From Mexico to Canada on the Continental Divide Trail

My good buddy Cory, who I did so much of this hike with this year, has returned home due to an injured hamstring muscle. On the upside, he's getting to spend quality time with his grandson, who we talked about often on the trail. There is something special in the grandparent relationship, and I haven't seen it so clearly until getting to know Cory. I'm happy that he's making lemonade with the lemons life have him just now...

Right now I'm sitting at a train station in Santa Fe, four hours into the journey of bus, train, plane and car getting me back to Colorado for the final push. Two young ladies walk by, their hair long, black and straight. One of them walks with a cane and I'm fascinated by this. It suggests that no matter what, her grace cannot be of an unconscious type. The cane represents an encounter with infirmity that means her straight back and graceful walk must be chosen, rather than inherited. To be young but also to have fallen and risen again seems a great wonder to me. What one could accomplish, too young, wise! Happily, they didn't notice me staring, the long bangs acting as blinders, lol... This 95 miles stretch in far northern New Mexico was more beautiful than I expected. I starting walking at the Ghost Ranch, somewhat sheepish as I filled my water bottles from their fountain, because earlier in the summer, some CDT hikers dishonestly reused meal tickets to feed their friend...

I really enjoyed Rawlins. The hostel, run by Kate, was peaceful and had everything I needed... Laundry, shower, a bunk, a fridge... young man at the coffee shop won a state prize for his amazing art. I got creative with a 38 mile road walk. I asked Christine for a ride 13 miles out, then I'd use the satin to walk back to town and enjoy a steak dinner. What a great character she is. She moved to Rawlins from Hawaii in the 1980s and ran the laundromat with her husband for many years. He passed on, and she sold the business to Kate and her famous pet goat. But really, they are partners, clearly holding each other in high esteem like a mother and daughter.  I enjoyed the walk with a light pack, sharing water with a couple southbound hikers heading out. Not a tree in sight, just high sagebrush country. After the steak, I hung out, chatting with a great Canadian couple, Shamrock and Scraps. Later, we met again in Steamboat Springs and shared a dinner with a guy who motorcycle...

Here is a video of the fun lately! Cory went on ahead here in Rawlins. We had a great farewell dinner and he taught me how to smoke a pipe properly, and furnished me with a pouch of tobacco. It's been a real gift to hike with him. I might see him in Grand Lake when I start that section, too. https://youtube.com/watch?v=x8beoT0IfxA&si=qST2JOQTktTPTW9S

Cory and I are lying under some trees in blustery weather. The first trees we've seen in 100 miles of walking through remote high scrublands, then brutal desert floor. Earlier today, we escaped the desert into highway 287, and were immediately fighting being blown over by huge trucks. With only a few sips of water left from the electric well 15 miles back, I licked my chapped lips, knowing we'd have a fish pond in three miles. Suddenly, a sign: "fresh lemonade." And a boy, bored, looking at me from a metal shed on the side of the road. Wow... I couldn't have asked for anything better.  He had ice cream too. We left happy, and thirty dollars poorer. Then we found the trees, and here we sit. Much to report, but for now, back to sleep.

After a full rest day, we tried hitting out of Dubois. I made a poor call, thinking that if we go eat breakfast in the place where the locals hang out, we'll garner some sympathy for our qioxotic mission and one of the ranchers will give us a ride back to the trail. Didn't work. Reading the thoughts of the men and women dunking toast into coffee, I felt the big question to be "how do these adult men end up out here playing on a work day?" The answer, unfortunately seemed to be that we'd executed some financial chicanery on hard working folks. Few smiles, curt nods, silence to my thank yours and beg your pardons. These folks have work to do. Finally, we called a church group who let hikers sleep in the church, and a husband within earshot of the phone was happy to drive us out. Yes! We started on a road past the little town of Dunair to avoid the section of trail where the man was attacked. Last year a CDT hiker was charged and she used up her bear spra...