to be caused by the mountains themselves causing a collision of cooler air on one side and warmer on the other.  Again, I could be wrong about this but it seemed to be that this was the way it was working.  However, it had become erratic; raining in the morning, raining at night, intermittent sun… It wasn’t making much sense.  Monsoon season was not technically upon us (this has to do with moisture coming in from out of the Pacific regions and colliding with the air from the desert to the south and plains from the east, all of this in the mountains) but, again, this usually happens in the afternoons.  Much of the rest of my trip, it turned out, was going to be rather wet.

Anyway, I’d finally come by an alternate route called Miner’s Creek Trail to get myself up to the CT.  The area just after San Juan Mountain and it’s assosciated valleys is Snow Mesa, one of the largest mesas in all of Colorado (the largest?  I don’t recall) and it is very high up there and about 4 miles long with nowhere to hide should a storm come through.  Needless to say, I wanted to do this part earlier in the day and hopefully avoid any inclement weather.

I set off from my campsite early in the morning  and washed my feet off with a bandana and some dew that had collected on my rainfly overnight.  I hadn’t showered in a while now, one not being available in Creede for me to use.  I waited for my rainfly to dry in the morning sun, packed everything up, and then walked a along some old roads that went further into a valley a little further along the one I’d come down into Creede.  I get to the trail and start moving along.  A strange part of the world, this one.  There’s the occasional semi-permanent home off in the woods, a broken-down ranch with a couple of horses, things like that.  I continue on up into the hills along a road that’s bound to become more trail like.  I pass an old abandoned mine with its yawning mouth and metal fence of broken braces with its constant exhalation of air that must have been no warmer than sixty degrees in temperature.  I walked up to it, out of curiosity, and can swear I heard noises coming from its guts like you’d expect out of a horror movie.  I freak out at these things (I have good fun with it, though) and as such got a little spooked and ceased my inspection.  I don’t know if the chill I got was from the air or my imagination.

I kept going further and further along and it got dense really quick.  After a little bit more I realized I’d already taken another wrong turn and headed back, a little irritated with myself to have wasted so much time.  I backtracked a bit (much easier going back than going forward in this case!) and got back on trail.  I know this is the right way because the huge sign that said “Miner’s Creek Trail” with an arrow pointing in the direction I had not gone was right there for the whole world to see.  Oh well.  I passed a slew of fools in RVs, mostly from Texas, who were parked off the road, sitting in their air-conditioned mobile homes watching TV and enjoying nature.

I finally managed to get to the end of the road where there was a small creek and the actual trail started.  I got some water, fought off the mosquitoes and was happy to finally be back into the woods.

Not many people use this trail.  It was a lot of fun, though, winding about up and over hills, crossing back over the stream, where fascinating white cliffs jut out of the sides of the mountains as I gain in altitude.  Most of the stream crossings were bridge-less and so fording them was mandatory, but the day was sunny enough to where I dried out in good time.  The further along I got, the larger the boulders sitting in the middle of the valley floor became as the mountains, in due time, fall down around themselves.  I finally got to a good campsite location and determined that I was about 4 miles from the way I’d eventually ascend back up to the ridge and run into the CT and get up to Snow Mesa.  

There was something about this area that felt truly remote.  The trail wasn’t beaten in like most trails are, just enough to let you know that you’re not lost yet.  Being so close to the stream that was running through the valley I was curious to know if I’d see any bears or other things going down for a drink as dusk came around, but I didn’t this time.  While pumping water, the handle from the pump broke, rendering it useless.  I was glad I’d got the iodine tabs now, but cursed that I’d have to carry this broken thing all the way to Silverton.

I wake up the next morning a little bit anxious.  I had to get myself up to the ridge still, and then across Snow Mesa in one shot.  I got further and further along the trail as it became more and more difficult to see where I was supposed to be going as the trail eventually petered out.  Basically, I was at the end of the line.  To the left of me was a wall of rocks and straight ahead was a mountain.  I examined my map again and cut across to the right, thinking I’d hit a trail of some kind that would lead me around this impossible route and up along a path that must have surely been along the face of that huge hill.  Fortunately, I was right, and I soon found myself in the last grove of trees I’d see for miles.  I had my lunch to get the energy stored up and set off.  I still couldn’t see a trail, but I knew where I was going.  I headed cross-country and into the pass that finally led to Snow Mesa.  I could see a trail off in the distance, marked by poles and featuring CT blazes, and so I set off on a trajectory past a small lake and then ran into the official trail and began my trek across the expanse.

This landscape was magnificent, and no pictures could capture its scale.  I felt like I was in some chapter of Blood Meridian, if it had been set in Colorado.  Straight ahead there was nothing but a rolling flatness.  To my left the whole thing just fell off like you’d found the end of the Earth.  To the right, mountain crests not much higher than Snow Mesa itself, but high enough to make you wonder what was going on on the other side, weather-wise.  I kept a close eye on these things all day, watching wisps of clouds form over these peaks and hoping that they didn’t decide to join forces and begin a lightning show.  Occasionally, a sprinkle would drop onto me and get me to moving quicker.  The clouds formed slowly over me, but at a very high altitude, and it was eventually, after moving very quickly now, that I descended out of the mesa and into a crevasse and finally back below tree line.  I took a little break, snapped some pictures of stuff and headed toward Spring Creek Pass.

I ran into some fellas who were just getting back from a journey and they gave me a bunch of free granola bars and one of those Mountain House dinners.  I ate all of the granola bars at a picnic table and tried to determine how far I wanted to get before camping that night.  I got going and eventually came across a very small creek coming down out of a little grove on the hillside.  I hauled my stuff up near the grove and pitched my tent far enough away from it so that if lightning did hit one of them and it fell over it wouldn’t land on me.  I went back up into the grove and found a great little place to build a campfire, cook my dinner, get warm, and do some reading.  I’m still on Tom Jones, but I’m rapidly nearing the end.  Good old Tom and Sophia!  What will become of them?  How will it all turn out?

I got up early that morning, ate my breakfast and was off by 7.45.  Today is another incredible part of the trail, with the majority of it being way above treeline, the trail itself ascending to over 13,000 feet without even going over a mountain, just going around them.  There were three different saddles to get to before it was all over.  You go flat out for a long distance, ascend up and over a ridge to get into another saddle, go flat for another few miles, and then do it again.  All day long the weather is threatening to annihilate me, but holds off and holds off.  I lose track of how many saddles I’ve hit, but it doesn’t even matter now.  The clouds are clearly setting up for a show and I’m heading closer and closer to the front of the stage.  

I get over the last saddle (Carson Saddle) and finally start the descent.  I could not have been more relieved.  It’s starting to hail and beat into me as I go down.  I get to a point where I think I have time to stop and put on my rain gear.  Hands freezing from the wet and the wind, I put on my gloves and rain gear and just keep moving.  All I know right now is that then only place I know of where I can camp is a ways off.  I keep going down and the trail cuts back across this wonderful valley.  Yes, it’s beautiful even as I’m out there in the rain with all my junk on my back.  I finally get a break in the rain and sit down on a rock.  I haven’t slipped and fell this entire trip, but I nearly did  just a minute ago.  Honestly, I got distracted by all the Columbines which seem to really enjoy watching me go by, wandering what the rush is.  I suppose they’re right and have a smoke on a boulder and take a breather when I hear some racket down in the willow bushes.  At this point I’m thinking it’s a bear and just sort of wait to figure out if it is or if it isn’t.  Turns out it’s some people.  Ha!  Anyway, they set off and I give them a ten minute lead to avoid passing them immediately.  This part of the trail runs along the mountain and it’s pretty steep down the side.  With all the rocks being wet it gets pretty slippery, too.  It starts to rain and hail some more and I get up to move along.  

The hail is really coming down now, and I can see up ahead that there’s another bit of elevation gain and some pretty hefty exposure.  There’s no lightning, at least not yet.  I pass the couple who’d set off earlier, and they’re hunkered down off the trail with a poncho covering the both of them.  I suppose it worked for them, but it’s not really much of a shelter.  Besides, it could rain all night.

I make it to the pass and get over it and back down the other side with no incidents.  The trail winds around going back in the “forward progress” direction and I know I’m close.  From up above I can see a little lake, and I know I’m almost homefree.  I don’t like the idea of having to set up my tent in the rain, but it is early yet and I figure I’ll dry out overnight.  I get to the lake and as luck would have it it actually stops raining for ten minutes as I get my whole camp set up and throw myself into it.  Immediately it starts raining again.  And it rains a while longer, and then  it all turns into hail.  And it hails off and on all night long.  I make it futher into the saga of Tom and Sophia with their societally discouraged love, but due to the weather don’t get to have dinner tonight.  I snack on things that don’t need cooking, but a  hot meal of any kind at all wouldn’ve been great.  As it was, I was camped out at 12,600 feet and was happy that it was only freezing rain and hail, not thunder and lightning.

The next morning it’s sunny and I can feel some heat beating down through the tent.  Not much, but enough to undampen the spirits and give me some hope that I won’t have to trudge throuh the rain all day long.  I emerge and see that there’s still pellets of hail all over the ground and plenty of ice on my tent.  I can’t pack it up right away, but I do tear it all down and hang it over a willow bush to hopefully dry a little faster from the radiating sun.  I do manage to have a hot breakfast in the cold, but I’m used to all the cold by now.

Today was nice.  Enough clouds to block a lot of the sun and keep me from feeling like I was being microwaved.  I pass through Cuba Gulch and into Minnie Gulch.  It’s a blast walking through this part of the world in this fashion.  As I get near the last pass I take another break.  At this point in the hike I can’t eat enough food to get satisfied, and yesterday’s little adventure didn’t help matters out.  I am hopeful to get out of all this above-tree-line business and get to somewhere a little less threatening to sleep.  Finally, I get to Stony Pass.  There’s a cabin known as Miner’s Cabin quite a few miles ahead where the trail descends back into a valley along  Elk Creek Trail.  

I pass through a huge flock of sheep (mutton) and proceed along this massive area.  I meet an older guy who’s out studying wildflowers.  He seems to have misplaced his trekking pole somewhere, unfortuanately, but the two of us manage to find it in a place where he had, he correctly surmised, gotten down on the ground to get a closer look.  At this altitude all of the flowers are alpine and teeny.

Being pretty dang tired at this point, I have lost my ability to accurately assess how far I’ve gone due to not being able to feel how fast I’m moving.  I pass a couple of lakes, but not the ones I’m looking for, and keep pressing on.  It’s late afternoon  now and I’m eager to get to where I’m going.  Over to the right, massive mountains are emerging into view.  Mts. Arrow and Vestal.  Over them is a massive storm system full of lightning and, presumably, thunder.  This is still a long way off, and even though lightning can really travel I’m confident I’m a long way away from it.  I keep going, pass by another couple of lakes and finally get my bearings.  I’m about 4 miles from the end of all the exposure and Miner’s Cabin, but it makes zero sense to head straight into that storm system.  Foolhardy, even.

I’m hungry enough to call it quits.  I pitch my tent several hundred yard from the lakes and between a couple of massive rocks in hopes that if there is any lightning it’ll hit the water or the rocks, but not me.  I go to the lake to fill up my Nalgene, and it is all so completely shallow that it’s difficult to fill it close to full without disturbing the bottom and getting too much sediment in there, too.  Not to mention, there was strange life swimming around in there.  Very tiny little things.  This is exactly what the iodine is supposed to kill.

I have as much food as I can consume and am happy to be in safe spot.  No rain or anything at all, and no signs of it, either.    It’s chilly as dusk descends and I am anxious to get back to Tom and Sophia and all the rest.  I figure I’ll be finished with the book tomorrow night!

I hole up in my tent as dusk begins to slide in, enjoying my book.  All of a sudden rain begins to patter down on my tent.  I sit up just a little, hoping, hoping that it’s not going to become what I think it’s going to become.  But it does.  Moments later a shock of thunder booms out overhead and the wind picks up, the rain falling faster and turning to hail.  In no time at all the area is dark as night, hail beating furiously on my little 2 ½ pound tent, the wind coming from all sides from under the tent fly, lighting striking all over the place, and I can see it all through the gaps in my tent where I have the rainfly gapped out from the netting to create an air flow.

I have not yet found  a way to really describe this experience.  It is a very strange thing to be laying there on your back, seeing bolts of lightning bright enough to flash through your tent overhead as it shatters the darkness.  The ensuing clap of thunder is instantaneous.  The initial boom is followed by a roll which seems to start out high in the sky, pummeling and shredding the air as it makes its way down to the earth, it’s pitch descending into depths which are inaudible and only able to be felt as the earth rumbles through your back as you lay there completely helpless.  This happens endlessly, and before one shock is over another one or two have already begun, the wind screaming like a banshee, the hail drumming in the darkness, and the lightning absolutely everywhere, the earth drawing out the energy from the ions in the sky.  I knew where I was and had no delusions about it.  I understood that it was possible I could die up here, and my most sincere hope was that if I did get hit by lightning that I would not survive it.  I thought of my tent with its single metal pole acting as a support right over my head and running the length of my body.  My pack was covered up about 40 feet away, and I was simply hoping that the lightning would either hit the lakes several hundred yards away, or if it hit me that it would pulverize me into dust.  I’ve had a few experiences in my life that have had me on the brink of death, and a calm comes over you and you just relax.  For myself, I’ve been fortunate and stubborn enough to have lived a great life in my 36 years, and if this was it, then so be it.  I laid back, frighteningly calm and also horribly anxious, and enjoyed this spectacular display, and can really only ultimately describe it as being the greatest rock and roll show on earth.  I started writing in my journal, thinking this would distract me up to the point of impact.  I haven’t had the guts to reread it yet, but I do remember the gist.  For whatever reason, I want to share it with you, so here it is, exactly as I wrote it:

I’ll get to the day in a minute.  Right now it’s 7 o’clock and I’m in my ten and there’s a huge thunderstorm.  It’s terrifying.  The noise is incredible and I expect the hail to break through my tent.  There’s lightning everywhere, thunderclaps the size of the hands of God Himself, and more wind than I think a tent of any kind could endure.  There’s nothing I can do but wait it out, but it does seem to be getting stronger and stronger.  At least the distance between lightning and thunder is a few seconds, but that’s not much solace.  I don’t know what to do but smile like a fiend and distract myself with this writing about it.

The ground  outside is turning from green to white as hail continues to cover up all of everything.  I’d pray about it, but even if there is a God up there this is what he wants anyway, so let’s get it over-with.  I’m not going to beg.

I can only hope that it’ll end soon.

It seemed to come from out of nowhere.  I ate dinner and sure it was cloudy, but I did not see it coming.  I’m not too close to the ponds and tried to get as low as possible, but what can you do?  This is hiking along the Divide.  I hope it does hit that lake and kills whatever those weird creature are living in it that I’m now drinking, albeit they are hopefully dead from the iodine.

The worst of it seems to be over though it’s still raining.  I see the occasional flash of lightning, and can still hear the thunder - the pitch starting out high and then, after holding the note for what seems like forever, glissandos down to a thundering rumble of notes so low it is nothing more than a barrage of percussion, like an orchestra consisting only of drums that are inaudible but produce only quaking.  Sort of like a lot of my favorite music.  A huge thump and rumble with splashes of melody.  A very beautiful and terrifying experience.  I can feel the earth shake under my back as I lie here motionless, trying  not to be noticed by the musicians.  I am left in a  state of calm yet nervous relief as the show comes to a close and, like all of my favorite shows, I hope for no encore, just to be left with myself to let the electric feeling subside.  Damn.  Best concert ever.  More wattage and drums were used in the 10 minutes I just experienced than anything I’ve ever been able to experience.  It’s off to the left now, moving along with its performance, using the entire range of mountains as a stage.  What’s left of the hail is doing a little tap dancing on my tent to its own peculiar rhythm.

After it was all over I did my journalling, did some more reading, and eventually went to sleep.  Perhaps  it does sound pitiful or hyperbolic, but it was simple insanity with no rhyme or reason to any of it. The past several days it has been difficult to stay “smart” and dodge the lightning, but you got to get lucky in this life, too.  What an amazing world we live in.

I woke up the next morning to the sun shining.  It was very cold and I could see my breath fogging as I recalled the entire previous night.  I thought a little bit about what the day had in store, and was certainly pretty excited to get back underneath some trees.  I should be able to camp just outside of Silverton today and there are rumors of an RV camp where I can get a shower.  I haven’t had one since Salida, and that was about 12 days ago.

I headed further along the Divide, and eventually came to where the CT and CDT split from each other, the CT heading running along Elk Creek Trail toward Silverton.  I was happy and relieved to be going down into the valley, its stream rolling through the rocks.  I could see Miner’s Cabin and was relieved to realize that I had  not come this far last night as there was not only no roof over the thing but nowhere to camp anyway.  The ravine/gorge/whatever it’s called was pretty narrow and there was no place to really camp anywhere along the trail for a good many miles.  I see a small group coming up the trail, a family it seems, and I sit down on a rock to give them the right of way.

The first to arrive at my perch was a father and son, and we chatted for just a little bit about hiking and all that sort of thing.  It was turning into a warm and sunny day, and for my part I was still pretty high from knowing I hadn’t been roasted alive the night before.  A few minutes later the mom and daughter showed up to join the rest of the fam.  I did my best to look the father in the eye when I was talking to him, but I hadn’t seen a girl in a very long time, and I felt stupid to know that my eyes kept going back to Pretty Young Thing.  It didn’t help that she decided to strip down into her shorts and tank top right in front of me in a display of youthful elasticity.  It was agonizing, and I know she knew it.  Absolutely brutal.  I left them and continued further, my mind thinking of the shower that awaited.  I passed a lake where there was an excellent view of Mt. Vestal and Mt. Arrow, the peaks that just the day before were being pummeled by the weather.

There’s a train that runs from Durango to Silverton, an old narrow-guage train that is suitable not for travel but for tourists.  It is very expensive and used to be owned by the municipality or something like that, but is now privately owned and completely useless for legitimate travel.  Tourists get off at the stop at Elk Creek Trail and go hiking and camping.  I’m moving pretty fast now, able to smell the shower just a few miles off.  I still have to do a major elevation gain to get out of this valley and back up to where Silverton and the RV park is.  There’s a lake there where, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go fishing later on.  I sit down on a rock just before my last climb and have my lunch.  Provisions are getting low again but I have enough to left to have a decent meal tonight and get to my drop box tomorrow.  I’m hoping to find another book or two as well, since I am going to be finished the the saga of Tom Jones tonight.

It’s cloudy again as I get to the RV park, and let me tell you, this was an interesting experience.  I took off  my pack and sat down at a picnic table outside of the office for a minute before knocking on the door to find no one around.  I waited for a bit and eventually a fella showed up and started loading stuff from the garage into his pickup.  Coolers, tools, odds and ends.  He’s a tall, thin man with a weather-beaten face and his hair pulled back, his prison tattoos bleeding out over his arms as the sun has melted them into blurriness over the years.  

There was a woman who was asking the guy in charge about staying at the park for a night, and he told her “it’s fine by me.  I’ve had it with this place.  I’ve been running it for five years and as of today I’ve had my last gun pulled on me.  Hell, I’d have probably been shot myself if I hadn’t made it known that I had my gun on me as well.  So, sure, go ahead and stay here.”  

“But we made reservations online,”  she said, seemingly oblivious to everything he’d just told her as he continued to pack his truck.

“Yeah, that’s the only way you can stay here anymore.  You can’t even drive up and pay to stay here.  Got to do it all on the internet.  There’s lot of problems with drugs coming up from New Mexico into Silverton and as we’re right off the highway these people drive by, see a business just off the highway and see it as an easy mark.  I’ve been robbed enough and have had guns pulled on me too often.  Today, they got pissed that we’d run out of ice and drew out on me.  I’m not going to get shot over ice.”

She seemed incredulous and I just sat there, wondering if my chance at getting a shower was over.

Eventually she went away and me and the guy got to talking a bit.  I don’t know if anyone else has this happen to them, but it has happened often to me where people, complete strangers, will just start telling me how they feel in an uncensored way not suitable for television.  We got to taking for a bit, and he filled me in on the details.  He used to live in New Mexico a while back and did some time in prison for his efforts with motorcycle gangs and cooking drugs and so forth.  He’s left it all behind him, but he’s perplexed about all of it.  He espoused his ideas about the Reservations, the Wets, and how it’s all such a disastrous situation as the sovereignty of the Nations pretty much makes it impossible to stop the flow of meth into the entire region and it’s just ruining lives.  The RV park has turned into a refuge for animals (the human variety) and thieves (also humans) and how the entire area has turned into a shit hole since he first came out here many years ago.  For his part, he acknowledges his own errors and has been playing it straight for a long while.  He talked about the government and the ruination of everything.  For my part, it’s hard to not agree with him on the majority of his points, choice of descriptive terminology notwithstanding.  Anyway, I got nothing against this guy at all.  I tell him I was hoping to get a shower, and he gave me the tokens to do so without charging me a cent.

I showered, using my bandanas as wash-rags and towels.  I felt 100% better and, sadly, a lot lighter.  I was really burning up my reserves, physically.  I thanked the guy and went back a ways to where I knew there was a decent place to camp and then be close enough to the road to, hopefully, get an easy hitch into Silverton the next morning.  I didn’t want to be too close to the RV park and any troubles that might emanate from it.

It started to sprinkle a bit later that evening, and I was happy enough to be clean and get a fire going well enough to cook my dinner.  I finished Tom Jones, a wonderfully told tale, and rested up.  I wanted to get into Silverton early, get my business done and be back in good enough time to take a “zero” before setting off the next day.  This had been a very wild ride.

A spooky  mine shaft

Rosy Paintbrush (remember?  There's several different kinds of these, and not all of them are red or pink)

It's blurry, but I do find it a fun picture to look at.

Little Red Elephant

Rock outcroppings along Miner's Creek Trail

At the "End of the Line"... Snow Mesa is over that cliff somewhere.

I finally get through the pass to Snow Mesa.

to the left of Snow Mesa (the end of the world...)

Forward along the mesa

To the right along the Snow Mesa.

The next day along the last saddle as the storm prepares for my arrival

The next day, a gorgeous walk through all of these various passes and valleys.

In the dead center of this photo, you can see Mt. Vestal to the left of Mt. Arrow.  Not long after this, storms clearly formed over these peaks.

The day after being left to live a little while longer and finally entering Elk Creek Trail.

Miner's cabin, up on the hillside to the right of the trail.

Mts. Vestal and Arrow from a lake along Elk Creek Trail.