Last night the air smelled like snow. I'm not saying that means anything - I suppose it's just cold-smell and I associate it with snow. I'm certainly not taking it to mean that snow is coming... All the same, the sensory impact of it was so strong I could almost hear it crunching underfoot. This is definitely going to be a change from the consistent 100 degree days in Kansas. I was up and out before the sun, and my fingers went numb on the descent from town.
I probably dawdled a bit too much, gawping at the mountains, dawdling in Canon City. The sun went down as I was closing the distance to Guffey. The moon was bright enough to read a map by, and I passed by several small herds of mule deer. The temperature dropped with the sun. Eventually, low on water, cold, and pulling a flat trailer-tire, I got into Guffey. The town was closed down for the night, but a man driving by stopped to ask if I was alright. He'd seen Michelle and Ryan leave quite a while earlier, and warned me that it might be hard to find the Current Creek Hostel in the dark. He offered to let me sleep up in his loft. I really wanted to get to the hostel, but I've learned not to pass up opportunities in favour of possibilities.
The aforementioned loft turned out to be a pretty sweet upper level in Steve's cabin. He's right on the edge of town, a log place wedged back into the pines. He has pictures on his walls of bears on his deck. I made a big bowl of pasta and we watched Return of the Jedi.