Goodbye Wyoming

A New State

Right now I am sat overlooking the Mountains of Colorado. In particular in the far distance I can see Lost Ranger Mountain. The sun is setting not only over this mountain but the peaks, ranges, saddles and valleys over the past 80 miles.

Sally is in the tent inflating the mattresses and I’m watching pink and gold rays spotlight the theatre of storms and clouds, over the mountains. All actors that I identify with a close fondness, including the Rabbit Ears Range we crossed this morning.

Many things have happened since the Great Basin and I try to recall where we have walked, slept and the people we have met. Retracing our steps backwards, filling in the gaps in my memory and then playing them forward for you.

Of course my favourite first memory is our breakfast on the WY CO border. Hikers had used stones and number plates to mark the state line.

For us the warm welcome the mountains gave us with their shade, fresh water, cool breeze and meadows made this transition even sweeter.

Sally always sings the word ‘Meadow’ when we leave a forest section and enter a mountain top field. A beautiful little quirk of joy. Since early Montana she had chirped this but on the first occasion in Colorado I noticed something was different. It took a while to realise that difference, but during our time in the desert someone had picked all the wild flowers and left tall browning grasses to sway alone in the breeze.

The season is changing. The days are shorter and cooler. The sun isn’t as high and, in the short two weeks, pine needles and brown leaves now carpet the forest floors.

Late summer berries - delicious Thimble Berries so soft that they don’t make it to market. A cross between a raspberry and strawberry we gorged away a whole morning as we climbed to the top of Lost Ranger, the gateway to the Colorado Rockies.

At over 11,500’ it was a challenging climb. Not our highest yet but this would be the average elevation and home for the coming weeks. And it’s a dangerous one.

It began that very afternoon as we ate at the summit surrounded by the remains of last year’s snow. Without too much warning a storm came in. The build up was swift and we rushed off the peak and into the shelter of a saddle. As with previous storms we expected a couple of claps of thunder and the energy to dissipate. However from this height we could see numerous cells dancing erratically around the mountains, but they seemed distant.

We carried on along ridges and peaks for a couple of hours but the game of dodgems became too risky. Sat on our insulating mats in a saddle’s copse we watched the cells converge in one colossal storm. Lighting balls hit the mountain side where we would have been walking had we continued. Thunder claps were instant and hail torrential. As the intensity increased we put up the tent and with urgency blew up the mattresses to put as much insulation between us and the ground. Once inside we lay (I tried to lay lower than Sally ⛈️😉) for hours listening to the storm as rain and hail beat down.

I wouldn’t say it was terrifying, I’m sure that we were quite safe. The main frustration was that we could not put ourselves in this situation again.

Agreeing to be at lower levels for the rest of the Colorado mountains in the afternoon meant planning our time around storms, and breaking our routine. We ended the day six miles short of our target. Extrapolate this for a month and we wouldn’t make Mexico. It was a real night time high altitude worry which….like all the other times, would dissipate.

The next day saw a beautiful sunrise and as we descended into the valley we met some local hikers drying out their equipment. They said that their approach to storms was to get up early, hike as far as possible and move to the treeline if and when a storm came in. Having this confirmation of strategy helped me accept that maybe we wouldn’t always make 25 miles a day, a target that had become an obsession that had almost taken away my flexibility of alternative thinking.

The morning after the storm

We reached a trail head and Sally cheekily asked weekenders who were about to get into their pickup whether they were going to Steamboat Springs. “You want a ride?”Our fastest hitch ever. And after apologising for what was happening in the US, as so many people we meet do, we found ourselves in light conversation as we entered the contrasting ski town of Steamboat Springs.

The small dusty towns of Montana, Idaho and Wyoming who sold tax free pie and coffee seemed a world away from the mansion lined hills of Steamboat Springs.

Our young couple, remote workers, who Sally had hijacked, were able to spend their winters snowboarding after work. Moving from the east coast was their dream come true. Expensive resort hotels lined Lincoln Avenue, the main artery. In the old town boutique shops sold art, antiques, stetsons, and cowboy bronzes to the people that lived in the palacial second homes. The restaurants sold food at prices to match. The opulence allowed for conservative liberalism to evolve and that would mean only one thing. Mouth watering Vegan Pizza (at eye watering prices.)

Birthday Pizza!

Wrenching ourselves away from two days off to celebrate Sally’s birthday was tough. Getting back to the routine was similar to returning to work after a holiday. The first few hours were both familiar relief to be on the trail and wrenching torture to be on the trail. But with each step we transitioned back to our preferred way of life.

Both of us were quite glad to say good riddance to the hotel’s jacuzzi and crisp white sheets, the town’s well stocked supermarket and diverse restaurants all served by the free bus that would scoot you and worn out feet around town. (I wonder if that will make Sally’s edit of the blog!)

I wish I could tell you about Zig Zag, Jim the Vietnam veteran trail angel, Richard in the Trump hat confusingly explaining how changes in the atmosphere didn’t apply to Texas and how we reunited up with hikers we met in East Glacier all tired and worn; but we’ve got miles to do and writing blogs doesn’t get you to Mexico 🇲🇽

Here’s an update of where we are and some pictures.