Journey Day 460 | CDT Day 123

Alone again in October 1987 along the Continental Divide.

10/15/87

From my musty room, I rise later than usual, write letters and eat before descending to the post office, where I learn the others' whereabouts. After packing and bidding Jim Bebout goodbye, I hike to gas station for 14 cents of gasoline for my stove, mail letters, then down to check with the others. They're staying, so I'm alone going. Hitching is tough, little traffic. Eventually a pretty University of Texas grad with two sons teething in the back seat of her BMW drives me to the Windy Point Lookout. It provides a beautiful view of Red Mountain, the Uncompagres in sunny, blue skies.

Angered by passing vehicles unwilling to stop and carry me on up to the trailhead. I end up walking down a road supposedly leading to Ramboullet Park. Two hunter parties in a jeep, one is right in saying the trail dies. Lose my camo bandana emerging from an emergency potty break. Walk the road to its end, bushwhack through deadlfall and swamps in forest up to a scree slope, follow to what I hope is the crest of the Divide. In dying light, I camp in a cul-de-sac off the ridge in an unlevel spot, eat deviled ham and chocolate bars from A.T. friend Jake Blues, read new Irving Stone book on the West. Crash uncomfortably for a frozen night.