We begin on a windy road walk through Waterton Canyon, the slow hum of the Platte River broken by the insectoid whirr of passing bikes. The other hikers have gear so new that it still gleams with a factory-white sheen, but our setups are just holding on, full of holes and encrusted with clay dirt from our Appalachian Trail thru hikes. Bug and Sundae — two friends that I made on the trail — are both joining me.
Bug has a Gossamer Gear Mariposa backpack with a broken chest strap and only carries a singular trekking pole. She has a slower pace that she says she has long since come to terms with, a knack for making delicious backcountry meals using whatever she finds in the discount section of the grocery store, and a deep tenacity that allowed her to start her Northbound Appalachian Trail thru hike in February. Whenever I am having a bad day, I think about how tough Bug is; moments such as how she camped in a blizzard on Roan Mountain and hiked for miles in 9 degree Fahrenheit (-13 °C) weather.
Sundae is a Floridian with a deep fear of dehydration and lightning, often peppers her dialogue with Southernisms, and also has a ferocious devotion to Dolly Parton and the Killers. She has bought a new BearVault for this trip, and is so attached to her fraying Osprey Eja backpack that she has not claimed the warranty on it, despite the fact that the pack desperately needs to be retired. Sundae and I have a deep and tender friendship that was forged by hiking 700 of the Appalachian Trail’s toughest miles together.
It does not take us long for us to remember how to hike. But this hiking is different, with well groomed switchbacks and climbs that make the altitude tug at our lungs. Colorado feels, in some ways, wilder than Appalachia; the mountains are more severe and the towns are quieter. It’s August, but we wake to frost on the wildflowers. The sun drenches the craggy peaks in alpenglow. We get into a rhythm and the sheer joy of walking sends delighted prickles up the back of my animal brain.
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Companion forum thread to: Strange Homecomings: A Journey on the Colorado Trail
Nikki Stavile returns to Colorado finding her home state changed but finds solace in the unpredictable mountains along the Colorado Trail.
I really enjoyed reading this, and some good questions to consider. Like, what does “local” mean.
Thanks.
Great article Nikki…keep them coming.
A wonderful article: Interesting and well written. Thanks for taking the time to write it!
Great article Nikki! I saw my first Momma moose right up the same place you did, coming down from Georgia Pass into Gold Hill- we had enough distance when we saw her that we did not get charged, thankfully. I also got my first hail-sideways-in-the-face storm on the pass over the Tenmile Range, sounds like we had a similar experience over those miles!
Well written, Nikki. I left Colorado in ‘91, never to return. I’m old and Roan and her azaleas will do.
I’m getting older, and having gradually stopped most great outdoors activity, I rejoined Backpackinglight in the hope of rekindling my interest to get out there again.
This piece from Nikki Staville certainly does that. What a great descriptive article, Nikki – I really got a feel for what it was like on your journey. Lovely photos too. Great to hear about your respectful treatment of that moose and your meetings with people on the way. Many, many thanks for that. Really looking forward to reading your next article.
I’ll join in with accolades great article. As a recently chased out local I totally get the anger and frustration that runs in the undertones of this well written article. However it has been going this way since the 1900’s 500,000 in the state when my great aunt was born, over a million in the 1920’s during my grandparents time, a million and a half when my parents were born in the mid fifties, almost two and a half when I was born in the 70’s, three and a quarter when my oldest was born in the 90’s, over four and a half when my youngest was born in the 2000’s, just short of 6 million when I got out. I still love the high wild places but you can have the front range, all the people, and the traffic. I don’t mean to sound like the old crabby guy yelling “Get off my lawn” but it feels that way sometimes when you watch the thing you love get overrun. Hearing the tone in Nikki’s writing just hit a nerve I guess. Keep up the writing and hiking one of the best things you can do as a writer is make someone feel.
Terrific and many layered article. Justified frustration, fabulous and descriptive wonder (makes me want to get out there!) and excited terror with the moose combined with thoughtful analysis and storytelling. Really great to read, thankyou!
Thanks so much JVD!
I am looking to maybe do some pieces about “local” in the future.
Thank you Nikki, your piece resonated with me as well!
Thanks for your kind words everyone, this piece was really great to write and I’m glad you all enjoyed it.
Thanks for taking the time to write this. I really enjoyed it!
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