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?
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?
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