This segment passes through thick old forests, dotted with inexplicable grassy clearings, ranging from near-park size, to...
...to very small.
This is what those blazes look like, when fresh -- an upside-down exclamation mark.
Runners were everywhere when I passed through this segment. They were probably preparing themselves for the Leadville 100, an event in which otherwise rational people run -- yes, run -- a hundred miles over rough trails, starting around three in the morning and generally ending after dark. I do not know why a human being would attempt this.
Well, no, I do have an idea -- everyone getting ready for the race was in exquisite shape, doubtless due to their training. I met a man and woman jogging up an incline. When they passed me, I was crawling one step at a time, pausing every few feet to gasp for air. "Pardon us. Lovely day, isn't it?" they chirruped happily, each of them bearing a tiny little camelbak pack and minimal clothing. Both of them looked like classical greek gods. I haven't seen muscles like that outside maybe the movies. "Are you enjoying these incredible wildflowers? We've not seen it this nice in years!" they said in pleasant conversation as they trotted by. I made what reply I could from beneath my pack, drool no doubt hanging from my lips and my eyes bugging out with exhaustion. They probably thought me diseased. At least outrunning me was no problem for them.
I also met an utterly ginormous dog on the trail. I thought, for a moment, that it was a wolf. On his back legs, he would have been taller than I, and was probably around the same weight... though while my mass is mainly flubber (err, I mean, stored calories for the trail), his was not. But he trotted right past me, and was followed in a moment by a tiny-yet-powerful looking woman who probably could have ridden that dog like a pony. She, too, was preparing for the Leadville 100. Oddly, it was *my* trek she thought amazing -- couldn't believe the trail was safe for a lone woman. What about bears? Or bandits? Or crazy people? What if I fell and broke something and laid somewhere in agony until I starved and died?
Well. Erm. None of those things were ever problems. I saw neither bears nor bandits, and only ever went one day without seeing other hikers. I didn't have anything worth stealing, and almost everyone I met was polite and helpful. Crazies are a town species, and don't head out too far into the wilderness. I was even impressed by the young men I met along the trail -- not a one of them ever invited me to be their second bride, nor asked for money, nor groped me, nor even said inappropriate or derogatory things in order to attract my attention, all of which sets them worlds apart from the male species in Malawi. I consistently felt like hikers on the trail were watching out for me, and never felt threatened by one.
There were dozens of hikers throughout this particular segment, heading up either to summit Mount Massive or Elbert, or simply out to enjoy the very well-maintained trails. As there was plenty of parking and easy access to the trail, there were lots of dayhikers -- including kids without maps. I passed one group three or four times; they were trying to find Rainbow Lake via interconnecting sidetrails. Each time, they cribbed a peek at my map, which never seemed to do them much good, and once I gave them water and tootsie rolls. Hope they made it back alright.
There was trailmagic left at this segment, too -- drinks were placed in a pool alongside Glacier Creek, to keep them cold. They were labeled 'for throughhikers'. The little path down to the snacks was, however, too crowded for me to bother stopping -- a middle-aged woman and her two daughters were eating like the chips and drinks might vanish. Throughhikers do get hungry, after all, and these guys were surely ultralighters, to judge by the size of their packs. One of the girls was sitting directly on the trail, eating cheezits by the fistful while texting on her bright pink, spangly phone. I stopped to chat with a middle-aged man, clearly the dad, who was watching them from the bridge over the creek. "Hi there!" said I, "did you have a nice hike? See any fish?"
The man eyed me strangely, took his time to answer. "There are... here... but not see." He was clearly struggling for words.
Oh. Hm. It was possible that my awesome Chichewa skills might not help in this situation. I spoke slowly and clearly. "You guys headed to Durango, too?" I asked, "or Denver?"
A long silence. "Si," he said.
They must have come a long ways, and just to hike the CT -- possibly in both directions. Wow. "Have a nice day, then!" I said, and went on my way, thinking warmly that the nice tourist ultralighter family would sleep with full bellies tonight. They couldn't have been carrying much of their own food, after all, with their tiny, tiny little packs.... which, come to think of it, were awful small. Even for ultralighters. Hm....
I ended up camping just before the Mt Massive side path, at an informal site on a bench above the CT. Unfortunately, I failed to take the birds into account. Oh yes, the birds -- gray jays, to be precise. I'd managed to set up camp between three of their favorite roosting trees. All evening long, the birds rained bits of bark down upon me as they searched their trees for insects. A few minutes after I retired, they turned their curiosity to the tent itself, going so far as to land on it and slide down the side. The first time it happened, I nearly had a heart attack. The next time, I managed to scramble from the tent, only to discover a bunch of birds taking wing back to their trees. I gave them a piece of my mind, complete with fist-shaking -- my apologies to any passing hikers who wondered at the mysterious sunset cursing from the woods. The third time a large object thumped onto my tent and slid down... I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Funny, how you can get used to just about anything.
The trail up to Mount Massive. The trail that leads to Mt Elbert about seven miles ahead, by contrast, was marked with charcoal on a piece of cardboard.
Databook update suggestions:
0.0
This segment is one of the best-marked of the entire trail, and has few changes from the databook.
8.8
The guidebook suggests that this is a fine place to camp. I may not have gone looking well enough for campsites, because those I found were unacceptably sloped.
9.2
The trail has been rerouted to a slightly lower path -- bear left at the split. It's well-marked, but you no longer go past the campsite at 9.5.
Elevation profile is roughly correct, but you don't end up going quite so high up around mile 9, due to minor trail reroute.
---> Onward, to segment 11!
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