~Ghost Ranch to Chama.

Days 25 to 30.

Ghost Ranch Alt Mile 8 to CDT Mile 797.

From Ghost Ranch, the Alt route climbs up through a box canyon and onto a mesa. From there, it gradually ascends into the mountains, where it rejoins the official route of the Continental Divide Trail (CDT). As the CDT approaches Cumbres Pass, the mountains gradually become higher in elevation. Shortly before the pass, the CDT rises above 11,000 feet for the first time. Around this area, hikers get their first glimpse of the towering South San Juan Range, just across the Colorado Border.

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Day 25

This morning, I hiked 3 miles from my camping spot on the Ghost Ranch Alternate Route to the resupply stop of Ghost Ranch.

Ghost Ranch isn’t a town. It is where the artist Georgia O’Keeffe formerly lived and worked. Today, it is a tourist destination. They have camping, rental yurts, a dining hall, horseback riding, and a museum. And perhaps most importantly (at least to us CDTers), they receive and hold thru-hiker resupply packages.

The Ghost Ranch Alt was quite an adventure. This morning, the route as shown on the map took me over 3 barbed wire fences and 2 locked gates. It crossed through the parking lot of an abandoned USDA facility.

At one point, the faint trail dead-ended at the top of a steep hillslope of football-sized rocks. At the bottom of the hillslope was a deeply incised sandy arroyo. On the other side of the arroyo, there was a lone trail marker. It was as if the trail builders gave up and said “Just figure out a way to get over here”.

I rock skied down the slope, slid down the loose sand into the arroyo, crawled up the other side of the arroyo, and continued on the barely visible trail.

Five minutes later, I reached another arroyo. This one was much shallower yet had a state-of-the-art metal suspension bridge built over it. I wondered: why build such a magnificent footbridge in a place where there is hardly any discernible trail on either side of it?

Navigation became easier once I crossed onto the Ghost Ranch property. I got my box from the welcome center and charged my phone. I didn’t hang out long, since I wanted to get started on the climb. Ghost Ranch is “only” about 6,000 feet above sea level. The trail leaving Ghost Ranch goes through a deep box canyon. Today, the temperatures at this relatively low elevation would climb into the high 80s, turning that box canyon into an oven. I wanted to get up and out of the canyon before I cooked.

Despite the heat, the trail climbing out of the box canyon was a highlight of the day. Ghost Ranch is a uniquely beautiful area and I can see why it inspired an artist.

The climb was steep and hot, but I made it up to a forested mesa in time for lunch. I took an extra-long lunch break in the shade.

After lunch, I continued climbing and eventually reached an area of open mountain meadows. This place reminded me so much of Virginia that I suspected I spontaneously teleported to the Appalachian Trail.

I camped in a meadow at the top of a little hill. It was a great spot to watch the sunset.

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Day 26

It was a pretty uneventful day, as far as days on the CDT go. Which is saying something. Just now as I write this, I realized that I haven’t spoken with another person all day. Oddly, it took me until now to realize that.

In the morning, I climbed into a coniferous forest. But this forest didn’t seem healthy. All the conifer trees were completely covered in wispy blue-green lichens. Many of the trees were dead. The forest floor was littered with dead limbs and trunks. Lots of blowdowns covered the trail, impeding my forward progress. This didn’t bother me as much as the sadness of walking through a forest that seems ill.

I reached a meadow where I stopped for lunch. My typical lunch is about half a pound of summer sausage, a quarter cup of peanut butter, and half a sleeve of crackers. It is very filling. But not surprisingly, eating nearly 100 grams of fat in one sitting leaves me a bit sluggish and bloated in the afternoon.

I stopped at Rio Vallecitos in the afternoon. I’d planned to swim. But dark clouds rolled in and a cool wind was blowing. So instead, I gave myself a sponge bath.

This sponge bath was desperately needed. I haven’t showered since Grants, and my legs are caked in New Mexico dust.

Dust is everywhere in this state. It covers the ground, gets picked up by the relentless desert wind, and settles in a fine layer over everything. Trail angel Heather called this dust “enchantment”. After all, New Mexico is the land of enchantment.

If that’s so, I have enchantment in my nose, ears, and eyes. Enchantment is stuck between my toes and in my hair. There’s enchantment caked into the sunscreen on my skin and embedded under my fingernails. I’ve got enchantment in my drinking water and my food and ingrained into the fabric of my clothes – especially my socks. It is going to take more than a sponge bath to get all the enchantment out of my system. Something tells me I’m bringing a good deal of enchantment with me over the border into Colorado.

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Day 27

The CDT today was exceptional. It felt like the grand finale of New Mexico. Perhaps the trail was making a last-ditch effort to win the hearts of hikers and make us forget all the road walking through cow pastures earlier in this state.

It was a cool and sunny morning. I hiked in my puffy jacket as I followed a jeep track through a forest. Eventually, I reached an alpine valley, filled with abundant and delicious snowmelt water. As I hiked I was serenaded by singing birds and chirping frogs.

The trail dropped steeply to Rio San Antonio (really just a small creek). There, I had lunch. After, the trail climbed up a ridge, overlooking an even more beautiful mountain valley.

I passed by Lagunitas – two small high-elevation lakes. I enjoyed a nice break at a picnic table. The entire campground and lake area were deserted. In fact, I didn’t see another human being all day.

Lagunitas holds a morbid significance in the thru-hiking community. In 2015, a thru-hiker died at this location when he became stranded there over the winter due to deep snow.

Past Lagunitas, there is a long alpine ridge. The wind up there was fierce, and there were few trees to provide shelter.

From this ridge, I got my first glance of Colorado and the South San Juans. At least, I’m assuming that’s what I was looking at. They were the biggest mountains around and were still partially snowcapped.

Seeing the San Juans filled me with a mixture of emotions. Those big mountains are intimidating – especially this early in the season when they still hold snow. I’m apprehensive about the cold temperatures and spring weather I will surely encounter. But more than anything, seeing Colorado filled me with excitement and joy. I love Colorado, and have since I moved there at age 19. Seeing those snow-capped peaks felt like seeing an old friend after a long time apart.

My day ended the same way it began – hiking in my puffy jacket. I found a campsite in a patch of trees: respite from the nonstop wind. Tomorrow, I will reach Colorado.

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Day 28

I spent another chilly night at 10,500 feet. Once again, I felt the cold seeping up into my body from the ground. I am very much looking forward to using the inflatable sleeping pad that I shipped to my next resupply stop, Chama. Especially since once I enter Colorado, my campsites will be higher where it’s colder.

As I approach, Colorado, the trail is gradually getting higher. Case in point, this morning, I crested the top of an 11,000-foot peak. This is the highest elevation I’ve reached on the CDT, so far. But very soon, the valleys will be that high and the passes, ridges, and peaks will be 12,000+ feet.

Surprisingly, there were only small patches of snow up top. Just a week ago, there would have been much more snow up there. I’m hopeful that this is a sign I’ve nailed my timing for entering the South San Juans in Colorado. I don’t want to reach the big mountains too early and end up post-holing through deep snow.

I was glad I didn’t have to walk through much snow today. However, when the snow melts, all the water must go somewhere. It runs off the mountain in streams and saturates the ground. The backside of the 11,000-foot peak was a soggy springtime mess. The trail was a mixture of little snow patches, deep mud, and flowing water. On top of that, there were tons of blowdowns. Consequently, my last few miles in New Mexico were slow ones.

But eventually, I reached the Colorado border. In just 28 days, I walked across the entire state of New Mexico. I am tired. Apparently so tired that I somehow walked right past the state line sign without seeing it (if there was one). I’m disappointed about this.

Three miles past the border, I arrived at Cumbres Pass and the road to Chama. I stood on the side of the road and stuck out my thumb.

This was my first time hitchhiking on this thru-hike – 700 miles and nearly a month into it. That’s because all the trail towns were directly on the route of the CDT in New Mexico. That’s one of the few benefits of the “trail” being mostly roads.

It took 45 minutes, but I got picked up on the low-traffic road by a couple who drove me into Chama, NM. As a thru-hiker, I’ve done my fair share of hitchhiking. But today was my first time hitchhiking across state lines. Chama is much closer to Cumbres Pass than any town on the Colorado side of the border. So just three miles after crossing into Colorado, I’m back in New Mexico. I just can’t escape it.

The couple went out of their way to drop me off at the front door of the Laundromat. Normally, food would be my first stop in a trail town. But today, laundry felt more urgent. The last time I did laundry was at Davila Ranch – over 350 miles back. My socks were so crusty that they stood up on their own.

After I did my laundry, I started walking towards the post office. But I didn’t make it far walking. A friendly local driving by offered me a ride.

I was expecting 3 packages. The first package was a box from home with my ice ax, spikes, and a few other miscellaneous cold-weather things. The second package was my first pair of replacement shoes. The third package was the inflatable sleeping pad I purchased online.

However, the post office only had one package waiting for me: the shoes. My other two boxes were not there yet. One box was delayed but on its way. The other box had gone to Texas for some reason, then mysteriously disappeared.

I briefly considered continuing without the gear in my two other boxes. But ultimately, I knew that this gear was necessary to backpack at high elevations in May.

If I reached steep-angle snowfields, I would need my ax and spikes to cross safely. But equally importantly, I needed the other gear in my boxes to stay warm enough – especially the sleeping pad. I’ve been pretty chilly even at 9,000-10,000 feet with my current gear. Ascending to 11,000-12,000 feet without my additional gear would be really uncomfortable, if not dangerous.

So I opted to wait for my gear to show up. The idea of waiting an undetermined amount of time in town made me feel pretty antsy. Today was Friday, and the post office is only open in the morning on Saturday. So unless the boxes both showed up tomorrow morning, I was looking at a minimum of a double zero in Chama.

To save some money, I opted for the cheapest hotel in town. It turned out to be a tiny room above a saloon. The overhead light didn’t work and the bathroom sink was clogged. But it was a bed and a shower – everything I wanted.

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Day 29

Today was my first zero day in Chama.

The momentum of a thru-hike is great. Sometimes stopping can be harder than continuing onward. That was certainly how I felt this morning, aimlessly lying in my bed above the saloon. I wallowed in anxiety over my packages and repeatedly refreshed the USPS tracking webpage.

I also refreshed the weather for Cumbres and Wolf Creek Passes. Freezing temperatures and precipitation – maybe snow – were in the forecast for this week. Even equipped with the proper winter gear these could be challenging hiking conditions.

I wandered over to the post office when it opened. The postal clerk remembered me and my distress over my missing box.

“Hey! You’re the box with the pink duct tape – right? It arrived this morning!”

My ice ax box had come! Although the online tracking still said the box was missing in Texas.

I was relieved. I still needed to wait around for the third box with my sleeping pad to arrive. But finding my missing box was a huge weight off my shoulders.

I did my best to mentally reframe my time off trail as an opportunity for relaxation – rather than an unplanned expense. I walked to the grocery store for some food, but otherwise spent most of the day lounging around in my room.

In the evening, I went down to the restaurant next to the saloon to get on the WiFi. There, I ran into thru-hiker #79. He’d hitchhiked to Chama from near Ghost Ranch, after helping another thru-hiker who needed medical attention get off the trail. Though the circumstances that brought #79 to Chama were grim, I was really happy to see another thru-hiker.

My speediness through New Mexico put me ahead of the “bubble” – the densest cluster of hikers, traveling in the same direction at roughly the same speed. Being “in the bubble” on a thru-hike can be a fun, social experience. But it can also feel a bit claustrophobic. On the PCT and AT, there are so many thru-hikers that it can sometimes be hard to find good campsites and vacant hotel rooms if you’re in the bubble. However, on the less popular CDT, it seems that being outside the bubble means near total isolation while on the trail. I am hopeful that some other hikers will catch up to me during my zeros.

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Day 30

Today was my second zero day in Chama.

I felt significantly better when I woke today than I did yesterday – evidence that I did, in fact, need a rest. In my thru-hikes, I’ve found that my body holds up really well in the early part of the hike. You know, just the first 1,000 miles or so. But eventually fatigue sets in. I’ve found that in the later stages of hikes, I’m more susceptible to illness, small cuts and sores fester longer than they should, and my energy level tanks.

I’m lucky I can hike all day every day without getting injured. But even if my legs feel strong, I still need rest. Managing logistics like water sources, camping, resupply, and weather day-in and day-out, all while hiking 20-30 miles per day is tiring physically and mentally!

I enjoyed a relaxing morning at a coffee shop. Equipped with caffeine and high-speed Wi-Fi, I quickly caught up on writing. After coffee, I ran into #79 again and we visited the local outfitter. I saw several other hikers around town today as well. I grabbed dinner with Lighthouse and Sequoia. I saw Dave at the outfitter. I ran into No Time at my hotel.

I’m happy to know there are other hikers around me again – especially after spending 72 hours in total solitude in the section before Cumbres Pass. However, some of the hikers here are getting off the trail for a bit to wait for more snow to melt. Others are stuck in Chama waiting on packages like I was for the last few days. So it looks like I’ll be heading out into the San Juans alone tomorrow.

Overall, my rest days in Chama were rejuvenating and more needed than I initially realized. I was anxious to get out of New Mexico and into Colorado. But ultimately I enjoyed my extra two days in this state.

I’m amazed by the welcoming locals in the trail towns of New Mexico, and Chama is no exception. Locals offered me rides when I was walking around town or beside the road. They’ve asked if I need anything – water, food, or even just directions.  They’ve taken the time to ask me how my trek is going or wish me luck on the next stage in my adventure. It is clear to me they deeply love this state, their towns, and their wild places – and are excited to share them with visitors like me. To me, the people here are what make this land enchanted.