CDT day 101: eat everything salty and try to find a laundromat: a zero in Steamboat Springs

August 13
Mileage: zero

For some reason I arrive in Steamboat Springs craving salt. Lots, and lots, and LOTS of salt. Here are some of the salty things I eat, each one positively euphoric tasting:

-3/4 a bag of chips and nearly an entire jar of salsa (breakfast)
-Three carnitas tacos, beans and rice (lunch)
-hummus and veggies
-Roast chicken
-cheap grocery store sushi
-the rest of the chips and salsa (dinner)

I want nothing sweet ever again. Not even cherry pie lara bars!

I also do my laundry (getting yelled at in the process of looking for a laundromat b/c I’m obviously a strung-out junkie, natch), go to the post office a few more times, find a new hiking dress (on sale!), ride the free bus (yay!) and resupply at the fanciest City Market grocery store I have ever seen, ever.

Track Meat and Spark appear in the afternoon, starving and fried from the sun. Is that what I looked like yesterday? I’m so excited to see them- friends!! After they’ve inhaled burritos we walk the long two miles back to the cabin in the afternoon pre-thunderstorm heat. We meet up with John Lennon there, who wants me to let you know that he’s a meth-addled recluse shut-in and sort of creepy. But actually he’s really nice and funny, and it’s great to have a new face around to joke with. Topic of discussion among the four of us in the cabin as Track Meat and Spark sort through their magic decks: the best way to dispose of a tiny baggie of meth, if one were presented with a tiny bag of meth. Best answer- hollow out one of the antique books that line the shelves of the cabin and stash the meth in there, with a note that says “free meth”. Second best answer: Super-glue the meth to some weed, super-glue googly-eyes to that, and smoke the whole mess in a bong. (Disclaimer: we are not doing meth, I have no interest in doing meth.)

Should I go back to the trail tomorrow, or double zero while Spark and Track Meat do their chores? Hmm…

Photos on instagram