Tofu’s (a.k.a. Cody) Demise by Cody

Weimenuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado,
11,000 feet, 10 inches of snow, early morning, 20 degrees.




















I was standing in the middle of a flood swollen creek on a little rock island about to jump for the far bank. Dad had already made it across. Mom and Jess were looking for a more promising way. It wasn’t a very big jump really. Only about 4 feet or so, and I thought even with my pack I could make it no problem. I grabbed on to the little tree next to me, steadied my trekking pole, checked my footing, and jumped. My left foot stuck in the snow on the far bank, but my right foot slipped back into the creek and next thing I knew is was sitting waist deep in the rushing ice water observing my wool hat floating off down stream with my sunglasses. My dad ran over and could see that I was about to cry with frustration. We quickly dried my camera and I changed into dry clothes. Dern – those were cute sunglasses too. That stream crossing, which dad deemed “Tofu’s demise” was the 5th of the morning. By nightfall we had walked 20 of the toughest miles of the trip and crossed 65 more.


It was bound to be a hard section from the start - at least as far as trail conditions go. The trail, or more accurately, the “trench,” was wickedly impossible to walk in. It was steep on both sides, narrow, and filled a foot deep with mud, water, snow. The day before we covered a modest 14 miles and were pretty worn out. We were up high and it had gotten dark by the time we stopped and began to look for a campsite with somewhat less snow than all the other snow covered places around us.
We knew from the map that somewhere near by at timberline there was supposed to be a Forest Service Patrol cabin and we were hoping if we could locate it to spend the night on the porch for a little shelter. Miracle of miracles I saw the cabin in the deepest, darkest part of the woods and Dad found the key to the front door. That night we slept like kings and queens with the wood stove blazing and lantern shedding warm light over our pasta dinner. Thank you NFS – we swept up good!








The 20 miles to our re-supply point really was one of the hardest days of the trip exertion wise. We left the cabin before sunrise and headed off with 3 goals in mind for the day: Goal one, make it to the re-supply trailhead. Goal two, count the number of streams crossed and see who guessed closest (Mom guessed 50). Goal three, see the mountain lion whose tracks we had been following up the mountain for a couple of days. Both goal 1 and 2 were accomplished but not goal 3.
Both lion and bear tracks were in the fresh snow on the trail in front of us but we did not get a glimpse of either. The amount of animals and animal sign we saw over that couple of days was spectacular though. We saw 2 big elk herds, one of which was led by a 6x 6 bull who definitely thought he was king of the forest. We also saw eagles, hawks, coyotes, beaver, and deer.

Late in the afternoon on the second day, long after all of us were ready to be done, but with miles still to go, we bumped into Morgan and Deb. They had hiked out to bring us a treat to buoy us for the last few miles. The little treat turned out to be banana splits. They were so, so good. They even brought hot fudge and whipped cream to put on top. It was the best trail snack we have had yet. That night we drove down to Durango for groceries and some friends lovingly let us crash at their place and then served us a feast for breakfast. Thank you so much to the Ott family for caring for us after the toughest section on the trip. We so appreciate it.

New Mexico is oh, so close!

Grays and Torreys by Jessie Faith

The Continental Divide in Colorado runs over some of the tallest and roughest country in America and reaches it’s highest point as it crosses the 14,267 foot Grays and Torreys Peaks. Although we have been hiking up and down the Divide for months now, I had for some reason worked this peak day up in my mind to the point that I was fully convinced with the snowy conditions that I simply wouldn’t have the fortitude to make it. Silly to feel that way? Of course, seeing as how I have climbed eleven other fourteeners and have had years of backcountry preparation and experience, but nevertheless that’s how I felt. Fear doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes it just is there. .


The night before the climb I reminded myself of the training and experience I have had in order to build more confidence. I reflected back to some of the specific preparation leading to this day. It began with the daddy daughter trips that Dad started with Cody and me when we were each 3 (Cody went to go explore canyon country with Dad each spring and I got to start walking the 500 mile Colorado Trail from east to west each fall). When we really started to grow the CDT idea we took a week long llama trip with the whole family along a section of the trail in Colorado (at that point we were considered using llamas for this trip but we realized that the disposition of a llama compared to that of a burro is like the contrast of a rattlesnake and a puppy so the burros got the nod). We also did four specific trips on the CDT in the year leading up to the departure date - we packed about 100 miles in the Wind River’s of Wyoming, then did two weeks over the winter on the CDT down in New Mexico, and finally did a section of the trail on a ski mountaineering slog. In all we probably backpacked 1000 miles in the few years prior to the CDT launch date. Also, in the months leading up to the trip we would do some sort of preparation activity every day after school ranging from soccer practice, to running 7 miles to town, to walking a six mile trail loop, to peaking the mountains behind the Ranches for a snowboard run down.


So with all that and the couple of thousand miles on the CDT we just hiked I should have felt ready, but I didn’t. I had in the days leading up to the peak day been struggling with a number of things. In the long days of high altitude I tired much
more quickly than usual, my stomach was putting up a pretty strong complaint, and for some days I hadn’t been feeling particularly motivated about the whole CDT thing. Funny how sometimes even telling yourself why you should feel ready for something
doesn’t quiet that voice shouting that you’re not fit enough, you weigh too much, and you’re in over your head.


I realized at that point that it was going to take more than a self help pep talk to get over what I was feeling and I started by asking my dad for some guidance. He suggested that I follow Jesus teaching to “watch and pray” until I found a sense of inner peace that was rooted in something greater than personal confidence. It took a little while but I came up with a number of passages from the Bible and ideas from Science & Health that I felt really applied to my situation, let them soak into my thought for awhile, and then wrote them down and put them in the pocket of my hiking skirt so I could reach them easily on the climb up.


The next morning when the climb began things were going reasonably well but then we really started working hard on the upper sections where you stop counting miles and start tracking thousands of vertical feet and the wheels came off for me. I felt exhausted. My legs were lead. My stomach was doing flips. My pace slowed considerably. Finally, I asked my dad to slow down. He turned to me with a considering look and after a moment said “we are already gong slowly, for the safety of the group you need to go back down or suck it up and keep coming.” He then turned back around and kept hiking. That gave me pause for thought because I knew he was not being mean but was trying to help me and also take care of the family’s safety on a cold day up high. I also knew I didn’t want to go back down and be a quitter.

The notes came out of my pocket. I stopped dwelling on the fact that I was going slowly and decided to focus on the things that God gave me to express - strength, health, and courage were the three main things that I came up with. Almost every step I would repeat one of those words. In not too long, I found I was no longer was solely focusing on my self and my needs, but was paying more attention to the group and supporting others who were tired as well. I was keeping up with dad and the peaks were in sight. What a difference between trying to help yourself and asking God to help you.

We all summitted both peaks that morning and I felt a great sense of accomplishment as I looked down at our route on the Divide as it snaked south towards New Mexico. Accomplishment for making the peaks, yes, but even more so for conquering the fear in my thought and seeing what God intended me to see from the top – more of the truth about myself. “The King’s daughter is all glorious within.”