We got into Chama and reunited with a ton of other hikers who were waiting on snow gear or making plans to avoid the snow. Many were flipping up the trail and coming back for this section later. Others were getting equipped with crampons, ice axes, and snowshoes, and heading into the south San Juans. I had my ice axe and microspikes but was sure there would be no need for snowshoes. I began to get worried when everyone else started opening their snowshoes and packing them up. I began to doubt if I was ready for this, maybe I should take time off. But I routinely packed my bag and got in the car that would take us back to the trail. I still wasn't sure of my plans as we stood in the parking lot, sharing a leftover six pack with the group. But I threw on my heavy pack and walked out of town. The snow wasn't bad at first and we were able to stay on dry trail for the first few miles out of town. As we climbed higher, the snow sprang up in larger spreads, forcing us to go through it. I got to a dry patch and changed my socks, covering them in bread bags and then neoprene booties to stay warm but the damage was already done, my feet were freezing.
We tried to stay out of snow as much as possible, sticking to ridges and weaving around the trail. I got separated from the group and reached a wall of snow that coiffed out. I went up and over the ridge but was faced with post holing through a snow covered, high, valley to get to the rest of the group. They were strapping on their snowshoes when I reached them. A wave of jealousy rushed over me as they fluttered across the snow as if they were weightless. I found it easier to follow their tracks, but still sank through constantly. As the sun began to set and the mushy snow began to get deeper, we pushed on, trying to reach a lake to camp for the night. We had split off in pairs and Cowboy Stripper and I were caught in a large snowfield as the sky went dark. Every step was a struggle. A whole leg would sink into the snow, the thin layer of ice at the top ripping through your flesh. Blood lined the holes already made by those before us. I couldn't feel my feet as they got stuck in the deep holes, often reappearing without my shoes or gaitors on. Sometimes my feet would get stuck and we'd have to dig them out. This was way more than I had expected and it made me feel panicked. I slid down to my waist and one foot became encased in ice. Nothing I did would make it budge. My breathe grew rapid and tears began to pour out of me as I struggled to break the ice. Cowboy Stripper ran back and dug me out, gripping my shoulders and telling me I was going to be fine. We kept moving but I still felt on the verge of bursting into tears are throwing up. We saw tents in the distance and the tears streamed down my face once more. My numb feet dragged me forward towards the possibility of warmth. I took one more step and felt my leg crunch underneath me. My lifeless foot had turned over on itself and came out of my shoe with a snap. I hobbled to the campsite and threw my things on the ground. I sat there, unable to do anything, shivering and crying, as the guys set up a shelter, got me a hot water bottle, and put me in my sleeping bag. I couldn't move, I couldn't feel anything below my ankles besides the burning pain from my crunched foot. I slowly warmed up but would not regain full feeling in my toes. I would later feel ashamed for relying so much on others, but at the time, I needed them more than anything.
When we all fell asleep, one pair had not made it into camp yet. We were worried but knew they'd be okay if they were together. When we woke up, one of them had shown up in the night alone. He had never run into the other hikers. We waited, hoping she would show up before the snow got too slushy. She showed up much sooner than we expected so we packed our stuff and got moving. I tried to stay off the snow, still traumatized from the previous evening, but it was impossible. So I post holed down to their tracks and followed as they floated along. The day was warm and it made the post holing not so terrible. We were going up and down slopes, through forests. And across meadows. I seemed to be able to keep up with the others, sans snowshoes. As the day progressed, the snow got softer and it became more difficult to keep up. Falling and then crawling out of holes had become exhausting and my whole body hurt in a way it hasn't in a long time. The aching soreness was in every muscle. Luckily, my feet had refrigerator and I no longer felt the pain in my foot, though it would return when I warmed up at night. By 5pm, much earlier than usual, I pleaded with the others to call it quits for the day and start early the next morning. We found a spot to catch a beautiful sunrise and set up camp for the evening. We woke up in the dark to a cluster of alarms going off. Slowly, people began shuffling around, signaling that it was time to get started. We hiked on just as the sun was coming up and had an amazing morning.
I couldn't help chuckle when the others would post hole without their snowshoes on. It was a lot more fun when we were all doing it. We got to a morning break spot and had some decisions to make. Take the high route, see lots of snow, and potentially be in avalanche danger. Or take the low route, have a tough time dropping down, and potentially get trapped by a raging river. Without snowshoes, I felt it was better to jump down to the low route and take my chances there. The boys all chose the high route but the other girl in the group, Cloud, decided to come with me. We said our warnings, hopes for safety, and goodbyes and went on our separate ways. We traveled down the valley, crossing ice bridges that threatened to crumble at any moment. Not many people had taken this route and we were definitely the first ones there since the last snow. We chose our own route most of the time and sometimes paid for it by post holing, or having to turn around. There were some sketchy areas but I felt confident in our abilities. Further down the river we traveled. I lost all signs that someone had been there before so we stopped to get our bearings. We decided to try to traverse down closer to the river, to avoid getting coiffed out by snow. I took one step forward and was suddenly armpit deep in the snow. We had been standing on a log covered in snow and I was lucky not to have been impaled by its branches. Cloud had the same experience immediately afterwards so we crawled out together, getting covered in snow. We had to turn around to find a way down and quickly found a small ravine. It ended at a 15ft wall of loose rocks, roots, and a waterfall shooting out from underneath the snow. We talked about it briefly before deciding to go for it and I stepped out over the edge. Clinging to the roots, I moved slowly down the wall, careful not to pull any loose rocks. I made it down and immediately post holed into the snow below. Looking around, I noticed we were on an island snow bank, surrounded by the crazy river and the wall we had just climbed down. The only option was to cross the river so we scouted out the safest spot and plunged into the icy water. Cloud went first and looked strong except for a minor faulter that sent a wave of panic through me and may have soaked her phone. We made it to the other side, safely, and high five, looking back at what we had just done. We found an old cow trail and jumped on it, following it down into a bigger valley.
It opened up to a large canyon called three forks, because of the three Rivers that came together there. We had already gotten across one of them and the trail led us to a point where the other two had already connected. We got to it and prepared to cross. As I strapped my camera to the top of my pack, Cloud began to move across the river. A few feet from the shore, she stumbles under the strength of the current and falls in. When she catches herself, she's gasping for breath. The first thing I could think to do was plunge in after her. I side stepped into the water as she fell again. I was yelling encouraging things like, "you're okay," and "just breath," and "I'm right here," more for my benefit than hers. Finally she reaches out to grab my hand and is able to stand up. We move back to the shore and go looking for another place to cross. We bushwack up the valley checking for spots with less flow. Sticks and twigs ripping at our cold skin. We get up to where the two Rivers separate and we're able to cross them with much less difficulty. We got to the other side and dried out for a while before moving on. I checked the map to see if there were any more big crossings and I reassured her, and myself, that they can't be that bad. We continued down the trail and we're struck with incredible waterfalls, hundreds of feet high, pouring out from the canyon walls. It was breathtaking. We arrived at the next river and found it exploding with water. It looked like our only option was to crawl across a log dangling over the waves. I went first and could feel every muscle in my arms and legs straining to keep me balanced. I took a huge breathe as I reached the other side and climbed back into the snow. As we kept moving, the clouds started to darken and the famous Colorado afternoon thunderstorm started to roll in. I remember Cloud saying "after a day like today, getting caught in a thunderstorm wouldn't be too bad." Luckily, the clouds only lightly sprinkled up as we made our way to a reservoir and set up camp. The night was warm and the tips of my toes hurt as they regained some feeling. We slept in the next morning, relishing the warm sunlight hitting our tents. We packed up and started hiking. It was a great morning of climbing in and out of river valleys, and looking for shade from the hot sun. As we climbed higher, the snow became more prevalent, and the sky turned dark with the afternoon.
I post holed behind Cloud, trying to match her footsteps, for a while before we saw tents around the bend. A few other hikers had set up early to try to stay dry during the storm. As we sat down with them and decided what to do, it began to rain. We set up our tents as fast as possible and got in just before it got too bad. The thunder and lightning rocked our tents and lit up the sky. Two hours later, we peeked out to snow covering the ground and our tents. We stayed tucked in for the night reading, fixing gear, and eating a bunch. When I woke up the next morning, it was still dark but I heard the rustling of the others. They were getting up to hit the snow while it was still icy. We slept in a bit longer and let the sun dry out our tents before following them up trail. We followed their footprints until they dissapeared resulting in a bunch of off trail excursions, usually uphill. The day was taking us way longer than expected and we trudged on through the snow. We were relying completely on our map and compass skills because her phone had gotten wet and mine had died. It became very difficult to navigate once we got under tree line. We found ourselves off trail again so I turned and decided to go straight up the mountain to get a better look at our surroundings. The slope was very steep and we kept climbing to get to flatter ground. I thought, on multiple occasions this day, that we should have taken out our I've axes but I was afraid my nerves would paralyze me if I thought I needed to self arrest. We got to a steep section of trail where an old landslide had taken out a chunk of the mountain side. Looking at it, it looked doable. We had already done much sketchier things that day. I lowered myself down from the snow bank by a few roots peeking out of the mud. Trying to take deep breathes, I dug my feet into the wall. Suddenly, my feet fell out from under me and I was hanging by my arms. Easily the weakest part of my body after two years of thru hiking. I dug my feet in again, trying to gain a hold but it was no use. I let my arms go and slid about 10 ft before the mud bunched up enough to stop me. I started making my way across the slide and got about halfway before I looked down. My stomach twisted and my heart stopped for a beat. I turned to Cloud and told her we needed to go back, this wasn't safe. She was on board so we made our way back to the snow bank and looked for other options. Besides turning around and hiking back, the only option was to go up. The daily thunderstorm was brewing and it hung around the peaks of the nearby mountains.
It felt dangerous to be on the top of an exposed ridge but we could see the trail below and were sure we could get down to it in time. We traversed down the ridge, our adrenaline pumping, and slid 15 ft down an icy slope to get to flat ground that led to a ravine. I stomped my feet in and crossed the ravine to a small patch of dry land. When I turned around, Cloud was leg deep in a tree well and was unable to free herself. I steadily walked back towards her and started trying to get her out. First we stuck a trekking poles down by her leg to loosen some of the snow, but her foot was locked tight in the ice. She began to panic. I knew exactly how it felt to be trapped like that so I immediately threw my arms down the hole and began frantically digging her out. After a few tries, her foot came loose and she was able to slide out of the hole. Covered in snow, I turned around to get moving again but Cloud had gotten stuck again. This time the tree had wrapped itself around her snowshoe so I untangled her and we made it to the patch of land. Visibly shaken, we decided to find a nice area to camp and call it an early day. I walked on but Cloud was no longer behind me. I called her name with no answer so I called again. In a much further distance than she had been, I heard the word "fuck." I ran back through the snow to where I had last seen her but she was gone. She had slid about 30 ft down into the ravine and was coming to a stop near the bottom. From up above I could see dry land that would be easier for her to get to so I told her to go there and I'd meet her on the other side of the trees. I scrambled up some loose rocks and got into a trail. I was now about 60 ft up from her but I could see a path that might eventually meet up with the one I was on. We walked parallel to each other until we got into the trees. I immediately knew we had made a bad decision by splitting up so I called her name hoping she was close. After a few hair raising minutes, she came through the trees and I vowed not to get separated again. We slid down the mountain into a small river valley and filled up on water for the night. I was exhausted and my nerves were shot but we wanted to make it back to the trail before setting up camp. We found a trail and began to follow it but soon it became clear that it was an animal trail and no humans had been that way for a long time.
For some reason, I had a feeling that this would lead us in the right direction. Cloud mocked me but followed my crazy feeling anyways. We came around a bend in the mountain and while I was looking at the map, trying to figure out what to do next, we heard the distant sound of cars. We looked up and could see the highway on the other side of the valley. We looked at each other and decided to head straight for it. We took a bearing with our compass and headed down the mountain via a small Creek of snowmelt. All my nerves and anxiety settled as I thought of the nice warm shower and bed I might enjoy that night. We began to joke about all the crazy things that had happened that day and that we probably should have died on multiple occasions. Little did we know, the day wasn't over. We got down to the valley and were stopped in our tracks by a raging river. We walked upstream, scanning for places to cross. We saw a fat log laying gently across the beast of a river and decided to try it. I climbed onto the log and tried to find some hand holds. The waves splashed against my legs as I dangled five feet above them. I tried to make a few moves but didn't feel safe so I climbed back over the stump and onto safe ground. We kept bushwacking upstream. I had checked the map and seen that the river separated further up and would, hopefully, be a better place to cross. We walked through blow downs of large trees for a while and I was beginning to think we would never make it across before dark. Just then, I saw the confluence of the two Rivers ahead and could see that it was tame enough to get across. I jumped in first and was surprised to find the water was only knee deep. I moved across quickly and waited for Cloud. As I waited, an otter swam by in a pool off the edge of the river. He spun around and played in the water for us. We took it as a sign that we were going to be okay. A hiker by the trail name of Otter died recently on trail, and we could feel his spirit keeping us safe. We headed up the river bank and slowly heard less of the river and more cars driving by. We hit asphalt and we're amazed that we had made it out alive, together, and in one piece. Mile marker 811
