From Mexico to Canada on the Continental Divide Trail

When I started to walk I had the idea that there was something out there that I could experience, and so bring into myself, that would beautify that which I am. Wanting to "be" wilderness, I walked into it. Often, I looked down at my feet for long periods, long miles. I saw scenes there which could have easily had a larger scale. Are these little lichens beside the trail, in a sere landscape of shifting sand patterns, peppered by black volcanic soil and mud-colored pools? Or are they trees seen from a drone crossing a vast tundra? Small and large exchanged themselves often. And then I became so comfortable with these unrolled spools of scaled landscape, that they seemed to be interior scenes. Archipelagos of stomach acid, or endless miles of blood-vessel delta. Forests of hair follicles in a gentle wind... There was no difference between me and what I beheld. This knowledge was never alarming...it was always "just so." I walked and held this sense of oneness with mi

I want to thank everyone who has been reading my updates and offering encouragement and positive energy... Thank you so much! In a few days, I'll hit the halfway point of the trail. At close to three months, it's a sobering reminder of how much there is yet to go. It has prompted me to ask how much fun I'm having and whether what I receive from the trail each day outweighs the separation from other things I love to have in my daily experience. There are a few reasons why I come up short in that calculation on the northern half of the trail, as I'll explain below. I have tried on and ultimately rejected a "grind it out" mindset. That's not what I need to do at this stage of my life. My goal has been to play a game with simple rules that lets me traverse vast mountain landscapes of the American West. I'm close now to reaching the goal of continuous footsteps across two states. Those are real winnings, to my mind! I'm proud of the work. Bu

Due to a fire last year, I had to walk road up to the boundary of the Rocky Mountain National Park. A ranger told me I wouldn't have to pay the usual 30 dollar entrance fee, since the CDT trail in the park was closed. That was nice. My view was dominated by peaks of the Never Summer Wilderness, so named by Native Americans in broken English in 1914 ("never no summer mountains"). It is a good name! They held much snow, and were backdropped by dramatic dark clouds. I had to wade across a river to get into them, cursing at wet get for the evening, but the trail climbed slowly enough into timber beside a rushing stream. It started to rain just as I reached campsites. I hurriedly set up my tent beside Axel and another hiker called 70 Pound Hammer. mysterious trail in the Never Summer. making my way into this wilderness. The rain lasted most of the night. I was happy to have a sponge to soak up condensation on the inner wall of my tent. Still without an

So, a huge gift of the trail has been connecting with my nephews Stephen and Sam. How incredible that Sam, who lives in Oklahoma was in town, and that he works with Stephen now? I'd seen Sam a few times in the last few years, but not Stephen (the last time we see each other for an extensive period was 24 years ago when they were 6 and 8 years old...I took them into the wilderness ). It was a pleasure to see that our worldview is similar, especially looking out at the crazy making, gaslighting media culture. He introduced me to the podcaster Michael Malice, and we had a great time watching the hilarious but sometimes scary "What is a Woman?" documentary. During which I drank all his milk and chocolate syrup, because I found that the only food I could keep down was milk, yogurt and... Donuts for some reason. Up until the last night in Denver, my stomach was an unreliable partner. Towards the end of my stay, I finally read something about Norovirus and giardia, and saw that

Here was the gorgeous ridge above Breckenridge that I was looking forward to climbing over.  One of the great joys of a long journey over rough country is that quiet sense of confidence that you'll get over any obstacle. Looking at this scene for an hour or so as I approached, I was tracing lines by which the trail might go. However, within the span of fifteen minutes, the weather changed drastically. As thunder pealed across the valley, I descended to Frisco, as I related in the last post. The next time I'd see these peaks would be in the evening from the other side... Now with a dusting of fresh snow. the weather turns a lake above Frisco The next day, I was in upper Hermann Gulch, looking back to the south: Alas, my high point was soon after. But I did get back on the trail, as I'll relate next!