2168.5 miles hiked
As soon as it’s dark an icy wind comes rushing along the stream we’re camped next to, transforming our idyllic balmy campsite into Antarctica. What do they call this- the catabatic effect? When you camp next to flowing water and there’s a cold, cold wind? This wind is blowing right in my face so I put my pack there, between the bottom of my tarp and the ground. It is so. Fucking cold.
I wake up stiff from sleeping curled in a little ball but we’ve got a long climb over Ptarmagin Pass first thing, and that warms me. Once on top of the pass we can see all the way down into the town of Silverthorne. Town! Food!!
Track Meat and I take a wrong turn on the trail into town and end up on a dirt road that leads to a paved road that winds past some barns and horse pens… we don’t realize we’re on private property until we reach a tall stone wall and massive wrought-iron gate at the end of the paved road, town on the other side of it. The gate is locked so we pretend we’re being chased from a castle and climb over the high stone wall, saying Oh no! They’re coming! Quick! and laughing a lot.
There is a chipotle in Silverthorne. The mythic on-trail chipotle of the CDT! We meet Spark there- he managed to stay on the right trail- and large quantities of food are consumed, which leads to great contentment. Afterward we wander around Silverthorne, which is nothing but an endless sprawl of outlet malls, until we’re thouroughly depressed. We then walk seven miles on the paved bike path to Frisco, which we’d heard was less expensive, and I secure a room for us on the outskirts of town, near the walmart and the whole foods. There’s nothing good on the TV and eventually we fall asleep.
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