Category Archives: This Sucks

Day 48, mile 1075 (From Salida, Colorado)

Hello from the CDT. Still humping along. In Salida, Colorado now.

Have upped my miles to the 30 to 35 mile a day range.

Almost all the hiking is taking place between 10,000 and 14,000 feet.

The ups and downs can be a bit of a battle. But there is a perverse thrill in throwing yourself at something that seems to have a desire to prevent you from finishing.

Anyway, hope the pics are enjoyable.

Some big sky on the CDT. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Lending a helping hand, er, bicycle. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Can’t help but love the renegades (photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Man in black racing over a 13000 ft mountain at sunrise trying to beat an oncoming storm. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

A forgotten cabin on the CDT that can’t decide which direction to die in. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Old mine boiler which a marmot has claimed as home on the CDT (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Came around a corner on the CDT and looked across the valley. There was a tent where one shouldn’t have been. Scanning left I saw a Subaru hanging over a cliff. When you mindlessly walk 12 hours a day such developments can be startling. 20 minutes later I found Wendy who was waiting her for her boyfriend some 18 miles behind me. Turns out the night before she tried to park and had driven off the cliff. And accomplished something I didn’t think was possible from a physics point of view. The car was literally all resting on one wheel. The other three wheels were in the air. A scissor jack prevented the Subaru from rolling completely off the mountain. It was something to behold. So stunning that I didn’t even bother to take a photo. Eventually Man in black arrived. And together we went into rescue mode. Building rock ramps under each of the three tires and using the scissor jack to slowly leverage the car higher and higher until the point where it was almost level again. Then I got in for the attempted ramp off. Before I made the attempt I turned to Wendy and said this is either going to go very well or very badly. Are you cool with either option. Her response I’m so cool with it. Luckily it turned out well. Our reward was a lovely second breakfast of Pacifico beer, pizza Pringles and grapes. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

The only mirror around on the CDT. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

By the time I got around to the other side of the bookend a forest fire had arrived on the CDT. Hazing the entire area. Not knowing where the forest fire was I hustled down the trail hoping it was behind me rather than in front. Which it turned out to be. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Clear day on the CDT. Passing a neat bookend in the ridge cliff… (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Past avalanche wiping out dead bark beetle trees on the CDT. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Life and injury on the CDT: The slogan of the trail is Embrace the brutality. And sometimes you must do that.
Your choice. Story A. I was dragged out of my tent by a bear. Story B. I was dragged out of my tent by a mountain lion. Story C. I was crossing a steep ice slope in an area called the knife edge in the south San Juan Mountains. I was wearing microspikes and was too lazy to pull out my ice ax. Tried to get across the slope in the early morning hours when everything was frozen. Didn’t work out so well. Ass over teakettle 30 feet until I made the acquaintance of a young pine tree which arrested my fault. Somewhere along the way, my microspikes met my calf. Don’t be too hasty deciding. All are possible.
Luckily my first aid kit, which consists of hand sanitizer, was adequate to address the medical issue. (Self-portrait by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

An entire forest on the CDT killed by bark beetles. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Typical trail cairn that marks your way. Note the dead trees in the background. These were killed by a bark beetle infestation that is devastating the entire region and rolling northward on the CDT. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Moving through some overwhelming landscapes on the CDT that demand you stop and stare. And hoping you don’t you end up lying in the dirt because you tried to hike and stare! Unfortunately, an iPhone is just not capable of capturing them. But when you’re moving through them they can actually make you quite sad because they bring you to your own death and the fact that one day you won’t be able to see such things anymore. (Photo by Steven “Blast” Halteman)

 

Steven “Blast” Halteman, signing off from somewhere on the CDT, until next time. Thanks for visiting and keeping me company on the trail!

Day 27, Miles 750 – Cheated Death Again!

(On the CDT – May 23, 2018)

Well, everything was going along fine.

Which always should be a warning.

And then the wheels came off.

An irresistible side trip was to occur…wait for it…
Bearing points.

Home for the night. So far I’ve only set my tent up once the very first night because of threatening rain. Since then all dry and stargazing.

 

 

Morning trail

A valley to look forward to.

Sand river

A collared lizard. So wild and unused to humans that I put the camera about 3 inches from its head. The only cannibal lizard in the States. Eats other lizards as well as its own.

 

I dubbed it camel rock.

Even the cactus is in the swing of spring.

 

 

Windmill fallen from grace

Typical water source. This one is actually a spring. It was one similar to this that was to take me down.

Following the top of the Mesa

 

Excellent irony

 

Spacing out on a break

Old Indian sweat lodge on the way out of Ghost Ranch

My ambulance (see below).
Note my pack strapped to the top.
Here’s the abbreviated story. So about five days ago I came down with Giardia. Picked up from one of those water sources where I figured it was OK not to treat the water.
Giardia is an intestinal parasite that basically tears you apart inside.
Your belly swells, you constantly burp sulfur. And you projectile shit mustard incessantly. You can’t sleep or hold any water or food in.
After a couple of days wasting away by a stream I began to doubt my ability to hike forward. Which was unfortunate because there was still 70 miles to go to civilization.
I got a little gloomy about my future.
And then I heard a chainsaw in the far distance.
Managed to get up the mountain where two guys were cutting up fallen logs.
In exchange for loading up the trailer and truck with wood I got a ride to Espanola 80 miles away.
Five logs in and then out behind a tree. The two guys couldn’t stop laughing.
In Espanola an urgent care doctor confirmed my diagnosis and the fact that I had dropped 20+ pounds.
But all good now.
Antibiotics, multiple large pizzas and HBO have nursed me back to health.
Back on the trail tomorrow.

 

My ambulance.

 

Avoided.

 

But in Espanola I found my dream camper van. You can still make out “Bus” on the side. Going to make an offer this afternoon. Drop a 350 in it, five speed, 4 Wheel Dr. and put a bed and a little stove in the back. Would be the sweetest touring sugar shack on wheels for Klaire and I.

Found my dream camper van in Espanola.

 

This is Steven “Blast” Halteman, signing off.

See you soon, from somewhere on the CDT.