Into Creede

I set my alarm for 5:15 to try and get an early start. And when I woke up, I snoozed. The sun was on the horizon, but my brain was not yet there. I realized I had no interest in hiking before the sun had risen, which was 5:45. Of course, I was awake, and just snuggled myself in my sleeping bag trying to stay warm.  

Eventually, I got my belongings together and started packing up. I didn’t want to cook breakfast because I had no water, except  half liter I wanted to keep for drinking, and didn’t want to spend all the time and fuel melting more snow. 

My boots were frozen, solid. Solid solid solid. The way my boots are designed is the main liner is a sock like slip on, covered with a Kevlar lining for protection and water proofing. But the whole thing was frozen solid. I had to stick my foot halfway in and let my body heat loosen it a hair so I could stuff it in. Stiff. 

It was alright. I was more focused on the mile ahead than the stiffness of my boots. The main reason I stopped last night where I did was because I could see some I’ve shoots covering the trail ahead. I didn’t want to risk going through that when it step through cutting the snow and potentially causing an avalanche, I might get caught in.   It would be way safer today when it’s icy and I can use my crampons to stick my foot into the snow. And so it was. 

I was annoyed with myself from the start of the day. Yesterday I was stepping in to my hip nearly every step by the time I decided to camp. In the same area I was comfortably running across the top with my spikes keeping me secure to the terrain (and not falling through each step).

The first ice shoot wasn’t as bad as I had expected, traversing around it into a safe spot and angle. However, about .1 miles before the Creede cutoff began, was a 12 foot snow drift on the trail. At first I wanted to scale the side and cross right over. But as I stepped up onto it I realized I could way too easily slide down the side, hundreds of feet into the valley. Even with my spikes, the angle was a bit too drastic. Especially without an ice axe. So I dropped down about 40 feet on some solid ground, to traverse the ice shoot at a lower elevation that had a less severe angle. Once I got across, I climbed up back to the trail. 

Then I was on the Creede route. Which had three switch backs down an even street ice shoot. Eventually, I decided to just go straight down on a slightly less sketchy angle. I even had a couple glissades down (sliding on the ice on my bum). There were some ski marks where someone smarter than I had just skied down. 

Looking at the Topo map, it seemed I could just follow the valley down, rather than try to search for the trail. As the snow was crunchy and my confidence in my spikes, I just went straight down the valley. Eventually, I met back up with the trail as the snow started to end. 

As the snow ended, a crazy storm of blow downs laid ahead. Hundreds of trees blown down after a fire. The trail was non existent. And even though there wasn’t any snow, the speed going along the trail was nearly the same. Crossing over and under massive trees, finding a way to descend down the mountain somewhat close to “trail”. 

After a few miles of that, the blown downs thankfully lessened. The trail opened up and the terrain became a bit more forgiving. As I looked up the mountain the sky started to darken a bit and a cloud cover took over. 

Nothing terribly threatening or dark, but just enough to make me even more thankful I wasn’t still up there. 

As the trail descended down the valley along a river the miles started piling up, but so did the discomfort. Multiple times did I think of stopping for the day. The exhaustion from the silly amount of post holing I did yesterday, being up at high altitudes for extended periods of time, just overall pushing a lot, was getting to me. 

Of course, after I began to feel this way, the trail veered away from the river and went up. And up. Back up to 11,400 feet. Colorado is definitely more strenuous than New Mexico. Barely going down below 10k feet on the trail, and usually above 11k, the CO portion of the trail is at high elevation. A regular day is more difficult by that alone.

As I was climbing up a steady incline, I was surprised to run into two folks from the Forest Service that were heading down the trail to do some tree clearing. They gave me the good news that in about 4-5 miles, the trail down to Creede was a full on descent and smooth, clear, sailing. 

At this point, my body was quite unhappy. I hadn’t had much water because I didn’t want to sit there and filter a bunch of water, fiddle with my bladder, and so on. I did drink a liter or so straight from a flowing clear source, but didn’t want to chug a bunch of water and increase the risk of drinking something nasty. Just enough to keep me going. 

Once I got to the Deep Creek Trail (which descends into Creede) I did the best I could to not run. I’m not a runner in the normal world, and would never run with my pack on. Not even a bit of a jaunt. I look and feel like a bumbling idiot when I do. But, with the good descent and clear trail, I get to the point where I keep up my controlled fall. I’ve mentioned before, but I lean into it and let gravity do its job, pushing my trekking poles out ahead of me keeping me balanced and avoiding any obstacles along the way. 

I only saw two more folks along the trail, hiking with their lil pup. Said a quick hello and then continued trucking along. Tired, hungry, (and honestly needing a bathroom!), I hurried along the trail to get down. Once I got to the base of the trail, it was about three miles to the hotel. Warm bed. Shower. Rest. 

As I entered the town, a woman with her son walking around directed me towards the visitor center where I could find a map of the town, plug in to charge some things, and  was just a great way to enter a new town, especially as a filthy, slightly homeless looking, hiker. I bee lined it to the hotel though. Once checked in, I didn’t even shower or take off my boots. I knew once my boots were off, they were off for the night. 

I rolled over to the open restaurant, Kips, which is ironically the same Kips as the spot in Pagosa Springs I went. Ate two dinners, couple drinks, then back to the motel to do laundry and pass out.