From Mexico to Canada on the Continental Divide Trail

They took so much out of me... Almost every step was a challenge. Between snow, ice, downed trees, and extreme elevation changes, I moved at a snails pace. But over and over, I looked to my right and left and said: my God, where am I? An enormous, cold and lonely wilderness.  Here are some pictures...

Lol... Well, it's funny. I vegetated for days, enjoying the routine of a happy old man... Naps at two... Another Sherlock Holmes story at four...a cigarillo on the porch at sunset, then firing up the grill.  My tent was supposed to arrive Saturday. I waited patiently enough, but finally on Tuesday I went to the post office to inquire.  They'd had it sitting there since Saturday. What? Why didn't they deliver it to the hotel, the address on the label? Oh well.  All the folks I know are ahead, and there is a fresh set of people in town with whom I have no history. I didn't have time to seam seal the tent, as the afternoon was threatening rain. I'm hoping it stays dry until Pagosa Springs. I was invited to dinner last night by locals Bobby and Suzanne, neighbor Julie joined as well. They cooked delicious enchiladas, with guacamole, which I finally, at 51 years of age, decided to enjoy (I hated guacamole). Damn fine, that stuff. Bobby had been a fur trapper in the Chihu

I must apologize for dwelling so often on my own wispy and subjective thoughts about practically any subject but the trail itself, and the land it passes through. Maybe it's because, (like a hen pecking upon a line of seed laid out before her) these subjects are my chief occupation through long days, I crave some other kind of "food" when I lie down to rest. Therefore I am an unreliable witness to date on what really happens here. I'll try to redress this error! When we have a trail, it is signposted by the CDT symbology, sometimes with a colour metal plate in blue, black and white. Other times the acronym is carved into wood. In one case, I think it was in the forest above Cuba, a beautiful woodcut of the symbol was made with a lathe and affixed to a tree. At other times, we have stakes in the ground, with the tip painted white, or sometimes with a dab of blue. In the Chihuahuan desert of the "boot heel" we had these stakes, but no trail. From one stake, I

With Info, a bright young fellow from Seattle... He referenced the desert people of Dune, with their "still-suits" that reclaimed and recycled all water leaving the body. "I like the way religion was treated in those books. It seemed way more realistic to me that a vibrant technical society is ruled by a caste that interfaces regularly with the Unmanifest, than the dreary opposite case, seen in much science fiction, where religion has been eliminated as a "scourge" on mankind. That trope is so ignorant of human psychology," I offered, rather pedantically, I admit! Though Info agreed, adding that in his own experience as a modern, technical being, the impetus for further expenditures of energy, further penetration into matter, must come from a kind of blank space, rather than from a rational process. In fact, such processes are often just energy sinks.  We went on in this vein, leaning on logs in the shade under Mt. Taylor, happily discussing the underlying

I arrived at the ghost ranch to pick up my food resupply, enjoy a shower and washing machine only to find that the forest service has announced that all forests in the state are indefinitely closed. I got a ride from a nice older lady with a small daschund... She also fit the Czech couple Fuego and Master Chef in, along with the Britisher Blink. Now I'm in Chama, sharing a room with fellow hiker The Jesus. I've got equipment coming here in the next days. It's very tough to find a place to stay... People are doubling and tripling up. Soon hikers from lower in New Mexico will begin streaming into town, as this is the gateway to Colorado. So...I didn't achieve my goal of walking all the way across New Mexico. Some admirable people are waking the highway for 120 miles in order to maintain a continuous footpath across the state. Me? Well, I got into those higher mountains a few days ago, and found I have no desire for that. I'll take the loss, rest the body, do some writ

Lemonhope and I hurried out of Cuba to escape a mood of despondency gripping the community as regards the closing of forests as a precaution against fire, even though the fires are far from here. Folks were planning trips to Santa Fe, Airbnb stays and wonderful things like that... But at a cost: the loss of the footpath through the northern part of the state, and therefore the entry into Colorado as a victor rather than a refugee. In the morning we began to climb, and before noon were smiling at the fresh running streams, the green parks lined with remnant snowfields, even a lake! This day allowed me to make peace with the fact that... I'm not a big desert fan. In the desert, I endure. In these alpine parks, I want to run and play naked on the grass like hobbits. There is a difference. We had to come down in the evening to the north, but I slept in the last remnant of alpine forest while others kept walking. I wasn't ready to again greet the

On the dramatic day of canyons I found myself crying tears of joy at least three times. One thing that really got to me was the realization that in the married years, I had a purpose. I was rarely gripped by doubts about what to do, because what to do was obvious. As the head of a family, I need to work and work well. Beyond that to participate in joyful encounters between us. To dream with my spouse about what comes next. And having dreamt, to slowly accrete the foundations so that these dreams make an appearance in reality. I see many young people out here. They don't have kids. They are so sufficiently free, that to me, they seem to have the problem of late middle age, when the kids are gone and you start asking yourself what you really want. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes. Or, I should say, I couldn't have successfully worn those shoes at that age. I was half asleep. I needed a "default" purpose, or, let's say, a template. I think even then, in the 9

Quick update... Finished the section from Grants to Cuba. Absolutely beautiful. A real mountain, and then the kind of classic Western desert you see in movies... Canyon rim walking, cliffs, caves, strange sandstone rocks. 110 or so miles of challenge and delight.  my dinner view last night. I was guessing that Lemonhope would appear, and sure enough, he climbed up here to camp. Me and Lemonhope are bidding a move out of Cuba tonight, not even staying for a shower. Fires may close all the forests in New Mexico, so we need to hurry. We are so close to Colorado.

The way I came into Grants was probably not the best. On the "red line," which is the main CDT route, I faced a 15 mile road walk from the ranger station. So it goes! And it's a real highway, which, oddly, means that it hurts the feet more, and the people in cars are less friendly. The people who travel the dirt roads are not so prosperous...they don't look down on sweaty hikers. They almost always wave back, sometimes stop...sometimes give us water or a soft drink, and always are interested in where we are from. But on upgraded roads the travelers are not the same. They lean back in their seats, and regard people on the roads as annoyances. I've seen lips purse visibly at the sight of my friendly wave. I can't help but draw lessons from this kind of thing. Prosperity separates people from each other. Too many toys creates desire for more toys, and more and more, we see only the toys and not the people who might make them. I ate breakfast in Grants this mo

Well, it's been a season of roads here. First the 14 miles into Pie Town, then after a sufficient sleep on the lawn (all the bunks were full), gathering supplies, eating breakfast, an evening walk of 17 miles out to the TLC Ranch which graciously allows us to camp on their property. They provide water and an outhouse, too... Really awesome! That walk was marked by a spirited conversation with Brainstorm, who I haven't mentioned before, but he and I started on the same day. He's got a great sense of humour, and as I learned in our conversation, he tutors students in algebra and calculus. We discovered a shared love of abstract algebra, particularly groups and rings. Our talk was kicked off by a guy in a four track vehicle who offered us cold water from a metal pitcher. He lives out here and revels in the stars and lonely spaces. He feels the presence of God and all that good stuff. Anyway, despite weary feet, we came in to the ranch with a hundred ideas flying through our ta

I left Doc's at 4:30 Monday morning. It's about 11:30 am Friday now, and I'm using wi-fi at the Davila Ranch shelter. One of the ranchers just came by with a cartoon of eggs for the fridge. I'm washing clothes, took a shower, charging electronics. I'm pretty happy. i crossed the Gila over a hundred times. Wet shoes become a way of life... Weirdly, no blisters from that. I also walked above the canyon for a while and got some great views... Later I was in high grassy country, absolutely gorgeous. When this surrounds you for hours and hours, it's a unique thing. I was driven two miles around a forest fire by a really kind ranger. As I walked away to the north, I saw the flames.  here is Typical water situation. I climbed into the tank, got the water, and now it's filtering into a bottle. Right now I need to go make some eggs... I'm in sore need of protein!

Next morning, we walked down to a road, then up a ridge, finally steeply down to the Gila River. A very Western scene, dropping into a big canyon with red, brown and black overhanging cliffs at multiple levels. Once down, I filtered water, having trouble with my Sawyer Micro Squeeze... It takes 15 minutes to get a liter of water... I'd already done maintenance on it in Silver City, but it didn't work for long. It would be a day with paradoxically little water because I didn't have the patience to filter as much as I needed. But I was always in water! Feet and legs were wet for the next 16 miles. Snippets of trail run as far as they can, then, stopped by cliffs at an oxbow of the river, end by pointing into the water again. We passed one CDT hiker, Snail Trainer, from the UK, then saw no one else all day. But I did frighten a rattlesnake. I couldn't see him, but he rattled at me, while I tried to work around the pile of twigs and branches he was hiding in. Lemonhope got

Lemonhope and I started walking from the hostel at five in the morning, pretty quickly finishing the road walk, thanks to a lively conversation. Over the next two days we talked about many things. He served in the marines in Afghanistan twice, then studied economics at university. He's also got a keen interest in comparative religion, spirituality and meditation. Finally, he's an even bigger fan of the amazing show Adventure Time than I am, and I never thought that was possible! In fact, Lemonhope is a special character on that show and that's why it's his trail name. Lemonhope at the registree. water tends to dry up. We walked trail into the Devil's garden, a place with hundreds of volcanic spires and very few water sources. The trail climbed above this into a beautiful and fire scarred forest. In fact, fire seems to be a natural part of the forest here... Pine cones don't even open unless the heat is high enough. Red bark, smeared with