Thursday, July 30, 2009

A week later...

It didn't take me long at all to readjust to life back home. I have been so busy with the garden, reading books for review for Amazon (a hobby I truly enjoy: the more books I review, the more free books I get, in subjects that actually interest me) and getting ready for the upcoming academic year that I don't have time to miss the beauty of the Inter-mountain Range.

Sadie, however, seems to be suffering a little. She no longer is the center of attention and has been whining, barking and acting more restless than usual.

And Sara probably would rather not have to deal with Sadie at all. She is her usual cantankerous self: always snipping at Sadie and watching her every move. Sammy, on the other hand, enjoys playing with Sadie, chasing her around the backyard. Sadie likes that, too.

But keeping all three dogs happy all the time takes a lot of energy. Although I've walked all three dogs at once several times (Surely to the amusement of the neighborhood as I, the "Dog Lady" powerwalk past barking dogs and elderly residents who never keep their yappity dogs under control) Sadie tends to pull more on her leash and annoys the other two dogs. Alone on the leash she is good, watching me, strolling along in her typical German shepherd saunter, occasionally grabbing the leash as if wanting to chew it off her, but obediently walking along my side as if we were back in Bozeman.

I've decided to take turns walking the dogs separately. Last night I took the two old dogs out for their two-mile walk around the neighborhood, after Kevin and I stood outside in the backyard waiting for the Space Shuttle Endeavor to soar overhead, as forecasted, at 7:36pm, in a Northwest-to-Southeast trajectory as it sunk over the darkening skies of northern Sonora. It was a dark walk but the waxing halfmoon gave me enough light to see.

This morning I took Sadie around the first loop at 6:30am, but she was clearly already suffering in the 79F heat. The walk was barely a mile long. Both she and Sammy are profuse shedders, as fur around their shanks fall off in thick clumps. ("Chemo dogs" says Kevin.) The water bucket in the backyard is frequented by all three dogs quite often, with secretive visits by birds when no one is around to bother them.

I want all my animals to have happy, healthy lives. In the late evening, when I am most likely reclining on the couch and reading the latest book to review, all three dogs are normally around me, in a circle as if on sentry, watching my every move and hoping for cue words like "OK!" or "Let's go!" or "Are you ready?!" or the most emotive, "Wanna go for a walk?" The last one tends to get even the mellow Sammy in an ecstatic frenzy. The near triple-digit heat has all three dogs panting profusely and little life is observable in any of them during the peak of the day.

I may take all three dogs up into the mountains tomorrow to scout out a trail. The monsoonal rains have been infrequent this summer, clearly also stressing the garden vegetables. Lights over Naco are intriguing but with the increase, it seems, in drug and human smuggling around these borderlands, exploring these mountains alone no longer excites me.

But do I want to leave this area for a new region to call home? Kevin is clearly happy here, and is looking forward to his promotion this fall at work, a promotion he has earned through hard, dedicated work. I can not deny him that. He has a good job, close friends, and a routine he is fond of. It is I who is the proverbial restless one.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Upcoming roadtrips

I am still behind on downloading photos for this blog. I spent most of the weekend with Kevin in the garden: harvesting crops, planting new seeds and pulling out the dead stuff. Garden chores just never end.

I never drove anywhere. I stayed homebound and loved it.

But there is no doubt that we both want to visit Montana together. I still have daily visions of driving those high mountain dirt roads around southwestern Montana, and catch myself in vivid day dreams of those cool, refreshing hikes high above humanity where both Sadie and I pranced in glee. Now, in these near triple-digit temperatures, walking the dogs is a hot, sweaty chore.

"How about a winter road trip?" Kevin asked. Being a former Bostonian, he likes the cold winds and snow.
"It can get to -40F below in Montana!!!" I replied right back. But what better way to see a potential second home than by seeing it in its absolute worst. That would be like visiting Tucson in July.

So, perhaps that is our Christmas trip. Two weeks up into Montana, which means two days of driving non-stop just to get to Bozeman or Billings. Someone could watch the dogs or we take them with us...but camping would be out of the question. I'm not fond of pitching a tent on ice.

Idaho and Wyoming are other possibilities.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

The road trip of a lifetime

I have now been back for two days and am still living the road. What a great trip it turned out to be! I did it at a great time when gasoline prices were low. I left in mid-May when gas here cost $1.99 and the highest price I paid in the two months was $2.99 in the Chicagoland area and averaged around $2.60 across the states. Gasoline here is only $2.41 in town now. If I had done this trip last year I would have easily spent $2K more just for gasoline.

The best part of this trip, besides seeing Montana, was living the history. To drive along the Missouri River in Iowa and South Dakota, to see the Three Forks of the Missouri in Montana and to stop at marked sites where Lewis and Clark camped out, gave me a better view and feel of what the Corps of Discovery endured back in 1804-1806. Taking with Lakota people, walking Native American trails and seeing Ancient American dwellings and petroglyphs was another goal of mine. I did that, too. And to experience the "Wild" of the northern Rockies was of course the highlight of this entire trip. America truly is a beautiful country.

Roadtripping, I've discovered, is fun and easy in the Western States because of the many public lands. I spent less than $200 on lodging in the two months, prefering free "primitive" campsites in the National Forests. The National Forests have great campsites for those who already have water with them and who don't need hook-ups. The National Parks Service's campgrounds, in comparison, are crowded, loud, overpriced and often disappointing. Sadie loved the cascading waters from creeks we'd camp near. Having water available is quite an asset in the West.

I want to do this trip again, with Kevin, and experience Montana, Idaho, Wyoming again. He would love to see the Big Horn National Forest, the Gallatin National Forest, and the Bitterroots along the MT-ID border. Like me, he's no fan of the crowded resort parks managed by the National Park Service, where overweight Americans, rude foreign tourists (who I've seen purposely ignore "Do Not Cross" signs the park would post in areas of landslides or restoration projects) and overpriced goods are sold to masses of people in every corner.

Other road trips I would love to do would be to drive up Highway 1 along the Pacific Coast, driving the Great River Road from northern Minnesota to New Orleans and stopping in Mississippi River towns along the way. A trip back to the Northeast would also be wonderful, or traversing the coastline of Florida--in the winter!--would also be appealing. Americans are wonderful people everywhere. I can honestly say that the American hospitality I experienced on my roadtrip, from Illinois, Iowa and South Dakota to Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah (outside of Park City) and New Mexico was a godsend. Nowhere (outside of Park City, of course!) did I experience any rude people. I got a great taste of the American Spirit on this road trip.

But despite all the miles and memories, it feels good just to stay home and work on the garden now. I certainly have my work cut out for me before school starts! The monsoonal rains were late this year, but we got a good rainfall yesterday which will make weed-pulling easier this morning. Kevin took great efforts in the garden while I was gone and we are getting a bumper crop of large green peppers, potatoes and turnips and beets. Last night he made a savory stew with our home-grown turnips. Even my strawberries and blueberries are ripe. Those Quinalt strawberries are ideal for Arizona as they are huge and do well in the morning sun/afternoon shade.

Sadie and I bonded over the trip and she never leaves my sight, but she does fear Sara who pushes her out of the way. Yesterday Sadie hid in Kevin's closet until I called her out for a "Ride into town" to register for classes; the other two dogs insisted on going along so I ended up taking all three dogs into town for an hour. The van's still not completely cleaned out so it was a mess in the end...but they had fun.

An early-evening walk yesterday proved disastrous. My three-mile walk was aborted at the second mile because the dogs were pulling too hard. I was being led "for a drag" rather than going on a walk. I had no fun. The dogs' body weight is too much for me. Nonetheless it was nice to see the neighborhood, wave at the familiar faces and see new ones. Some of the homes that were on sale in May have sold, others are now on the market.

Would I do this road trip again? Ideally, I would NOT have driven to Indiana and then up to South Dakota, but I needed to see Baby Ethan and the kids. I spent most of my reserve money there in Indiana taking care of the kids' needs; had I stayed out West I would have saved $2K but then not have seen the new baby, or seen all my friends there who truly made the trip enjoyable.

I want to do big road trips every summer but stay in one region (like the Pacific Northwest) and stay in one town for several days before moving on...avoiding driving long distances on hot days; 120 miles is the most I prefer driving in one day.The van did fine, too. But I think next time I will want to get a roof-top luggage carrier to prevent the clutter in the van that gets worse with dogs in the back sifting things around. I will shop around for a good one.

The shower bags I brought along worked GREAT for those private camp showers. I was able to stay clean and refreshed throughout the heat of summer, after dirty hikes, etc. And I brought enough clothes to last two weeks between washings. Maybe I brought along TOO much clothes as the bags were taking up space.

I ate a lot of Swiss cheese/flour tortillas along the way, mostly eating just one big meal a day. Toward the end, though I craved high protein foods like burgers and fries, the higher and longer I'd hike up the peaks. If I never see cheese and tortillas for the rest of the year, I'd be happy!

I did enjoy the many great breweries in Montana and the people I'd meet in the "taprooms." Drinking beer there, where hops, barley and wheat are grown locally, is an experience. The beers there are made with all-natural ingredients and make the cheap national brands like Budweiser, Coors, Miller or Michelob taste like rice or corn extract. I probably spent more money on beer than on food!

I never had to use my pistol or stun gun, although the lose dogs that would chase after Sadie gave me fleeting regrets that I didn't carry my stun gun with me, just to pull the trigger to scare off the hounds. Dogs do not like the sound of that zapper, and it's the sound alone that would scare them off. (Would that work on a hungry mountain lion or black bear as well?)

But life has its surprises. Deaths do happen and plans could change. I worry about Kevin's health every day because of his high blood pressure compounded with his smoking and drinking. If only I could get him working out again, or helping me walk the dogs in the evening!

I enjoy teaching for the summers off. I am still taking courses at the college here to prep for my Master's in Ed; this fall I am taking two history courses although I had hoped to take an English and Spanish course as well. (Scheduling conflicts prevented that). The high school I work at is a great school with wonderful staff and administrators. Teaching part-time and going to school in the evenings is a great schedule for me and I am happy with this arrangement. I could do this for a few more years.

My teaching certificate now complete, all the courses now are just prep courses. I want to know more about American history and Literature (and that includes Native American history). I want to be completely ready for that MS when I start that next fall. My weakness is that when I was an undergrad in Indiana in the 1980s I never took history or literature courses outside of my German and French majors. I am just now getting caught up with what I wanted to study years ago! I guess I was in too much of a hurry to graduate back then and get a real job to take another year out to learn more. Now, 25 years later, I no longer feel that pressure to graduate but I do have lifelines now against me.

The one major change down the road, however, would be the possibility of moving to Tucson to work as a German or Russian teacher at the upscale schools there. But does Kevin want to move there? He's happy here working with his co-workers; this winter he's earned another week of vacation which means next summer we could take a three-week roadtrip together if all works out! He would drive up to Montana himself if he could. And he'd be happy staying in camp drinking beer and cooking dinner while I explore the high peaks with one of the dogs. What a life!

Yeah, life is good.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Home

It got hot fast this morning as I left Silver City and headed into Hildago County, New Mexico's boot heel and least-visited county. Here the mountains looked dry and desolate, and except for the Chiricahua Peaks into Arizona, the rest of the terrain looked dry, too. Where were the monsoonal rains? I was expecting green grass but instead saw dead grass everywhere.

I also saw my first US Border Patrol vehicles again. Their white-and-green colors resemble National Park Service vehicles.

I skipped the hike. By 8am it was already 81F and I just wanted to get home, unpack, shower, and start gardening.

I got home between 10 and 11am. The dogs were ecstatic to see me. Sadie immediately went into hiding when she saw Sara and hid in the bedroom for most of the day.

And I? I was tired. I washed two loads of clothes, did some de-weeding, watering and checking out the garden (I still have strawberries coming up!) but refused to go on any walks. Today was a de-winding sort of day.

I wanted to nap but there was too much to get done, stuff that will take a few weeks to finish. The garden doesn't look so bad at all and the front yard's looking great. My acacia are looking healthy and strong.

It took my computer over two hours to download all 8551 photographs I have taken, and it's going to take me even longer to edit, enhance etc them and place some of them in this blog. That may take me the rest of the summer break!

Kevin came home shortly after 5pm. It was nice to talk with him again, as he showed me the garden and his proud turnip section. (He loves beets and turnips). He didn't notice that one of our Fuji apple trees had died, along with my Turkey fig tree. That was my third fig tree to die; my backyard is doomed to have one fig tree grow!)

The birds had eaten all the apricots off the tree. Grr. And we have a small grub problem in one area that will need some treatment soon. I don't want another beetle infestation come August like last summer!

Kevin updated me on other things. "Starting next month Arizona's state income tax goes up another four percent, until the end of the year."
"FOUR PERCENT?" was my reaction. "Well, Governor Jane Brewer got her wish, she wanted a tax increase..." But why such a large increase at once? Geeez. When Republicans want taxes, they want taxes!
"And Gary (one of Kevin's co-workers) is retiring at the end of August." Gary always provided for some comedic relief for Kevin when they'd toil on some construction project.
"Susan's mother died yesterday" Susan is Kevin's ex-wife. The death wasn't completely a surprise, as she had been ailing recently.
"There was another vehicle roll-over full of illegals down the street."
"I saw that on the paper's website yesterday," I replied. That incident was off Miller Canyon and the highway, about a mile away on my walking trail.
Kevin also updated me on the neighbors. The house across the street, now a rental, is overgrown with tumbleweed and desert broom. The renter has done nothing for the upkeep.
"You should see the backyard!" said Kevin.
And then the neighbors to our immediate west, who moved in shortly after Ron left for Alabama, may be moving sooner than expected. "I talk to the son Danny all the time. He said they are already $400 behind in rent. The mom's been fined a few times already and they may get evicted soon." said Kevin.
"Damn, that house is haunted!" I replied, referring to all the renters we have seen come and go over the last five years. Before Ron and Nancy moved in last June there were three drug dealers next door who would throw their beer bottles behind their garage next to our fence. I've yet to meet our current neighbors there.
"Cops are out ticketing drivers, so be careful around the construction zone," he went on, referring to the road-widening project on Highway 92 south of town. The odd thing is that I seldom see construction workers there despite the pileons and orange warning signs to slow down to 35mph.
"Looks like the police department is short of cash and needs this revenue" I commented.
"Tommy counted seven cops between here and Tucson a few days ago" he replied.
"That could also indicate a special operation, to catch drug or human smugglers here; profiling DOES work!" I answered back.

The rest of the evening we chatted, I talked briefly about my family's updates in Indiana and of some of the highlights of my trip. Looking back over the photos I must say that Montana, Yellowstone and Moab have provided me with the best photographs yet.

Tomorrow I register for the fall semester. Reality will set in.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Heading home

Now that I got to do my Whitewater Baldy hike, I have nothing else to do in Silver City, NM. It's a three-hour drive home but I'll wait for the morning now. My last stop will be to scout out a trail on the eastern slopes of the Dos Cabezas Mountains south of Bowie, AZ. It's another hike I want to lead for the club next month.

I've driven 7667 miles so far since leaving Indiana and 12493 miles since leaving Arizona over two months ago. And despite the many in-and-around mileage I still managed to stay below my budget.

But that may change as I desperately need new brake pads, a tire alignment, an oil change and a new light bulb for my rear left turn signal. The light burned out a few days ago, my brakes have been squealing since leaving Big Horn National Forest in Wyoming (although the squealing didn't get loud until leaving Colorado) and my "change oil" warning light has been beeping for the last 3000 miles.

My friend Dave is getting married 15 August in Alexandria, VA. As soon as I get home and get registered for the fall semester, I will check airline fares for five days...I definitely plan on visiting some old hiking friends in New Jersey and possibly New York when I am there! I'd love to take an entire week but college starts on the 16th and I may have four busy courses this time.

Based on the local newspaper, illegal immigrants continue to make headlines. As if that is even news anymore. The monsoon hasn't been that good this year, either. I noticed it last week myself. I was expecting stormy weather once in New Mexico, but the summer rains have been slow.
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/07/21/news/doc4a6579e1a8917192463039.txt

The Whitewater Baldy summit




Today's goal was bagging Whitewater Baldy, the highest peak in the Gila National Forest at 10,895 ft (3,321 m).
Clouds looked generally clear, so after a triple-shot cappuccino in Silver City I drove the 57 miles north to Glenwood. A quick stop at the Glenwood Ranger station affirmed a mere 20% chance of rain. Perfect!

I continued on NM159 into the town of Mongollon. Today this town clearly was a "Ghost town" as businesses are only open Fridays through Sundays for tourists. No one was in town, so up to Sandy Point I drove to start the trail head of #182. We arrived to clear skies and started our gentle ascent up Trail #182 at 10:24am. I was the first one to sign in today, and the first one to register in the folder since the 18th.

This truly was an easy hike, despite the mileage. There was one switchback but after that the trail hit the ridge line and climbed gently for the next three miles. Bead Springs was trickling but Sadie wasn't thirsty. The trail was covered in pine needles, but also had its share of large tree roots across the trail, and lichen-covered volcanic rock strewn all across the mountains.

At the 9132' start elevation the trail finally hit the lower Hummingbird Saddle 4.75 miles later, with the steep ascent up the rather nondescript summit of Whitewater Baldy 1683' higher than the trail head at 10895'. A pile of cairns marked the highpoint, with a subtle view of Mongollon Baldy seven miles further to the SE. Overcast skies prevented me from seeing too much further.

I loved the serenity of this hike. Although there were few vistas, the cool alpine air refreshed Sadie, who pounced the entire way. Douglas firs and Ponderosa pines, interspersed with young aspens dotted this entire hike. Many older and dead trees lay off the trail from older blow-downs, but none were serious enough to be hiking hassles.

But then at 1:49pm, while sitting near the summit and enjoying the sweetness of a few Bing Cherries under some sunlight, dark clouds to my south rumbled in. Oh shit! I apparently didn't look too carefully to the sky in that direction, and beat feet down back to the trail head in 1:50 hours. I don't mind rain, but I do mind thunderstorms.

The unusual part about this hike was the plane wreckage right off the trail, a Cessna that had crashed on 21 December 2007. I walked around this site, a few minutes south of Bead Spring at the 2.1 mile mark. The plane must have hit a storm, as the debris was all close by; no sign of explosion except the fuselage was wrapped around several strong pines. Were there any survivors of this crash?
http://www.airport-data.com/aircraft/N28836.html

We were all alone on the trail. Despite recognizing two cars parked at the parking lot from Saturday, I saw no one. I didn't see people until the last mile, on the descent, when I came across Chris and Mario who were on their way to the saddle, and then Chuck from Benson, a retiree who didn't leave his house until 11am AZ time after checking his stocks. He had last hiked up this trail in October 2007 and didn't see any plane wreckage. Chuck loves to hike in storms and that's why he waited so late in the day to start.

"I'm not worried, I'll be back before dark!" as he donned his hat, flashlight and long-sleeved shirt. "I'd love to talk to you some more but I better get going!" and off Chuck went, hiking pole in hand.

Now alone again, I washed up in the shadows of tall pines while Sadie rested and ate her last chicken leg, food I got for her yesterday to protein up. We stayed at the parking lot for over 30 minutes and never saw another person once Chuck took off.

I must do this hike again! Perhaps I can lead it as a hike for club members, making it a car camp this fall in the Gila Wilderness?!

Whitewater Baldy is now officially my second-highest peak ever bagged, behind Mount Taylor and ahead of California's Mount Lassen, another easy 10,000-footer.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Jordan Hot Springs in the Gila National Forest







I had done this hike five years ago, with Kevin when we first moved to Arizona from New Jersey, and I've been wanting to hike this hike again. I finally got to do it!

We camped out at the Forks Campground, a few miles from the Cliff Dwellings Visitor Center. We arrived at 8am, got the information I needed (40% chance of t-storms in the afternoon) and headed out for the hike at the TJ Corral.

There were four other vehicles already parked here. Rats! That means I wasn't the first one out this morning.

At 8:25am we were on our way, up the hot and dry ridgeline toward Little Bear Canyon, where the Middle Fork of the Gila River flows through and is the first river crossing of 15 before the hotsprings.

We rambled at a quick pace, getting to Middle Fork in 80 minutes. The sign said the parking lot was 4.5 miles away. It felt more like three. And the remaining 1.5 miles to the hot springs felt more like three instead of the posted 1.5 miles!

When we arrived at the warm pool at 11:07am there were already five young people in the water, and at least three more camping right on the trail, with two dogs that came running after Sadie. The two men in the water were butt-ass naked, which prompts me to ask "How does one greet a naked man? 'Hey, how's it hanging?'"

But instead I nodded acknowledgement and sat quietly in my own little corner. There was plenty of room in this pool but we kept to ourselves, especially since the two women got naked, too. Oh dear...I had nothing else to do but close my eyes and nap, it felt so good to just lay there in the warm water.

And nap I did, for almost two hours while Sadie at first whimpered and whined and finally lay down and napped herself, while the others slowly packed up their tents and headed back to their cars at noon.

I didn't get out of the water until after 1pm. It felt so rejuvenating laying there in the warm water, away from civilization. I felt like a newborn (and looked like one, too with the white, wrinkled skin!) when I finally got out of the water. I had expected more people to be at the pools this Sunday, but instead was alone. I couldn't have asked for a better time.

But 30 minutes into our return hike I realized why no one else had joined me: Dark clouds were roaring from the southwest and thundering violently. I picked up my pace but got caught in a gentle rain just after crossing the Middle Fork creek for the last time. When it began to lightning I sought refuge under a sandstone overhang at 2:10pm, letting the last two women pass me by until I resumed my hike at 2:45pm.

"Have you been up this canyon before?" asked one woman. "The sign warned of flash floods during summer rains!"
"Yes, but flashfloods normally don't happen until hours after a rain, and it's really not raining that hard yet!"
"Oh, OK!" and the two women marched on. I eventually caught up to them when they were both in a meditative trance on an overlook.

We made it to the van at 4:10pm and drove straight into town where it once again began to pour steadily, with added lightning to the north. The overcast skies and cooler temps (it was 81F at the van) made the water-less hike easier for Sadie who pranced alongside me the entire time. The rain had strenghthened the pine-juniper-sage aroma of the forest.

A quick phone call to Kevin revealed that Lordsburg, NM was getting hit now with this rain. I updated him on my status: if it continues to rain tomorrow I'm heading back to Arizona. If this clears up, I will attempt Whitewater Baldy one more time. And then maybe scout out Dos Cabezas for a nice loop hike to lead with the club later this month.

I really lucked out with the weather all throughout my trip. What few storms there were were noting major, just hike stoppers but not trip stoppers or anything dangerous. The one thing I will have to do when I get back to Arizona is get my brakes replaced; they are squeaking now. The tires will need to be rotated, the oil changed. I'll be driving my Ford Escape again when I get back home soon.

I should be home within 72 hours. I can say I had the roadtrip of a lifetime.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Quemodo Lake and Reserve, NM




I ended up driving 15 miles south from Quemodo at 7pm when the storm winds had subsided. Four miles off NM32 was the small lake, a popular catch-and-release lake for the locals. This 132-acre lake was crowded as I drove up, and seeing that locals were camping right in the parking lot, I figured I would do the same thing, only farther away from the beer drinkers and dogs.

It was 7:45pm when I decided to hike the Quemodo Lake Trail. It was now 73F and Sadie was coming back to life now that it was cooler. But the lake's perimeter was larger than visible from the western dam. Judging by my watch it took us just over an hour, so I figured it was at least three miles around an elongated lake and habitat to herons and other water fowl. The shore was muddy and I had to divert around the trail.

Most anglers sat on the northern slopes, sitting on canvas chairs and drinking from coolers. The more rugged southern loop was more pristine.

I got to see the sun set over this lake. An hour after arriving back at the van, the lake was dark and night set in. I slept with the windows wide open, only to get chilled in the middle of the night while Sadie snored next to me.

This morning I drove on, continuing south along state roads 32 and 12. At the small village of Apache Creek was one grocery store, 15 mail boxes and enlarged color photographs warning hunters:

"Hunters Beware: Mexican Wolves are killing our Elk!" to which I had to chuckle and create mental response:

"Elk Beware: Hunters are out for your heads!"

The Mexican Grey Wolf is an endangered species. Hunting or killing one is a federal offense.

And further south, in the small town of Reserve where the first signs of businesses stood, were more signs of alleged Mexican Wolves attacking pets, mauling or killing them.

I don't think people here care much for the Mexican Wolf.

But otherwise this was a nice town, with several grocery stores, a gasoline station, a bar and Ella's Cafe, where I went inside to eat the day's special: an English muffin with egg and sausage patty and two cups of coffee. Service was prompt but not the friendliest, as my server was more concerned about talking with the customer behind me, a local.

The entire wall to my immediate left was covered with color photographs of killed game. Heidi Armstrong, a bleached blonde in jeans and a belt buckle large enough to provide shade for her butt, posed with a black beer she speared, several mountain lions and other elk. Perhaps the wildlife should be warned of her! She worked for a local taxidermist.

Mountain lions, black bear, elk and large fish were photographed in all their dead grandeur and framed for the wall's decor. Not exactly my kind of nature photograph to admire, especially since most of the photos were grainy.

This was not the place to ask about hikes up the 10,000 peaks.

There was road construction north of Reserve and another detour on the south end, and I must have missed the detour as I ended up on a paved road that ended, and Forest Road 141 began.

I took this road. It went up the peaks, around meadows, down into dry washes. It was a pretty drive but once again I was asking myself: where the hell am I going? Towns mentioned on directionals were not even on my map!

Three hours later (!!!) I came across Willow Creek Rec Area, and then forest road 141 turned into FR28 and climbed uphill once more, snaking up to trailheads close to 10,000'. Temperatures here were in the low 70s. At Sandy Point I got out and walked 30 minutes, only to get surrounded by thunder clouds. Did I want to go further up this peak? I had visions of getting caught in a monsoon and being stuck on the mountain as eroded cliff sides gave way and barricaded the road. I didn't want to take that risk and instead got down the mountain, through the "ghost town" (a euphemism in the Southwest for a shantytown with foo-foo stores).

The forest road turned into NM 159 and drove into the town of Mongollon, where one house consisted of a large pick-up with a custom-made camper on back with an "attached" tarp as a gazebo. This town reminded me of Bisbee with its crumbling buildings selling overpriced goods. I drove right through town and eventually on Hwy 180, which took me to the Catwalk, a steel walk-way over a whitewater cascading creek. This is a popular place, especially on Saturday afternoons when the parking lot fills up with extended Hispanic families.

I opted to drive on. Silver City was another 65miles south.

The rain clouds stayed over the high peaks and left the valley dry. Temperatures soared back into the upper 90s. I could have kicked myself for aborting that Crest Trail hike as I never did get much mileage in today. When we finally got to town we stopped at the brewpub for a mediocre pizza and more mediocre beer.

We will camp north of town and hike the 12-mile Jordan Hot Springs hike. I've done this before with Kevin and really enjoyed this level hike. I bought raw meats for Sadie for added energy.

And maybe, if the weather looks better, attempt that 12-mile hike to Whitewater Baldy, the tallest peak in the Gila Wilderness at over 10, 480 feet?

Friday, July 17, 2009

El Malpais and El Morro National Monuments











Oh, it felt so good just to lay in a bed with the TV on, listening to the latest news. I let time slip by despite hearing of more triple digits. Today's plan was to take my time exploring both places and then heading south as long as I could during daylight.

I got as far as Quemodo, a small town of two hotels, one restaurant, an ag store and a gasoline station. I was 33 miles from the Arizona border.

El Malpais was an interesting site. It's where sharp lava meets smooth sandstone, and from a satellite photo the lava shows up as a black flow across the landscape. It's brutal terrain, especially in the heat, but worth a stop.

We hiked a three-mile trail around the Calderon, a short gravel path hike across two bat caves, lava tubes, a cinder cone and other features.

Lava from the McCarty crater around 3000 years ago. What looks like inhospitable terrain for flora is actually home to pinon pines, junipers and small brush, anything that can grow in the fissures and crevices of lava.

"Scientists studying the craters of the moon come here to do their research," said Lee, the ranger on duty today. He showed me the satellite map. I was impressed. "People don't realize that most of New Mexico is ancient volcanic rock; no one ever talks about that!" This is also true for most of the mountain ranges extending into Arizona. I've found lava rock in the Huachucas.

Mount Taylor's top showed an erupted volcanic top that had blown away. "Taylor is 2/3 taller than Mount St Helens!" added Lee.

I spent more time in this area southwest of Grants than expected. After stopping at the ranger station I drove on to El Morro, 21 miles fruther west on NM53. This terrain is famous for its "Inscription Rock," a large slab of sandstone on which ancient Americans, Spanish explorers and the first American pioneers coming through here from 1849 through the 1860s etched their names, dates and sometimes small poems. On top of this slab lies an old Puebloan village, Atsinna. Down below once stood a large pool that provided water. All that remains now is stagnant water that lays low until evaporation or more rain or snow water replenish the supply.

But all the petroglypchs, names and inscriptions alone were a fascinating collection of humans over time who had traveled through or lived in this area.

This small place was full of history, but by now the rock was getting to Sadie. She pulled on the leash to the next shaded spot, as I tried to decipher the writing on the wall. In 1605 Don Juan de Onate, goveror of the area called Nuevo Mexico and New Spain's most northern boundary, wrote his name on these rocks. He was ruthless with the Puebloans and because of his mistreatment of the Puebloans caused the first Puebloan revolt against the Spanish conquitadores. He punished the Puebloans by cutting off one foot of every captured Indian.

I could have stayed longer, walked up the mesa and completed the two-mile loop, but Sadie was clearly uncomfortable. We got back in the van and drove back toward Grants but this time via FR49/50, an old lumber road through Zuni Canyon. After a quick lunch break at Taco Bell again, and a tank full of gas, I was now driving the southern route of El Malpais, NM117.

This drive was more scenic, with several road stops along the way providing geologic wonders for the traveler: a sandstone arch, lava flows, and orange sandstone bluffs. This rock was harsh: one careless step into a deep lavarock fissure could cause some serious injury to a leg. And it's no rock for dogs to hop on. Sadie stayed in the van as I quickly romped around the geologic wonders. That anything or anyone could have made this terrain their home is impressive, and indicative of strong character.

Clouds to the south starting forming dark grew storm clouds as I approached Quemodo. Winds began to pick up and I was fighting fatigue. Severe t-storms had been predicted for this part of New Mexico, but the chance of them was a mere 10%.

Walter Cronkite, a journalistic pioneer of the 1960s and on, died today in New York at the age of 92. My mother used to watch his broadcasts. I remember the Kennedy assassination, the killing of MLK and Robert Kennedy and of course footage of Vietnam when we lived in Highland, IN. With his passing goes another American legend. He was perhaps the last American broadcaster who didn't wear facial make-up like the FoxNews guys now wear.

Chaco Canyon, Mount Taylor (Elev: 11,301')

It was such a pleasant morning yesterday that I just wanted to lay down and enjoy the sunrise. 

Yet I also knew that in a few hours I’d be suffering from the intense heat. It was 74F at 7:30am. Two hours later, at Chaco Canyon, a place of ancient Pueblo ruins that were south and further away from Farmington than I thought, it was 20 degrees warmer. Getting there was half the battle, as 17 miles of the road to this remote place were badly-rutted dirt roads. 

The park is accessible only from USHwy550 from the east end. Chaco Canyon is worth a visit for anyone wanting to learn about ancient Puebloan life, but it’s best explored under cooler climes. The canyon is wide, with a wash dividing the plain. Ruins fade with the fragile rock walls behind them. Cracked boulders sit precariously close to tumbling into the remaining ruins. Sagebrush, Mormon tea and dry grasses dot the landscape, but little wildlife calls this place home. A deep but narrow wash in the valley was dry. 

 Although the rangers at the Visitor’s Center were very helpful about recommending hikes (Pueblo Alto was the most popular), the South Mesa trail was remote and offered solitude, according to Rose, the Native American working behind the counter. 

Ruins and petroglyphs were all over the canyon. I filled up the water bottles and drove off to the trailhead at the end of the park’s loop drive. I passed at least three impressive ruins along the sandstone cliffs, ancient villages that were inhabitable 1000 AD. Some of the ruins bordered cliffs that had tumbled down on the ruins. Others showed signs of having had multiple stories. We had to climb up and scramble up a slot passageway, the only shaded part of the entire hike, to get to the clifftops. 

Sadie was clearly hot by the time we started. She sought the shade, what little there was, and pulled on her leash to get to it. Views from the top were worth the climb, but it was also hot and offered little shade. I opted to cut this 4-mile loop hike short and made it a two-miler, after having to stop twice for Sadie to cool off under the shadow of a small cliff, to let her rest and have water. 

This two-mile hike took an hour, and by noon we were back at the van. I was now ready to leave the park and move on to more altitude just to make sure Sadie stayed cool. She deserved that. Chaco Canyon is on the Navajo Reservation, and as soon as I had crossed from the National Park property to the reservation, the road became rutted. Red dust covered my van; I had to use my rear wiper blades to get rid of the added dust. The air conditioner was on high to cool Sadie off, who seemed to have suffered worse from the heat than expected. She lay her head as close to me as she could, to enjoy some of the cool air blowing toward her from the van's air conditoner. 

 The vibrations of the rutted road caused the screws in my head to rattle profusely. What made it worse was that there were no directional signs to indicate on what road I was on. Where in the hell was I going? Worse yet, I had no decent map of the local area outside of the Navajo Nation. The van swerved in the loose sand, the axle rattled and the noise was enough to drive anyone insane. I couldn’t wait to get back to civilization again. I felt like I was on the “road to nowhere” on this reservation, passing White Horse, a town of one horse and nothing else, and then Borrego Pass, a small community with an elementary school. 

Sadie deserved to enjoy this road trip as well. According to my map, the Cibola National Forest wasn’t too far away, but all the roads were badly-rutted, unmarked dirt roads. It took me two hours to come to a town again after passing dirty trailers, abandoned pick-ups and scattered beer cans—the first ones on my entire roadtrip—and other forms of life. I eventually made it to the small town of Milan, off I-40, and then the larger town of Grants, NM, a few miles east of Milan and an hour west of Albuquerque. 

Hiking up Mount Taylor was a pleasant surprise. NM547 heads from the town center up into the national forest, and this is where I went, after a brief stop at the Ranger Station for trailhead information. I found the perfect trail up Mount Taylor: the 6-mile hike up the Gooseberry Springs trail. Could I make this hike still today? It was 4:35pm when I got to the trailhead parking lot. The peak looked easy, a wide meadow of a round hill with few trees. Aspens adorned the parking lot, sprinkled with Douglas firs. Indian paintbrush, lupines, fleabanes and yarrow dotted the ground. And the rock all around was lavaic, providing for added traction on the way (but which could give someone a serious butt burn after a fall!) 

The trail up Mount Taylor is lush green with an easy grade. OK, I thought, I am tired and dusty and it’s already 4:45pm. I’ll go up this trail until 6pm and then go back down. I could always finish this trail first thing in the morning. My left sandal had been pulled under the heel to provide less friction for my still-heeling blister. I wasn’t going to put on my hiking boots, so I went as is. Sadie seemed fine up this hike, although she stayed so close to me her wet nose would hit the back of my shins. Was she exhausted from the morning's venture or was she just being cautious in this strange terrain? I did worry about big wildlife, but with no water around there was little chance of coming across deer, mountain lions or black bears. She didn’t venture far, even when, at over 10,000 feet, we came across grazing cows at a high meadow. A lone bull had been guarding the trail further away, keeping an eye on Sadie. They were the only fauna we came across. Not even birds flew overhead. 

It was an easy summit, despite the elevation. Skies above us were overcast, with a few grey clouds nearby. But despite the altitude and lack of trees, there was little wind when we finally made it to the peak at 6:17pm, 92 minutes after starting out. Haze prohibited me from seeing far into the distance, even the mountains in Colorado were muted. On a clear day I’m sure the vista would have been spectacular. A small silver memorial plaque had been laid down below the sign, in honor of a person who probably loved to hike peaks: “If tears could build bridges I’d climb up to heaven to bring you back down to me.” We stayed at the peak for ten minutes. A sign with “Mount Taylor, Elevation 11301” allowed for a few photo ops, and then we went down the trail. Sadie never left my side. The cows we met at the high meadow were still chewing their cud on our way down, and again Sadie made intimate contact with them. Neither was in any mood to put up with her. But the black bull we saw had moved down to the forest road. 

We were back at the van at 7:45pm, three hours after we had started this hike. I had now completed my goal of bagging a 10,000’ peak. Mount Taylor was an easy peak for its altitude, rising moderately on long switchbacks. Although the Forest Service described this hike as “Strenuous due to the 2000’ elevation gain,” I had no trouble. Had I gotten myself into shape this past month, hiking most every day during my roadtrip? I wanted to celebrate my accomplishment. Granted, bagging a 10,000-footer in Montana would have been nicer, or even to have made it up Mount Timpanogos, but for now I will be happy to have bagged Mt Taylor with Sadie, who never left my side. 

I wanted to celebrate with a hearty meal and a few margaritas in town, but after driving up and down the main drag never came across a decent Mexican restaurant. I settled for two cheap Taco Bell burritos and two beers that I picked up at WalMart. I must have been a scary sight on the surveillance tape, wandering around the store looking for beer, sausage bites (treats for Sadie) and a New Mexico map. My legs were dirty from the hike, my hair hadn’t been washed since yesterday afternoon, and my shorts were stained from rocks along the way. And, for the first time on my roadtrip, I was ready to rent a hotel room. I had deserved it and so had Sadie. 

Finding a decent motel room proved disappointing. My first choice was a locally-owned “Historic Route 66 Motel." The front marquee advertised “Cheapest Price in town. But when I got to the front desk the stale smell of cigarettes and paint hit my nostrils. I knew then that I had made a bad decision. 
 “How much are your rooms?” 
“Just for the night?” 
“Yes.” 
“$80.” 
“$80?! Why so high?” 
“There’s a bike rally in town and you’re not going to find a room cheaper than that!” said the brown-toothed woman behind the counter. A cigarette-smelling, oil-stained older man nearby agreed with her. “Motel 6 was advertising $39 a room, and others for $49” 
“Not today, with the bike rally in town. Did you not see all the bikes in the down town area?” 
“There’s a downtown in this town?” I didn’t notice a rally in town, although I did see Harley riders in town. In the Southwest in the summer, though, Harley riders take over small towns; their presence is ubiquitous. I wasn’t going to give up. I went back to the Motel 6 and got a room for $45 a night. What a relief!

Then I went across the highway to get some sodas and snacks from the SuperWalmart, where I've seen the largest and most morbidly-obese Hispanics and Native Americans I've seen anywhere, even Houston. What is causing all this in such a small region?

I lured Sadie into the room who at first was apprehensive of being inside a room again, but inside she went, hopped on the bed, and slept the rest of the night next to me while I enjoyed flipping the cable channels, watching the weather channel, parts of late night comedy shows, Patch Adams and the never-ending saga of Michael Jackson’s death and now the disclosure that he had been on Demerol since his 1984 hair burning incident during a Pepsi commercial.  Sadie and I bonded on this time and I fell in love with her all over again.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Farmington, NM


With Sadie sound asleep in the back of the van, and with a few hours of daylight still available, I decided to drive into Farmington, NM. I got on USHwy 550 and went south. At 6:48pm I was in the "Land of Enchantment" and boy, what enchantment that was! I have seen beautiful sections of New Mexico (Taos, Rajon Pass, Santa Fe, Las Vegas, Cloud Croft, Silver Sity) but this part of New Mexico was not part of that.

This was perhaps one of the poorest routes into the state, with the mountains giving way to eroded, crumbly juniper-studded buttes all around, eroded pick-ups and run-down businesses along the way.

I had entered the edge of Navajo Nation.

All was not lost, though. Driving into Farmington I saw a sign for the "3Rivers Brewery and Restaurant" and although I wasn't in the mood for a beer, I stopped in to sample a few and to order dinner. The head brewer, Bob, was behind the counter as he passionately talked me into trying a few in one-ounce tasters. They were all good beers, but with my destination still undecided for the night, I was cautious about ordering any alcohol. I was, however, hungry and ordered a spicy chicken burrito that can be made only in the Southwest, with a tangy jest.

Next to me sat a chatty environmental engineer from Tulsa, Lee, who was here for an oil-gas conference. He is the second environmental engineer I've met in a brewpub. Again, the topic of the Cap and Trade policy was brought forward, and a hearty discussion ensued. I was actually agreeing with him but in order to get the "other side" I always enjoy posing pensive questions

In the end we both agreed that new changes must happen for the environment, but the gas and oil companies are going to pass their expenses down to the consumers. Are we ready to spend more money for gasoline, in an economy that has yet to show true improvement out of the recession?

When Bob noticed that Lee and I were in full chat, he left to talk to another customer. My chicken burrito was quite good but I drank water throughout our conversation. I was in a new town and didn't want to drive with beer in me through foreign terrain.

Lee was full of jest. Tall, bald and with a constant smile, he knew how to talk his issues. Yes, he said, change in environmental polices must happen, but the ones currently proposed come at a bad time. The average increase per family will be $1600, and all this during a recession? Not good timing.

Lee, like me, has been to many of the national parks and regions. But his family was back in Tulsa while he was at this conference. At 9pm we both had been chatting for quite a while when we parted, he back to his hotel east of town and me still in search of a place to camp.

I found a place outside of town, near a sign that read "Jesus is Watching You" which stood next to a sign proclaiming "Adult Videos."

Silverton, CO and the Cascades Creek Trail




I hadn't slept so good in days! When I got up this morning in town the van's thermostat read 43F and I didn't feel chilled. Sadie was in heaven.

By 6am the locals were up as well, walking the small downtown in t-shirts, sandals and shorts. Not me; I had to put on a windbreaker and long pants to keep warm.

A breakfast cafe was open, so was the coffee shop, and a few clothing stores. (Who shops for clothes at 7am?) I wanted a strong cappuccino, and found one at the one coffee shop in town, where I sat on an old leather couch and paged through some of the local books and magazines.

The Silverton Standard, the town's weekly newspaper, had an article about the death of Winston Churchill, owner of the Mobius Cafe, the cafe I was sitting in which now sports a new name. He had gone on a trek across the Colorado Trail and was last seen in Lake City, CO in late August 2008. His mummified body was found 2 July by hikers after the snow melt. He was only 41 years old, an avid cyclist and outside of owning the cafe also repaired bicycles. He was found leaning against a ski cabin. Locals were still talking about this man as I paged through the paper. The story read like something out of Jon Krakauer's "Into the Wild." What had gone wrong?

After my cap I walked across the street to the Outfitter store to get a map of the quadrant showing Coal Bank Summit. I ended up talking to the owner there, a 44-year-old man with long pony tail who hails from Austin. A Desert Storm Veteran, he's lived in Silverton for the last 15 years.

"This town has about 300 year-round residents and about 1000 guns" he said. According to Wylie, most people don't care much about politics as long as they have their individual freedoms (which to me sounds like a town of Libertarians). He moved here to get away from Texas and its sprawl.

Another young person I chatted with worked at a t-shirt shop across from the outfitter store, a woman ready to leave Silverton and head down to New Orleans to start her Master's in Writing. Spunky and friendly, she is an amateur playwright. I wished her well and finally left Silverton, a small mountain town I've decided is definitely worth another visit. I didn't want to leave.

I wanted to hike the Coal Banks trail after breakfast, which consisted of a few chocolate-covered mini-donuts I popped into my mouth while ascending Highway 550. Once I reached the summit and started on the trail, I soon learned that the trail faded away, and Sadie got overheated. The elevation of 10,640' and the steep trail exposed on granite rock was intense for me as well, and decided instead to revert back to the original plan of walking along a creek. So Cascade Creek down the road was my next stop.

Although we had to walk up a badly-rutted 4x4 road to get to the official trail head 3/4 mile up the hill, the hike was great. The waterfalls that I was told where there were more like cascades (thus the name of the creek, I spose), but it was shaded and isolated from screaming kids, moaning husbands and bickering wives. We started our trek at 10:58am.

I met young family from Arkansas along the trail. Sadie barked at them at first but then quickly warmed up to them. They had been told the same thing about the Cascade trail, that there were waterfalls up the trail under which you could stand under. Oh really? Maybe if you were IN the creek on your knees! The trail stayed most of the time along the trail as it snaked slowly up in elevation, across high meadows and wildflowers in bloom. At 11200' the trail met up with the Colorado Trail, although I turned around at the three-mile mark, where the trail then climbs and switchbacks up a steep draw to the high peaks. At 12:53 I took my lunch break with Sadie for 20 minutes before the Arkansas family caught up with me.

They, too, were going to turn around at this mark. The return trip without breaks took me 1:15 hours and once back at the van did my usual clean-up as I chatted with more fishermen coming to the trail to catch and release trout up this creek. We had hiked a pleasant 7.5 miles.

"Looks like you are packed for any contingency" said the elderly man from Tucson as he saw the open doors of my van in which Sadie was now resting.
"Yeah, I've been on the road for 35 days!"

My goodness, has it been that long now?

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Mesa Verde and Silverton, Colorado
















I've had this place on my must-see itinerary ever since my anthropology instructor last semester mentioned this place as the best view of ancient Pueblo dwellings still intact. We saw the dwellings this morning, as soon as the park opened at 8am, and did all the free tours we could do. That took about three hours.

Mesa Verde lives up to its Green Table name. The average elevation hovered around 7000' although the highest point was 8512.' All around me I saw flat tabletop peaks covered in pines and juniper, cut by deep canyons. It is amazing that people once made this tough terrain their home.

Yet I could have stayed there longer. I met a 50-something year-old brunette woman at the visitor's center who was inspired by my now 33-day roadtrip. Debbie is a local who's been raising her nephew ever since his mom got shot dead by a meth dealer and she was able to win custody from the drug-dealing dad.

"He's fifteen now but as soon as he's 18 I want to get in my car and hit the road and see all the parks!" she said.

"Just do it!" I replied.

We could have talked longer but then by 8:30am her bookstore was hit by tourists and she had to tend to them.

I have a National Parks Pass now so I didn't have to pay the $15 admission fee, and I was a little taken back by the additional $3 tour fees to see individual cliff dwellings. People were lined out promptly at 8am to buy the 9am tours, the first tours, as they sell out fast now that summer is here. By noon most of the dwellings are in the sun and it still gets hot at 7000' elevation.

I followed instead the Mesa Loop Tour, a six-mile paved road that stops at all the scenic overlooks and trails. Pinon pines, rabbitbrush and junipers line this road. In my opinion, for anyone in a hurry this is the one thing that should be done WITH a quick stop at the one free dwelling near the museum, the Spruce Tree House. (You see one cliff dwelling, you have seen them all, as the ancient Pueblo were rather predictable in their buildings.) I didn't want to leave Sadie alone for 90 minutes at a time to tour a dwelling. There is an additional 2.8-mile hike from the Spruce House to the Petroglyphs further down. Again, I didn't want to leave Sadie waiting. We had gotten our share of petroglyphs the day before in Nine Mile Canyon.

I stopped at one site that offered tours of the cliff dwellings, the largest in the park. The ranger, Albert, was from outside Boston and still owned to a heavy Boston accent. He played that up.

"We got the best corn in the country!" bragged Albert.
"No, we in Iowa do!" retorted an elderly gentleman.
And then there was me, remembering that sweet Indiana corn served annually at the Crown Point Corn Festival. Indiana corn's pretty good, too.

After Albert gave a rather lengthy safety briefing, reminding some of the clearly heavy people in the crowd that there is a 132-step ladder uphill at the end, and that a helicopter ride to Cortez is around $15,000, a few of the men stepped out of the crowd. No refunds are given for those stepping out.

"Once a day we have to carry someone back to the mesa for medical reasons." Several of the heavy people looked puzzling at each other. Would they be the first for the day?

The tour started promptly at 9am. Albert was the last to go down the steps. "Stop at the sign that says 'Yankee Fan Do Not Proceed Past This Point!" Kevin would have liked this older Bostonian.

I met a few interesting people on this loop trail. A family from outside Pittsburgh followed me around, stopping at every overlook, admiring the whiptails and wondering about the old Pueblo. They were taking a half day to see this place but had plans to leave by noon for the Grand Canyon.

They traveled by car from their small town that is 12 miles from the 911 crash site and the mine collapse from a few years ago. I saw them later at the cliff dwellings.

Another young couple was from California, looking over the canyons with their binoculars to find those hidden cliff dwellings. Some were so well camouflaged you couldn't see them right away.

I walked down the 1.2-mile r/t hike to Soda Canyon to see the overlook of other dwellings. A young rattler surprised me toward the end of this hike, determined not to let me pass. After I threw dirt at it it slithered off into the shadows of a brush, leaving me to pass it on the trail.

And then on the end of the Loop Trail I came across a small coyote that acted confused, sprinting along the road with traffic. He was a cute little guy, slightly undernourished, who stopped to pose for me until Sadie scared it into the roadside brush.

Despite the high elevation there were plenty of people around the Museum and gift shop. This was my end of the tour, opting now to drive on another 36 miles to Durango, CO.

Kevin and I had been here before in late May 2006 and the town was familiar. But instead of stopping in town I stopped at the Office of Public lands, where the Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management and the city share one information office with free brochures. These information offices have been so helpful on my roadtrip for free maps and such. I talked to one helpful assistant, Bob, who recommended a few creek hikes near Durango. I wanted to take Sadie on a 4-6 mile water hike nearby.

But despite the helpful advice I ended up driving north on scenic US Highway 550 toward Silverton and pulled over at the first trailhead with "creek" in its name: Hermosa Creek Trail. I wanted to walk Sadie on a shaded riparian trail. Hermosa Creek was nothing like that. Although a scenic vista rim hike, half of the trail was exposed AND shared by horses, cyclists and motorcross people. Sadie was off-leash but close at hand. Whenever a hiker, cyclists or motorcycle came toward us, grabbed her by the harness.

Sadie was sick at the start, vomiting her chicken thighs I had fed her earlier. We rested three times going out, making the three miles almost 90 minutes long. The heat has been getting to her. We started out at 1:34pm, turned around at 3pm and made it back to the van by 4:40pm, where I cleaned up for the night. The shower bag was quite warm.

At first I had planned on driving back into Durango for dinner, but after watching Sadie suffer in this desert heat for two days now, I opted instead to treat her to more alpine hiking: I drove north on Hwy550 into Silverton, 50 miles north of Durango at 9312'. We had to surmount two passes at over 10,000'. The cooler temperatures cheered her up, Sadie became more animated, and I knew I had made the right decision to take her into the mountains one more time before hitting the deserts of northern New Mexico. I'm still a week away of ending this trip and I can rest one more day anyway. Why rush?

We had stopped in Silverton as well in May 2006, watching cyclists cruise into town after a grueling 50-mile tour over the alpine passes. Silverton was the finish line. We didn't stop for long, as Gunnison was our stop for the night, but today I got to see a closer look of this quaint former mining town. And to my surprise it does have its own brewery, the Silverton Brewery, right off Main Street!

I had 30 seconds before Happy Hour ended. I ordered the tasty Bill Wit's Belgian wheat, talked to my young server Helena, here for the summer from San Diego. Her cousin owns the brewery. She's working on her undergrad degree in clinical therapy and wants to join the military as such, but being the honest person that I am about the military, talked to her about getting her Master's degree first and then working for the Navy as a contractor instead. They make better money, don't have to put up with the military bullshit, and have more freedom on the job. (The downside is that they don't earn years toward a military retirement and don't get full medical/dental coverage). We talked for 30 minutes alone in the bar, after the last people from Phoenix left for the day.

I thanked Helena for her determination to help military veterans, she thanked me for my candid advice, and by 7:30pm I was back with a tired Sadie enjoying the sun set over the high peaks of Silverton. Kevin would have liked this view.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Moab Rocks





























At 6am I was up and out the van, ran up the red rocks...and saw an overcast sky. Bummer. What sunrise I did witness was hampered by the grey, left-over rain clouds from the storms that Grand Junction, CO and points east had received overnight.

We sat on a hilltop for 30 minutes, just the two of us, hoping the sun would get high enough to light up the more larger peaks to the west, but nothing happened. I lay on the warm rocks for 30 minutes, but the morning sky never lightened. There was no life from the campers down in the campsite. The sky did not light up enough until well after 7am, after I had washed my hair and cleaned up. There was no spectacular sun rise today.

We did, however, enjoy romping around the rocks for an hour, until well past 8am when I should have taken us to the Negro Bill trail down by the Colorado river. Instead, I drove east on the Sand Flats Road, into the National Forest for ten miles, before I realized that wasn't getting me anywhere, and I was leting the day get hotter and wasting time.

After a quick stop in town at the Barkery, a store for and about dogs where I chatted with the friendly store owner, I was off for the Negro Bill trail off the Colorado River. The trailhead was well-marked...and the parking lot was full. This was clearly a popular four-mile hike to a natural bridge. I chose this for the stream along the way.

On a cooler day this would be a great hike, passing willows, cottonwoods and sagebrush. But at 10:50am when we started it was already in the upper 80s and there were plenty of exposed sections along the way.

Sadie's paws were getting burned by the hot red sand. She yelped a few times and pulled on her leash. And then I realized the poor girl's paws were getting burned. I let her off-leash so that she could run ahead of me to the shaded parts along the way. Her fur was hot, too. Even I was getting parched, feeling the spit in my mouth dry on contact with the air. This was hot!

I chose instead to take Sadie through the creek to keep her cool. This slowed us down a bit as Sadie does not like deep water, but in most places the water was no more than calf-high. That is already too deep for her. Small fish, tadpoles and an interesting blue-green incandescent crayfish made the Negro Bill creek its home.

I enjoyed wading through the creek in my Tevas but being in the creek also made us miss the faint trail sign taking hikers across the creek and into the side canyon. Instead we stayed on a smaller trail to another creek that soon stopped trickling. I was hot, stopped an hour into the hike when we should have been at the natural bridge, and rested with Sadie under the shade of a juniper tree. I was ready to abort the trail. My water had run low.

But the headstrong in me said to return to the main trail and find that elusive turn-off. It wasn't that hard to miss, so we continued up this exposed section and soon found the sand arch. And when we arrived we found four other people there resting in the shade, two were a couple from outside St Paul MN with whom I chatted with for an hour!

Bill and Kim had left their Minnesota home 1 July. They were on a month-long roadtrip with their Toyota Tundra and pop-up camper which they really like. They will travel all over southern Utah, see Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands, and camp out at Valley of the Gods in Nevada before turning south toward the Grand Canyon. They will spend four days at each site. They have been in Moab for three days now.

I was at Valley of the Gods in the late 1990s. It's a great state park with camp sites right next to impressive red sandstone formations. Erin and Eric climbed around the rocks we were camped at and both thought the rocks were "cool." I highly recommend that place over anything close to Las Vegas.

Sadie napped on the cool wet sand while I talked to this chatty couple. By the time I made it back to the van it was 3.5 hours since starting the hike, perhaps the longest four-mile hike I've ever taken. Sadie was relieved to be back in the van with the AC on high and I was glad to be back on the road again. I had now done all the close hiking trails in Moab; there was nothing else for me to do.

A quick stop back at the Microbrewery drinking the same two beers was not as lively as yesterday. There were few people in the bar at 5pm other than a few business people taking a business vacation from Salt Lake City. This was their first time in Moab. We made small talk but the conversation was nothing like yesterday's lively conversation.

I was now ready for my next destination: Mesa Verde, 120 miles from Moab. I passed the Wilson natural bridge north of Monticello before turning east on US Hwy 160 into Cortez. That was my destination for the night.

Cortez is predominantly a Hispanic-Native American town with good diners and shopping before hitting Mesa Verde, my destination for tomorrow. I stopped at the Cortez brewery here for one last beer (exceding my usual two-beers-at-a-time limit).

It was here at the bar that I met Peter, originally from Massachusetts but now living in Dever as an environmental engineer/inspector for the oil and gas industry. He quickly revealed that he was a staunch conservative and was sick of the California Democrats who were ruining this country: the "Cap and Trade" bill proposed in early June via the Waxman-Markey proposal. aimed at reducing carbon dioxide emissions but also pushing for alternative fuels EXCEPT for natural gas, got Peter livid.

"Natural gas is perhaps one of our biggest reserve of clean fuel for the next 100 years and yet the Democrats completely ignore that option. Instead they are going to push for more biofuels like corn ethanol that will only hike up the price for all corn."

Peter was clearly very passionate about his job. In the 1980s he traveled to India and Nepal with his then girlfriend, then did environmental work for the UN across third-world countries. He knew his job. But he's made Denver his home for over 15 years where he enjoys hiking and skiing and staying fit. His slender physique revealed a healthy, active lifestyle.

"Americans have the cleanest, safest, most drinkable water in the world" he added.

I wanted to talk more with Peter as alternative fuels is something I want to see pushed more of, too, and not just ethanol. Like Peter said, both solar and wind power are not constant and the energy produced from those means has to be stored. But he was in town at a hotel because he had a four-hour drive the next day west into Utah to inspect a fuel-contaminated site left behind by an oil company. It was 8:30pm and he had to get up at 4:30am. I didn't want to keep him up. We departed the bar, shook hands, and I thanked him for his well-defended stance and his insightful opinions on our current energy policies.