Since I've come to the park I've been slowly collecting a list of places and routes I wanted to visit. You know, the kind of thing where you hike along a trail and catch a glimpse of a cool looking rock formation on a peak and whisper to yourself- "Before the end of my time here, I'm going to get a picture from the top of that". Since my time here is slowly coming to an end, I thought it was time I started eliminating items off that list. There is a trail along the Rio Grande river, at the southern boundary of the park. The trail is no longer maintained and was abandoned after a very rainy year when the water levels at Cochiti reservoir, down river from us, went way up, and turned the whole southern area of the park into part of the lake. It still appears on the map as a "route", but all the signs were taken out. The thing is, that that route would come in very handy if I wanted to head out to the cabin through the southern part of the park. When I mentioned it to Dale he said it wasn't a good idea at the time because of all the vegetation and the rattle snakes that were still very active at the time in lower, warmer parts of the park. Later on in the season I did walk short bit of it, using an old sign as a machete. This time around, going out to the cabin, Dale and I agreed that it had probably cooled enough to solve most of the rattle snake trouble, so I headed down Frijoles canyon from headquarters towards the river to do the whole 
Rio route. As I got to the lower parts of Frijoles, when it runs it's final couple of yards before hitting the river, I could see the leftovers from the famous flood that turned this whole valley into a lake. Dead trees and a savanna look in a rocky wide canyon. 
I made my way to the bank of the river, keeping my eyes open for the old trail, which I thought would be hard to find, since it's been abandoned for so long.
Well, the trail was there, wide and cleared, as if a trail crew had come around no longer than a month ago. As I started walking along the river I came across bullshit. Bull-shit. A nice round dried up cake of it. That rang all sorts of bells in the back of my head. As the story goes, a couple of years ago, a bunch of cattle found their way into the park along the river. They were grazing along the banks and endangering plants that were already endangered enough, and were driving native grass eaters away. The cattle were not branded, and no-one was claiming them (probably to avoid being fined). Park rangers tried different ways of driving them off the park and keeping them out, but the cattle kept coming back. A bunch of cowboys were also called in to round the cattle up- if they could, with the promise that they would get to keep anything they could catch. It seems that the cattle were so wild and aggressive, that whenever contact was made both cowboy and horse suffered the consequences, and by the end of the day the cowboys left the park, empty handed, with pieces of their shattered pride collected in their dusty squished hats.
Rio route. As I got to the lower parts of Frijoles, when it runs it's final couple of yards before hitting the river, I could see the leftovers from the famous flood that turned this whole valley into a lake. Dead trees and a savanna look in a rocky wide canyon. 
I made my way to the bank of the river, keeping my eyes open for the old trail, which I thought would be hard to find, since it's been abandoned for so long.Well, the trail was there, wide and cleared, as if a trail crew had come around no longer than a month ago. As I started walking along the river I came across bullshit. Bull-shit. A nice round dried up cake of it. That rang all sorts of bells in the back of my head. As the story goes, a couple of years ago, a bunch of cattle found their way into the park along the river. They were grazing along the banks and endangering plants that were already endangered enough, and were driving native grass eaters away. The cattle were not branded, and no-one was claiming them (probably to avoid being fined). Park rangers tried different ways of driving them off the park and keeping them out, but the cattle kept coming back. A bunch of cowboys were also called in to round the cattle up- if they could, with the promise that they would get to keep anything they could catch. It seems that the cattle were so wild and aggressive, that whenever contact was made both cowboy and horse suffered the consequences, and by the end of the day the cowboys left the park, empty handed, with pieces of their shattered pride collected in their dusty squished hats.
The only thing left to do was to shoot the cattle, and leave them for nature to take it's course. It was about two days worth of work, and it took care of the problem, but apparently that's something you just don't do in the west. The headline in the local paper that day read "Feds shoot cattle!" and the front page story was not very favorable towards the national park service... It took a while before the park rangers could go to the local bar again without risking getting into a serious fight.
And here I was, strolling down a well cleared trail, that was supposed to be abandoned, or should I say well-grazed trail, trying with all the force of my imagination to think of other animals that might have had the same effect, and knowing, full and well, that Dale was not going to like the news.
With this going on in my head I came around a curve, and if there was any chance of a better theory, the two bulls that stopped fighting each other, and were staring at me, well, they put an end to that. They were
And here I was, strolling down a well cleared trail, that was supposed to be abandoned, or should I say well-grazed trail, trying with all the force of my imagination to think of other animals that might have had the same effect, and knowing, full and well, that Dale was not going to like the news.
With this going on in my head I came around a curve, and if there was any chance of a better theory, the two bulls that stopped fighting each other, and were staring at me, well, they put an end to that. They were not going to stick around to find out what my intentions were, and for the following 20 minutes we played a pretty dumb game. Whenever I came around a curve, there they would be, stare at me for about two seconds and run ahead. In the mean time I reported the presence of the cattle over the radio to Dale, and just like I thought, his voice revealed exactly how happy he was about the whole thing. I, on the other hand, was quite pleased with having a wide leveled trail where I had expected a long bush-whacking trip. Somewhere along the way the bulls picked up a third friend, who seemed to be a little braver than they were, and let me get a lot closer before it ran every time, and it dawned on me that I was slowly cornering three heavy and horned animals with a bad wild temper, and that they had no-where to go between the cliff on one side and the river on the other (I'm sure cows can swim if they have to, but that is an academic SURE, I have. Wild animal tend to behave in an extremely non-academic fashion). They would run from me, until we came to the end of what they considered their territory, or until they stumbled upon something that would be more scary in their eyes than I was and I'd be facing 6 horns, 12 legs, 3 bad tempers backed by a total mas of about a ton and a half. I got off the trail and started climbing the rocks towards the cliff to give them more space to head back past me. I was more in the mood for the well-cleared trail I had left so I had nothing nice to say to the bulls that stopped running but didn't show any sign they understood why I had stopped playing our little chase game. I took quite a bit of insulting including saying bad things about their relatives (basically that had been very tasty with BBQ sauce) for the dumb cows (I called them that too) to decide I wasn't cool anymore and that they didn't want to play with me. They turned around and headed back up the river, past me. 
The rest of the trip went quite well, and with very little bushwhacking. I found an interesting skull of an elk with non-symmetrical antlers in one of the dry creek beds I crossed, 
and an old tire that had floated here back when the water levels were high, but that was basically it.
I made it to the cabin by 4 and had plenty of time to get some studying done and have dinner.
The next day I took it easy. I was a chili day, with a cold breeze, but a warm friendly sun was out. I decided to make it another one of the few times I had hiked leisurely. I hiked off the trail to one of the most beautiful lookout points in the park. Another one of those places you mark on your list as- "Have to, before I leave". It's not impressively high, but the hill I climbed ends at a cliff that faces the center area of the park.
You can see farther from some of the higher peeks around the park, but this cliff puts you right in the middle of it. You're surrounded by Bandelier. I spent almost an hour just sitting on a rock, under a lone juniper tree, enjoying the sun and the quiet. Recollection. Reflection. Imagination.
When I finally got up I strolled slowly back to the cabin as the setting sun announced the end of a very calm, uneventful day.
You can't have two days like that so I decided to redeem myself for the laziness of the day before by clearing trees off the trail up canyon from the cabin. Some of those trees put up a serious fight and though I spent the whole morning and the better part of the afternoon pushing a very impressive saw back and forth, I only got five of them off the trail. well, I guess I better leave something for the next backcountry ranger. Hikers have been walking over and around these fallen trees for the past few months- I'm sure they'll be able to handle it for a few more.
I came back to the cabin that evening sweaty and tired and decided to treat myself to a shower. Back in the beginning of the season I used to wash with creek water or with the "solar shower master"- basically a large plastic bladder that is hung from a tree and gets heated by the sun.
The rest of the trip went quite well, and with very little bushwhacking. I found an interesting skull of an elk with non-symmetrical antlers in one of the dry creek beds I crossed, 
and an old tire that had floated here back when the water levels were high, but that was basically it.I made it to the cabin by 4 and had plenty of time to get some studying done and have dinner.
The next day I took it easy. I was a chili day, with a cold breeze, but a warm friendly sun was out. I decided to make it another one of the few times I had hiked leisurely. I hiked off the trail to one of the most beautiful lookout points in the park. Another one of those places you mark on your list as- "Have to, before I leave". It's not impressively high, but the hill I climbed ends at a cliff that faces the center area of the park.
You can see farther from some of the higher peeks around the park, but this cliff puts you right in the middle of it. You're surrounded by Bandelier. I spent almost an hour just sitting on a rock, under a lone juniper tree, enjoying the sun and the quiet. Recollection. Reflection. Imagination.When I finally got up I strolled slowly back to the cabin as the setting sun announced the end of a very calm, uneventful day.
You can't have two days like that so I decided to redeem myself for the laziness of the day before by clearing trees off the trail up canyon from the cabin. Some of those trees put up a serious fight and though I spent the whole morning and the better part of the afternoon pushing a very impressive saw back and forth, I only got five of them off the trail. well, I guess I better leave something for the next backcountry ranger. Hikers have been walking over and around these fallen trees for the past few months- I'm sure they'll be able to handle it for a few more.
I came back to the cabin that evening sweaty and tired and decided to treat myself to a shower. Back in the beginning of the season I used to wash with creek water or with the "solar shower master"- basically a large plastic bladder that is hung from a tree and gets heated by the sun.
Even on sunny days that was quite a chilly experience that left me shivering for an hour afterwards. It's been too cold for the past couple of weeks to even think of that stunt. 
I had to heat the water in a kettle over the wood stove and then mix it with the right amount of cold water in the shower bladder. 
I hung the bladder from a hook in the ceiling, in front of the hot stove, then placed a tub under it, and stepped in. The correct ratio of hot and cold water is a bit of a trial and error process, and I nearly burned my self on the first time around. Never the less, I'm sure this was the first (and probably only) hot shower the backcountry cabin has seen, and I enjoyed every minute of it. When it was all done I considered going through the trouble of heating some more water just for the envious expression some of the mice were getting.
I had to heat the water in a kettle over the wood stove and then mix it with the right amount of cold water in the shower bladder. 
I hung the bladder from a hook in the ceiling, in front of the hot stove, then placed a tub under it, and stepped in. The correct ratio of hot and cold water is a bit of a trial and error process, and I nearly burned my self on the first time around. Never the less, I'm sure this was the first (and probably only) hot shower the backcountry cabin has seen, and I enjoyed every minute of it. When it was all done I considered going through the trouble of heating some more water just for the envious expression some of the mice were getting.I've wanted to see the actual spring at Turkey springs for a while now, and that was my third days destination. I've hiked to that part of the park many times, but since the water in the creek right at the trail crossing is very good, and most of the interesting stuff is actually down stream from there, I hadn't had a reason to go up-stream. Plus, the actual spring is a little ways past the boundary line, on national forest land. This time I gave myself a reason- to see it. The hike up was beautiful but steep. The good part was that there were so many fallen trees all over the place that I walked on them picking the next one up where it had fallen on the log I had just stepped off. In a 30 minute climb I don't think I spent more than 4 minutes on actual ground. The spring was, as could be expected, very small and unimpressive. 
It had a small patch of pond plants plants growing in the shade of the cottonwood. I did interfere with a family of deer that were drying to get to the water so I didn't stick around for too long. The view made me change my mind about going back, and instead I kept climbing. I headed up the ridge along the boundary fence and the view kept opening up. The boundary line was the most obvious part of the view.
It had a small patch of pond plants plants growing in the shade of the cottonwood. I did interfere with a family of deer that were drying to get to the water so I didn't stick around for too long. The view made me change my mind about going back, and instead I kept climbing. I headed up the ridge along the boundary fence and the view kept opening up. The boundary line was the most obvious part of the view.
I kept on walking along the fence. It's just a straight line that ignores all topography so I was climbing up and down some pretty cliffy steep slopes, but it was beautiful. The clouds that were coming in, on the other hand, were a lot less beautiful and seemed very determined in their movement. The forecast for that day included a chance of snow towards the late afternoon, and so it wasn't long before I headed down back to my cabin in Capulin canyon. At around 5 that evening I was sitting and reading at my kitchen table (it's actually the only table, used for many things- from writing daily reports to packing up my backpack. I only call it The kitchen table whenever I'm thinking of food, but that is pretty much always). 
I looked up to the window and could see things falling on the ground, but I couldn't hear the sound of rain. The first snow of the season was falling down all around me in a silence that was only broken by the sound of the wind in the trees. Very little of it actually stuck, but it was still quite amazing, and a little scary for the kid from the middle east that had to hike out the next morning.The light of the morning revealed a thin layer of frozen snow that was covering the ground. The sun wasn't out yet and the air in the canyon was light and frozen.
By the time I finished eating my breakfast and packed up to hike back to HQ I could see the first rays melting the white blanket. It was a chili hike back. Snowy patches were hiding from the sun in the shade of the trees and the rocks. And the mountains over Santa Fe gave me a hint of what it would all look like in a few weeks.
That night there was a gathering at Gumas and Joel's house. The official excuse was that Heather was leaving and this was her good bye dinner. Heather is a seasonal fire fighter and her season was over. Her husband, Michael, came down from Idaho, and they were going to drive home together. Honestly, we don't need excuses to gather or have dinner, and since turkey was on the menu, and Thanks giving is a holiday when everyone goes home to their families, and no-one would be around then, the evening was very quickly presented as our early thanks giving dinner. Michael turned to be an extremely friendly and funny guy. Gumas and Joel and I were all standing in the kitchen preparing stuff (no real cooking had started since Heather and Michael were bringing the turkey), when Heather came in, but before she could go past "hey guys, ho..." her husband hurried past her, walked to the middle of the kitchen and with a big smile said- "hi I'm Michael!". Then he pulled out the turkey and said- "Let's cook". It was obvious this was going to be a fun evening. Michael rubbed the turkey with olive oil. Then Gumas suggested pushing slices of lemon underneath it's skin. Then I remembered an idea that Joel had told me about. I took my bear can that was only missing about three sips, and had Joel top it off with bourbon (cheap, rough Kentucky Bourbon). Then we put it in the middle of the pan and sat the turkey on it for about 2 hours in the oven.There ended up being 9 of us.
Joel's mashed potatoes where creamy and smelled great, Gumas's gravy was unbelievable, My sweet potatoes in the oven came out crispy, and the cherry tomato and pine-nut salad went great on the side, even the pot of soup had people getting up for seconds, but the turkey was by far the highlight of the evening. I have never tasted such a juicy turkey. And considering how dry that meat usually is, all four chefs felt pretty proud about the combined effort. The only thing on the table that was left over in any serious amount was the cranberry sauce. The turkey was just so good on it's own.
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