Days 11-14, Cathedral to Durango

Cathedral Cabins was a fantastic spot, but I didn’t sleep nearly as well as I hoped. I knew we were going to be entering the highest and most challenging sections of the route and would have loved to have been better rested. Instead, I had a restless night and was feeling very lethargic when we left. Our goal was to make it over the high point to a camp spot by an alpine lake not far beyond. We would be mostly going uphill.

The day began with a 30 km dirt road climb to the delightfully named Slumgullion Pass that started through a scenic canyon, but was mostly the type of slog you just want to finish. The highlight was seeing a very large moose in the bushes next to the road. That was followed by a short stretch of highway up then down then up again to Spring Creek Pass. Here, we ended the La Garita Wilderness Detour and rejoined the Colorado Trail as it entered the San Juan Mountains. This was a milestone–the last range we’d enter and the most scenic. I was looking forward to this stretch from the start.

The first stretch of trail was along a rough section of double-track. Water was starting to be an issue, but we were confident we could find some. We looked for a source on the map, but couldn’t find it. Dru and I pushed on while Russ kept searching; he eventually struck liquid, but not until we were too far away to hear his calls.

The double-track gave way to a flat, broad meadow with expansive views. Rather than be a easy cruise, we instead had to navigate a dense minefield of wheel-stopping rocks. I alternated between pushing and pedalling, but mostly found pushing easier. Russ broke a spoke, his third of the trip, and did some MacGyvering to turn two half-spokes into one so he could continue to limp along to Silverton.

As we crawled higher, the wind picked up. We crossed a broad meadow between tree bands and reached a creek. It was only 4 p.m. and we were faced with a choice. We could either stop early and enjoy a sheltered campsite with accessible water, or we could keep going and hope for the best. At this point we were 60km from Silverton, a distance we felt we could make in a day, so we called it early rather than risk pushing on. We set up camp at the edge of the meadow as a number of hikers came trudging past. At 3,600m, it would be our highest and coldest campsite of the trip. After some struggle, we managed to get a fire going to help us keep warm. I then went for a wander to the top of the ridge to enjoy the peaceful sunset and basked in the alpenglow while taking photos.

The temperature that night dropped to -10C. Russ and I were huddled in our tent and I stayed warm with most of my clothes on. Poor Dru was exposed under his tarp, and kept the fire going to not freeze. I don’t think he slept well.

I woke up at first light. Three days to go, and three of our hardest to boot. Today, we would cross the high point, then resupply in Silverton. With some effort, we could make it to Molas Pass and the start of the final 125km stretch of singletrack to Durango.

I decided to get moving before Russ and Dru were ready in order to warm up. I made my way up the first climb before finding a nice spot in the sun at ridgetop to wait for Russ and Dru. It was a glorious morning, with endless blue skies contrasting the colourful hues of the fall landscape. The views were incredible, with endless folds of the San Juans stretching out. The trail wound its way along the ridge ahead of us.

We were entering the most challenging stretch of the trail. Oxygen was in short supply and we were faced with multiple sections of steep hike-a-bike. I led the way up the first hike-a-bike, then relaxed as Dru took the lead. He powered past the highpoint of the CT, missing the selfie with Russ and I. We descended down an old mining track to a pass, where we were met by a group of ATVers, and took our first real break.

At this point, I hit a wall. I watched Dru and Russ pedal ahead up the next climb and couldn’t do anything to keep up. I felt lightheaded and weak and had to stop to take numerous breaks. I leapfrogged with a hiker, passing him when I could pedal, and getting passed when I pushed or stopped for a rest. It was either the elevation or the cumulative fatigue, but I was spent. It took all my energy to make it to the top of the 300m climb. And I knew there would be more of this before we reached the final downhill to Silverton.

When we regrouped, I knew there was two options. I could either follow the highline, which was shorter but involved more climbing, or descend down into a valley, then climb back out, a longer route with less elevation. By this point, it had taken hours to go only 20km and I was worried about getting to Silverton. I decided to take the low route, while Dru and Russ stayed on the high line. We would keep our InReaches on in case something went wrong.

I enjoyed a nice long descent through a colourful valley. The trail flowed in spots, but was rutted out by dirt bikes in other sections. It too a little longer to get down than expected, but eventually I was at the junction of two valleys and picked up the trail for the climb back out. I can’t overstate how beautiful this section was, but it was also extremely hard. The 500m climb back to the ridge took ages. I stopped frequently to catch my breath, admire the golden scenery, and take photos.

I was worried Russ and Dru had been waiting for ages and seriously wondered about my ability to finish the trail. I knew my brother was a short drive away in Durango and I could easily call for help. The sun was close to setting when I regained the main trail, and I still had two short climbs left before Stony Pass and the descent to Silverton. Exhausted, I soldiered on through darkening alpine meadows and across steep scree slopes. I completed the singletrack, but still had a short section of dirt road to reach the pass. I pushed hard, hoping to catch up to my friends before we lost the sun behind the mountains.

When I finally reached the pass, Russ and Dru weren’t there. How could that be? I felt so slow, I couldn’t imagine them being behind me, but there’s no way they would have descended without me. I sent an InReach message to Russ, then walked back along the road to try to intercept them. I climbed to a high point, where I finally saw them exit the trail onto the road.

I have to say, beating them to the pass was rejuvenating and boosted my spirits. The whole day, I felt like I was holding them back, so knowing that wasn’t the case was a relief. Yes, I did take an easier route, but at least I did it faster. I was now resolved to make it to the end. Being the tortoise paid off.

Of course, we still had to make it to Silverton. We descended down a very rough dirt road, chasing the light into the valley. We pulled into town as it got dark and found our way into a brewery that served pizza. We called around for a hotel, but found nothing. We pedalled across the river looking for a spot to wild camp. Russ and I found a suitable place for our tent, but it didn’t work for Dru’s hammock. Instead, he opted for the last hostel bed in town.

Day 13. Two days left. I can do this.

We were in no rush to leave Silverton this morning since Russ was hoping to fix his broken spokes and the bike shop didn’t open until 10. We bummed around at the cafe, then went grocery shopping before heading to the bike shop. Much to our regret, we discovered it was closed for the weekend. If only we would have checked earlier. This cost us about an hour, and Russ would have to continue riding with a missing spoke.

The climb out of Silverton on the highway was very unpleasant and I turned off to Molas Pass on a dirt road rather than climb the final kilometre to the singletrack. From here, we had almost 125 km of alpine singletrack to the end. Barring disaster, we would make it within our two week deadline, but it wouldn’t be easy. One more night to go, but I had just enough food for two, if necessary.

The best part–the trail was incredible. It was mellow, eminently rideable, and extraordinarily beautiful. The 20km climb to Rolling Mountain Pass was blissful compared to the struggle of the previous day. From the high point at over 3,700m, we enjoyed a glorious downhill into a narrow valley, which was followed by a pleasant climbed back out. The next stretch alternated between singletrack and old sections of road.

It was nice to spend a lot of time in the saddle, but our late start meant we eventually found ourselves pushing the light. We were still a long way from the end and had to make the call on when to set up camp. I was pretty exhausted at this point and proposed stopping early, then getting a very early start in the morning. Dru said we should at least get across Blackhawk Pass, which would mean riding in the dark.

I lost out, and it was the right call to keep going. We rode along the ridge as the sun set, then pushed up to Blackhawk Pass in the fading light. Fortunately, I got a second wind for the climb, but it was dark by the time we made it to the top. We attached our headlights and began the descent. I wish we could have ridden this in the light, but it was a very cool and exciting way to finish the day. Luckily, I had the brightest light of the three of us.

Along the way, we kept our eyes peeled for potential campsites. The first once was occupied, so we kept going. Options looked slim as we descended along the hillside. I eventually spotted a location that looked acceptable. There was barely enough space for my tent, but Dru was comfortable in his hammock in the trees. It would be our final night on the trail.

Day 14. 69 km to the finish line.

I felt rejuvenated on our final morning despite a mediocre sleep. The motivation of the finish line was enough to have me moving briskly and we left camp relatively early. Of course, we still had 69 km and almost 1,600m of climbing to go. This would not be a casual stroll to the finish line.

The excitement that started the day soon faded as we began tackling the 30 km climb to the final high point. The CT would not give up easily and we seemingly took one step down for every two steps up. My brother had arranged a shuttle up from Durango and he was planning to meet us along the trail for the final stretch. We charged ahead to find him, only to encounter one obstacle after another in our way. However, the views were as stunning as the trail was challenging, with the colourful La Plata Range urging us southwards.

My brother popped into view as we began the first of three successive hike-a-bikes before the last high point, but he was already on his way back to Kennebec Pass. Each one was a bigger kick in the ass in the last–steep, rocky, and challenging on the downs. Finally, we reached the final summit. The descent off this minor peak was stunning, but the trail was gnarly and I had to carry my bike down. Rounding the bend, the view of Anderson Lakes from above was magical. The rich blue lakes sparkled amidst the rustic-hued meadows. How I would love to camp here, but alas, we had a trail to finish.

We finally met up with my brother at the Pass, which is accesible by road, and quickly embarked on the descent to Durango. We still had 40 km to go and it was already past mid-afternoon. It was mostly downhill, but there was still one 400 m climb to go.

The downhill started across a steep scree slope, then entered the forest. The trail was wonderful. It was never steep, always fast, and just technical enough to keep things honest and fun. It went on and on and on. I’ve ridden my fair share of long descents in B.C., but nothing like this. Russ and Dru sped ahead while I stayed back with my brother, though at times I couldn’t help but lay off the brakes and let the wheels fly. I was worried about crashing, but also having too much fun. I’m not sure where my energy came from, but somehow, I felt completely in control. I had to remind myself to take it easy.

Of course, the Colorado Trail does not relent, and we had one more 350m climb to go. It was the final crux and we were all beginning to run on fumes, motivated by the thought of burgers and beers, and knowing we wouldn’t have to do this again tomorrow. The ultimate descent was also a blast, with endless small drops to pop off. I couldn’t believe how long the trail kept going. With darkness approaching, we had little time to rest. Just as it was time to put on our headlamps, we reached the end. Since we were in a rush, I only took one picture on the final downhill–this group selfie from the top of the last climb:

We exited into a parking lot and I was emotional. Not quite in tears, but definitely feeling pretty proud I had pushed myself to the end. I have done hard rides before, but the presence of a deadline gave this one an extra bit of urgency. There was a few times I felt like giving up. There was several mornings I wondered if I would make it through the day. I know my body is capable of big efforts, but the mental challenge was something else. I had to overcome the part of my brain that kept telling me to take the easy way out.

After some celebratory photos and a chat with a guy in the parking lot, we rode into town to Carver Brewing, where we enjoyed a massive meal and celebratory Colorado Trail Ale!

Epilogue

It took me a while to recover after the ride. I spent the next two days driving to Tahoe with my brother, then settled back into work. My brother was really keen to show me his local trails, but I had very little motivation to ride during those two weeks. Still, I forced myself out for a few spins, mainly to satisfy my brother. We rode the legendary Downieville Classic together, but it was pretty underwhelming after the CT.

I did get some of my zeal back towards the end of my stay in Tahoe. I drove north to Bend for an avalanche conference and enjoyed some rides along the way. When I got back to Revelstoke, five weeks after leaving home, I was keen to put the bike away for the season. But winter came late, so eventually I pulled it back out of the shed so I could get some exercise.

Reflecting back over a year later, I still rate it as one of the hardest yet most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I had to learn to become a better teammate and adjust my own expectations to those of my friends. I had to force myself through some mental barriers. It’s amazing how the mind wants to trick you into taking the easy way out, and I really had to overcome those urges. I’m not sure I would have without Russ and Dru there to urge me on when I was at my lowest.

Would I do it again? It’s hard to say. The riding and scenery was incredible, and both exceeded my expectations. I wouldn’t hesitate to ride from Silverton to Durango again if I was in the area. Sometimes I think about entering the Colorado Trail Race and I wonder how much faster I could ride it. At other times, I’d love to go back and do it again, but without any time pressures. Just ride when I want and enjoy the scenery without a worry in the world.