~5 miles
Collegiate West – Section 1 (CW-1)
I sleep heavily and wake slowly when my alarm chimes at 7 AM.
Granite slips out of bed and starts cooking—eggs, fried potatoes, and toast
again. He cooks the toast in the oven and it sets off the fire alarm, which
shrieks until he puts it on the porch.
I join him on the porch and find I can’t eat much. I eat two pieces of toast, one or two bites or potato, and leave the rest. The morning is
fresh and still shiny with the rainwater from the storms last night.
My stomach woes from yesterday are mostly abated, though I
can’t eat much. I pack my bag slowly, go to the general store for supplies,
then return to finish sorting supplies for the next leg and take my last
showers
We are out the door by 10 AM and walk two blocks to the town
intersection—where the general store, Inn, and Lodge sit in a row on a road by
the lake. Granite turns in our key while
I stand by the side of the road, looking for a hitch.
If we can hitch two miles, we can hop onto the Willis Gulch Tail
and take that to the Colorado Trail. This will cut seven miles of finishing the
last section and walking around the lake, so we can have a short day today.
Given the late start, my recovering stomach, and a threatening weather
forecast, that sounds perfect.
I approach a quiet couple as they are getting in their car and
convince them to give us a lift. They aren’t thrilled about it, but they drive
us two miles and we’re grateful.
Willis Gulch Trail is muddy and even swampy in section from
yesterday’s heavy storms. We meet a group of Germans with tiny packs who
weathered the storm and look none the worse for it, and they point us toward
the CT.
We walk the 2 miles on Willis Gulch Trail, and it’s a demoralizing
climb. I’ve got no energy, probably because I’ve been sickly and haven’t been
eating much in the last 24 hours. But we reach the CT and settle down for a
rest. I sit on a damp log by a rushing stream, and slowly eat a few peanut
butter crackers. We have 2.5 miles of climbing to get to the last campsite
before Hope Pass, which clocks in around 12,500 feet. It should be simple
enough, but I’m dragging.
We continue another mile and plop down in the share of a pine
in a big meadow. I take out my Kindle and read, slowly nibbling a granola bar.
In 30 minutes, we stand and keep going.
A bunch of trail runners pass us, three making comments about our
pack sizes and one complimenting my hair. I am annoyed all of them (except the
women who compliments my hair) and grouchily glare at their retreating figures.
Granite goes ahead and I walk slowly, solo up the last 1,000 foot climb. It’s gorgeous. Tree give way to sloping mountain tops and rough rock. There’s a small lake nestled into the curve of the mountain cliffs, a stream, and beyond that a few campsites tucked into the last few clumps of trees.
We arrive by 2:30 PM and slowly pick out a campsite, gather
water, pitch a tent. There are ominous dark clouds above but no thunder.
I tuck into the tent to read and change by clothes, realize I
left my second pair of underwear in Twin Lakes. Well, that means one pair until
we get home unless I can somehow get REI to deliver one to Monarch. I turn my
phone off airplane mode and predictably have no service.
Dinner is quiet and the air is still. We curl in the tent
afterwards and listen to coyotes in the distance, howling and yululing.
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