Slept good at 10000 ft at the Lagunitas campground. That place seemed haunted or something, being the only person there definitely helped liven the senses. What started it was walking to one of the outhouses, and to my surprise, the door to it flew open with a loud creek and stayed open. I actually asked "Hello?", but with no reply. It was just the wind, go figure.

Just after the campground looked to be a difficult section, if it were wet out. The muddy sloped trail was littered with footprints slipping down and with what looked to be body prints catching their fall. Glad I came through in the morning instead of yesterday afternoon. It was funny to see perfectly placed Elk prints along side these clumsy sliding human prints. The Elk looked to follow much of the trail all day really.

I ran into Dr. Bug & Stud around lunch, first hikers I've seen in 2 days. We all were ready to get out of New Mexico. We hoped that there wasn't going to be any cows to poop in he water in Colorado. The border was only about 6 miles from there and only one more climb and decent, which was all snow covered and practically trail-less. We hiked together for the first part, but I eventually moved on ahead dragging my trekking pole in the snow in hopes to help the others navigate through the firm snow and trees. I quickly learned to not step close to downed trees because there tends to be pockets of air beneath them making it easy for your foot to sink into and scrape the shit out of your shin. The decent down the other side was fun, it was skiing downhill on your feet nearly the whole way. The Colorado border wasn't anything special, just some sticks that spelled out "CO". I just wanted to get to Chama before hitching became too difficult.

Once down to Cumbress Pass where the highway to Chama was I began walking up the road to start sticking my big thumb out. I came a guy walking the train tracks parallel to the road in the opposite direction. Luckily he lived in Chama and had a truck about 3 miles down the road to give me a ride in. We agreed that if by the time he walked the tracks all the way down to his truck and if I wasn't there, to assume that I had already gotten a ride while walking the highway. His name was Dylan and he actually worked for the railroad company in town doing the graveyard shift maintaining the steam engines that ran up to Cumbress Pass and beyond. Once in town I grabbed some munchies from the grocery and crashed at the Y Motel across the street.