Day 87, Galena Mountain to Dayton Gulch

There was a little trail left to finish this morning of the climb I started yesterday. We camped last night near the top of the shoulder of Galena Mountain. As I crested the top, I could see the Sawatch Range. Fifteen 14ers stretched along this range, though from here I couldn't see all of them.

In the middle of the mountains ahead of me was Mt. Massive, the second-highest in the Rockies. It is so huge it includes five summits above 14,000 feet.

To my left and barely in view from where I stood on Galena was Mt. Elbert, the highest mountain in the Rockies. Only Mt. Whitney in California is taller among mountains in the continental U.S.

Leaving Galena Mountain, the trail made a steep descent, dropping nearly 1,400 feet in the next two miles. Most of the route was shaded by trees, but they didn't help much in keeping me cool. The temperature was warming quickly.

The trail left Holy Cross Wilderness near the bottom of the descent, then crossed footbridges over two streams. They flowed into a man-made reservoir called Turquoise Lake. A road also intersected the trail at the bottom.

When I had a chance to turn and look behind me through an opening in the trees, I saw Galena Mountain. This was a good view of the shoulder where we camped last night.

The next 1.5 miles of the trail remained at around 11,000 feet. The Arkansas River Valley came into view near the end of that stretch. It is the sixth-longest river in the U.S. and a major tributary of the Mississippi River.

I saw something late in the morning I had never seen on a trail before. It was an unusual marker on a tree. Instead of a logo or words, this marker displayed the image of a traditional trail blaze. It looked like those that are carved in trees with an ax. That practice has lost favor in recent years, so maybe this marker was a way to duplicate the blaze without cutting an invasive notch in the bark.

When I stopped at a stream for a short break, I met a hiker having difficulty with her water filter. It was clogged, and she was becoming frustrated because she couldn't filter what she needed. I made a couple of suggestions and then realized I might have a better solution for her problem.

I showed her how to point the nozzle of a water bottle at the nozzle of her filter, then force water through to backflush the filter. After a couple of attempts, water began to flow better through the filter. I also suggested shaking the filter and hitting it on a hand or hard surface to break up dirt clogged in it.

In the late afternoon, I talked to a woman who told me she planned to start a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail in three days. She was out for a short warm-up hike before traveling to California.

The two women I met were the only hikers I saw on the trail all day. I didn't catch up to Top O' after leaving our campsite this morning, but I saw OT at 5:30 p.m. We knew Top O' would stop when he was ready, and we would just keep walking until we saw where he stopped.

I was unable to keep pace with OT. My energy was still lagging a little, and that resulted in a hiking mistake. If I had been following OT more closely or had more energy, I wouldn't have missed where the trail made a turn. Instead of turning to follow the CDT and CT, I walked straight ahead on a trail that went past a series of ponds.

At first, this looked like a legitimate trail. There was no reason to think I wasn't on the correct route. The trail gradually changed, becoming a little overgrown before turning to a forest road. Along the way, it passed a large beaver pond.

I walked for about a half-mile before a sickening feeling came over me. It was a sixth sense telling me this was not the right way. A quick check of my Guthook app confirmed the hunch. Now close to 6 p.m., I decided I needed to hike faster to make up for the lost time.

When I got back to the trail, I found a large sign. It was so large I couldn't believe I failed to see it, even if it wasn't facing me when I took the wrong turn. There wasn't an equivalent sign for southbound hikers. I should have noticed it but somehow simply walked right past it.

The trail the rest of the way wasn't difficult, mostly downhill. I didn't want to stop, not even to collect water, but I did stop for a moment when I saw again the woman with a clogged filter. She was delighted when she told me it was working well now.

On the way down the trail, I passed a few gaps in trees with glimpses of two lakes, collectively known as Twin Lakes. A small village was also down there. That is where we will be going tomorrow.

I found a message left for me at the junction of the Twin Lakes Village Trail. My name was written in the dirt with an arrow pointing in the direction to turn. Top O' and OT were set up only one-tenth of a mile farther, and I arrived there shortly after 6:30 p.m.

I was almost out of water, and our campsite was high on a dry ridge above Dayton Gulch. Getting to the stream in the gulch might have been possible, but my friends said they had plenty of water to share. They gave me what I needed for tonight and the morning.

A light rain fell when I began setting up my tent, then quit about a minute later.

Despite my "bonus mile" when I took a wrong turn, this had been a good day. We walked more than 20 miles, and that was the farthest we've gone in a day since we walked into Grand Lake two weeks ago.

Today was also a rewarding day. I was happy for the chance to help another hiker and make her hike better. The effort wasn't a lot, but it was another way to pay back for all that I have received. I know how much a little help like that can matter.