It snowed a little overnight, but just a dusting. There was time pressure to get to the highway early enough to hitch into Chama; the highway was about 20 miles away, and I figured I had to have my thumb out by four to make it. It'll be tight, but doable, I thought.
The snowy trail yielded to a snowy road, but the consistency was nice and firm, and Infelt like I was walking on granite.
Just a couple miles in, I came upon Lagunitas Canpground, which was surrounded by the little tarns that give it it's name. I checked it out, just kind of wandering around the deserted, frozen facility. I stood on the frozen shore of a lake and watched a beaver do it's thing until it spied me. Then I climbed up onto a bluff overlooking that lake and moved on to the northwest.
The snow coverage got more and more complete. I climbed up onto the ridgetop and picked my way through tan rocks and bunchgrass, soaking in all that high-altitude sun. Pretty soon I passed the Brazos Overlook, the turnoff for my hike going forward. When I got back on the NNML after Chama, this is where I'd pick up my trail and leave the CDT behind.
The CDT continued on to Cumbres Pass, but took a different route down, preferring to follow the main Forest Service road. (It was at least easy to follow.)
I was really feeling my "snow legs" now, boot-skiing down snowy slopes and hopping up them. The road cut down to Apache Canyon, where I passed the ruins of another ranger station. It was barely 3 pm when I stepped out onto the highway.
I waited. No cars. Waited some more. One car, which didn't stop. A lumber truck. A giant pickup. I looked at my watch and figured that about one car was coming by every ten minutes. An hour and a half passed with me alternately staring up at the surrounding ridge tops and smiling at approaching vehicles, and finally a nice guy in a modified 4x4 Lexus pulled over.
He's been on an overland tour of New Mexico, he explained. We traded tales about this pass or that, this range or that, the importance of locking differentials. He dropped me at a hotel in Chama, right across the street from the historic narrow-gauge railroad I was hoping to take back up to the trail (it drops me very close to the Brazos Overlook).
I was checked in and sitting at dinner when something began to scratch atvyebcorber of my mind. There was something about my hike today that bugged me. I got out my phone and checked.
Yup, Lagunitas Campground was where that hiker had died.
In November of 2015, a seasoned triple-crown hiker named Otter disappeared after heading south along the CDT from Chama. He was found dead the following year in the privy at Lagunitas campground, having hiked up there for the winter. He got stuck in the snow and couldn't make his way down the first service road to the highway, even after trying to make skis out of corrugated tin roofing.
I take risks. I'll admit it. I don't take stupid risks, but there is some element of risk in this activity. It is an essential component of adventure, and reawakens me to the fact that life is not just dangerous but inevitably fatal, to all of us. But being there where Otter died, remembering the banality of that privy that became his tomb... it gives one pause.
This past year, Lily gave me a Spot for Christmas. It's a little satellite distress beacon that will send the cavalry coming if I press the panic button. I had mixed feelings about it, but after walking through Lagunitas, I have to say I am grateful to carry it, and grateful to her for making me.
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