The ADT Journey – Week 21

Posted on November 16, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

We took a rest day in Pueblo.  I had hoped to present at a college in the city and get publicity from the local news sources, but neither happened.  Instead, the tone for what would happen during our journey across the plains was set when we stayed at a church and I performed a couple of my community themed songs, with my backpacker’s guitar, during their Wednesday evening dinner program.  A conversation with Pastor Rick Calhoun of the First United Methodist Church led to him making contacts for us with Lions Clubs and a Methodist church along our route.

I was interviewed by Voices on the Net, an internet radio platform.  The interview was supposed to last 30 minutes, but our journey captivated them and they extended the interview to 45 minutes.  The way they started gushing over us embarrassed me a little bit.  Kindness and community building are not the province of idols.

Also in Pueblo I interviewed the Director of the Cooperative Care Center whose mission is “sacking hunger.”  In addition to single mothers and their families being food challenged, Marci Reynolds-Bain informed us of three new demographics: single fathers, senior citizens and baby boomers (the interview occurred before baby boomers became senior citizens).  Each demographic has its own unique set of unfortunate circumstances, requiring too much depth to go into here, all consequences of an economy where wealth disparity has been growing for five decades.  Marci shared that sometimes she needs to be alone and debrief from all the sad situations she witnesses.

You should check out my informative interview of Marci.  Though  I currently go by the trail name of Humanity Hiker, at the time of the ADT journey I chose Hiking Humanitarian, which was too much of a mouthful.  While the symphony I composed about our journey is on the Humanity Hiker YouTube channel, all my interviews during the journey are on the Hiking Humanitarian channel.  Someday I intend to merge the two channels, but for now I strongly encourage you to listen to Marci if hunger issues interest you.

Before our journey started, I arranged to give a talk at the Olney Springs Lion Club, which would become our second rest day in a week.  Several interesting events happened on our way there.

At a convenience store a young Goth woman attempted to give us money, thinking we must be homeless.  I declined the money and took her picture.

A lonely woman who lived in a trailer park invited us as the only guests for her birthday.

We camped on the lawn of a church, learning the next morning that they had an automatic sprinkler system.

We met a hardware store owner in Boone, who occasionally provided a place to stay and work for homeless people. The next day a motorist pulled over who had been involved in the Wall Street protests across the country that year and was enthused about our advocacy to build community.  The juxtaposition of the proprietor in Boone with Wall Street investors in regards to community is an angle seldom explored. While corporations may have foundations and other means to benefit society, local proprietors are more likely to be involved with building their community.

As we passed and took notice of a bustling Quonset hut in Avondale, two people came over to tell us they were preparing for the grand opening of their cowboy church in a couple days, and invited us to attend.

The morning of our rest day coincided with the grand opening of the cowboy church, so guess where Ky brought us.  After all, she said she wanted a cowboy boyfriend, so this was her chance! The service was held inside the Quonset hut.  A cowboy band provided music, set up on some bales of hay just outside the Quonset hut entrance.  After the service ended they quickly rearranged the hut for a grand potluck lunch, complemented by a cowboy barbecue set up outside.  Then they capped the grand opening of their cowboy church with a rodeo!

We stayed with hosts Ed and Lorell Anderson during our rest day in Olney Springs. The day was capped with a potluck hosted by the Olney Springs Lions Club that evening, where I advocated for community involvement as usual, now with examples such as Leadville’s community meals program.  I made a connection between community involvement and local autonomy.  One of the members, who worked for an energy company, responded with a complaint about the “People’s Republic of Boulder” seeking to make their town energy independent.

I suggested that Olney Springs and other towns of the Colorado plains want the local autonomy to do things their way.  Why should Boulder be denied their own local autonomy because they have different beliefs?  That message seemed to hit home to everyone but perhaps the energy employee, as the club voted to donate $100 to us, unsolicited as always.

The Andersons were tremendous hosts to us during our stay.  They were particularly fond of Ky.  She would be going back east in a few days for a family reunion and they offered to help her with transportation to the airport and stow her car.  Ed shared a touching story from when he used to be a Santa Claus in Illinois.  I share that story here.

The day we left the Anderson’s for our hike to La Junta was the only overcast day during our stretch along the Colorado plains.  The gloominess fostered bittersweet thoughts of our wonderful hosts.  In the past ten days the Andersons, the Cravens and Dick Bratton took us in as one of their own, and leaving them was leaving family behind, only with less chance of ever seeing them again.

Just as memorable, in some ways more so, were the trail angels like the Goth woman, John Nicholas and others who we encountered completely by happenstance and sometimes only briefly.  These also were the type of trail angels I encountered during my long distance hikes of the seventies, people who you alone encountered and not hundreds or thousands of other hikers.  This is a special, intimate type of trail magic that is fading along the more established trails, where trail guides broadcast where the thru-hiking masses can find trail angels all along their route.

The Amderson’s daughter Charli, who visited her folks while we were there, had pulled some strings to arrange quite the treat for us in La Junta.  Once we arrived in town we were “held hostage,” a La Junta tradition of local police pulling over passing motorists, bringing them to a complimentary hotel where they are then brought to a complimentary meal at a local restaurant, and then brought to the monthly “Wake Up La Junta” celebration the next morning.  Police no longer can stop people for the tradition, but we were not too hard to spot coming into town.

The MCs for the “Wake Up La Junta” event were dressed in long, red, flannel pajamas, reflective of the 6:45 am start.  A banner behind the stage read: “La Junta, the Smile Hi City.” Jokes were told, awards were given out, the high school jazz band played and, most importantly for a couple of thru-hikers, breakfast was served.  As sort of the guests of honor we sat at the table nearest the stage.  They also gave us a bag of various gifts from local vendors.  The point of the hostage tradition was to give out-of-town folks a neighborly introduction to the charms and businesses of the town. Well, they won us over!

Catching “Wake Up La Junta” seemed like another example of being blessed by serendipitous timing on our journey, starting with arriving at Middlegate Station in Nevada when they were having their Saturday all-you-can-eat steak barbecue.  Having been blessed by trail magic so often leads me to wonder if serendipity is the right word.  Maybe happy coincidences are not really rare for those who put themselves out there for them to happen.  Maybe if our journey brought us through La Junta a week later we would have missed something wonderful there, but experienced something wonderful later in Lamar (oh, wait, we did).  Maybe serendipity provides good cause for us not to feel fortunate for ourselves, but to feel hopeful about humanity.

We took an unplanned rest day in La Junta, the third of the week, in order to give talks at Lions Clubs in both Las Animas and Cheraw.  Upon leaving the second meeting in the evening, one of the Cheraw members rear-ended Ky’s parked van.  She took the mishap extremely well, especially considering that she was about to fly back home for a family reunion.  Fortunately, the Andersons from Olney Springs came to Ky’s rescue, bringing her to the airport with the peace of mind that they would arrange for the body repairs while she was gone.

We left La Junta with full packs that would bring us into Kansas.  Besides enjoying the intimacy of just the two of us, we anticipated that food fortune would be waiting for us as always.

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The ADT Journey – Week 20

Posted on November 6, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

On our first day back from Denver I scouted trails for us to go up and over Pikes Peak, but I could not find a practical route that would land us near Cripple Creek. We would either be doubling back or landing on the wrong side of the mountain.  Our gracious host Dick Bratton drove us to the top of Pikes Peak for the day, but my goal of climbing a 14,000 footer in Colorado would remain unrealized for now.

Cindy had her own unrealized hiking goal. We met while preparing with a group to hike the Appalachian Trail in 1980.  Her desire to hike long distances predated our relationship, but since that time my outdoor adventure objectives also became hers, even if she had to do them independently of me.

This was true for the Long Trail, which I hiked twice as part of an interdisciplinary course I helped to organize, called Frost’s New England, and once more with a nonprofit I founded for family disadvantaged teenagers.  Cindy was not on any of those hikes, though she provided support for the nonprofit journey.  She instead hiked the Long Trail with her friend and college roommate.

On our wall hangs my Triple Crown plaque, awarded after I became the third person to achieve the Triple Crown of long distance trails when I hiked the CDT in 1985.  Cindy became the first woman to thru-hike the CDT on the same journey, but I hiked the PCT before we met and that remains missing from her resume.  The plaque on the wall served as a constant reminder of her own unfinished goal.  Had Cindy not been afflicted with dementia she undoubtedly would have hiked the PCT someday, with me or without me.

Cindy’s unfinished goal gave me one nagging doubt about our journey.  Should I have chosen the PCT for us to hike instead?  I chose the ADT for three reasons: as the longest trail in the country we would have the most time to reboot our lives; all the towns along the way facilitated my public mission regarding kindness and community; less wilderness meant a safer journey if Cindy became challenged.  The fact that Cindy handled the wilderness portion of the ADT well led to further doubt about my choice on which trail to hike.

Leaving Great Mountain Falls we became the first ADT hikers to walk the excellent new trail that Dick built, accompanied by one of the builders.  As usual, a guest hiker (or were we the guests on a new trail tour) provided for conversation, and I learned that Mike served in the military, proclaimed to be a Buddhist and retired as a physicist.  He also declared that as part of his Buddhist faith he could not harm a flea, yet he holstered a gun.  I have no problem with hunters, sports shooters, former military or police officers carrying a gun, but a man who could not harm a flea carrying a gun for protection?

I could not help but point out the irony in that, which led to a series of increasingly bizarre hypotheticals as a reason I should carry a gun as well.  I made clear I would consider myself cowardly, given the probabilities, to carry a gun for protection from hypothetical dangers.  That led to his eventual hypothetical that a mad man could be standing behind the next tree and rush out to viciously attack Cindy before I could do anything (on a trail for which we were the first official hikers). Through this hypothetical reasoning Mike asserted that carrying a gun for my wife’s protection was the morally right thing to do.

I bring this up now because of what I have learned about brain health since then, as well as what has been happening to our society.  Hypotheticals and other logical fallacies are used to sway beliefs by engaging emotions such as anger and worry.  Living your life according to logical fallacies, instead of probabilities, fills your brain with metabolic toxins, but that is not the concern of the “news” outlet, interest group or social media influencer seeking to sway you.  The more enraged or worried you become from believing a trusted source, the more likely that trusted source is using alarming logical fallacies and undermining your brain health.  Fortunately, I never became worried about a man jumping out from behind a tree on a brand new hiking trail to harm Cindy.

Ky slack packed us from Green Mountain Falls to Cripple Creek, where she left us with our backpacking gear at a campground in town.  She needed to head down out of the mountains right away before an impending blizzard arrived.  Before she left, none other than John Nicholas pulled up to greet us.  John had been the source of my biggest regret during the journey, when our Leadville host left for work too early for us to thank him or say goodbye.  In the interim since we first met him, John was transferred to a mining operation near Cripple Creek.  He seemed as genuinely enthused to see us again as I was to be able to thank him and bring some closure.  Yet one more serendipitous moment!

We set up our tent at the campground just as snow started to fall.  One other tent already was set up near us, but otherwise mainly campers and trailers resided at the campground, which was much like a KOA.  The snow fell heavily throughout the night, causing me to occasionally get out of my sleeping bag to dig us out of the snow covering the tent.  The next morning the snowstorm still raged and the tent next to ours had collapsed.

Cindy always sleeps soundly, while I am a light sleeper.  If Cindy snored I woke up; if I snored I woke myself up.  Neither of us snoring ever seemed to wake Cindy up, but as I dug us out of snow throughout the night while Cindy continued to sleep, never moving a muscle or showing any sign that she knew a blizzard was going on, I could not help but wonder ….  Maybe Cindy was just smarter than me.

As the snow continued into the morning we took the day off.  Since Cripple Creek hosted casinos, our rest day allowed us to partake in two 49 cent breakfasts, and we only had to pay for one.  When the owner of Bronco Billy’s found out what we were doing he comped us breakfast on the second morning, before we packed up and headed down out of the mountains.  I tried to give our waitress a tip but she refused to take it.

While hanging out at the campground office we listened to a guitarist who resided in the campground and listened to his tale of woe.  Cheap breakfasts may have been available in Cripple Creek, but  where the establishments of the mining town once supported local musicians, Cripple Creek the casino destination featured DJs or out-of-town acts.  Cripple Creek was starting to resemble other resort towns such as Moab with plentiful but meager income opportunities, growing wealth disparity and elevated housing costs.

Our route down out of the mountains was on Shelf Road, a road not meant for your average vehicle.  As we headed down we recapped our journey in reverse, hiking first among mountains, then canyons, then arriving at desert twelve miles later for lunch.  We snacked on our trail mix sitting next to cacti and reflecting on how we broke camp that morning in the snow.  We did not quite meet my scheduling objective of getting over the Rockies before a blizzard hit us, but we came close enough.

Once we reached Canon City, Ky resumed slack packing us from there to Pueblo, while her friends Don and Lauren Craven provided us a base camp in West Pueblo.  Lauren arranged for me to speak at her church discussion group, the first time I talked about kindness and community for that venue.  This became a foreshadowing of our journey ahead, across the neverending but ultimately rewarding plains.

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The ADT Journey – Week 19

Posted on October 30, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

After Denver we went back up into the Front Range and headed south until we reached Green Mountain Falls, where the ADT Coordinator for the Colorado section lived.  Dick Bratton provided a home base for us when we arrived, which we needed while arranging our second trip back home.  We had another wedding on Cindy’s side of the family plus I had a paid Elderhostel gig, teaching a one day course based on my book “Systems out of Balance.”

Dick was a prominent figure with the ADT organization when we met him, also serving as a publicist and supervising the building of a new trail out of Green Mountain Falls.  He went out of his way to host and help the few ADT hikers coming through town each year.  We stayed with Dick for a couple of days both before and after our trip home.

Dick served us gin and tonics soon after we arrived at his place.  He only used Hendricks gin for these drinks, which he fancied because of their self-deprecating motto that they are the preferred gin by 1 out of 1000.  Another expression of Dick’s humor was his tendency to take any of your ideas and immediately repeat it as if it was his own.  His house proudly displayed his various interests, with badminton and skiing trophies, along with evidence of being a former airman, showman (and Dick could break out in song at any moment), his stint as mayor and, of course, his extensive involvement with the ADT and trail building.

The first morning we were there he brought us to The Pantry, the local food hangout, where I ordered and polished off a large breakfast burrito.  Only after I finished did I learn about the Mother Lode, a pancake that you get for free if you can eat the whole thing … which I did.  As we ate everyone came up to Dick to slap him on the back and ask how things were going with the town or the new section of trail the townsfolk were building for the ADT.  No other town along the route had as much awareness and involvement in the ADT as Green Mountain Falls, all due to Dick Bratton.

After my caregiver days are over I hope to do a nostalgia tour of the ADT, this time using my pedicab and giving rides to our kind hosts across the country.  Dick Bratton certainly would have been one of those hosts I revisited, except that he has since passed away.  These days I am in the frame of mind of wondering how many others will pass away before I can visit them, or if my physical capability to do so via nonmotorized travel will atrophy before the chance arises.

We traversed the Front Range during peak foliage for the area, always a thrill even if not New England fall colors.  The kindness continued when a couple with an inspiring story took us in.  They had escaped to the mountains after a life impacted by Demver area gangs and prison and totally immersed themselves in their small town community.  Unfortunately, they were heavy smokers and we did not relish staying with them, but their compulsion to turn around their lives by living for others compelled us to go along.

The couple reminded me of John Nicholas, the humble man we stayed with in Leadville who tricked me into accepting a twenty dollar bill.  We met John in Leadville because he moved in to take care of his ailing uncle and remained there after his uncle passed away.  Something about the humility of both John and the couple made their acts of kindness extra special.  Perhaps in the back of my mind I apprehended that John’s commitment as a caregiver would eventually be mine.

Thinking about John brought an unsettled feeling.  Outside of when we first met we had little interaction with him.  His job as an operator of large mining equipment required early to bed, early to rise and be gone all day.  We never said goodbye or thanked him for his kindness when we left.  This lack of proper closure haunted me for weeks afterwards.  Fortunately, we were able to thank the reformed and transplanted couple from Denver when we left.

When we left the Denver area Ky went back home for a week, but first she drove the support vehicle to a friend’s home in Colorado Springs.  When we arrived at Green Mountain Falls we got a ride to Colorado Springs and drove the support vehicle back up to the Denver airport, where we flew home to attend the second of our two weddings.  We appreciated Ky’s generosity in allowing us to commandeer her minivan in this fashion.

Everything about this second trip home went better than the first time.  My relationships warmed with Cindy’s family and our son was doing better, alleviating two stressors on Cindy.  My presentation at the Elderhostel also went well, as I was able to temper my descriptions of how our social systems are out of balance with the hope of kindness and community involvement we experienced first hand during our journey.

We arrived back at Denver on the same day as Ky and the three of us drove back down to Green Mountain Falls together.  We had just a few more days in the mountains before beginning our long trek across the plains.  Feeling refreshed and upbeat from our trip back home, could we now finish our mountain trek without being hit by a major snowstorm?

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The ADT Journey – Week 18

Posted on October 26, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

As we walked across the country people would ask what Cindy and I talked about while hiking all that time together.  I always responded that we had little to talk about, followed by an imaginary conversation:

How was your day today, dear?
Same as yours.
What did you see?
Same thing you did.

I deflected the topic because Cindy and I seldom conversed due to her cognitive decline, something we were not confessing on our journey.  People experiencing her affliction become too self-conscious to strike up a conversation.  Before we married Cindy was known as “Gabby Galvin” and I enjoyed the hundreds of miles listening to her (I could also dominate a conversation, but never in such a delightful manner).

One of the downsides of what would otherwise be our most amazing journey, out of many, was we no longer entertained each other through the occasional miles of monotony.  As we crossed the Front Range to Denver three people joined us on separate days, finally providing abundant opportunity to converse while hiking. 

Dave Rockwell, a high school classmate, joined us in Georgetown to hike with us for the entire day.  He then accompanied us to a speaking engagement I had at a college afterwards.  “Rocky” and I were probably the two classmates most engaged in outdoor adventure out of about 120 high school students.  We both acquired strong academic backgrounds after high school. I am not sure why we have not spent more time together over the years.

Mike Hinckley also joined us in Georgetown to join in our 25th anniversary celebration.  As part of the same 1980 expedition that brought Cindy and I together, he continued to stay in touch and hiked more thousands of miles with us than any of our other long distance hiker friends.  Though he did not hike with us out of Georgetown, Mike joined us as we came down out of the Front Range into the Denver area.  After hiking with us he brought us to his home in Littleton, along with Ky, where we stayed for a couple of rest days.

We also hiked a few miles with Allan, who we met as we crested the last ridge of the Front Range and got our first glimpse of the plains.  I imagine the intimidating awe that strikes the west bound hikers of the ADT when they come upon the looming presence of the Rocky Mountains after walking thousands of miles over the plains, particularly if they have not done previous mountain hikes.  Truth be told, a similar awe struck me when I first glimpsed the expansive plains, stretching out to the eastern horizon.

I love mountains.  Neither blizzards, thunderstorms, raging creeks nor lung busting terrain ever shook that love.  My comfort with hiking over mountains resembles most people’s comfort with a stroll along their local nature trail.  Mountains do not intimidate me.  But the never-ending plains?  Holy ****!  Looking out towards the plains was like looking out over the ocean, with the same feeling of infinite vastness.

I had to stop for a while to gaze at and reflect on the several questions this vastness represented.  How would we handle the sameness of the terrain?  How would we handle the interminable road walks?  How would we handle hiking through the winter?  How would we handle the lack of daylight?  How would we handle hiking through so many towns?  How would we handle spending the most important holidays away from home?  I felt more comfortable looking out over the Great Basin deserts we would cross in summer than I did looking out over America’s broad heartland.

During our rest days I gave an on-air interview at Denver’s public radio station and presented at the University of Denver.  When we left Mike’s company after three days we brought with us the merchandise we stashed at his place during our drive across the country.  Future stashes would need to be shipped home, as paltry sales of books and CDs reflected my lack of business acumen.  Fortunately, there were signs that we could fund Ky’s support beyond Colorado, as people continued to donate without us asking.

We spent our last day in the Denver area with Dan Brunson, the golfer we met at a campground in Fruita, who suggested I should be giving my talks about kindness and community involvement to young people at schools.  Since then I managed to present at four Colorado colleges.  We were touched that he chose to camp out with us our first night back on the trail, which also happened to be his birthday.

For the rest of our hike I would speak at only one more college, but managed to present at high schools and elementary schools as well.  Across the plains I added churches as yet another venue.  All things considered, Dan had a huge influence on our journey and mission; I remain appreciative to this day.

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The ADT Journey – Week 17

Posted on October 18, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

Two days out of Leadville found us hanging around the Copper Mountain resort area, where we took a break at the Daylight Donuts establishment, chowing down donuts and pastries, some free of charge.  In truth we were procrastinating, as the cold, overcast weather that afternoon boded ill tidings for our return to mountain ridges.  Our procrastination led to a serendipitous chain of events, which lasted until Illinois.

As we lingered around eating donuts and pastries several interested people talked to us, including a Nebraskan couple touring on motorcycles, who gave us twenty dollars.  The serendipity began when we met Andy Held. He informed us that a significant amount of snow was forecast for the higher elevations that evening and suggested the alternative of hiking on a bike path to Frisco, where he would put us up in a hotel for the night.  He also would take us out for breakfast the next morning for a longer chat.

Hmmmm.  We had a choice between taking the high route through mountain snowstorms, or the low route to a hotel, free breakfast and who knows what else.  We chose the low route, gladly adding six more miles to our day and not arriving in Frisco until dark.  The extra mileage aggravated my left foot, which otherwise had been feeling better since we left Utah, but this alternative promised to be worth the extra pain.

At breakfast the next morning Andy shared some of Frisco’s community oriented activities.  He also put in a good word to MountainSmith for us, for Cindy was in need of a new pack and they contracted with Andy as a web marketer.  In addition to our good fortune from meeting Andy, our presence in Frisco led to both a short and long term serendipitous chain.

We arranged to meet Ky at the Frisco Visitor Center to resupply for our next stretch up and over Argentine Pass, highest point on the American Discovery Trail and our final crossing to the east side of the Continental Divide.  The long term serendipitous chain began when we met three tourists from Kansas City at the visitor center while waiting for Ky.  They took a great interest in our journey and we took a great interest in possibly having a place to stay when the ADT brought us through Kansas City.

Before we parted, Ardie and Gretchen acquired our email address for later contact and gave to us another twenty dollar bill, for the third time in less than a week and the seventh time overall.  I want to make clear we never asked for donations during the journey; people just kept giving to us even when we tried to refuse.  In any case, twenty dollars pales in value to what Ardie and Gretchen would do for us later in the journey.

The Summit Daily newspaper in Frisco, which lies in the appropriately named Summit County, interviewed us while we were in town.  That began the short chain of serendipitous events over the next few days, as we hiked through the towns of the broad valley nestled between majestic peaks.  Our next town after Frisco was Dillon, which we did not reach until dark due to a series of delays and miscalculations.

We hoped to camp in the National Forest that evening, but the full campground forced us to move on.  After the National Forest came the Dillon Reservoir, with no camping allowed.  That explained our late arrival into a populated area with no obvious prospects for camping, given our limited financial means.

We approached a police officer parked at a municipal park and asked if we could stay in the park for the night, explaining that we were walking 5,000 miles across the country.  He said no, he would give us a ticket.  We then asked if we could spend the night in jail, a tactic used by some of my long distance hiker friends in the past.  He reiterated that he would give us a ticket if we continued to linger and added that the police in Dillon do not have a sense of humor.

We saw no other alternative but to bust the budget and rent a room in a Best Western that night.  The next morning we went to the lobby for the continental breakfast.  In the paper rack was the Summit Daily with a picture of us prominently featured.  The manager at the desk took note of the resemblance between the photo and us and comped us the room, resolving our budget dilemma.  I only hoped that the police officer we met saw us in that paper as well.

The next town after Dillon was Keystone.  As we hiked along the bike path from end to end through the town we encountered a few other people who noted the similarity between us and the Summit Daily photo.   A bridal party adopted us and treated us at a coffee shop near the route.  We took our time with the hope that the stormy weather that day would pass.  When we reached the far end of Keystone, huddling under a bus stop in a steady rain, we were rescued from going further that day by Deb Stein, another Summit Daily reader who paid for another hotel stay that night.

During a four day stretch of mostly bad weather in the mountains we spent three nights in three different hotels, all free of cost, all comped by different people, thanks to a chance encounter with Andy Held.  Fortunately, the last day of bad weather was more rain than snow in the mountains, mostly clearing the trails for our momentous ascent over Argentine Pass.  A sparkling clear day greeted us as we finally left our hospitable valley behind.

Cindy once again struggled above 12,000’, but this would be our last climb of that magnitude.  We took a break at the pass for a good while, parked against the lee side of some rocks to reduce the windy cold.  Our climb had been where the typical rain shadow on the western side of major mountains nurtures abundant vegetation.  The east side of Argentine Pass, all the more drier from the same rain shadow effect, appeared barren in contrast.

We watched another hiker ascend towards us, wearing a much lighter pack with plans to loop back down before the end of the day.  Well behind his schedule, he left the pass before we did in order to get down before dark.  He may not have succeeded.

By arriving at Argentine Pass on September 18 we accomplished our goal of getting over the Continental Divide before September 22.  Just a short distance north, on the same date, a blizzard snowed in our group at 11,000’ in the Arapaho Wilderness.  I originally hoped to cross the divide on September 19, for our 25th anniversary, but we arrived a day early to take advantage of the clear weather.

We officially celebrated our 25th in January with a vacation in Kauai, but spending this brief time together above 13,000’ seemed a more fitting way to toast our wonderful journey together.  Cindy again showed signs of cognitive improvement since her stressed out lows in Utah, but that hopeful sign did not overcome a feeling of nostalgia that this break may be the last one for us to feel on top of the world together.

We ended our break and turned to go down the barren east side of the Continental Divide, a couple of long distance hikers doing their thing together.

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The ADT Journey – Week 16

Posted on October 11, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

We left Crested Butte packed for a five day stretch that would bring us to Leadville, the highest town in the United States.  Already while hiking in Colorado we met more people than in the whole states of Nevada and Utah.  Though Barrett hiked with us for awhile in the same west-east direction, we encountered no long distance hikers coming the other way, on the ADT or any other trail.  Indeed, we met very few hikers going either way at any distance; most of our backcountry encounters were with ATV users.

That changed our second day out when we spotted a person heading westbound who appeared to be a long distance hiker, considering his gear, gait and conditioning.  I walked right up to him for a handshake and declared:  “You look like a long distance hiker, the first one we have seen coming from the opposite direction.  Let me shake your hand!”

Given the remote area where we met, we knew each other to be ADT hikers and sat down to chat for a spell.  I discovered I already knew about Mark’s former hiking partner while planning our journey.  His partner publicly declared himself to be hiking the ADT the year before us for a clean water cause.  Mark’s partner had dropped out and Mark took the winter off before resuming the hike in 2011.

Unlike with Barrett, our encounter would be a once only occurrence before resuming our hikes. We stretched out our chat as long as feasible, but cold weather and an approaching storm sent us moving on in our opposite directions.  Mark was not likely to encounter any other ADT distance hiker for the rest of his journey.  Only a handful of people thru-hike the ADT each year and most go in the same direction as Mark, the direction in which the ADT guide was written.  No one would be starting towards the end of summer from Point Reyes to go eastbound, regardless.

We were more likely than Mark to encounter another long distance hiker, but not for many months, as distance hikers usually avoid hiking throughout the winter.  We could not expect to bump into anyone else like us until the next calendar year, when we would hike through an Appalachian spring.  Speaking of winter, the weather had a wintry feel when we parted with Mark.  As our chat with him already held us up, we shortened our day in preparation for the likely storm coming.   

Whether by design or accident (I do not remember which now) we landed ourselves after only ten miles at Goodwin-Greene Cabin.  The cabin is part of the Braum hut system, which is much like the AMC huts of the White Mountains in New Hampshire.  When we first arrived, father and son from the state of Washington were there for the muzzle loading season, which had started after the bow season ended.  We trusted muzzle loaders similarly to bow hunters, equally adept at their craft and hospitable to hikers.  After eating supper they left the whole cabin to us while they camped out and scoped for game.

Inside the cabin we weathered a storm that dusted the higher elevations with snow, less than three weeks after we weathered a sandstorm in the desert.  We slept on mattresses near a wood stove and took advantage of the kitchen’s butter pecan syrup for our oatmeal in the morning.  We did not mind at all discovering we were a little bit sidetracked from the official ADT route.

Rather than backtrack the next morning we headed out cross country to rejoin the ADT at a high pass.  Orienteering to stay true to an obscure trail below treeline frustrates me, while orienteering over wide open high country invigorates me more than any other type of hiking.  How do I convey such a feeling?

Imagine your youthful desire for exploration, at least for those of us fortunate enough to grow up near natural landscapes.  First you explore your neighborhood, then the woods beyond your neighborhood, then perhaps the other side of the hill beyond those woods, increasingly expanding the boundaries of your freedom and curiosity.  Hiking cross country over alpine and subalpine lands extends these boundaries to their most independent, wild and beautiful limits.

The day started and ended with cross country work over high country, with a dip down in the middle to a mountain reservoir where we cooked lunch.  We met only two other hikers the whole day, a couple who were former NOLS instructors.  That gives you an indication of our remote location.  In fact, the alleged trail to follow near the end of the day disappeared through lack of use, which explains why we headed cross country over a 13,000’ pass.

Crossing the pass placed us on the eastern side of the Continental Divide, which we would cross two more times before permanently heading east away from the mountains.  The approach reminded me of another one coming from the other direction, not far away but 26 years ago.  After resupplying in Leadville, while staying in the firehouse during ten degree weather, the expedition I organized to hike the Continental Divide Trail left town to cross the divide.

Recent snowstorms presented about two feet of soft snow around between us and the pass, making the trail impossible to follow.  For some reason we were the only people crazy enough to be heading over the pass under these conditions, which meant we had to posthole a route up to the high altitude pass. As the leader I took on that grueling responsibility.  The image of looking back occasionally at my zig-zag path with the rest of the group determinedly following, remains vivid decades later.  On the one hand a very satisfying memory of cohesion and determination; on the other hand a memory that explains why we had just hiked through the Great Basin desert during the heat of summer.

That memory also recalled how Cindy could not keep up with me trudging up through the snow; nor could she keep up with me now on our cross country ascent.  Cindy had the most flawless stride of anyone I had the pleasure to hike behind.  Her efficiency enabled her to keep up with us taller folk effortlessly on mild terrain such as the desert, but climbing a mountain takes a good deal of lung power as well as leg power.

Twenty-six years ago we sat on our large packs and glissaded down the other side of the steep, snow-covered pass, a fun reward for our labors during the ascent.  Once we reached a level area we made camp before darkness approached.  That night Cindy and I kept our boots in our sleeping bags to keep them pliable during a night that dipped below zero.  The next morning my boots were fine while Cindy’s were stiff, despite having the same sleeping bag model.

Twenty-six years later the descent from our 13,000’ pass was instead the worst part of the day.  With still no obvious trail and no snow for glissading, we took a knee-shocking route down towards the treeline.  An added challenge was guessing where, once we came upon forest, the trail might finally appear.  Still, we had a satisfying day with a satisfying camp that evening … and our footgear did not freeze during the night.

When we reached Leadville I headed for the fire station, with hopes to revive the memory of the hospitality our Connecticut Continental Divide Expedition received in 1985.  Times changed and they declined to host us this time around.  However, on the way across town to the fire station a man out in his yard stopped us to find out what we were doing.  John Nicholas offered for us to stay at his place, but at the time we declined.  He then offered us twenty dollars but we declined that as well.  As we headed away he ran up to us, shouting that we dropped something.  In my outstretched hand he placed a twenty dollar bill and ran back before I could say anything.  We obviously had a place to stay when the fire station fell through.

While in Leadville I presented to my second college gig at Colorado Mountain College but, as was often the case during our journey, I received more information than I gave about kindness and community.  We also attended the vibrant community meals luncheon hosted at the St. George Episcopal Church.  I interviewed the director to discover why this program worked so well.  Ali Lufkin shared with us the three ingredients, plus the most memorable quote of our journey.

The community meals program worked to get people from all demographics attending the luncheons.  The mayor attended regularly; college faculty attended, as did students.  They also worked to get people from all demographics involved in the preparation of the meals, those well off and those downtrodden.  Finally, they required those preparing the meals to join those coming to eat the meals.  She summed up their philosophy with this quotable gem:

“We try to confuse who is giving and who is receiving.”

I see that now as the difference between community involvement, which has been waning in our country, and volunteerism, which has grown in response to the shrinking middle class and growing problems of poverty.  With volunteerism people are doing things for others; community involvement tackles similar goals by doing things with others.

As we continued across the country I inserted this quote into all my talks.  Colorado continued to feed one of our reasons for walking across the country with glowing examples of kindness and community.  I just hoped that when winter arrived our most important reason would not be undermined by the cold we had yet to face, which would affect Cindy more.

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The ADT Journey – Week 15

Posted on October 4, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

The Grand Mesa Plateau looms as a transitional landscape between canyons and mountains.  While called a mesa, the top of the plateau features aspen and other mountain vegetation covering undulating terrain, dotted with lakes.  The lakes we encountered transitioned between the pond like “lakes” found in the mountains of central Utah and the pure alpine lakes of the Rockies.  This transitional landscape was good enough to make us feel right at home, with the added bonus that we were full packing across the plateau, just like the good ol’ days.

We camped one of the nights with three bow hunters we first encountered earlier in the day.  You might think that hiking during bow season poses a risk, but I trust the bow hunter’s dedication to their sport.  I have no apprehension I will be shot by a yahoo bow hunter, given their expertise and the range of their arrows. Besides, every bow hunter we met between Grand Junction and Crested Butte provided us snacks and other forms of hospitality.

Unfortunately, there are plenty of yahoos in possession of rifles, with the numbers increasing over the decades.  A rancher shared his story with me of hunters from Denver paying him to hunt on his land.  They came back at the end of the day to pay him for the horse they shot, with deep apologies.  The rancher later discovered they really shot a cow elk instead, giving him in total two payoffs and a large cache of delicious elk meat.

We walked on both hiking and ATV trails across the Grand Mesa.  Blowdowns often littered the hiking trails due to neglected trail maintenance, though not as much as we encountered in Utah, where recent avalanches caused the blowdowns instead. In contrast to the trails, the ATV roads on the mesa were well-maintained.  A Forest Service ranger in the area for a field conference provided us the reason why.  ATVers invest more in their gear and recreation than hikers.  As part of that investment they put greater pressure on the Forest Service to respond to their needs; a squeaky wheel thing.

We encountered almost no litter on ATV roads in Colorado, in stark contrast to ATV roads in Utah.  A group of motorbikers provided us the reason for this as well. More locals recreate on the Colorado trails than the Utah trails; pride of ownership leads them to take care of their trails.

We descended off the Grand Mesa plateau to the town of Redstone, then ascended along Marble Creek into the mountains again along.  The ascent brought us all the way back to the mountain hiking we love, following a winding ribbon of pure water rushing through towering cathedrals on either side.  We capped off this heavenly hiking by camping on a small rise, overlooking an alpine lake, close by the mountain pass we just crossed.

The next morning we broke camp while witnessing in the distance a tow truck using a winch to pull a 4wd vehicle off a snow plug blocking the dirt road heading up towards the lake.  California in June featured 15’ minimum snowpacks; Nevada in July featured flooded open deserts; Utah in August featured massive blowdowns from avalanches and bloated creeks that could not be crossed with a Jeep; now Colorado in September featured a lingering snow plug from the previous season which likely existed until the new snow season began.

At least this anomaly posed no problem for us.  We easily made our way over the snow plug while the sheep-faced driver watched his quite literal “off road” vehicle being rescued.  From there we descended steadily down into the town of Crested Butte.

As we approached a crosswalk in town, a driver also approaching the sidewalk stopped in advance to let us pass.  After we crossed she drove beyond the crosswalk, turned her car around, parked her car near us and jumped out.

“I told myself never to pass up an interesting story!  You two look like you are doing something interesting.”

Before Delreena was done chatting with us she invited us to her house to stay, with Ky joining us.  This was a great start to what would be another terrific town stop for our public mission about kindness and community.  The community radio station interviewed us, as did the local paper, for whom I also provided both the scoop and photos of the vehicle conquered by a snow plug.

I interviewed Kevin McGruther,  the organizer of an initiative that tied together a farmer’s market with a food pantry.  Crested Butte lies high up in the Rockies and far from where most farmers grow their crops.  Rather than having to bring excess food back home from Crested Butte, the farmers participate in a “food for fees” program.  They give their excess food in lieu of a fee for participating in the market.  That healthy food is then provided to a food pantry.

Redstone also provided us inspiration in regards to the mission.  As an unincorporated town, the inhabitants of Redstone fulfill all the necessary functions of an incorporated town without compensation, with a vibrant result.  When we did our grocery shopping for our next stretch in a nearby town we met Joan, who bicycled around Colorado with her late husband to raise money for causes such as Alzheimer’s.  She was moved to tears by what we were doing, which in turn moved us to tears as well.

Grand Junction, Redstone and Crested Butte foreshadowed what to expect from the rest of our journey: people extending kindness to us; people extending kindness to each other; and communities taking care of their own.  I chose the American Discovery Trail for our journey, instead of a beloved wilderness trail, because the length would extend Cindy’s rejuvenation and because all the towns along the way provided a platform to speak.  I had no idea at the start how much the journey would further boost my belief in humanity.

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The ADT Journey – Week 14

Posted on September 21, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

The temperatures while we were in Grand Junction barely exceeded 100 degrees.  The natives considered this a heat wave and offered their sympathy to us having to endure such heat.  On the contrary we felt like we were in paradise!  After a couple weeks of hiking in 110-130 degree temperatures without a spot of shade, Grand Junction was a veritable oasis, complete with trees!

The “cooler” weather we experienced in Grand Junction added to the euphoria from the progress with our public mission about kindness and community.  I gave three presentations and two media interviews, including my first one for television..  Even more exciting were the four interviews of people in Grand Junction I conducted, gaining valuable new information for writings and presentations in the future.

In stark contrast to my recent interview with the Fruita Lions Club president, the Grand Junction Lions Club is one of the most vibrant in the country.  If you go by fundraising capability, the club ranks number one or two in the world, in annual competition with a Lions Club from Japan.  The attendance at my luncheon presentation about community involvement rivaled the combined attendance of all other Lions Club talks during the journey.  I felt a little sheepish lecturing to one of the most involved clubs in the world about community involvement, but they seemed to enjoy the talk.

From interviewing the club’s president I learned some of their strategies for remaining vibrant while many community organizations and involvement decline.  They discovered that more people, at least more young people, attend luncheon presentations, preferring to use their natural break from work over more time away from family at supper time or evening.  They also kept things fun, as evidenced at my presentation.  They combine their formal meeting notes with an informal roast of each other.  Their major fundraiser, a carnival, exemplified their fun approach.

While in Grand Junction I also learned about a student who started a Stay Positive movement in the area; the International Learning Adventures program at the college that combined outdoor adventure with humanitarian projects; a clothes exchange that operated much like a potluck; and a dedicated Sunday when all churches abandoned services to work on community projects.  Grand Junction stood out on our journey as a goldmine for information about kindness and community.

A day after leaving Grand Junction we found ourselves at the trailhead for the Kannah Creek trail.  The beginning of that trail marked the end of desert hiking during the two hottest months of the year.  The mountains dictated our seemingly insane schedule, stretching a journey out for a full year for the sake of rebooting our lives and Cindy’s brain health, while managing to avoid blizzards in the high mountains we would cross.  Yet the mountains remained our heart’s wilderness desire, the landscapes where we spent so much of our hiking experiences together.

The Kannah Creek Trail brought us a few thousand feet up into the Grand Mesa Plateau and the Colorado mountains.  We camped high up along Kannah Creek that first evening, watched a beautiful sunset from up high and snuggled through our first cool night since the Arc Dome wilderness in Nevada.  This was the tonic our desert scorched souls precisely needed.

We spent our next couple of nights at the Mesa Lakes Lodge, thanks to a connection made by Ky.  This was part of her role moving forward, making connections for places to stay.  Another evolving role for her would prove to be something like a kindness ambassador.  These roles would prove invaluable when we crossed the plains.

While at the lodge I interviewed the waitress there, who recently lived in a Grand Junction homeless shelter.  She confirmed that, at least since the economy’s downturn in 2008, many homeless people are just normal folks struggling to find enough employment in a wage stagnant nation.  At the Lodge her income was supplemented by room and board, thus overcoming one of the major problems with stagnant wages, rising housing costs.

During our ascent of the Kannah Creek Trail Cindy lost her cap.  She cooled herself during the climb by taking the cap off and holding it loosely in her hand.  Too loosely, since she sometimes lost focus on what was in her hands because of her cognitive decline, including her walking stick.  I had been able to spot and recapture her dropped items previously.  When we left the hospitality of the Lodge behind, the owner Steve gave Cindy a new cap.

We left the Lodge full packing the next stretch over the Grand Mesa Plateau to Redstone.  Though Cindy lost her focus and stuff at times; though she had yet to regain her natural cheerfulness in the mornings, we were now in our element, our home away from home.  Inspired by our mission regarding kindness and community, our roles as a team resolved, we left the troubles plaguing us behind in the desert and were ready for nine more months of hiking across the country.

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The ADT Journey – Week 13

Posted on September 10, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

Little do we know at times what impact our actions might have on others.  This would have been the case with my Moab Times Independent interview, if not for some serendipitous encounters on this next stretch.  As per my usual intent, the interview focused on the need for kindness and community, not our walk across the country.  As a tourist destination, Moab was ripe for this type of message.

Resort areas typically contain higher levels of homelessness.  You may have heard from your favorite economic interest group, or even an economic course, that “a rising tide lifts all boats.”  In regards to housing costs, rising tides lose out to spending cascades.  With increasing wealth disparity comes increased spending of disposable income by the wealthiest for the most exorbitant houses.  The inflated costs for housing at the top then cascades on down to the most modest homes.

Tourist destinations like Moab are most vulnerable to these spending cascades.  On the one hand they attract wealthy buyers for housing; on the other hand they supply a low-paying service job market for people who cannot afford the elevated housing costs.  My interview drew attention to this problem.

On our first day of leaving our Moab base camp for good I talked to a ranch caretaker who slept in her car.  The day after that, while waiting in the ghost town of Cisco for Ky to come along, three river guides spotted us while driving by with their transportation van and detoured to meet us.  They had read the news story about us and wanted to personally thank us for speaking out about their plight.

A BLM worker we met the day before also spotted us in Cisco earlier and gave us water.  We could have continued hiking at that point, but we would have missed the river guides that came around the same time as Ky.  We also needed to wait for Ky regardless to agree upon a destination for the end of the day.  When we could hike again we encountered 115 degree heat and a sandstorm in the open desert.  This was the first time I ever hiked through a desert sandstorm, in summer no less.  I do not recommend it.

This factored into the decision we made at our first campsite in Colorado to full pack the rest of the way into Grand Junction.  With a support vehicle this was wholly unnecessary, as we would be hiking on roads and going through towns the whole way, but we needed to be on our own at that point for peace of mind and reflection.  We had yet to confront Ky with our concerns, though she had confronted me with hers, but our decision spoke volumes.

Our first town stop was Fruita, where I had set up an interview with the Lions Club president.  While I gave news media interviews to provide information about kindness and community, I also conducted interviews during the journey to gather information.  In the case of the Fruita Lions Club I found out their involvement with the community was in steady decline.  The president felt that after he moved away in the near future the club would fold.  We stayed at a campground in Fruita that night.

We reached a mall in Redlands by lunch time the next day, where we stopped at an outdoor mall.  I caught up on emails first, with one of them coming from a reader of the Moab Times Independent article, thanking me for bringing attention to homelessness.  We then hit a Safeway supermarket for luncheon food, conversing with a grocery clerk on the way out.  He lamented living in a trailer because even a small, modest home was beyond his means.  By the time we were done talking he was almost ready to join us on our hike.

On our way to Fruita we encountered Dave, Marie and teenage son Zephyr, on their Saturday morning ride to the Utah border.  On their way back home they stopped again to give us their phone number, with an invitation to stay with them in Redlands.  Marie returned to us one last time to bring us Cokes from a store that we found out also offered free popcorn.

We also received an invitation from another bicyclist to stay at her home in Redland, but the family invitation came first.  In fact, while at the Redlands mall I received a call from Marie to check on whether we were coming and to make arrangements for picking us up at the mall.  Marie had bicycled across the country and the whole family was “our kind of people,” making for some enjoyable trail magic during our stay.

Our neighbors at the Fruita campground were Dan and Chris, two semi-professional golfers saving costs while playing in a nearby tournament.  Fresh off the sobering news of the Fruita Lions Club decline, I talked about our public mission with them.  We are a society in which volunteerism increases in response to issues of health, hunger and homelessness, but community involvement has decreased to paltry lows.  They encouraged me to give talks at colleges, reaching out to young adults who might change the future of community involvement.

We would see Dan again in Denver, but I took his advice immediately to heart in Grand Junction, where the first thing we did was hike onto the campus of Colorado Mesa University wearing our full packs.  On the way to the Outdoor Program’s office a social work instructor invited us in to speak to her class the next day. The director of the Outdoor Program arranged for us to be the first speaker of the semester for their Wednesday night programs.  These talks would be in addition to the talk previously scheduled for the Grand Junction Lions Club.

Because of that scheduled talk, the Lions Club put us up in a motel for one our nights in Grand Junction.  I chose this time to discuss with Ky her future.  Our delightful and meaningful three day stretch through a populated area reinforced my belief that we did not need support, for either our private or public mission.  Parked in front of our motel I opened with the projection that we would likely run out of funds for Ky by the time we reached the other side of Colorado.

This opened up the floodgates of grievances on both sides, with Ky hearing ours for the first time.  She conceded that she would be willing to stay at least for a while if the funds ran out.  Her concession was good enough for me to consider her as staying, and to problem solve towards that end.

Our blowup with Ky was the lowest moment of the journey, after traveling through the most stressful state for us in the hottest weather.  Yet during the stretch from Moab to Grand Junction our public mission increased in meaning and importance; moving forward from Grand Junction our roles in that mission would fall into place, including Ky’s.  The finances would work themselves out and I started feeling like Ky was “one of us.”  It appeared to me that Ky felt more like one of us as well, though the original “Thelma and Louise” bond she wanted with Cindy was not going to happen.

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The ADT Journey – Week 12

Posted on August 31, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

At our campground in Green River, Utah (melon capital of the country) we were visiting our campsite neighbors when Ky said to them:

“When the money runs out I am gone.”

That declaration came as a surprise, particularly since our neighbors were impressed with our journey and mission (the alleged mission, not the private one for Cindy).  Baking in the desert aside, Ky also enjoyed much of her experiences as a support person, from rides down huge sand mounds on dune buggies to making friends with locals.  She likely meant those words for me, expressing in effect that she did not feel like one of us.

Ky’s declaration provided me relief.  I spent the previous week “crunching the numbers” in my head during sizzling desert walks, concluding that we would indeed run out of money to fund our support.  Fortunately, first two months revealed that Cindy could handle hiking without support, sometimes better than me, while I assumed the role of contacting news media as my own publicist. Under ideal circumstances I would have wanted Ky to stay with us for the duration, ironically as one of us, and was dreading to break the news otherwise.  Now I was off the hook; the fact I felt such concerns and subsequent relief over finances perhaps confirmed Ky’s feeling that I was her employer and not her comrade.

Cindy reacted much differently to Ky’s declaration.  Besides other stressors already mentioned, Cindy resented our hiking regimen in the desert being tailored to meet Ky at a designated time.  Having been on supported journeys in the past, indeed, having been a support person herself, Cindy was accustomed to the support arriving first at a rendezvous point way ahead of time.  Instead, there were a couple times when we waited for Ky.  I understood that past support never had to wait in shadeless desert heat for hikers, but Cindy already felt that Ky was not one of us and the declaration just made that feeling worse.

We left Green River full packing for an overnight stretch on back roads, across shadeless Utah desert, with Barrett and Buster joining us for the first time since Nevada.  We carried the only water we would encounter for four meals, twenty miles of hiking and our camp.  I carried 1 ½ gallons, Cindy a gallon, and Barrett two gallons for him and Buster.  I suspect desert walking with us was tough on the little dog.  Barrett at times carried him around his neck.  Whenever we stopped for a break Buster would lie near me and the shade cast by my imposing external frame pack.  Barrett’s pack had to be heavier, but his was an internal frame.

Barrett was very low on water by the time we broke camp in the morning.  We decided the best strategy was to hike ahead at our own pace, rendezvous with Ky and have her drive back with us on dirt roads to bring Barrett water.  However, we got to the rendezvous point much earlier than we projected.  By the time we were able to reach Barrett he had almost reached the rendezvous point as well.  Fortunately, he was doing OK, perhaps due to his Desert Storm experience?  That would be the last time he hiked with us though.

We spent the next five days slackpacking, visiting National Parks in the area, giving a talk at the Moab Lions Club, doing an interview with the local newspaper, and strategizing how to hike the next stretch.  Gearheads, a local wilderness shop, gave us some free stuff and their own developed product, called Technical Lighting Solutions, to test out. Our hosts from the Lions Club, Dave and Marilyn, were an active couple much like us.  We spent our first enjoyable Moab evening with them before setting up a base camp at a BLM campground by the Colorado River.

Ky’s birthday occurred during our time in Moab.  I treated the visitation of Arches and Canyonlands National Parks as her birthday presents.  Tension filled the air, however.  Perhaps Ky wondered about my disregard of the fuel costs for these excursions, given our cash flow problem.

While in Moab we visited the BLM office with the goal of finding a way back towards the official ADT route.  This required finding places to stash water caches across an area known as the Dolores Triangle, and the means to stash them.  Ky would not be able to go into that desert backcountry with her minivan, but our campground host offered to help us out with his jeep.

Unfortunately, our plan to compensate for hiking across an area with no water was thwarted by too much water.  As we went to place the caches we discovered that a creek barring our way to the Dolores Triangle could not be crossed with a jeep, even in August, because of the large amounts of precipitation that year.  Our dependency on the support vehicle once again dictated our alternate route, which now would be into the Cisco desert, north of the ADT.

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