DISCLAIMER: This is MY thru-hike trip report. YMMV (and I'm sure it does…). Most of this is tongue-in-cheek, so those lacking in the humour gene should probably click the "back" button right now. Yep, typical… life's like that, isn't it? The person who hates backpacking in the rain gets the record-breaking rainy year on the CT… and the person who gets big, red, raised welts from every fly/mosquito bite ends up on trail in the year with extraordinarily prolific bugs (because of the rain, don'ch'a know). Ahhhhhhh, my first-ever solo trip. Why bother trying it out beforehand? It'll only be for the first 257 miles — how hard can it be? I've been backpacking for years. And while I'm at it, why NOT take my first-ever MYOG backpack that I didn't try out in advance? What could possibly go wrong? Well… nothing major went wrong. So there! For all the people who just want to take a leap of faith: go ahead. As long as you basically know what you're doing, the fact that you never did it before shouldn't be a limiting factor. So, what do I have in common with Paul Anka, Frank Sinatra, and Sid Vicious? Yeah, I did it my way; the semi-UL way. And it worked for me. Day 1: The pattern is set I make it to the South Platte River, and starting meeting my fellow thru-hikers, when –BOOM — the inevitable crack of thunder brings a deluge of rain. Good thing I set up my tent before socializing. I throw myself and all my stuff willy-nilly into my too-small tent, pull my sleeping bag over me, and am stuck in there with nothing to do but try to sleep. Welcome to Colorado in July 2015. 
Day 2: A Lucky Break Everyone complains about the heat in the burn area. What heat? It's still raining on & off, and sunshine is just a distant memory from the early morning of Day 1. 
Days 3-8: Sogginess Abounds What is going on here? How can it rain so much? I thought we were supposed to have sunny mornings, with *possible* afternoon thunderstorms. But no, instead I have to virtually RUN to get my planned mileage in before 11am, when the skies open with rain/hail. How can I enjoy the outdoors when I'm pushing this hard? I thought this was supposed to be a vacation… Also, where are all the views? Aren't I in the Rockies? But mostly, I'm hiking in forests, which I barely notice, because I have to focus on trying to outrun the thunderstorms. Fortunately, I no longer care about being alone on the trail — I happily walk through the woods, talking out loud to myself, and I don't care. 
Day 9: Oh, Thank God – it's The Slackpack Ahhhhhh, I finally get to use my MYOG pack's unique feature: the detachable daypack. I leave extra-early to avoid being on the exposed Ten Mile Ridge during a thunderstorm, and I storm my way up to the high point and start down before the skies have mostly clouded over. Lucky me, I'm ahead of the rain for once. Only one problem — why is my left toe hurting me? Owwwww. 
Day 10: May I Recommend the Breckenridge Urgent Care? AKA, How to Get a Trail Name. Dammit — The toe is all red and swollen, and I go to the Urgent Care. [In March, while training, I'd had my first-ever ingrown toenail. My local Urgent Care Doc "takes care of it", says it'll hurt like hell, but that I'll be all healed for the CT. I noticed that it didn't hurt at ALL, but I (wrongly) assumed that this was a sign of my toughness.] Dr. Norton of the Breckenridge Clinic says that my local doctor didn't actually remove the "ingrown" part of the toenail, that the area has become infected, and that he'll now have to *actually* remove it, along with 1/4 of the nail down to the matrix, which will involve my staying put for several days until it has healed enough to take the pressure. The pain is shocking; I now completely understand why pulling out someone's nails has been a favoured form of torture for centuries. Luckily, two wonderful trail buddies are in town, and we go out to dinner and consume lots of wine, which takes my mind off the searing pain. Somewhat. But at least now I've got a trail name: Nails! 
Days 11-15: Antibiotics, Oozing, and an Unplanned Vacation in Breckenridge Naturally, I assume that I'm going to "beat this thing" in three days. Hmmmmm, nope. It keeps oozing pus, despite my following doctor's orders to a "T", and taking my antibiotics faithfully. I'm about to give up hope, when it finally starts to look better, and I get clearance from Dr. Norton to go, with orders to "keep it clean" and protected with a padded bandage. Well, that was an expensive and not-all-that-fun little vacation! 
Day 16: Back on Trail, with some Trepidation Ok, padding the toe is not going to work; it just makes my boots feel too small, which can't be good. Maybe just a regular bandaid… yes, that seems to work. I plan a short day, and book a bed in Janet's Cabin (just off the trail) to see how things feel. Surprisingly, it feels ok, and I have the whole cabin to myself during a huge rain/hail/snowstorm. Hah! Lucky break. 
Searle Pass – Salida It takes a while, but the weather slowly starts to improve, with many storms coming around 1pm (instead of 11am). That helps me get in my mileage without having to semi-run, and I'm happy that I can comfortably maintain a 2.5-3mph pace, despite the foot. I DO clean it every night, and keep it bandaged while hiking, and it steadily heals, bit by bit. I'm not uber-fond of the green tunnel scenery I'm encountering most of the time, but I've been utterly spoiled by last year's spectacular JMT. Both the mosquitoes and I are really hitting our stride now. I'm happy about my progress, but not so thrilled with that of the mosquitoes. They're really bad for about 3 weeks, starting in the wet/muddy area near Porcupine Lakes, and that's a hella long time to be scratching. Luckily, I'm alone… 
Salida – Lake City Of course, a mosquito nails me right on the forehead just hours before I see my husband for the first time in nearly a month. Yup, that's hot! So…no more solo hiking… I guess this means I'll have to stop talking to myself all the time (or, at least, I'll have to pretend that I'm actually talking to him!). Finally, the hiker-hunger starts hitting me, and I decide to include large amounts of Lay's Potato Chips and Peanut Butter Snicker's in my food rations. Oddly, I lose MORE weight eating that. What can I say, I'm a freak. And what's with all the road walking? I thought the second half of the trail is when we get all the "good stuff". 
Lake City – Silverton May I recommend the deep-fried green beans at Southern Vittles in Lake City? You can be "healthy" and "unhealthy" at the same time — it doesn't get better than that. But wait — Oh yes it does: we hit the high country, and I finally know why I came. Damn, I LOVE the high country! One minute it looks like we're in the Sierras, then we go over a pass, and I'd swear I'm in the Alps. Woweeee. I'm floating. It's not even raining (well, mostly). This is my hands-down favourite part. So. Incredibly. Gorgeous. We don't even go much below 12,000ft for days… Suddenly, I'm taking photos constantly. 
Just after the CT High Point (13,271ft) we get an unbelievable show from the military, with fly-boys buzzing the Carson Pass area in WWII-era prop planes. I'm mouth-agape ecstatic – what an experience! Something tells me they didn't have official clearance for that… 
Silverton – Durango High country sheep herds, actual sunny weather (what?!?), but also the 22 mile waterless stretch. And yet, when we're on it, there's a small spring actually RUNNING across the trail, right near the Scenic Overlook, which all three NOBOs we met failed to mention! You mean we carried all this extra water for nothing? (I faithfully mention it to EVERY NOBO we meet until the end…) Pretty, but everything looks like the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, because of the California fires (gulp!). But, oh, Indian Trail Ridge brings back the beauty…heaps of it. Out comes the camera again. Kennebec TH marks the beginning of the final section, and a friendly group of mountain bikers hand us icy-cold beers in an impromptu moment of true trail magic, and despite the beer having gone straight to my head, I make it through a tricky talus slope where the Data Book urges you to "use caution". Kids, don't try this at home! 
Coming full circle, we are chased to the end of the trail by a huge thunderstorm, which we narrowly avoid by practically running all the way down from Gudy's Rest, feeling exhausted and stressed. OMG, now I have to stop eating chips and Snicker's as my primary nutrition … but first, some R&R in Durango. I'm pretty sure I deserve more beer, and Colorado is definitely the place! Now the only problem is that I've started thinking: if I could do 500 miles, could I do 1,000 miles? 
Basic Equipment Used: Backpack: MYOG, "The Frankenpack" — Deuter Women's SL framesheet and harness, ULA hipbelt, and X-Pac body with detachable daypack. I seam-sealed it (which worked beautifully, even in the extreme rain of CO 2015). I need a couple of small tweaks to the design, but it worked very well, and is one of the most comfortable packs I've ever used, though too heavy for most of you at ~ 3lbs. Sleeping Bag: I sleep cold, and even at over 12,000ft my Feathered Friends Egret UL 20 was a dream. Again, too heavy for most of you at ~ 28oz. Tent: Here's where UL went out the window — I began the trail with a Big Sky Mirage 1P, but with the constant apocalyptic rain/hail storms we had, it wasn't working for me, so I had my husband send me the Sierra Designs Flash FL 2P, which I LOVED. It was a palace, and between the rain and the bugs, I spent a lot of time in it. Worth the extra weight to ME (not to you). Boots: Now, now — the ingrown toenail was NOT from the boots (I actually got it from trail running in Altras). I wore Salomon Comet 3Ds, and had ZERO blisters/hot spots in nearly 500 miles. Obviously, they work for me, to the point where I don't even carry a "foot care" kit. Again, please wear whatever you like. Feet are SO individual. Rain Gear: I had high hopes for my Packa Poncho, but it didn't work out as well as I'd hoped (although with that level of rain, it would be hard to find something that I'd love).
