It was also Bree's last week in the park, she headed back to Michigan this morning, and she came out to spend a couple of days in the cabin with me. I will miss her.
So this was not a week of solitude.
But first thing is first- To any of you that were worried- my shoes are fixed and have been doing well (thanks to the Ortega family of cobblers from Santa Fe) and more importantly- My feet were dry.
I started the week with a long hike out. This time I left from the visitor center, and wasn't dropped of at a trail head by one of the rangers. I chose a relatively long path, along a trail that I have only been on once before.
The Burro trail, or as I like to call it- the Bore trail, starts on the Mesa above the visitor center, with a good view of the main attraction- Tyuonyi pueblo, and runs along it all the way down to the Rio Grande river. It's pretty flat, with a very gradual slope towards the river, and switchbacks at the end. Because you are on top of a mesa, and not along the rim, the close view is nothing to write home about (and yet I am writing about it... funny), and the distant view, except for Tyuonyi right at the beginning, can be seen from any high point in the park. So what you have is 9km of a pretty straight trail with junipers and dead pinions, and the occasional mountain lion scat or deer tracks. I tend to zone out when I trek that kind of stuff. The lack of interesting view is a minor disadvantage, but it shrinks at the face of the real problem- the trail connects only to the Rio trail. A trail that runs all along the Rio Grande. Considering all three main canyons in the park end up at the Rio- that could have been a great trail for anyone that didn't feel like climbing the mesas- but a few years ago they had a pretty rainy season and had to stop the water at Cochiti Dam to prevent flooding the farming land down stream from it. That, in turn, caused Cochiti lake to grow and basically engulf the lower portions of the river, right up stream from it, incidentally, the parts that border the park. During that time two things happened- One- The park bought an inflatable boat and had a seasonal ranger live in a boat house on the lake, and Two- quite a bit of trail mileage, most of it of the Rio trail, was abandoned, since is was, in effect, under water. Though the water levels have dropped since then, and no ranger lives in the boat house anymore (I would have killed for that job), the trail was never fixed up and now it's just a path that doesn't even appear on the older maps. All of this makes the Burro trail kind of useless to the average hiker since it leads to nowhere.
I, however, am not the average hiker. I'm the backcountry ranger, with a unexplainable likeness to long bushwhacking hikes. So when I got down to the river I hiked along a piece of the old Rio trail that crosses the mouth of Alamo canyon (Middle canyon of the park) and connects to Capulin canyon (My cabin). Right at the junction (Burro-Rio) there also were a few signs that haven't been inspected in a while and Dale even wanted me to radio in about their status as opposed to waiting to get my report form when I got back. I found all the signs that were supposed to be there, but, thrown behind a bush, I also found an old sign that had been pulled out and replaced, but, for some reason, was not carried out. I don't know what made me decide it would be a good idea to hike the remaining 12km, two of which on a trail that has been abandoned, with a wooden sign and post on my shoulder. It's not like I'm short of fire wood in the cabin. It did turn out for the best (well, kinda), when I had to cross lower Alamo, right where it connects to the Rio Grande, where the vegetation was taller than the top of my pack, because that old sign came in real handy as a machete, though a little dull. I guess I made enough of a racket because I only met one rattle snake in the weeds and it gave me a very generous warning of about 8 feet before I stepped on it. Everything else had more than enough time to get out of my way.
By the time I got to the cabin I was pretty beat, but I was not going to give up the pleasure of chopping that heavy sign up setting fire to it. I think I earned that heat after carrying it for so long.
The next day I woke up with a bit of a bruised shoulder (Only slightly inflicted by the signpost I had carried the day before, and mostly being combined result of a wishful imagination and some laziness) so I conveniently decided to take it easy. I hiked a short loop around the cabin in the morning, and spent the afternoon cutting firewood and catching up on my homework. Got a whole assignment done. During my short hike in the morning, I did meet my first Tarantula.
Yes, yes, that big spider we all remember from "Home Alone", only the ones in nature, that were not grown in an aquarium and fed frozen baby mice are not as fat and big. I met 5 in total during this past week. This, so I have been told, is the Tarantula migrating season. They all crawl out of their holes (they do not have webs) and travel on the mesas to their mating/breeding areas. They are docile curious animals. This one didn't bite the walking stick surprised it, but kept slapping it with it's front legs.
By the time I got to the cabin I was pretty beat, but I was not going to give up the pleasure of chopping that heavy sign up setting fire to it. I think I earned that heat after carrying it for so long.
The next day I woke up with a bit of a bruised shoulder (Only slightly inflicted by the signpost I had carried the day before, and mostly being combined result of a wishful imagination and some laziness) so I conveniently decided to take it easy. I hiked a short loop around the cabin in the morning, and spent the afternoon cutting firewood and catching up on my homework. Got a whole assignment done. During my short hike in the morning, I did meet my first Tarantula.
Yes, yes, that big spider we all remember from "Home Alone", only the ones in nature, that were not grown in an aquarium and fed frozen baby mice are not as fat and big. I met 5 in total during this past week. This, so I have been told, is the Tarantula migrating season. They all crawl out of their holes (they do not have webs) and travel on the mesas to their mating/breeding areas. They are docile curious animals. This one didn't bite the walking stick surprised it, but kept slapping it with it's front legs.Funny creatures...
The only down side of that day was that when I finished cooking and eating my very nutritious dinner of beans, potatoes and hot dogs, and attempted to begin the unavoidable dish washing- I discovered my sink was clogged.
Mind you, there is no running water, but the sink does come in handy with washing dishes. Nothing I did seemed to work and I did not have a pipe wrench, so for the remainder of the week, the dishes were done outside in a tub. Not a problem in the evening, but a little chilly in the morning. Under any circumstances, this was a bit of a revival of my childhood memories of the annual camping trip in HORSHAT TAL. The picture is courtesy of Bree, that came out to the cabin the next day for her last two day days in the park. She hadn't had a chance to see Painted Cave (see post August 31 "My cabin") during the whole time she had been here, and really wanted to get some good pictures of it.
After taking it easy, and playing plumber for a day, I went out on a longer loop the next day. The sign at Turkey springs needed to be replaced and the last time I tried to explore the ruins of San Miguel pueblo a storm scared me off the mesa. Plus, dale had told me about an old Coral down stream from the spring and I couldn't find it the last time. This time I was heading out there with a more specific description of the spot. On my hike out I had my fourth bear encounter since I've been here. As I was walking along I heard a CRACK and saw a bear scamper away from the broken branch of a dead tree. When it stopped and looked at me, it had the expression of a five year old at the scene of a broken vase- "It wasn't me"... Didn't stick around for a mug shot, unfortunately. After I replaced the sign at the spring I went off trail and down the creek. I had taken this route before so I was a little smarter this time about where to follow the bear trails along the creek, and where to stay above them, and it took me quite less time to make it to the funky rock formation I remembered from my last time, from which I was supposed to look for the old coral.
It was right where Dale said it would be. Not anything impressive, just a fenced off plot. But to find it in the middle of the wilderness was pretty cool. And it was also obvious to me why I couldn't find it the last time. It is just a bunch of logs tied together between the trees, so unless you stumble upon it- there is no way you could find it.
As I was standing around a taking pictures I found something else that was hiding in the woods.
A food sack was hanging from a tree- to prevent the bears from getting to it.
I followed the cord down and found the tent it belonged to. The guy that was napping in the tent was very surprised to see anyone, let alone the backcountry ranger. He was, after all, camping in one of the more remote areas of the park. He was fasting, he said, been at it for two days and planning on another two. Part of a spiritual journey and cleansing of the soul. In search for his inner child- his exact words. "You'd be more likely to find your inner child if you ate some candy", I thought, but since he did have a backcountry permit, I kept my thoughts to myself. I asked if he was drinking and he said he was only planing on going one day without drinking- the next day. "I should be hiking out after a good meal the day after tomorrow, I'll be alright, Don't worry". Those sounded like famous last words, especially considering the length of the hike he was planning after a five day fast, but there really wasn't much I could do.
From there I continued up to the mesa, and finally got to see the ruins of San Miguel. what can i say, they are ruins. I can check that off my list. The interesting bit happened after I left the ruins heading back east towards the canyon and my cabin.
About 2 kilometers east of the main ruin area, I came across a small arc site, maybe 20 ft across, probably an old 2 room farm house. At the side of it I could see that someone, or something had been digging. Building stones had been pulled out of the 2 ft hole, so whatever it was- it was bigger than a Coyote. I took pictures and a GPS location, and radioed it in, with flashes of "Indiana Jones and the raiders of the lost arc" running through my head. When, at the end of this trip, I showed the pictures to the park archaeologist, he told me it was probably a badger digging for rodents, but for those three days I walked around with fantasies of an archaeological mystery.
That night I had Bree to keep me company and to help me vary the menu a little.
In the morning I decided to go out and clear a couple of logs that were blocking the trail I had hiked two days earlier.
They were pretty big logs, and I would not have attempted tackling them if they weren't in a place where walking around them was a bit dangerous. So I wrapped as much of my pack as I could around the cross cut saw, and with a very awkward pack I headed up to the area of Stone Lions.
As I was hiking up the trail, mainly trying not to get the long saw that was sticking out of the top of my pack caught up in any branches, I met a group of 6 kids and a father from one of the pueblos in the area. They were on a 2 day trip through the park. The man was showing the kids some of the lands and sites were their ancestors had lived in. They were learning prayers along the way and giving thanks to the spirits for a good years. They were on their way to stone lions to leave an offering. We talked for a while, since I was headed in the same direction. The man told me he was a farmer, and when I asked him what he grew he suddenly stopped and asked the kids- "Who's got the melon?".
Then he handed me a small melon and said "Here, this was for stone lions, but you take care of this area for us, so you should have it". My polite refusal went unnoticed so when I left them and headed on towards my fallen logs, I was carrying in my hands one of the best smelling melons I have ever seen. That was going to make a good desert after dinner. 
Took me about an hour to clear the three trees that were blocking the trail.
Amazing what you can do with a good saw, a sharp axe and a couple of plastic wedges.
When I came back down towards stone lions, another group of hikers were getting ready to have their lunch their, and the kids had left their backpacks there and headed to another site close by. When they came back, and the kids all headed to grab their packs, the man pointed at the lions and told them off in their language. The kids all bowed their head in shame and, though they were clearly embarrassed to do it in front of me and the other hikers, went and stood in a circle around the lions and said a short prayer. I could also see the offerings they had left there.
Bree and I hiked out together the next morning.
She hadn't hiked Mid Alamo (the steepest of the canyon crossings) before, and wanted to be able to mark that as done. We took our time doing it and the challenge was beat.
I'm heading out tomorrow. I have to admit, this is going to be the first time I ever hike with a plunger, but I'd like to see the bear that will dare mess with me. Gumaz is going to join me on Friday and I'm going to help him take readings from erosion bridges. I have no idea what that means. I'll be smarter next week, I guess.
The only down side of that day was that when I finished cooking and eating my very nutritious dinner of beans, potatoes and hot dogs, and attempted to begin the unavoidable dish washing- I discovered my sink was clogged.
Mind you, there is no running water, but the sink does come in handy with washing dishes. Nothing I did seemed to work and I did not have a pipe wrench, so for the remainder of the week, the dishes were done outside in a tub. Not a problem in the evening, but a little chilly in the morning. Under any circumstances, this was a bit of a revival of my childhood memories of the annual camping trip in HORSHAT TAL. The picture is courtesy of Bree, that came out to the cabin the next day for her last two day days in the park. She hadn't had a chance to see Painted Cave (see post August 31 "My cabin") during the whole time she had been here, and really wanted to get some good pictures of it.After taking it easy, and playing plumber for a day, I went out on a longer loop the next day. The sign at Turkey springs needed to be replaced and the last time I tried to explore the ruins of San Miguel pueblo a storm scared me off the mesa. Plus, dale had told me about an old Coral down stream from the spring and I couldn't find it the last time. This time I was heading out there with a more specific description of the spot. On my hike out I had my fourth bear encounter since I've been here. As I was walking along I heard a CRACK and saw a bear scamper away from the broken branch of a dead tree. When it stopped and looked at me, it had the expression of a five year old at the scene of a broken vase- "It wasn't me"... Didn't stick around for a mug shot, unfortunately. After I replaced the sign at the spring I went off trail and down the creek. I had taken this route before so I was a little smarter this time about where to follow the bear trails along the creek, and where to stay above them, and it took me quite less time to make it to the funky rock formation I remembered from my last time, from which I was supposed to look for the old coral.
It was right where Dale said it would be. Not anything impressive, just a fenced off plot. But to find it in the middle of the wilderness was pretty cool. And it was also obvious to me why I couldn't find it the last time. It is just a bunch of logs tied together between the trees, so unless you stumble upon it- there is no way you could find it.As I was standing around a taking pictures I found something else that was hiding in the woods.
A food sack was hanging from a tree- to prevent the bears from getting to it.
I followed the cord down and found the tent it belonged to. The guy that was napping in the tent was very surprised to see anyone, let alone the backcountry ranger. He was, after all, camping in one of the more remote areas of the park. He was fasting, he said, been at it for two days and planning on another two. Part of a spiritual journey and cleansing of the soul. In search for his inner child- his exact words. "You'd be more likely to find your inner child if you ate some candy", I thought, but since he did have a backcountry permit, I kept my thoughts to myself. I asked if he was drinking and he said he was only planing on going one day without drinking- the next day. "I should be hiking out after a good meal the day after tomorrow, I'll be alright, Don't worry". Those sounded like famous last words, especially considering the length of the hike he was planning after a five day fast, but there really wasn't much I could do.From there I continued up to the mesa, and finally got to see the ruins of San Miguel. what can i say, they are ruins. I can check that off my list. The interesting bit happened after I left the ruins heading back east towards the canyon and my cabin.
About 2 kilometers east of the main ruin area, I came across a small arc site, maybe 20 ft across, probably an old 2 room farm house. At the side of it I could see that someone, or something had been digging. Building stones had been pulled out of the 2 ft hole, so whatever it was- it was bigger than a Coyote. I took pictures and a GPS location, and radioed it in, with flashes of "Indiana Jones and the raiders of the lost arc" running through my head. When, at the end of this trip, I showed the pictures to the park archaeologist, he told me it was probably a badger digging for rodents, but for those three days I walked around with fantasies of an archaeological mystery.That night I had Bree to keep me company and to help me vary the menu a little.
In the morning I decided to go out and clear a couple of logs that were blocking the trail I had hiked two days earlier.
They were pretty big logs, and I would not have attempted tackling them if they weren't in a place where walking around them was a bit dangerous. So I wrapped as much of my pack as I could around the cross cut saw, and with a very awkward pack I headed up to the area of Stone Lions.As I was hiking up the trail, mainly trying not to get the long saw that was sticking out of the top of my pack caught up in any branches, I met a group of 6 kids and a father from one of the pueblos in the area. They were on a 2 day trip through the park. The man was showing the kids some of the lands and sites were their ancestors had lived in. They were learning prayers along the way and giving thanks to the spirits for a good years. They were on their way to stone lions to leave an offering. We talked for a while, since I was headed in the same direction. The man told me he was a farmer, and when I asked him what he grew he suddenly stopped and asked the kids- "Who's got the melon?".
Then he handed me a small melon and said "Here, this was for stone lions, but you take care of this area for us, so you should have it". My polite refusal went unnoticed so when I left them and headed on towards my fallen logs, I was carrying in my hands one of the best smelling melons I have ever seen. That was going to make a good desert after dinner. 
Took me about an hour to clear the three trees that were blocking the trail.
Amazing what you can do with a good saw, a sharp axe and a couple of plastic wedges.When I came back down towards stone lions, another group of hikers were getting ready to have their lunch their, and the kids had left their backpacks there and headed to another site close by. When they came back, and the kids all headed to grab their packs, the man pointed at the lions and told them off in their language. The kids all bowed their head in shame and, though they were clearly embarrassed to do it in front of me and the other hikers, went and stood in a circle around the lions and said a short prayer. I could also see the offerings they had left there.
Bree and I hiked out together the next morning.
She hadn't hiked Mid Alamo (the steepest of the canyon crossings) before, and wanted to be able to mark that as done. We took our time doing it and the challenge was beat.I'm heading out tomorrow. I have to admit, this is going to be the first time I ever hike with a plunger, but I'd like to see the bear that will dare mess with me. Gumaz is going to join me on Friday and I'm going to help him take readings from erosion bridges. I have no idea what that means. I'll be smarter next week, I guess.
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