Even though it had a name, it honestly couldn’t be called a town. Platoro, Colorado was really just a collection of empty cabins waiting for tourist season. Britta and I shuffled through disappointedly. We had taken an alternate route to avoid the dangerously high snows still blanketing the San Juan Mountains, and after almost two days of walking along a steep, winding highway and a gravel Forest Service road, the alternate was headed briefly up close to the official trail, which meant we were in for snow and slower hiking.

We’d also received warning that the streams for the next twenty-odd miles were contaminated with arsenic, and so we’d been hoping to pick up some drinks in Platoro to help hold us over to the next town. Between the giant lodge and the empty cabins stood a small building advertising a cafe, groceries, and firewood. The ‘OPEN’ sign hung dark in the window, half hidden by curtains. In the driveway outside, an older man looked up and called out to us in greeting.

“Do you know if it’s open?” I asked him, after we’d exchanged pleasantries.

The man frowned. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly.

Britta and I headed on. We’d only walked a few hundred yards when the roar of a giant tractor sounded behind us. Seated on the tractor was a man, frantically waving.

“Is he waving at us?” I said to Britta.

“I think so?” she replied.

The tractor pulled up to us. “You’re looking for food and groceries?” the man asked, then continued without waiting for a response. “You just passed my store. The Gold Pan. On the corner. I’m the owner. Are you hiking the CDT?”

We could only nod at the energetic man who’d chased us down with his tractor.

“Five came through here just yesterday. Three hikers, two bikers. If you need food, my store’s open. Well, it’s not actually open yet. But it’s open for you!”

“Wonderful,” I managed. We followed the tractor back to the store, which the owner unlocked for us. While we picked out some snacks and Gatorade, we chatted with the owner and his wife about the trail, places to stay in the next town, and all the snow in the San Juans. Then the owner disappeared into the back and returned with two tangerines. “For you.”

We thanked him profusely. “Fresh fruit is the absolute best on the trail,” Britta said.

“Do you need any water bottles filled up?” he queried as his wife rang up our purchases. “We have good water. And there isn’t any between here and the next town.”

Both Britta and I let the generous man top off our water bladders. Just as we were heading out, he stuffed two bananas into our hands, sounding almost apologetic that they had some brown spots. “But they’re still good,” he assured us.

Once again, we stammered our thanks at their above-and-beyond generosity before leaving with full water and delicious food. Over the next three days we hiked into the snow for one cold night before going down, down in elevation to the town of Del Norte.

After spending a fabulous zero day at an RV park located right on the Rio Grande, we’re set to hit the trail again tomorrow morning. Can’t wait to see more of Colorado!