Colorado Trail Day 10: 25 July 2018

Today is my final full day in Colorado.  I will be leaving Breckenridge tomorrow morning around 11am.  I have arranged a shuttle to take me back to Denver.   From there I will catch a train to Cleveland, transferring first in Chicago.   I wake with bittersweet feelings about leaving.  I am relieved that I will return to lower more sustainable elevations.  But I sense a growing cloud of disappointment hovering around me.  I think of the segments of the Colorado Trail before me.   I should at least make the attempt to continue with Julie and Ed and climb Segment 7.  And with all honesty, if I hadn’t had such a terrible episode on Segment 4, I would most likely be preparing my resupply and pack for the next 4 or 5 days of hiking.   But messy complicated doubts have infiltrated my resolve.  I think about what would happen if I continued to lose my appetite on the trail followed by swallowed food ending up in the brush, water tasting like strange dirty silt.  I just cannot take that risk at this time in this place.   I can’t become a continued burden to Julie and Ed.   So today will be my final day in Colorado.  And then I return to Ohio – to a separate huge world of unknowns.   But I can’t face those looming questions today.  For now I will linger in Breckenridge with the cold concrete knowledge that my hike is over.  The summer of adventure through glorified wonderful hiking is officially over.  And still with everything I know and have experienced, at this moment, I desperately wish it was the very beginning all over again  - May 7th.  There I am in my fresh hiking clothes, carrying my gear on my back, running my hand along the edges of the Southern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail so filled with hope, bursting with excitement.

I meet Julie and Ed downstairs in the dining room for another glorious hearty breakfast.  I have the same eggs, sausage and potatoes as yesterday complete with steaming hot coffee, warm comradery and fascinating conversation.  Sitting across from us is a couple from Sweden.  They are travelling on holiday and have decided to stop in Breckenridge.  They used to live in the USA.  As trained mechanical engineers, they tested cars for auto manufacturers.  They would test drive the new vehicle by driving it from Los Angeles to Colorado or Arizona reporting on all aspects of functional auto mechanics.  On their currently holiday, they plan to drive up the coast of California as part of their multi-state trip.  I sit back and think of my recent train trip along that very coast after leaving the PCT.  The beauty along the steep cliffs surrounded by rolling green hills and the wild waves splashing against jagged rocks of the west coast gave me great solace in my private torment of abandoning my hike.   Beauty and marvelous surprise filled my mind with soft coatings of calming, healing peace. 

After breakfast, Julie, Ed and I make out way to the local outfitter.  Ed’s sternum strap on his Osprey backpack has torn.   He is hoping the outfitter will either repair the strap or replace the damage with a new strap.  While he works with a member of the sales staff, I look around the store at the hiking clothes, gear and trail runner shoes.  There was a time not long ago when I would have been fascinated by the various displays.  But today after a quick walk through, I decide to wait outside at one of the round tables and benches.   I will not be buying any further hiking gear today or tomorrow for that matter.  The store is able to fix Ed’s strap and then we are off heading toward the post office to pick up a resupply box and a bounce box that we had sent from Colorado Springs.  We carry the boxes back to the Fireside Inn and open them in Julie and Ed’s room.   I take out my cold weather clothes to include in my pack for the return trip.  Any leftover supplies will be sent back to Ohio.

After sorting through the boxes, I return to the Sweatheart’s Room to rest while Julie and Ed venture out to gather further food supplies for the next few segments.   They have decided to slack pack over Segment 7 tomorrow (hike without all of their gear on their backs) and then return to the Fireside Inn for another night before continuing on to Segment 8 near the Copper Mountain Resort.   I spend the afternoon lying on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep, reading, writing, reflecting, wishing.

That evening we head out again for dinner.  The streets are crowded with young couples and their children strolling along the busy storefronts and forming impatient lines waiting for tables at crowded cafes and restaurants.   We walk many blocks down Main Street toward a very popular gourmet burger hangout.  The warm summer air is beginning to cool as the sun begins its customary slow descent behind the surrounding peaks.  Along the way,  I suddenly begin to feel normal.  Rather than continuing to exhibit altitude illness and shortness of breath, I walk with a more familiar gait, my tempo quickening and outpacing those around me.  I think of myself walking along the streets of New York City, flying by others crowding along the sidewalks.   In midtown especially I would typically walk in the street rather than the sidewalk just to be able to maintain a steady stride.  And now here in Breckenridge after 3 days, I am finally feeling the beginnings of adjustment.   Walking feels good.

Colorado evenings in the mountains are spectacular.  The fading sun caresses entire mountain tops with elongated streaks of brilliant radiant white light.  Tree-line shadows are etched into the foreground with the tundra covered passes rising high above to meet the shimmering final spill of day.  I stand before the majesty of such beauty and absorb as much my senses will allow.  I feel rich and full and blessed in this Colorado twilight.  My last evening in Colorado.  Perfect and cherished.

After dinner, we silently stroll back toward the Fireside Inn.  We pass a small bakery displaying a glass case filled with large, enticing cookies and brownies.  Some of the cookies are filled with giant pieces of half melted chocolate while others are laced with heavy swirls of white and strawberry cream frosting.  We stop in and stare at the offerings.  Bakery smells overwhelm me with desert desire.  I purchase two cookies filled with fluffy rich chocolate and peanut butter cream.  And then we resume our return along Main Street in Breckenridge toward the hot baths and warm beds of the Fireside Inn. 

I wish I could say that at this moment I regret my decision to leave and that my renewed energy and sudden acclimation to the elevation have now prompted me to suddenly cancel my return travel plans and inform Julie and Ed I will be joining them in the morning after all to tackle Segment 7.   But I am relieved.  I have acceptance.  And with that acceptance comes a calming force that provides gentle caressing hope for tomorrow and the day after and then the day after that as I move on in my life toward an unknown future.