Hiking The CDT- part 10- The Wind River Range

The Wind River Range is one of the most Spectacular Places On Earth. The mountains seem endless, the views breathtaking, the wolves wild, the lakes blue /green and the hiking some of the best I would encounter. So good that when I had the chance, I came back a second time.

I hitched to the pass with a local guide who had just finished on Garnett Peak, the highest mountain in Wyoming. I was feeling reasonable strong but still my shin pained a little. Taking care on descents I would manage to keep the pain to a minimum and slowly recovered as I crossed this section. I think it is around 180 miles. Arriving at the Pass I walked several miles down forestry lanes meeting the occasional thru hiker coming North, the first one I met was nervous about grizzly bears. I gave him my can of bear spray and told him of my encounter with a Grizzly Bear, it had been good and I felt lucky to have had it. Grizzly bears don’t get much further south than the Wind River range, and I figured I would rather not have the weight of a can. Since I started this trip it had swung from my chest strap on a piece of cord . Thru hikers rules, every ounce that can be ditched should be ditched. I hiked a good way as light rain splattered down keeping me soaked and cold. I eyed up a cross country route marked on the map that would save on a lot of distance, but was over high open ground. Lightning started cracking overhead, splitting the sky into fragments. A second later thunder would boom and the ground would tremble. I opted for a walk the long way through the forest, feeling secure with dense forest towering all around. I had good music and passed the afternoon comfortably.

Hiking has a lot of slow lessons. It teaches you any wrong decision is yours alone, any frustration is yours alone, and if you’re angry you have no one to blame for being where you are but you. If you’re scared, you have to learn to deal with it alone. I think a lot of people never become comfortable with spending time with themselves but the lesson of solitude and experiencing all emotions while being alone is powerful. There is nothing more therapeutic than being isolated in the wilderness. In cities people always have the stimulus of the others around them, and seek reassurance or spread blame for things not going right. But in always having people around, you never learn self reliance and patience. I think this trail teaches a lot about both.

I camped the night in a small cluster of trees at the top of a pass. The night was brutally cold, freezing over everything including my tent and shoes. It was a slow wake up and I felt almost hungover with dehydration. I had a slow coffee then dropped the tent to shake off the frost, and packed to move. I could hear wolves howling nearby. I hadn’t considered wolves being out here and on hearing them the process went through my mind- they are pack animals and I probably look like an injured animal to eat? But surely they are scared of people, there must be hunters? But this close to a National Park would anybody ever be here to fire a gun and scare them? I would never have an answer and my only option was to proceed as I was. I shivered as I started walking, finding it difficult to get warm blood flowing. It’s difficult to be happy until you feel warm in such a place. But as the sun rises and scatters across the hillside, the feeling of being home comes back. I listened to a few audio books while hiking here.

On this second day towards the end, I bumped into another hiker called Race. I would hike the evening and camp at the top of the pass with him. Having another hiker helped slow the pace and it was great having the evening meal with someone else. It blew my mind when hiking how in a morning I would look across the horizon thinking it was a long way, and by the afternoon I would be over it and onto a new horizon. Each day this would happen, it kept going, and going, and going. There was seemingly no end. It was perfection. I was in an endless cycle of hiking with endless views. Race was meeting a friend at a campground, but I carried on alone and began climbing up into the real mountains.

As I started to climb, the slightly high sides on the trainers dug into my ankle on both sides. It didn’t take long to abrase to the point my ankle was rubbed raw, and reddened with pinpricks of blood. I tried to persist but the pain was high. I sat down. I didn’t fancy trying another four or five days of this. I opened the top of my pack and took out a pair of small scissors to start cutting away at the trainers to lower the sides. I slapped some microscope tape over my skin where it was worn for a little more protection from brushing against trousers and plants etc. I then proceeded to hike. It was such a relief. I climbed up through the forest and broke out into a steep boulder strewn valley. Barron and grey granite that was cold in heart and touch. The first route for me would be Knapsack Col. It’s an alternate to the main route (I think?) but fantastic high alpine environment with a beautiful tarn. There is no real trail but the route is over boulders following obvious directions from one valley to the next. Over the next day the views of granite would be broken up with valleys full of hundreds of small pools and lakes.

A small gap breaks up the mountains between the North and South on the CDT route across meadows with lakes. Here I ran into many Northbound hikers. Probably the mass of them. I didn’t talk too much. Thru Hikers in opposite directions understand the difference it makes getting extra minutes of daylight. I camped before the second section of mountain. Here there was a highly recommended alternate better than Knapsac col, but I didn’t want to break myself again. I was pushing still over 30 miles per day. I knew this route would give more interesting climbs but the official route that wound around the peak would do for now, it still had plenty to climb and scenery.

Near reaching my final pass I was close to running on fumes, and my food was nearly depleted. I had taken other hikers advice back in town and carried less food than usual, and here it kicked me, it wasn’t my style. I was fortunate to come across other hikers that were on a weekend break. When they asked what kind of food I bring on a hike like this, I laughed and shower them a near empty bag saying I guess I was subsiding on cosmic rays and and positive attitude. The said they were hiking out but still had loads of food and showered me in great snacks. It provided thousands of extra calories in much more entertaining food than I would normally carry including some home made beef jerky and energy shot style sweets. This was epic. As I dropped down the other side of the pass the path was steep shingle, not much fun, but I knew this would be my last big descent of the area. As I moved I was now being powered by a sudden high calorie diet. I was a day and a half from being out of a long section and ready for a day off trail. I arrived in the evening to a national forest campground. Pitching up on the gravel after dark I was happy there was less than half a day to the next pass.

In the morning I hiked on, with the trail eventually joining some gravel road then breaking across country one last time to the roadside. The roadside was a small layby on a brow with poor view in either direction. A hard place to hitch from. When a vehicle can see you at good distance, the driver has a chance to weigh things up. When they see you in passing, the chance of a ride is almost always gone. Two northbound hikers were on the other side of the road and had been there an hour. I joined them for a while trying to hitch before I decided three was too much of a crowd and I would try to find a better layby further down. Moments after walking away a car passed me and started beeping the horn frantically. It was Tribhu and Kirsten. I chucked my hat into the air to celebrate and ran over. They were dropping a couple of other hikers off at the pass and now giving us a lift back down.

Eposide 3- The Pollo (chicken) Strikes Back

We spent three days in Santa Marta in a small hotel not daring to venture more than a few feet from the toilet. It seems the roadside chicken we’d eaten the previous day had been seasoned with E coli. Food poisoning doesn’t give the nicest day of riding so we decided to be smart and stay still.

The hotel in which we stayed was down a small corridor between two buildings protected by a sliding steel gate. Down the corridor was Guille, the owner, a happy man who seemed excited to see us. We explained we weren’t well and would be staying a few days. The rooms in the hotel were up a spiral staircase that seemed to be grasping on to the broken concrete mounts at the top for dear life. Into the room the walls were painted a mixture of yellow, blue, white, and the cutting of the paint giving a good 2 inch overlap where the roller had been extra zealous. we paid an extra dollar (totaling $15 per night for two of us) for air conditioning and found the hotel would run out of water each morning for a hour or two. If the toilet was used before the water came back on, it was a case of ‘do not go in there’. It was painful being this early into a tour and being so sick, but we still have a year ahead of us.

Dosing up on pepto-bismol we began convincing ourselves we were feeling better, and, three days after it started agreed the following morning we would chance roadside diarrhea, depart early and cycle up the pass that would take us along the coast.

The road would slowly rise up through thick tropic forest giving way to views down the valley. From sea level to 1300 feet, it was early, cloudy and nice and cool so progress was easy. I was ahead of Karli by a couple of hundred yards and had a short but interesting conversation at the top with two locals in which they asked me something, and I not understanding either nodded or shrugged my shoulders until her arrival. On coming down the other side we started hitting the tourist trail hard. Bus loads of backpackers were dispersing on their exciting adventures, signs were appearing written in English. Meals that would normally cost three dollars were costing ten. This was my worst nightmare, but with an advantage of knowing there would be accommodation in every town. We cycled round 40 miles with some beautiful coastline to the next tourist town. Again the nightmare hit, locals greeting us in English, shops selling trinkets for twenty dollars. We pulled up to a hostel that had no A/C and took a room in the back , in a more traditional style hut with a thatched leaf roof and rather large spring in the floor right were the bed was centered. Everywhere we go the locals are amazed by one; the fact we are cycling from one town to the next, and two; the bright yellow trailer on tow the likes of which they have never seen, but think is so cool.

Yesterday we cycled 56 miles into Riohacha. A terrible days cycling, which started on rolling hills with a headwind. This soon changed as we hit the flat lands, the temperature climbed to 95F and the headwind steadily rose to 18-20 mph with gusts undoubtedly beyond. It was rather like trying to cycle into into a giant loud hairdryer the whole day. There was no visible sweat, just crisp dryness and a lot of heat. It would be bad enough on a day out ride, but with the panniers and a trailer between us; aerodynamics weren’t great, this was little fun. We took breaks every 15 miles under the shade of the odd tree sitting carefully between the two inch thorny growths and cacti. (this gave the first of the trailer flat tires, carelessness on my part). Things are beginning to get barren, and as the land becomes barren, the homes and roadside shops stop. As we cycled my eyes were fixed on the paved surface looking for steel-hard thorns being blown in clusters by wind. There weren’t many locals cycling this road. Towards the end of the ride entering the town was a small shop selling cool bottles of pop.

The last leg of our northbound journey is towards Punto Gallinas (northern most point) with headwinds up to 26mph. Which will be a true grind test. It is nice knowing the prevailing wind will make the ride back South easier. This is averaging the smallest mile per day tour I have done. Normally 60 to 110 miles a day is pleasant- we are currently averaging 25 mile per day (though cycling around 45), but considering the heat, the lost days to food poisoning and the daily headwind dragging us down, it’s not too bad. Soon we turn south west and the wind should be behind us for a couple of months.

We do have the option of turning south right were we are now and going straight to Bogota, but what’s a tour without a little suffering? 😉

Psyched

Climbing over time becomes more than a sport. It becomes a personal edge of determination and certainty as you stare into the abyss of darkness knowing you will come through. (Sometimes that abyss is quite big and scary)

It becomes the cool steady head of a gun-slinger in the wild west outnumbered ten to one but knowing his hand is faster and aim flawless. I remember when i started climbing, it was just before dawn, the air freezing, crisp and sharp. Staring at a crag my friend was leading me to, wondering how i would climb that seemingly impenetrable fortress of black rock piercing the sky all around me. Did my friend not know gravity worked heavily against me? I felt scared, but i have remembered that day for the past 14 years.

As time went on, i realized if one treads lightly, slowly but surely , there is always a secret corridor nature will permit you to pass through. tens of thousands of years of glaciers, storms and weather creating small flaws of beauty that allow me to pass in the blink of an eye. Seeing it in the fragile delicate state. Knowing eventually it will all be gone, and maybe in a few years the route I climbed will be gone forever. Only lasting in memory.

Today I went out climbing, like most the past week, to Suesca, Colombia. The day started like every other, around half ten Karli and I grabbed a coffee for 30 cent from the local coffee shop. We tried to meet some friends up for a climb on a remote crag, but found only barbed wire and no trespassing signs blocking the way. After two hours of trying and seeing the day slip away we reverted back to the main crag of Suesca. A climb we picked out a few days earlier was on the agenda. Nothing too technical or trying, graded to 5.6(MVS). A three pitch route following some blackish sandstone up a chimney, up a corner, then over some open area.

a young climber top-roping to the left of our route. the redline shows our line and the first belay

It looked straight forwards and like an easy afternoon out.

Upon arriving at the base the start of the climb was occupied by a guide and group. Which left us two alternates- 20 meters of 5.7 with no protection, or 20meters of 5.8 with protection. (protection being climbing hardware placed in cracks to arrest a fall). The 5.8 sounding harder I weasled over to the 5.7 a few feet away. We geared up and I started up timidly, so far the trad routes of Suesca have been harder than graded. After 5 meters I stopped and looked at the rock, would it be the same as some of the previous routes with a vicious sting to stump me 10 meters up? I had a quick assessment – full of pockets, small cracks and features. Not that dis-similar to some nice climbs back home. I focused on the rock and forgot about the potential of a fall.

I started climbing.

Its been a while since i felt the same certainty of outcome. I was enjoying each easy move, feeling for good, positive holds or gentle pinches and precisely placing my fett like a doctor might use a scalpel. its a while since i felt at home on a climb. Aftrer linking up with the 5.6 route I made a solid belay and brought up Karli. The next pitch looked ominous. A dark cathedral like corner, vertical and seeming to overhand slightly at the top. Not an average 5.6 but the holds looked good and the conrner offered a perfect fist sized hole every step. I used a single cam which i bumped up a couple of times (due to having only one adequate sized cam) to just over half way, before deciding its security would not be required any higher and climbing straight up would be easy. At the top of the corner the route opened up to great views and a decently large belay ledge.

Karli coming up the last few meters of the first pitch

The final pitch was an entertaining mix of steps. Ledges, small slabs and small roofs from weathered stone but full of pockets. Holes, sculptures of ghouls and gargoyles and fine crisp flakes of sandstone that would snap with the most delicate touch. It was smooth climbing and the odd runner for safety. It was joy. At first I though the final pitch was only 5 meters but it went on for about 40 meters. On the top I chose a solid anchor, sat down and brought up the slack rope.

I was Stoked, I think that is the first time I have used that word. This is what climbing is about. Not the hardest routes, but the beautiful ones.

Being Wild

While visiting anywhere there is always somebody trying to get money. In Suesca it was in the form of a local standing at the roadside asking for money for where we were parked, when we enquired about camping he asked for 30,000COP , about 10USD. This might seem reasonable but to prolong travelling, free is always better. We drove up the far side of the valley to a small disused quarry where the local farmer said we were welcome to stay. Once there we deployed the tarp to gather rain water and save more money, look at that majestic water gathering machine. Jealous ain’t you!?. Saved 70cent in the days water bill right there.

 

This place has also given us spectacular evening lightning shows. Consistently on the other side of the valley which is reassuring as we camp on top of a vehicle with great lightning rods poking out in all directions. Its incredibly humbling each time there is a strike that looks like it will destroy any tree building or structure in the way. It puts us in our place.

 

Back down in the valley eating costs little. 3 dollars can buy two people a decent meal consisting of a couple bowls of soup, a plate full of rice, chicken, plantain, salad and fries, and a couple of fresh fruit drinks. add evening meals cooked ourselves for 3-4 dollar and daily living is cheapIMG_20171122_140246.jpg

Add to it one of my favourite outdoor stores (decathlon) is down the road in Bogata selling low cost outdoor wear and equipment for any sport and the cost of living compared to Central America seems to have halved. My reccomendation to anybody travelling who likes the outdoors is skip central and get to South America!!

Anyhow, bye for now 🙂

Trad Climbing in Suesca, Colombia

So. In prep for some bigger mountains, I’ve started teaching Karli how to trad. She can sport climb already, so its been quite good progress, the past week has been spent around Suesca, Colombia. Camping at around 9400ft which is a nice gentle bit of acclimatisation for Cocuy National Park. We have been running and climbing each day. By that, I mean climbing some, and thinking of running; then not.

Ive been teaching Karli how to place gear, build anchors and safely rappel. She led her first multi pitch, approx 250ft, a good solid 5.7 (American grade) with some interesting features- 35meters up an interesting clean corner, a 15meter run out on a traverse without any protection, and a nice steep 40 meter corner to climb with bomber protection. A great fun route .

 

We have been camping up the hill on the far side of the valley, in an old dissused quarry big enough to hide the car from weather with great views back the way too, nice sunsets, lightning storms and best of all its free.

IMG_20171123_145240.jpg

top of route after Karli’s first multi pitch route and lead.

24008137_10214814081131678_551411817_o

top of another three pitch route

24008013_10214806354378514_591643669_o

coiling rope after a good day out

24008049_10155031778421408_1484887606_o

the end of the traverse before going straight up.

The weather has held up great and we have been ticking lots of simple routes. Below is a picture of Karli gasing the wildlife with arms raised, poor squirrels, didn’t know what hit em’. Lunch has been from a local restaurant costing about 3 dollars to feed and water both of us with soup, and a plate full of chicken and rice and veg and fresh juice. The roof tent has been building a nice sweaty climbing shoe aroma after a week of not washing. We are back in Bogota for a weekend off before another week or so of climbing in Suesca and running in the evenings before the ambition grows. After the restrictiveness of Central America nearly sending me crazy with cabin/car fever being confined by rain, high entrance fees and every local sticking out a hand wanting money, South America is starting to become really good fun and re-establish why we are on this trip.

 

 

Climbing

So, my trip has taken a turn (not the first on this trip) which I will get to in a minute. A few days go I cycled the 80 miles out to the base of longs peak (14,259ft), with a bike climb from 5000ft up to 9500ft, collected route information from the ranger station, cycled down 6 miles to national forest and camped.

The next morning at 3am I started cycling in the pitch black by head torch back up the mountain. There is always a debate in my mind when I wake early to climb or hike about should I just lie there and be a normal person getting up at a reasonable time, is this a sane thing to do? Anyway. Arriving at the trailhead I stashed my bicycle behind the ranger station and made some hot cinnamon oats which tasted great. So this is quite a popular peak and there were plenty of people heading up while I ate. The ranger the previous day recommended setting off around 1am, naturally I chucked this piece of advice to the wind believing myself to be a supreme machine(often I am wrong in this assumption). At around 4.15/4.30am I started up, hiking and running the flatter areas. I reached the Keyhole, a natural gap in the ridgewall and only way up at first light, which is where the scrambling begins. I flew past a lot of people and reached the summit after around 2.5hours. I sat a while talking to a few other hikers then started descending. Two others descended with me and turned out to have a decent pace. Which was nice compared to the solitary ascent. After getting back to the car park I whipped up some spaghetti and a mystery silver foil packed sauce which was possibly some form of madras with lentils then dropped down to boulder for the night. There was no plan to go to boulder but 20dollars at the campsite in Lyons seemed expensive for what was there, so I carried on.

In boulder its surprising just how many signs saying no camping are up around the town and surrounding area. I ended up paying 100 dollars for a motel room I didn’t want, I resented it but it did beat the hostel that offered my their last suite room for 250 dollar. This rarely happens but I was tired and hungry and had saved money the previous nights wild camping. I cycled back to Denver, cleaned up my bike with a pack of 1 dollar wipes, bought a beer from a brewery and before I finished the beer sold the bike to a gent I agreed to meet there a day previous to boost my funds a little for the next part of my trip. Met a lovely couple while drinking my beer and letting the gent go test the bike. I had a minor concern he would just ride off on it never to be seen again, but i figured if he did it would be one less thing to worry about.

Chapter 2- The Next Part

So, Through chance I have met a girl called Karli who is wanting to drive from Denver to Argentina. Her plan beats my original plan in a few ways, first, cycling a long way on paved surface is boring, really boring, especially alone its like solitary confinement on a seat not designed for a mans behind. Second, it would be nice to be on a roadtrip for a while and have a few luxuries like pressed coffee, a real seat to sit in instead of dirt, and a climbing partner for some more technical ascent, which there will be plenty of. I have spent the past couple of days hanging around and getting to know Karli and her friends. Today we went tubing on a river with a couple of beers followed by volleyball under glorious sunshine. Sometimes life is hard but I guess I can endure.

Setting off in a couple of days. Mayhem bound to follow.

Benjamin

Choose Junk Food

Choose Junk food

Choose smarties, choose snickers, choose candy and hope diabetes wont catch up with you.

Choose double espresso for breakfast with donuts coated in sugar and chocolate and tell yourself you’ll burn it off in a workout.

choose 5 coffees to stay awake then energy drinks to peak the rush you chase every day.

choose 5hour energy for motivation, choose babe ruth bars for dinner, choose 2 burgers to comfort you when the days been long.

Choose candy for hikes, choose m&ms for biking, choose pop-tarts for alpine ascents.

Then wash it down with an unending quantity of Pepsi, Cola, monster, relentless and all the soda you can get your hands on.

This is my life, this is what i do. I’m a sugar junkie. It fuels me.

IMG_20170719_212444219

On the trail, I eat eat like this. The above writing is just a bit of fun. It is exactly how I eat.

 

After The Basin, from Rawlin to Steamboat

I’ve just felt my face. It felt like it was covered in grit. I’ve looked in the mirror, its covered in salt, white from the effort and sweat. Today I cycled 85mile off road and 30 miles on. I felt unstoppable, until the climb, then i felt like a uncooked beef steak chucked over the handlebars. The end of the gravel cycle had a 1500 ft climb, but the road kept dropping hundreds of feet every few miles adding hundreds more to the ascent. All I could think is the surveyor who planned the road despised cyclists, he probably sits at the front of a log cabin on the way up. Smugly grinning each time he sees a cyclist collapsing over the handlebars with exhaustion, covered in sweat, trying to suck in air that doesn’t seem to exist. After the effort the reward was a smooth paved descent through a lightning storm towards Steamboat Colorado. It was brilliant.

 

This day started with the sun beaming at my face under the tarp sheet, the wind had been flapping it all night due to my lazy attempt of stringing it up, I envisioned it blowing away in the night but it held on.  I packed quickly, I drank a one dollar energy shot and hopped on the bike. Within a few miles a rattlesnake blocked the route, at first I thought it to be like every dead snake, stretched out along the gravel after a driver swerved to get it, but this one was slightly different in that when I drew closer and it snapped up into a coil. I hastily braked. I feel positive of my identifying this as a rattle snake due to the rattling its tail made. Fortunately the road was wide enough for both of us and I carried on with my odyssey.

I met a few CDT hikers, one called J who happened to be in the right place for a kinda cool photo. Later in the day up the pass where I rested for ten minutes I was entertained by many many humming birds. I have noticed the past couple of days the variety of birds along the way. I don’t know what they are called but keep meaning to snap some photos of the colourful ones, but it seems like effort to stop the bike and so I have only the two photos so far. I have made a few frantic grabs for my phone, but by the time the pin is typed in and camera activated, the desired shot is one hundred meters past already. And so, I sigh.

Its nice to have a motel bed tonight.

Ps. I have noticed when cycling and nearing or cresting a summit, Americans do this fist pumping action thing like a sign of victory along with an agreeing nod and big smile, sometime a ‘Yeah!!!!’. If it happens again tomorrow, I will fist pump back!! Goodnight world.

 

 

Cycling The Great Divide Basin

 

The divide basin is a large flat(ish) area that splits the rockies in wyoming. Its dusty, hot, there are lots of ticks that will try to bite you and its long. (136miles by the official bike route I think).

To get to the basin from Landers first i had to cycle the wrong way up 2300feet into a headwind. I resented this climb. I didn’t really need to cross the basin, I hiked across in 2015 and didn’t expect it to be much different. I could have taken the shorter road route but that wouldn’t be much of an adventure and i considered this a necessary evil on my trip.

I waited around Atlantic City, a small town on the edge of the basin with a few other hikers and bikers till after 4pm when it would start to cool, and set off, the water sources being about 22mile in, then 56mile, then Rawlins at the far side. I have two 1 litre water bottles but bought a couple of extra litres for just in case a flat tyre or something cataclysmic slowed me down, but i soon ditched the extra water with the thought there will be someone else out here if it goes south. I currently have a buckled back wheel and is is very slowly getting worse. hopefully it can make an extra 140miles to Steamboat springs where bike shops are plentiful.   I was very fortunate to have a tailwind for the first time and this was great motivation to keep going till after dark, knowing the next day it might be gone. I followed the tail of a storm, the clouds just keeping me in shade. The wildlife was brilliant, I had mule deer running all over, horses, cows, hares and after sundown, a coyote that kept me entertained for a while. The coyote seemed chilled, but always tried to keep behind me, if I turned to it it would back a distance away and circle again. I rode into the dark with a poor headtorch that I love, and nearly wrapped a few times hitting ruts and sand. But progress is progress.

Sunset and sunrise are worth watching, the colours are unreal, like a brilliant filter has been applied. I took an hour out in the morning to play with my camera and see what i can achieve. The night sky was so clear, lighting every inch of ground. The below video is in the divide and I think its mule deer running across my path. This was great fun to see repeatedly over 60miles.

This is the sunrise while i was packing up and getting ready to cycle. All in i wouldn’t recommend cycling the divide or walking it, but it is beautiful and a dirt road runs through it. Worth a trip for the safari.

I am trying to work out how to climb as many 14,000ft+ peaks as possible as I cycle through Colorado, maybe one a day southbound? I’m gonna finish this beer and hit the road.

Love ya’ll. Benjamin