Flyboxer reached Silver City, NM on Saturday, and has spent the last two days there in a motel. A big winter storm churned its way through NM starting Friday and left a bit of snow. Flyboxer said it is now melting rapidly, and he set out today for Deming, NM, which he expects to reach in about three days (red pin on the map). He left the trail a few days ago for the road because of poor conditions in the mountains, and plans to road hike from Silver City to Deming. He'll then set out for Columbus, NM, just north of his final destination (flag on the map). He says there about 100 miles left.
View Mark's CDT Hike - 2013 in a larger map
Monday, November 25, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Shoes
Flyboxer recently sent a disk full of amazing photos from his hike, starting in Yellowstone and ending somewhere in Northern New Mexico. These three photos give you a taste of the brutality of hiking in final days in Colorado. The tennis shoes on the left were replaced by the shoe on the right, but only after he abandoned the snowy hills for the long road into New Mexico. Late this week another snow storm is expected to hit New Mexico, so he's not out of the woods yet.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
CDT Progress Update - 11/14
After months of deprivation along the trail, you bet your life Flyboxer enjoyed a pie today in Pie Town, NM. Thus fueled, he plans to arrive in Doc Campbells in seven days (red flag on map). Looks like he'll soon pick up the Gila River and get very familiar with its meandering ways as he closes in on the homestretch.
View Mark's CDT Hike - 2013 in a larger map
View Mark's CDT Hike - 2013 in a larger map
Friday, November 8, 2013
Ghost Ranch to Grants, New Mexico: CDT 2013
Ok, ok, ok. I admit it. I AM "a little late." I was hit by two more arctic blasts in the last week and a half. The first storm arrived just as I was leaving Ghost Ranch. Several inches of snow fell on the mesas, and a good 4-10 inches of snow fell on the CDT in the San Pedro Wilderness, creating tough, slow, hiking conditions. The second storm arrived just before I entered the Cibola National Forest, once again dropping several inches of snow on the mesas, and on and around Mt. Taylor.
"Embrace the reality" was another saying of Captain's.
"You have to embrace the reality of what this trail throws at you," Captain told me a few weeks ago.
I did not expect to see snow south of Salida, CO. I did not expect to see snow south of Creede. I did not expect to see snow south of Chama, New Mexico. I did not expect to see snow south of Ghost Ranch, and I did not expect to see snow south of Cuba. Basically, poor planning on my part. But there you have it, I guess I should expect snow anywhere, anytime on this trail, especially this time of year.
I had to laugh out loud a few days ago after experiencing the coldest night on the trail by far, followed by the coldest morning I may have ever experienced in all my days alive on this planet. It was so cold it felt like my face was going to shatter and fall onto the trail in a hundred pieces. My beard had turned white due to frozen crystals forming from my breath. It was so cold, I had to jam my ice cold feet into ziplock bags and into my frozen shoes as if I was attempting to achieve "lotus feet," the art of Chinese foot binding. At the same time, it was so incredibly beautiful on the mesa, the ice crystals reflecting the morning sun. Thankfully, despite the cold mornings, it warmed up quickly each day.
Even though the snow once again took center stage in my mind this week, I have to say that from Cuba to the Cibola National Forest was one of my favorite sections of trail so far. The trail traveled through canyon country with fantastic colors and sandstone formations. I also found my first arrowhead, and a few pieces of indigenous pottery, from who knows what day and age. The open spaces of the desert once again made me feel just plain happy.
Just a few weeks left to go before this journey comes to completion. I am hoping to do my best to simply take my time and soak it all in, even if it comes in the form of snow.
"Embrace the reality" was another saying of Captain's.
"You have to embrace the reality of what this trail throws at you," Captain told me a few weeks ago.
I did not expect to see snow south of Salida, CO. I did not expect to see snow south of Creede. I did not expect to see snow south of Chama, New Mexico. I did not expect to see snow south of Ghost Ranch, and I did not expect to see snow south of Cuba. Basically, poor planning on my part. But there you have it, I guess I should expect snow anywhere, anytime on this trail, especially this time of year.
I had to laugh out loud a few days ago after experiencing the coldest night on the trail by far, followed by the coldest morning I may have ever experienced in all my days alive on this planet. It was so cold it felt like my face was going to shatter and fall onto the trail in a hundred pieces. My beard had turned white due to frozen crystals forming from my breath. It was so cold, I had to jam my ice cold feet into ziplock bags and into my frozen shoes as if I was attempting to achieve "lotus feet," the art of Chinese foot binding. At the same time, it was so incredibly beautiful on the mesa, the ice crystals reflecting the morning sun. Thankfully, despite the cold mornings, it warmed up quickly each day.
Even though the snow once again took center stage in my mind this week, I have to say that from Cuba to the Cibola National Forest was one of my favorite sections of trail so far. The trail traveled through canyon country with fantastic colors and sandstone formations. I also found my first arrowhead, and a few pieces of indigenous pottery, from who knows what day and age. The open spaces of the desert once again made me feel just plain happy.
Just a few weeks left to go before this journey comes to completion. I am hoping to do my best to simply take my time and soak it all in, even if it comes in the form of snow.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
CDT Progress Update - 11/2
Flyboxer texted from Cuba, NM yesterday after a few days of snowy hiking from Ghost Ranch. Next stop, Grants, NM in about six days.
View Mark's CDT Hike - 2013 in a larger map
View Mark's CDT Hike - 2013 in a larger map
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Chama to Ghost Ranch, New Mexico: CDT 2013
It was a tough week mentally, emotionally, and physically. I chose to "embrace" rather than "evade." The option was there to road walk from Chama to Ghost Ranch in two days, or hike from Cumbres Pass to Ghost Ranch in five. I chose the latter, mostly because I want to hike the CDT, not road walk it. Forecast called for unsettled weather. I also had to temporarily hike back into Colorado to regain the trail. Psychologically, that was tough, as I had already said my goodbye's to the state a few days before. I was worried about the weather and the condition of the trail.
After leaving Chama, I hiked the 12 miles north to Cumbres Pass on highway 17. I was happy to see the CDT again. I was not happy to see it covered with snow, and extremely muddy where it was exposed. This was the kind of mud that sticks to the bottom of your shoes like paste, until you are walking around with a five pound block stuck to the sole. I hiked about a half mile on the CDT in Colorado where I set up camp for the night. My last official night in Colorado, it snowed again. Winter's icy, snowy grip is taking hold in the mountains. It feels unnatural, to me at least, to remain in the high country. That night, I battled with my fears as the wind picked up, and the snow fell horizontal. I've done this (set up camp) a hundred times or more, I probably have more skill than I realize. I stayed bone dry and warm for the most part, but the line between safety and disaster feels like a mighty thin one in these conditions.
A couple weeks ago while waiting out a snow storm in Buena Vista, Captain and I participated in a movie marathon during a zero day in a cabin. One of the movies we watched was a zombie flick starring Brad Pitt. One of the lines that left an impression on me was during a scene when Bradd Pitt is trying to keep his family safe while on the run from zombies.
"Movement is life," Pitt tells another family while holed up in an apartment.
Likewise, I did not want to sleep on this snowy night. I anticipated the morning when I could pack up camp and keep moving south to hopefully warmer and dryer climes.
I awoke to just a couple inches of freshly fallen snow. I was able to get a full day's hike in before the next batch of bad weather rolled in. I set up camp around 6:00 pm, as a thunder-snow storm approached. It was snowing so hard, I was blinded by the flakes. When I left my tarp to find a rock to cook on, I could not venture too far for fear of losing the location of camp. As the lightning and thunder crackled overhead, and the large flakes came down, I drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
"The mountains are trying to steal the life out of me," I thought.
I battled to stay positive.
"What is God's design in all of this? He sure can seem pretty pissed off. The Creator and the Destroyer. The Giver and the Taker. All I can do is try and be as prepared and as skilled as possible, otherwise I am toast," I thought.
I woke up with the next morning with a few more fresh inches of snow on the ground. My mood remained somber. Life was still. It was cold and it was a struggle.
"How does anything survive the winter?" I wondered.
I saw a few hunters in the distance.
"It doesn't seem fair," I thought. "Those deer and elk have had to struggle to stay alive through the night, and also have to dodge the hunter's bullet."
There was paradox everywhere. The elk gives life to the hunter, the snow gives life as water in the spring, life and death, death and life.
I put on some music on my MP3 player in an attempt to brighten my mood. Tool's "10,000 Days" came on. In the song, Maynard (the lead singer,) seems to be encouraging his recently deceased mother to demand entrance into heaven for not only being a good person, but for enduring the hardships and struggles of life.
"Give me my, give me my, give me my wings!" Maynard screams.
I can't help pumping my fist in agreement as I look out on the icy, harsh landscape.
Later in the day, I hike past a group of backpackers traveling cross country. One of them has a radio. One of them comes over to say hello.
"Are you practicing cross country travel?" I ask.
"No we are Search and Rescue," the man responds. "There's a man who has been missing for about a week out here. He drove out here with his wife to see the countryside and the car got stuck. The wife walked to safety, but we don't think he was so lucky. Keep your eyes open for a body."
It doesn't seem fair. I kept my eyes peeled for the rest of the day and wonder what it would be like to be lost out here with nothing, especially in these conditions. I hope for a miracle.
Again I put on my MP3 player to try and brighten my mood. Pearl Jam's "Light Years" comes on. In the song, Eddie Vedder (the lead singer) sings about how he has learned to understand all sorts of problems and situations throughout his life, but can't figure out where his friend has gone after death.
Vedder sings, "It don't seem fair, today just disappeared. Your life's reflected now, reflected from afar, we were but stones, your life made of stars." I empathize with you Eddie. Where in the world do we go?
At the end of the week, I reach Ghost Ranch. It is beautiful here. I've come out of the mountains temporarily and find myself in the New Mexican desert and canyon country. It is warm and sunny. I feel the life restored within me and thank God the Creator for another safe and memorable passage through the mountains. It just feels natural to give thanks, I don't know why, especially now. I realize I have a ways to go as far as embracing the snow and the cold. This sure is one heck of a trail...
After leaving Chama, I hiked the 12 miles north to Cumbres Pass on highway 17. I was happy to see the CDT again. I was not happy to see it covered with snow, and extremely muddy where it was exposed. This was the kind of mud that sticks to the bottom of your shoes like paste, until you are walking around with a five pound block stuck to the sole. I hiked about a half mile on the CDT in Colorado where I set up camp for the night. My last official night in Colorado, it snowed again. Winter's icy, snowy grip is taking hold in the mountains. It feels unnatural, to me at least, to remain in the high country. That night, I battled with my fears as the wind picked up, and the snow fell horizontal. I've done this (set up camp) a hundred times or more, I probably have more skill than I realize. I stayed bone dry and warm for the most part, but the line between safety and disaster feels like a mighty thin one in these conditions.
A couple weeks ago while waiting out a snow storm in Buena Vista, Captain and I participated in a movie marathon during a zero day in a cabin. One of the movies we watched was a zombie flick starring Brad Pitt. One of the lines that left an impression on me was during a scene when Bradd Pitt is trying to keep his family safe while on the run from zombies.
"Movement is life," Pitt tells another family while holed up in an apartment.
Likewise, I did not want to sleep on this snowy night. I anticipated the morning when I could pack up camp and keep moving south to hopefully warmer and dryer climes.
I awoke to just a couple inches of freshly fallen snow. I was able to get a full day's hike in before the next batch of bad weather rolled in. I set up camp around 6:00 pm, as a thunder-snow storm approached. It was snowing so hard, I was blinded by the flakes. When I left my tarp to find a rock to cook on, I could not venture too far for fear of losing the location of camp. As the lightning and thunder crackled overhead, and the large flakes came down, I drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
"The mountains are trying to steal the life out of me," I thought.
I battled to stay positive.
"What is God's design in all of this? He sure can seem pretty pissed off. The Creator and the Destroyer. The Giver and the Taker. All I can do is try and be as prepared and as skilled as possible, otherwise I am toast," I thought.
I woke up with the next morning with a few more fresh inches of snow on the ground. My mood remained somber. Life was still. It was cold and it was a struggle.
"How does anything survive the winter?" I wondered.
I saw a few hunters in the distance.
"It doesn't seem fair," I thought. "Those deer and elk have had to struggle to stay alive through the night, and also have to dodge the hunter's bullet."
There was paradox everywhere. The elk gives life to the hunter, the snow gives life as water in the spring, life and death, death and life.
I put on some music on my MP3 player in an attempt to brighten my mood. Tool's "10,000 Days" came on. In the song, Maynard (the lead singer,) seems to be encouraging his recently deceased mother to demand entrance into heaven for not only being a good person, but for enduring the hardships and struggles of life.
"Give me my, give me my, give me my wings!" Maynard screams.
I can't help pumping my fist in agreement as I look out on the icy, harsh landscape.
Later in the day, I hike past a group of backpackers traveling cross country. One of them has a radio. One of them comes over to say hello.
"Are you practicing cross country travel?" I ask.
"No we are Search and Rescue," the man responds. "There's a man who has been missing for about a week out here. He drove out here with his wife to see the countryside and the car got stuck. The wife walked to safety, but we don't think he was so lucky. Keep your eyes open for a body."
It doesn't seem fair. I kept my eyes peeled for the rest of the day and wonder what it would be like to be lost out here with nothing, especially in these conditions. I hope for a miracle.
Again I put on my MP3 player to try and brighten my mood. Pearl Jam's "Light Years" comes on. In the song, Eddie Vedder (the lead singer) sings about how he has learned to understand all sorts of problems and situations throughout his life, but can't figure out where his friend has gone after death.
Vedder sings, "It don't seem fair, today just disappeared. Your life's reflected now, reflected from afar, we were but stones, your life made of stars." I empathize with you Eddie. Where in the world do we go?
At the end of the week, I reach Ghost Ranch. It is beautiful here. I've come out of the mountains temporarily and find myself in the New Mexican desert and canyon country. It is warm and sunny. I feel the life restored within me and thank God the Creator for another safe and memorable passage through the mountains. It just feels natural to give thanks, I don't know why, especially now. I realize I have a ways to go as far as embracing the snow and the cold. This sure is one heck of a trail...
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Creede, CO to Chama, New Mexico: CDT 2013
"Embrace the Brutality," the saying goes in regards to the Continental Divide Trail.
"I have a new saying," Captain told me a couple weeks ago as we were sitting inside a cabin along the trail during a snowstorm in Colorado.
"Evade the brutality, embrace it when necessary," Captain continued. "I think this also applies to life."
Captain threw another log into the wood burning stove inside the cabin, bringing the temperature inside to about 80 degrees.
"Embrace the brutality!" Captain sarcastically remarked as the flames grew hotter while the wind continued to howl outside and the snow continued to accumulate.
I did a little evading this past week as I road walked from Creede, CO to Chama, New Mexico. 5 days and over 100 miles of road walking. I know this may appear insane and even laughable, but as I said before, I reached my Colorado adventure threshold last week. As I road walked past Wolf Creek Pass and watched the skiers enjoying the snow that was still probably about a foot deep, I said "good riddance" in my mind and did not look back. The road walking was rather lousy as always (mostly due to dodging cars and trucks), but I relished the warmer temperatures and absence of snow. Fortunately, I also had five excellent campsites; all five on hillsides away from the road and legal as far as I could tell. Last night I set up camp at 6:00 pm, fell asleep at 7:00 pm, and woke up at 8:00 am to warm toes, and unfrozen water bottle, and about 13 hours of sleep. Embrace the brutality.
"I have a new saying," Captain told me a couple weeks ago as we were sitting inside a cabin along the trail during a snowstorm in Colorado.
"Evade the brutality, embrace it when necessary," Captain continued. "I think this also applies to life."
Captain threw another log into the wood burning stove inside the cabin, bringing the temperature inside to about 80 degrees.
"Embrace the brutality!" Captain sarcastically remarked as the flames grew hotter while the wind continued to howl outside and the snow continued to accumulate.
I did a little evading this past week as I road walked from Creede, CO to Chama, New Mexico. 5 days and over 100 miles of road walking. I know this may appear insane and even laughable, but as I said before, I reached my Colorado adventure threshold last week. As I road walked past Wolf Creek Pass and watched the skiers enjoying the snow that was still probably about a foot deep, I said "good riddance" in my mind and did not look back. The road walking was rather lousy as always (mostly due to dodging cars and trucks), but I relished the warmer temperatures and absence of snow. Fortunately, I also had five excellent campsites; all five on hillsides away from the road and legal as far as I could tell. Last night I set up camp at 6:00 pm, fell asleep at 7:00 pm, and woke up at 8:00 am to warm toes, and unfrozen water bottle, and about 13 hours of sleep. Embrace the brutality.
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