Basically, while in Lake City, we mowed down every calorie that had the misfortune of crossing our paths. This we did not do just to keep our jaws limbered up. In 15 trail days, I have dropped 20 pounds, and Gary has dropped almost as much. Our heretofore snug-fitting garments are now hanging loose upon our emaciated carcasses. We could pass for Bataan Death March survivors, except that our clothes are too dirty and tattered.
Food dominates a high percentage of our thoughts.
It took a long, slow hour to top out on Snow Mesa, which is one of the most splendid parts of the state. This is my third time up here, and, every time, I have regretted the fact that I forgot my polo and croquet gear. Snow Mesa is almost 30 square miles of very lush, grassy tundra. By the standards of this neck of the woods, it is flat as a tabletop, and the views from its expanse are astounding in every direction. To the west, we saw the rugged, often storm-ridden section of the Divide where lies Coney Summit at 13,334 feet, the highest point along the Colorado Trail and the bright crimson expanse of Red Mountain, the side of which looks like a mammoth wound on the ridge.