Crazy Cook to Chama
Here I am again. I can feel my legs, resisting at first, but then giving in “Oh, right this again.” they say as they start to comply with my commands. One foot in front of the other, five or six million times. I will be going 2500-2800 miles this year depending on what route I take.
Speaking of routes. I will be discussing them a lot over the next few months. The Continental Divide Trail covers an as yet to be determined number of miles between the border of Mexico and New Mexico and Glacier Park at Canadian Border in Montana. There are many different routes hikers can take. They can go over peaks, beside them, river routes, mountain routes, road walks, bushwhacks... Purity lies in connecting steps.
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I was lucky, catching a ride from California all the way to the Crazy Cook Monument in southern New Mexico. Trekker, who I met last year in California, drove myself and another hiker, Tikka to the southern Terminus. Another hiker, Wrongway, was also dropped off at the same time.
The three of us hiked together from the unimpressive Crazy Cook Monument, a simple slab of concrete with writing on it. We were separated by nightfall. Wrongway and I camped together then and for the next three nights.
Between the border and Silver City, the terrain is flat and featureless. shrubs and grassed dot the landscape There is no shade and the sun shines harshly. It was a bit of a shock to the system ad it had snowed at my house the very morning I left.
In Silver City I happened on more hikers, and a fairly significant bike race. Giants in the cycling world such as Floyd Landis and Lance Armstrong were there. A hiker who I had met named Lost and I camped in the temporarily densely populated RV park. With thousands of people still in the small city, I headed north on a paved road toward actual trail.
6000 feet up, there are trees, pines, oaks. The trail was pleasant north of Silver City, however, with no GPS and one crucial lost map page I was on the road, walking on two paved lanes to Doc Campbell's Post on the Gila River.
I remark on this often, but it is incredible how hikers converge in towns. I met Robocop, Special K, Ellie, Laura, Aaron, and Cape Cod Mike, who I don’t believe was from Cape Cod.
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The Gila river was a welcome break from arid desert. Robocop, Special K, Ellie, and I strolled across the many knee deep crossings on our way toward Snow Lake and more high desert. I wasn’t in a hurry. We stopped at the very idealic Jordan Hot Springs. It was only 94 degrees or so but very pleasant. The next day while hiking with Ellie, Out of Order caught up. I decided to hike with him to Pie Town as I had ordered a GPS and was having it shipped there. Out of Order, (OOO from here one) made it to Snow Lake that evening.
At Route 12 we were low on water. We had decided to forgo a murky cattle tank and nursed our almost empty bottles, 15 miles from a reliable spring. So thirsty, we held our bottles upside down, miming at the few cars that passed. 20 minutes later, a man pulled over with gallons of water which we used to fill our bottles. People in New Mexico will stop for hikers, especially if they have an empty water bottle. This was not the last time I begged for water from passing motorists.
And so after a 9700 foot summit in 90 plus degree heat, we made it to Pie Town, dusty and tired.
This was one of my favorite stops, ever. Pie Town has a population near 100. There are no stores, gas stations, stop lights, motels... But there are two restaurants that serve pie. As an outside and objective visitor, I can make a judgement on which is better. Witout question, the Pie-O-Neer Cafe is outstanding. Kathy is an absolute Jewel of a person, and an amazing pie maker. And she makes very good green chili.
Ok Maybe I wasn’t objective, maybe I was bribed. Kathy gave OOO and I a box of leftover pie at closing. (I still think the Pie-O-Neer is far superior)
At the Toaster House, a title appropriate due to the dozens of toasters hanging on the entrance, we met Jim. A cowboy with a long mustache, flannel shirt, the dirtiest hat I have ever seen, a horse named Butch and a dog named Slick. He told a lot of great stores about “dudes” and “jackalopes” We stayed up late hearing his stores and advice.
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If you see a cave on a hillside, 30 miles north of Pie Town and feel like bushwhacking a mile off trail to investigate, don’t. OOO and I saw this cave, or so we thought. It was a trick of light.
So we camped in an open field six miles outh of the rim trail overlooking El Malpais Lava field. Central New Mexico is home to an expansive 3000 year old lava field, still rough and uneven. The rim trail offers an outstanding view of the barren expanse. Upon reaching the end of the rim trail and reaching a parking lot and a natural stone arch, I was forced to beg for water from... kindergartners... I am not exactly proud of that, but there was a school field trip and they happened to have water!
OOO and I then trod carefully across the hot lava... well solid, but hot black, hardened lava. There is a seven mile stretch of lava which is infamous for its difficulty to travel on, similar to the seven miles stretch of fallen spruce in northern Washington. While I preferred the fallen trees, the lava was not as bad as I expected and took just over three hours to walk.
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Grants was my second major town, and my first all you can eat (AYCE) chinese buffet. My appetite had not yet kicked into full gear. The buffet helped. I enjoy meals in town so much more after eating cold dehydrated food on trail. After eating a second AYCE meal I waddled out of town up toward Mt. Taylor.
This was my highest summit, ever. I had tried to Summit Mt. Whitney in the Sierras, but failed due to taking the wrong route with few footsteps to follow. Mt Taylor was easy and on the way. The trail is being rerouted around the mountain but I decided to bag the peak. The view was outstanding. Mt. Taylor is fairly prominent and rises above the surrounding high desert.
I hiked this section alone, from Grants to Cuba. Once off the mountain I made quick miles. Full details can be found on my log at www.trailjournals.com/sangabrielcdt
Cuba NM is home to the best hostel I have yet visited. I stayed three nights for free thanks to my willingness to do some yard work. OOO arrived a day after I did and we built a 16 foot wide yurt for the owner!
My hunger was kicking in strong now and OOO and I split a meal. We ate over three pounds of pork, with tortillas, peppers, onions, corn... I topped that off with a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
The next day in minimal rain, we hiked up into the San Pedro Parks area. There was still snow on the ground in spots. There were some downpours which made the clay dirt exceedingly sticky. each step picked up pounds of mud. I would take three or four steps, then scrape my shoes, *step step step... scrape...* repeat.
Ghost Ranch made for a welcome break. The weather cleared up and I hiked up into more alpine terrain. This is the last leg in New Mexico. Just before the border, I started encountering considerable snow pack. The trail climbs above 11,000 feet for quite a few miles, affording hikers with views of the high desert, 4,000 feet below.
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Thanks to persistent thunderstorms, I decided to take a lower route along a river rather than risk high ridge walking on the now more official route.
“I decided to to take the low route along the river, rather than walk a ridge in thunderstorms and risk being electrocuted, right? Sorry to disappoint you, my veracious reader-fans, but I wasn't electrocuted. There were no bolts of searing white electrons, not even a low voltage fence. (for hikers, it's Ley map NM4 upper right corner, for others, try and hang in there) The shaded triangle is private property. The red route SKIRTS the triangle to the east. I missed. "You know this is private property!" a husky... burly... bear-like man, wearing full camo said. Three other pairs of redneck eyes were glaring at my bearded bedraggled, hippyish self. "Well... Uhh... is it? But the map... here, uh..." I stuttered, looking for the nearest food co-op or socialist bookstore to hide in. None could be found. After a few tense minutes (probably only a few seconds) the man with beer kegs for forearms spoke. "Well, I'll tell ya what I'll do pardner." I expected he would merely turn me in, rather than field dress me on the spot. "I'll let ya go through, just don't stop til your on the other side." I scurried away. "I gotta send another complaint to the forestry.", I heard him say as I set a new land speed record for the north end of the shaded triangle.
To skirt this land, a hiker would have to walk cross country on a sometimes steep sidehill along the barbwire fence. The river beyond is beautiful. ICY cold water tumbles... well it tumbled for me, early monsoons and all... it runs (yawn) down gullies and through rocks. After I turned north (Lay map NM3 near #6), there was a mean bit of cross country travel. If you hike left, you'll be fine. It's steep up and steep down, but no trouble. I went that way. However, I first tried to go right, but I ran into a sheer cliff with a precipitous drop off, to what could be a bloody death on the sharp rocks below.”
~Me, May 27, 2009
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It was May 28th. I was in Chama, mile 603, ready to enter the daunting, high alpine, craggy dramatic, icy South San Juan mountains of Colorado.
