Home

As I climbed up into the mountains east of Montrose the weather cooled. I walked through a few quick showers in the late afternoon and evening, and felt good to keep walking as the stars came back out from behind the clouds. Around midnight I stopped to heat up some soup by the road and eat some poptarts. I put on long pants for the first time in a month (not including laundromats, when my shorts are in the wash) and drank the warm broth, and packed up, and started walking again.
I didn't stop for another four hours. Walked steadily through the dark hills, down the little canyons, and back up. Made it to the base end of Blue Mesa and slept on the bluff, just a little off the road.
In the morning I got up fairly early and made it to the visitor center by noon. Filled up my water bottles and walked on. In Gunnison I ate dinner and found a place to sleep behind the courthouse, then laid out a little frisbee golf course.
Hole 1: to a bench on the far end of the courthouse lawn, par 4
Hole 2: to a handicapped parking sign across the street, par 2
Hole 3: back across the street to a tree by a building opposite of the courthouse, par 3
Hole 4: all the way down the courthouse to the flagpole, par 3
Hole 5: back to the bench where my pack was laid out, par 2
I probably played twenty rounds. Had to get to three under par before I could stop. And then slept.
The next day I stayed in Gunnison for a while. Hung out at the library, and then walked down the street to the community center, where I watched a movie. No Direction Home, the Bob Dylan documentary, and it was four hours long, so I didn't get out of Gunnison until fairly late. As I was leaving I called a friend of mine, Tim Fleming from Canon City. He had planned, for a while, to try and walk with me at some point, and so we arranged a spot to meet in the morning.
I made it twelve miles out of Gunnison, to Parlin, before stopping outside the post office to sleep, and then walked another five before Tim pulled over and hopped out. One of his friends had driven him up, so he wouldn't have to leave his car somewhere.
By six or seven we had walked to Sargents, and had some dinner at the little cafe, and played a few games of pool before heading back out.
As we started to climb Monarch pass the clouds blew in around us and it started raining. We threw on ponchos, and made it six miles out of Sargents before stopping for the night. The rain let up and we camped in a pull-out four miles from the top of the pass.
In the morning we didn't start until ten, when the sun finally hit my sleeping bag and brought me out of my slumber. By the time we made the summit we were covered in sweat, though the clouds blew over as we ate ice cream, and it rained a little before we headed out again.
At five, three miles down from the town of Monarch, Tim's dad pulled over and picked him up to take him back to Canon. He's in a summer long melodrama at the Annex, and had to be back by evening. So we said our goodbyes, and I started off on my own again.
By eight, in Poncha Springs, the sun was falling away, and I stopped to rest briefly before making the last stretch into Salida.
At ten I stumbled into the apartment complex where both my aunt and great aunt live, and both were waiting to greet me.
In the morning my dad got a ride into town with a neighbor, and he and I started walking downriver. In Howard we met my mom at her vet clinic, and the three of us walked, in the heat of the afternoon, the last four miles to Home.
At the newspaper box I broke down. Stared down the driveway at the house, wrung with summer green. The elm trees blowing. For a long time, now, I've been walking with this sight in mind. Walking with the notion of being back to Coaldale.
I'm taking some time off. One of my best friends is getting married August eighth, and so I'll be here at least until then, resting up.
1600 miles. Eleven weeks. I'm not even half way. But I feel like I've already completed something.