the end of the trail - for now...

well we're back in NM now, staying at my folks place in White Rock. Listening to a thunderstorm roll over, smelling the sweet smell of rain late at night. After a dinner of ribs and salad and scalloped potatoes and a few glasses of wine - now trying to find the words to bring this story to and end. Maybe Beth can add her thoughts tomorrow if I don't make any sense.

From Pagosa, B, Eric, and I headed up the E. Fork of the San Juan, and back up to the divide in the South San Juan Wilderness - one of the wildest places left in the Southern Rockies, where the last Colorado grizzly bear was killed in 1979. I'd like to hope that there are still a few great bears out there, too, in some remote, untrailed and untravelled drainage - but it seems unlikely. There just aren't that many places left for a big bear to hide, much less maintain viable populations for 25 some years without leaving a single track on a trail. I wish I could say that our hike had convinced us that there are still plenty of wild spaces left, still all sorts of room for the original inhabitants of the Rockies to coexist peacefully with humans... but more on that later, perhaps.

The mountains were still beautiful, lush, full of springs and waterfalls and strangely sculpted volcanic pinnacles and peaks. Cold, too, hard frosts and frozen trails every morning. Hit hard with snowstorms on our second day, freezing winds carrying the snow horizontally across the alpine tundra. All in all we were glad to descend down to Cumbres Pass, and looked forward to the lower elevations of the mountains once we crossed into NM. The next morning we hitched down to Chama to resupply, and caught our first and only and thus last ride in an RV. 15 miles of pure comfort... In sunny Chama we ate a decent breakfast and picked up our food package at the P.O, where we ran into Paul, another thru-hiker we hadn't seen since the Pintlars in Montana. There is an old narrow gauge steam-locomotive that runs from Chama over Cumbres Pass to Antonito, CO, now running for the benefit of tourists, and we found out that it left Chama at 1030 am. And it stops at Cumbres pass - we discussed it over breakfast, and decided that (this is how far gone from reality we were) if it cost under $10, it would be a fun way to get back up to the pass. So I asked at the ticket office. $69.75 was the price I was quoted. "Even if I'm only going halfway, just to Cumbres Pass?" Still $69.75. And the girl at the ticket window sternly warned me that "if you get off at the pass, you'll have to have someone pick you up."

And so it was that we were soon by the side of the road, with hopeful thumbs up one last time - our last hitch hike of the trip - turned out to be with a lady elk hunter in full camo, from Oklahoma....



A few miles brought us to the border of NM, a dilapidated old barbed wire fence. An easy border crossing- and we soon knew for sure we were back in NM, the roadsides were littered with cowshit and Bud Light cans. And the people were friendlier - B and I enjoyed a nice meal of elk burritos and cheap beer with some bow hunters from Portales that night, way up on Brazos ridge, the full moon rising over the distant Sangres. And for the rest of the trip the weather was perfect, those golden September days, warm, sunny, bluebird skies, cool and starry nights. The hike was a gradual, rolling descent throught the tail end of the San Juans, along the way re-encountering Doug and Paul both, so our last night before Ghost Ranch there were 5 of us enjoying a campfire, up in the overgrazed grasslands and groves of aspen and oak and ponderosa. The views the following day were of familiar mountains in the Jemez - Pedernal, Tschicoma, and Polvadera - and the last range we would cross, the long high plateau of the Nacimiento Mountains. We dropped down through red cliffs and canyons to Ghost Ranch, where we left Doug and Eric, who ended their trip there, finishing off where they left off in the spring. Sad to leave those guys who we hiked so much of Colorado with - but we got to enjoy all you can eat dinner and breakfast, and free camping and hot showers - so leave them we did, under the shade of giant exotic Siberian elm.

B, Paul, and I hiked the next day through the redrock canyons of the Rio Chama wilderness, and up into the plateau country north of the Jemez. Our last couple days found us climbing up and back down from the Nacimientos, wandering the high meadows and forests of San Pedro Parks, enjoying the wild songs of elk bugling at night, reading old carvings on aspen (including both artistic and pornographic drawings)left by who knows who during the last hundred some years. Actually, most folks left their signatures - anybody know Alfonso Suazo? - apparently the resident artist of the northern San Pedro Parks during the 60's and 70's. We're guessing it was his son Antonio who took over in the 80's and 90's. "Los Pot Heads" were up there too, in 76. Some really neat old carvings of horses, cows, birds, people, naked ladies dating back to the 1920's.

And eventually we wound our way down to Cuba for a celebratory last supper(?)at El Brunos with my parents and Paul.

So that's that, more or less. The end of the trail. I don't really have any profound thoughts to share on the journey, maybe they will come with time and retrospection. For now - it was a great walk across the country. A lot of mountains, space, ideas. Not enough wilderness protection, too many cows and ATVs. But amazing places all, mountains and rivers, deserts and sky. And just as inspiring as the landscape, and the flora and fauna, were the people we met - from other CDT hikers to the old couple out rambling Colorado in a rusty Bronco painted red white and blue. We met some amazing folks - living simply, cheaply, following their dreams to see and experience America and planet Earth. We met folks who had dedicated their lives to the conservation of the places they loved, whether they be wildflower afficionados or elk hunters. We also met some folks with absolutely crazy, extreme right-wing ideologies, as well as folks who really didn't know or seem to care what was going on in the world around them... But wiht all these folks (with only the minor exception of the hostile old wackos in Macks Inn, ID) we were treated with such amazing hospitality and generosity - enough to transcend any differences in viewpoint we might have, and enjoy a moment or two of talk and laughter and human fellowship as our paths crossed on these journeys through life. And enough kindness and genuine concern for our wellbeing to remind us of the fundamental oneness of the human species. And give us hope that we will eventually figure out how to live together on this planet - with each other, grizzlies, Indian paintbrush, and endless ranges of wild mountains to wander....

I'm guess I'm getting sappy now so I'd better bring things to an end. Thanks for tuning in. Thanks also for posting enough comments and sending enough emails to keep us going, sorry we've been pretty lame about responding - but (dumb excuse) its been enough of a pain just to get this darn thing updated sporadically. And we are especially grateful to those of you, old friends and new, who gave us rides and lent us bicycles for town days, put us up in your houses, and fed us and drank that beer with us, so well along the way - if we can ever repay your generosity, please let us know. Not to mention that its been fun catching up and hanging out with y'all!

As for the rest of you, we'll likely see you soon, if we didn't catch you on the trail - some of you this weekend at Esther and Dan's wedding in the northwoods of Wisconsin. Or perhaps some of you later this fall in northern NM. We'll most likely hiding out at our friend Steve's empty cabin (hope thats OK with you, Steve:) up in the white firs and scrub oaks of the southern Sangres. After that it looks as though I have a job teaching a field study course in Patagonia this winter, so perhaps we'll post a photo or two from the Andes in December or thereabouts. O yes we've got some ideas for next summer's rambles too, but too early to talk about just yet. Stay tuned for more?

peace. thanks again.

Jonathan and Beth

the San Juans

Wow. The San Juans have been amazing. Just amazing. The last 100 or so miles have all been above 10,000', only dipped down below treeline a couple times, and only briefly. And it has really felt like we were up in the sky, with the clouds rising, tumbling, and falling around us, offering surreal and glimpses of unexpected peaks, sheer and ragged - surprising red, blue-purple, grey and black stone, shimmering snowfields, and verdant alpine basins below, where we walk along muddy paths, or across spongy green meadows of moss, sedges, and grass. Much of the walk was really unearthly, supernatural, maybe we were in the Rockies, maybe the Andes, maybe one of those old Chinese paintings, maybe Middle Earth. Strange and beautiful, the silence of the clouds, the trail fading off into the swirling mists...

Not all peaceful and dreamlike, however - we also got hit with ample hail and rainshowers, blasting winds, and pummelled by a dramatic night-long thunderstorm. We had ended up setting up camp kind of early - 6 or so - with Eric and Doug, on the edge of a little basin - a small lake below the ridge on one side of camp, sheer 200' cliffs on the other - a beautiful little spot that for some reason we mutually agreed was too nice to pass up. Usually we would have walked on for another hour and a half, and it turned out to be a fortuitous decision to camp where we did, as I don't think we would have found anything but the rocky edge of the divide for miles to come. Soon we were hearing thunder rumbling to the south and west - impossible to see what was coming, because the ridges were hidden in mists and cloud - but it sounded ominous enough to get the tents up and dinner eaten quickly - and when it finally hit us, it was pretty much time to hunker down in our tents and hope for the best. And we basically got hit by round after round of hail and rain, with the winds only getting stronger and stronger all night. I don't think anyone slept much - lights coming on and off in our's, Doug's, and Eric's tents, tent stakes being re-pounded, a few times a whoop or yell or curse of solidarity over the thunder and wind. Pretty wild - finally our tent pole blew over in the darkness, and as we got it set up again my 530 watch alarm went off - no need to try and sleep in this wet bag any more, might as well make breakfast and get out of here - and as the sky grew lighter, occasional gaps between the clouds would rush past, and we could glimpse out over the valley below, the wildest stormiest and mountainous views imaginable.

Eventually we got going, pushing through gale force winds along the ridges of the continental divide that trail followed - and eventually moments of sun, and clouds diminshing - and by afternoon, we were basking in glorious sunshine at Piedra Pass, only the cold wind was left to remind us of the storm's passing. B, Eric, and I decided that we'd had enough high ridge walking for a while, and left the divide for a while to head down the valley of the West Fork of the San Juan, and Rainbow Hot Springs. Which it turns out had been mostly obliterated by a recent rockslide, but there were still two nice pools to soak in, and it was immensely enjoyable just to lay in those pools, deep in a sprucey valley, and watch the evening sunlight play off the rock formations 3000' feet above.

We met up with my folks, bearing a tremendous two-cooler picnic supply, yesterday lunchtime, and are now enjoying civilization in Pagosa Springs CO for a brief respite from the walking. Only a couple hundred miles to go, our next town stop Chama NM, then Ghost Ranch, then the trail's completion - where our southbound route from Canada meets our northbound route from Mexico - the golden spike - or chile relleno - at El Bruno's in Cuba NM, probably the evening of Sept. 21.

more mountains, great weather at last...

so I'm sitting here in the library in Salida CO with about 5 minutes to update the blog - what to say, what to say? The trails been great lately - beautiful sunny fall days in the high country, peaks turning rusty with the first hints of changing leaves - crimson patches of alpine cinquefoil, dry golden grasses and sedges. Frosts every night, cold mornings in the shadows of the towering mountains. Probably the most beautiful, high, and challenging hiking yet during the last segment from the "Hotel Tylerado" in Silverthorne 150 miles to Monarch Pass. B and I managed to take a few hours off the trail to hike up Mt. Elbert, an easy walk, but at 14,443 the highest peak in the entire Rocky Mountain chain, amazing views, nothing but horizons of mountains all around, greys and reds of rocky slabby peaks, snowfields, grassy slopes, the blues of spruce and fir forests. Marmots whistling, the hint of the cold cold breeze telling us that we'd better keep on keepin on if we want to get through the southern Rockies before the snow flies...

The rest of the segments been grand, a brief pit stop in Twin Lakes, then more high country just about the entire route to Monarch Pass. Been hiking some more with Eric, cruising 25+ miles a day, pretty much worn out each evening but loving it all the way. No more rain, no mosquitos, just mile after mile of alpine peaks and ridges. Pretty nice, pretty nice.