John, a friend of Carrie, offered me a ride back to the trail. As we drove out and saw the mountains, I noticed that so much snow had melted away since I was there on Tuesday. John dropped me off at the Wolf Creek Pass and said, “Have a safe trip and good luck!” 

I started hiking with optimism about the trail conditions being much less snowy. I was completely wrong! The next 8 days became the most challenging and incredibly rewarding thru-hiking I have ever done.

My optimism lasted for the first mile. Soon, it was all snow. The weather was nice and warm, which meant postholing pretty much all day. If it’s warm, snow melts, and the surface can no longer hold the hiker’s weight. 

Around 11:30 am, I caught up with a thru-hiker. He was the first and last person I met on the trail during this section. We shared the sentiment of how difficult to travel on the snow and the enormous amount of energy and time it takes to move on snow. It was like walking on the land with a land mine. You never know when you punch through snow.He said that he may take the Creed cut-off alternative route, the 37.5-mile route that bypasses the Weminuche Wilderness, Colorado’s largest wilderness area, compared to the official CDT, the 118.2-mile trail that circles through the Weminuche. I weighed less and moved faster, so I offered to break the trail. It was nice to have a company. We hiked together for about two hours. Then I went ahead, leaving him my tracks to follow while he took a break. I never saw him again. 

My first day was a long day. I was learning and figuring out how to travel on snow. My time was spent digging myself out of snow, crawling on the snow, and route-finding since there weren’t clear footprints in front of me. I moved 6.5 miles in 10 hours. I felt like an inchworm! I decided that for the next seven days, I would get up early and put most miles in the morning when the snow surface was frozen to support my weight, so that I could minimize postholing.

Many mornings were cold but not cold enough to freeze the surface of the snow, and I was frustrated. My next strategy was to climb up and walk on the ridge, the actual Continental Divide, to avoid snow. The majority of the CDT was under the snow anyway, so regardless, it was all off-trail traveling. On the ridge, there was usually enough bare ground that I could walk, or even if there was snow, it was usually frozen since it’s higher elevation between 11,000 and 13,400 feet. The CDT runs parallel to the ridge, so eventually, the ridgeline merges with the trail. However, instead of postholing, I had to climb and descend a few thousand feet a day, every day, at the elevation, which also slowed me down and was consuming. And yet, walking on the ridge was exciting, engaging my hands to hold on to the rocks often. I felt like I was walking on the sky. Plus, I was able to avoid the snow most of the time.

I was lucky that I had relatively mild weather for the entire 8 days of my journey. The weather allowed me to relax and enjoy the hike and scenery, even though the terrain was challenging. 

Since I committed to and took the official CDT route, passing the junction of Creed Cut-off, I stopped seeing human footprints. I still believed that a few people were ahead of me, but no clear sign of them. 

Instead, I saw wildlife, and I thought they were protecting me. On the first day, there was a thousand-foot climb at the end of the day. I followed the snow-capped knife edge to the summit. When I reached the summit, I saw a golden eagle sitting on the edge, and it looked at me, then flew off gracefully. I thought it was a good sign. When I saw Ptarmigan, they were usually hanging out in the snow by themselves, and I thought they were just like me, hiking by myself.

Every day towards the end of the day, I postholed so badly. I wish I could stop at 2 pm before the snow became too soft. But I needed to put miles and hours in to reach Silverton before I ran out of food, so I kept going as much as I could. One time, I stepped into the snow from a rock and was buried up to my chest! It took me a good 5 minutes to dig myself out of that hole. Another time, I wanted to get to where the vegetation was and stepped out, thinking that I would posthole. Instead, I stepped on the ice, slipping and rolling on the snow down the hill, and then I landed perfectly on a bush where I was aiming to go. I was like, well, that wasn’t my plan, but that’s one way to get to it. These were funny moments that I wish someone was there to laugh about. 

On the fourth day, I walked on the ridge line to Knife Edge Peak. There was one steep and high peak I had to climb before I could reach the Knife Edge Peak. When I looked at it, I thought it was steeper than third-class terrain. Third-class slope requires you to engage your hands and feet to climb. If it gets steeper, it will become a 4th and 5th class, meaning that you need climbing equipment to protect yourself in case of a fall. I promised to be safe, so I wouldn’t try anything steeper than the third class. Generally speaking, terrains look steeper from far. As I got closer and closer, it looked doable. The last 200 feet of the ascent were exciting! I put away my hiking poles and climbed the steep slope to the top. From there, I could see the ridge line, an easy walk up to Knife Edge Peak. When I made it to the top, I found a jar tucked in the rocks. I opened it and found out that it was a summit register, and I was the first person to summit in 2025. There were three more of these jars tucked into the rocks on the summit of peaks in the coming days, and again, I was the first person to summit these peaks in 2025. I thought someone was ahead of me. Maybe they followed the CDT and dealt with snow instead of climbing up on the ridge and peaks.

Speaking of someone being ahead of me, there were NOBO (an acronym for Northbound among thru-hikers) deer, elk, and moose! I have seen the footprints of these animals on the snow. They posthole too! I saw signs of their struggles since they left tons of fur as they battled to get out of holes in the snow. The more I went along, the more I was convinced that these animals were hiking the CDT! Whenever I needed to cross the snow field, I saw their prints ahead of me in places where I thought it would consume the least energy. I was proud of myself that my pathfinding skills, sense of awareness, and ability to read the land were becoming as good as wild animals.

Toward the end of my fourth day, there was a section of the CDT that was clear of snow, and I was cruising. I saw from far that the trail ended, being blocked by the snow wall right before going over a pass. I was curious to see what animals decided to do then. When I made it to the wall, their prints disappeared, and I saw no sign of what they did. I looked at the 12-foot snow wall, thinking that I’m a human, so I have hands to climb! About 30 feet before the trail was blocked, I saw rocks that I could easily climb up to a 5 x 5 slab. From there, there was only about 7 feet of the snow wall to climb. I wish I had claws instead of hands! I slid back down to the slab on my first attempt. So I kicked in better steps on the snow wall on my second attempt, dug my fingers deeper into the snow, and climbed the wall to get on top of the ridge. How exciting!

Every day was epic. On my fifth day, I started my morning following the creek clear of snow, but soon I had to cross the creek to the wall of snow! For the next two hours, I hiked in the snow, postholing, and I was getting tired. I saw signs of animals struggling the same, including the bear! It was worth it. I came into the valley surrounded by towers of rocks in the morning light. It was serene. I stood in the valley all by myself, looking around, closing my eyes, inhaling tranquillity, and listening to birds’ songs that brightened my morning. Since getting up on the ridge looked quite steep and difficult, I continued my hike in the snow. After five hours of hiking, I only moved 2.5 miles. I picked a pass and climbed to it with the hope that the ridge line would all connect without a cliff and merge with the CDT. Looking at the line, I was skeptical. When I got to the top of the ridge, a pair of Ptarmigan greeted me. I thought that was a good sign. Then I saw eight deer ahead of me. For the next three hours, they moved as if they were guiding me. Sometimes they stopped and grazed on the ridge while I was moving with my two legs. They lifted their heads, checked on me, then moved ahead again and again, leaving me footprints to follow where there was snow. Even though it looked like I would be cliffed out, I was able to make it through to where the CDT merges with the continental divide, and I was so relieved when that happened.

My sixth day was probably the most normal hiking day. After an hour of postholing in the trees on the north-facing slope, I greeted the sun on the snow-free terrain along the North Fork of the Los Pinos River. I probably did the best, moving most quickly through snow, as I have learned ways to avoid sinking in. By now, I have learned that there are different types of snow surfaces, and when it’s slushy and near the trees or rocks, I usually fall into the snow pretty deep. If it’s on the slope away from any objects or on the ridge that is exposed, I can usually walk on the surface. The firm, solid snow has a different appearance, like a sheet of ice, fine white, or sometimes it’s slightly reddish due to watermelon algae. It also has different sounds and textures when I touch it. When I poke with my hiking poles, the firm snow would give me a solid sound and dense texture, whereas postholing snow would respond to me with hollow and slushy sounds and coarse texture. I also acquired a technique to crawl out of my hole and spread my body flat on the snow as I crawled to a spot where I could stand again. Crawling on the snow with a pack is challenging, and I got used to it. Where I struggle the most is usually in the woods. I also learned to use down-tree logs, bear ground near pine trees, and willow trees sticking out of snow to walk on to hold my weight above the snow.

When I came to the North Fork of the Los Pinos River, the trail stayed on the south side of the land, and I had the most normal walking experience since I left Chama, NM. How wonderful it is to just walk without any obstacles like snow, boulders, or down trees! It was a treat. I saw lots of Moose scat on the trail. I wondered when I would meet my companions, NOBO Moose. The trail led me to a wide-open Los Pinos River Valley lit with the golden morning light. In the meadow, I saw wildflowers starting to bloom. 

Of course, snow-free hiking didn’t last all day, and I was back in snow, traveling and route finding in the afternoon. Slowly but steadily, I made it to Ute Lake, where I camped that night. From Ute Lake to Stoney Pass, it was about 19 miles, a distance that I would usually hike easily in a day. With snow and ridge walking, it would take me two more days. I was eating conservatively so that 6 days’ worth of food would last for 8 days. 

I looked at the map and was trying to decide whether to hike the ridge line the next day or not. The line had two peaks that were over 13,000 feet. In between them, I would lose quite elevation. I was nervous about the first one. By looking at the topographic map, it looked pretty steep. Previously, I had NOBO bear, deer, elk, and moose to assure my navigation. On day 7, the plants and soil helped me. When I started climbing the first 13,000-foot peak, I followed plants and soil on the steep slope. They are the indicators of stable terrain. Typically, I only see rocks, often without lichen growing on them, on the unstable slope. Climbing and descending between the two 13,000-foot peaks was challenging. Although I did not see a single human being to cheer me up, I was greeted by Ptarmigans during the climb many times, I heard Pika (I call them Pikachu), the alpine rabbit, often when I was puffing and huffing on the hills, and saw marmots being busy with their business. Large hoofed animals were also everywhere. They were my good company and kept me going. 

On day 8, I started my morning climbing to Humpback Peak. It was the last 13,000-foot peak before Silverton. As I greeted the sun, I looked toward the pass, I saw three deer hanging out on the pass illuminated by the sun. It was magical to see them in such light, as if nature was highlighting that I had made it this far because of the help from these animals.

From Humpback Peak, I could see the landscape changing towards the north. There were more rolling, gentle hills compared to rugged mountains. Gentle hills hold more snow, and I braced myself for dealing with it up to the Stoney Pass.

There were a couple of fields full of snow that I had to cross. One time, I was struggling with a constant postholing. I looked up the snow-free slope where I was aiming for and saw a deer looking at me. It disappeared and came back as if the deer was cheering me up and telling me, “This way. You’re almost there!” Interestingly, they showed up whenever I’m doubtful about the route choice I made, or I’m struggling. I saw more deer and elk on this day since I left Pagosa Springs.

Before the final push to the Stoney Pass, I took a break and studied the terrain and the map to figure out the best path without snow, anticipating more snow on the other side of the pass. I decided to follow a drainage instead of the trail. I made it to the pass and saw the other side. It was a completely different world! It’s like desert hills with different colors of rocks, which reminded me of Death Valley in California. The path I chose put me in the position to descend and ascend steep scree hills, but when I looked at where the CDT runs, it was all under deep snow. Again, whatever route I choose, there is no easy one. It’s either traveling on the snow or other kinds of difficult terrain. 

I made it to Stoney Pass expecting lots of people to be there to enjoy the alpine environment on sunny Sunday afternoon. Instead, I saw no one. No ATVs. No pickup trucks. I was hoping to hitch a ride 10 miles into Silverton. I was like, well, I better start walking! Hiking down the forest road, clear of snow, was a luxury. I made good progress, and I was hungry. I had no food left, but I thought I might have one last bar in the brain of my pack. When I searched for it, there was no bar left, but I found a bag of nuts that I didn’t finish! I was so delighted and sat down on the side of the road to enjoy every piece of pistachios and almonds.

That’s when I saw a car driving up towards the pass. I waved to them, and soon they turned around and came down the hills and stopped for me. I asked them if they were going to Silverton, and they said yes. Oh, how happy I was to get a ride with them! They were Martha and Brandon and three girls from the Navajo Reservation, coming to the mountains to enjoy the cool climate since Four Corners, where they live, has been in the 90s and hot. When they saw me sitting on the side of the road, they knew I could use some help. How generous they were to turn around and give me a ride to town. 

When we arrived at Silverton, I asked them to drop me off at a grocery store. I was so relieved, thinking, “I made it!” It was incredibly challenging and rewarding, 8 days in the mountains. My whole body needs some rest. I have bruises all over from hitting snow, rocks, and tree branches. I know the best way to treat me- hot springs! My friend Ben asked me to meet him and his family at Orvis Hot Springs, about an hour north of Silverton, tomorrow. It’ll be amazing. 

I could see myself, soaking in the hot springs, eating tons of fresh food, and soon, all the harsh, difficult moments and memories would transform into funny, ridiculous, and interesting stories. 

Cheers!