The Lemon Twist

Going Down in Flame

2007-11-13T10:30:00.000-08:00

You know how people always want to go down in a ball of fire, finish things in a memorable way...

For my goodbye from Bandelier we set fire to the forest.

I know, I know, this was a prescribed burn, and yes, they have been planning it for the past 5 years. And when I say "we" set the forest on fire, I might be stretching the collective team effort a bit, but nevertheless, the last outfit that Bandelier National Monument dressed up in (especially for me, no matter what you say) was this

My last two days in Bandelier were spent in flames. More like next to flames but definitely in smoke.

The "Unit 9 prescribed burn", as it was officially referred to, has been in the the making for the past few years. The upper parts of Frijoles canyon have not been burned in years, and a lot of fuel had accumulated over the years- fallen branches, dead trees, grass, layers and layers of dry leaves, low brush. These fuels could catch fire from a lightning strike or a forgotten campfire and would set fire to whole canyon. With the steep canyon walls and the winds that get funneled in the canyon, a fire like that could run wild and would be virtually impossible to stop. "We've been sitting on a keg of powder for the past 3 years" was how the burn-boss put it. A prescribed burn is mainly designed to reduce the ground fuels without hitting the living trees. Sound good, doesn't it... Only problem is fire doesn't really behave that way naturally. It burns wherever it goes. That's why the conditions have to be just right- first it's the weather- you don't want it to be too hot and dry because then the risk of the fire going out of control is much greater. On the other hand, if the ground and the ground fuels are too wet, or it's too cold- nothing at all will burn. So summer and winter are out of the question. Wind is a very dangerous thing- the flames will pick up and spread all over, however, you need a little wind to blow the smoke away from the fire and prevent it from settling on site so the crews can keep working and won't be smoked out. The planners of the fire also consider cloud coverage, humidity, air pollution over the nearby communities, the length of the day (you need to be able to put in a good day's work before it gets dark).

Then there is the preparation work. Fire lines are cut and dug through the forest to prevent the fire from spreading, and to contain it to the specific areas. Crews will go in and thin the forest especially in areas that are close to roads. Sometimes dead trees will be cut down and chopped up, and all the dead fall will be piled up to make sure that it all burns and to control the burn. All the archaeological sites and artifacts within the burn area have to be recorded (In Bandelier that's relatively easy, since the park is 90% surveyed as it is), and if there is a danger that they might be damaged from the fire- measures will be taken to protect them- sometimes to the extent of cutting fire lines around them. In our case most of the archaeological sites are prehistoric ruins of small farmhouses- mounds of buried rocky rubble and pottery shards. Fire really didn't pose a danger to those. There are, however, remains of and old wooden bridge over the creek- the remains of an old wagon road that used to run through the park. These needed to be marked and a fire line was cut around them. There is also a historic phone line that hung from trees along the canyon with glass insulators. Dale had to go in and mark all of those trees with flagging tape so they wouldn't be cut down in the thinning process or as part of the fire line. One tree did get cut down accidentally and the glass insulator was cut out of it to save it from the fire.
Once the fire is started, the fire fighters will monitor the burn and make sure it's remaining a surface fire if any tree starts catching fire- they will put it out. Any ground fuels that did not burn through will be piled up to make sure they are totally burned away. If the conditions are right the fire won't climb tree trunks that easily and will keep to the easy stuff like dry grass and the piled up dead fall. According to the experts, you always loose a few trees, but the benefit from clearing the forest floor is much more important.

Of course, this is just the fire itself. You need a medical plan- after all you are going to have firefighters running around in the woods in smoke and fire, you need a traffic plan- the fire and the smoke might effect the roads in the area and the fire engines need to be able to get around. You need a logistics plan- how do you get water and fuel for the fire engines, what are your fire fighters going to eat?

Point of all this is- It's a big deal.

What made it even bigger, in fact, what made it an incredibly bigger deal was the fact that in 2000, a prescribed burn that was started by the National Park Service got out of control and burned down a whole bunch of houses along a number of streets in the town of Los Alamos. The whole of Los Alamos, White rock and the employee housing area in Bandelier had to be evacuated along with many of the National Laboratory facilities. It took them three weeks to put the fire out and it had consumed huge areas in the national park and in the surrounding National forest. The Cerro Grande fire, as it was named (the name of the peak next to which the burn started), was a horrible disaster and quite a milestone (not a good one) in state-federal relations in New Mexico. The superintendent of Bandelier and the chief of resources were forced to retire, along with the head of the fire division, even though the investigation concluded that the fire was started with conditions within the desired range, and was blown out of control by strong winds that developed after the fire was started. Those winds blew the flames up and turned the fire into a crown fire (fire burning on the tree tops and jumping from tree to tree) Once the fire "jumped the line" (flames crossed the fire line outside of the defined area of the prescribed burn) and was defined a wildfire, the local firefighting units called for backup, and a regional fire-boss took over running the show. The fire was then contained but it was this new burn boss, from the regional office, that made the decision to continue the burn. Additionally, most of the houses that burned down were the ones on which the roofs were covered with a layer of pine needles that wasn't cleared for months. Sparks from the burning forest were carried by the winds and landed on the mat of dry needles. Once the roof caught fire- the house was in flames. The local fire department tried spraying down the roofs with their fire hoses- but had little success. In fact, many say that the fire could have been started by a lightning strike or any number of other reasons, and would have still done the same damage.

That is all very nice, but the bottom line is it was National Park Service personal, out of Bandelier national monument who lit the match, so you can imagine what kind of a reaction you get whenever people in the area heard the words "Bandelier" and "Prescribed burn" in the same sentence.

I've been hearing about this prescribed burn since just about my second day in the park. Dale kept telling me that if the fire did end up happening, he would have the opportunity to pull me out of the backcountry and put me to work traffic control- for a real salary, rather than the modest SCA stipend I was supposed to make do with.

It's been on the drawing board for a long time and they've been trying to go for it for the past two years. Because of what happened no one was prepared to take any chances or leave any tiny part of their, excuse me, ass, uncovered. So the conditions had to be nothing short of perfect, and the people had to be nothing less than totally prepared. From the end of the summer on crews were working on cutting fire lines in the forest, dividing the planned "unit 9" into sections and thinning the areas that were close to the roads. It was first scheduled for some time in late September, but the weather turned out to be really wet during the first week of that month and there was no-way anything would burn. Then, when October's chili but sunny and dry weather seemed to be on the right track, massive fires hit California, and a big question mark appeared over the possibility of getting the outside resources- additional fire engines and crews, that the local fire people were counting on in order to cover all bases.
Dale was in charge of traffic control, and had pulled out the plan from last year and updated it. It was quite a big headache for him since, due to how the LE division at Bandelier was already spread thin, he needed to get other law enforcement rangers from other places to come in and work the fire. There are organized ways of putting in orders for additional LE manpower but you need to let the people know ahead of time. With all the question marks, no one could give Dale definite dates until the last minute.

Eventually the date was set for Nov 5. The fires in California were contained, and regional resources were freed, and the weather promised to be within desired parameters.
Dale had me, Joel, Mindy, Matt and Virginia working traffic control and even Carl, the retired chief ranger volunteered to come and help. He also had 4 law enforcement rangers from parks in the region come in to help- working two 12 hour shifts- two rangers at each shift, supervised by a local ranger. This was also the first week of the long awaited new ranger, Dennis. On one hand it was good to have him- since the LE division had been short handed for quite some time now and this was promising to be a busy week, but on the other hand, he needed orientation and the Brian, Dale and Wendy had to take turns riding around with him, showing him around. Monday was supposed to be a day of orientation and preparation for the different crews that were coming in and a test burn was scheduled for that morning. The actual burn was scheduled for Tuesday. On Monday Dale got us all together and gave us a run down on the plan. We were going to close one lane of highway 4, that bordered the park and the burn unit, and have the fire engines and crews working on it. Traffic would be stopped at control points on either end of the burn area, and a pilot car would make runs leading traffic, between those points, on the remaining lane of the highway. We were also going to have a control point ready on forest road 286, a dirt road on the west boundary of the burn unit, in case it got too smoky. Between putting out signs, getting the control points marked and blocking the south lane of the highway, then working all day and closing everything every night when the operation would stop- we were looking at 13 hour shifts. Joel was glad to put in as much work as he could- since that got him one step closer to paying up his loans, but I realized this would make for a very interesting last week since I was scheduled to work all through Thursday and my train was leaving Friday morning, and there would be no time for me to pack up or go through the check out process. Good thing I got all the stuff I didn't want to carry with me and put it in a package. All I had to do was get to the post office and mail it.

We were missing about 200 plastic traffic cones, but they were ordered from a company and were on their way. At 14:00 we were all scheduled for a briefing at Technical Area 49 (TA49), the joint fire management facility for the park, the national forest and the lab. As we were approaching the entrance station, on our way out, a big semi-truck pulled up from the highway and a moment later Mindy, who was working the entrance station that afternoon, got on the radio and announced "Hey, LE people! there's a big semi here that says he's got 200 traffic cones. Anyone know anything about this?"
Dale got on the radio and told her that since we were approaching the entrance station she should instruct the truck driver to follow us (we needed the cones at TA49 anyway). And so we were all headed up highway 4 at high speed- Dale and Dennis and I in one ranger car, the imported LE rangers following us in two ranger cars and finally a big semi truck with traffic cones- one long law enforcement convoy .We were running a little late so Dale was flooring it and the Semi truck apparently had trouble keeping up, because when we all turned into the gate way to TA49 he didn't see us and kept on along the highway trying to catch up with the convoy that was no-longer there. The first one to notice was Dennis. We were all walking towards the crowd of fire fighters that were already assembled in a half circle for the briefing around a map of Unit 9 that was taped to the outside of a hanger door, when he suddenly said- "Wasn't that truck supposed to follow us in here?!" That caught Dale, who was approaching the circle of rough tough fire fighters in a John Wane stroll, totally off guard. He was wearing a face that said "I was already pissing on forest-fires when you all were still playing with matches in the sand box", and Dennis's question made him change into a "What the fu#$?!!" face. But just for a moment. I don't know if it was more important to Dale that Dennis be in the briefing, or that subconsciously he trusted me more than the young ranger he had only met the day before, but to my surprise he threw the keys over to me and said "Catch up with him, will ya". I didn't need to be asked again, and catching a glimpse of Dennis's disappointed face, I ran to the ranger car and took off. To any of you who have trouble visualizing this, the only difference between a ranger car and a police car (siren, cool lights, assortment of cool toys and everything) is that it has "park ranger" written in green on the side. That and the fact that it's a 4X4 SUV, rather than a Sedan type vehicle. I could see the truck ahead of me on the highway, heading north, but there were two cars between me and him, and he was not noticing me (I'll give him the benefit of blaming the curves, simply since I'll have a better opportunity to call him a moron in a second). We were approaching an intersection, and I was really hoping he would stop there, or at least make the turn towards Loa Alamos, because I new that if he kept going straight and start climbing to the upper regions there would only be a couple of places where he could turn around and they were not obviously noticeable from the highway. On the other hand, I was driving a police car at high speed, so I wasn't totally disappointed when he kept on heading straight towards the climb. The good news was that both cars between us did make the turn into Los Alamos so I was directly behind him now.
As he started climbing the winding curves of highway 4, I tried to get his attention by flashing my headlights, but I guess he was too busy navigating his vessel. "You're in a police car!" I'm sure some of you are thinking, but to my disappointment, there isn't a glowing red lever in the center of the dashboard with the words "Cool police lights" blinking over it in neon. I had no-idea how to turn those on. In the mean time, the subject of my chase had already passed two pullouts where it was possible to turn that big-rig around and was on his way to the last one for about 10 miles. I had to get on the radio and report my predicament to Dale. "Did you try turning on the flashing lights?" he whispered into the radio. "I have no idea how to do that!" I yelled over the static of bad reception and the noise of the struggling truck in front of me. "There is a small red lever on the top left corner of the radio panel. Push it all the way to the right and give me a call if you need anything else." He was whispering again and I realized he was standing in the audience of the briefing that had already started. It took about 5 more minutes of me driving with flashing lights and trying to drive into the view of his rear view mirrors on the winding curves, (the car behind me had no idea what the hell was going on), for us to reach a relatively straight run and for him to notice me and pull over on the narrow shoulder. I was a little disappointed because during that time I figured out how to operate the siren and speaker system, and was about to disturb the serenity of the woods around us with my official voice "You in the Semi, Pull over!"

The driver got out of his cab and said "I guess I passed you. You were going pretty fast". Honestly I couldn't argue with that, but it still didn't explain why he kept going after the intersection. To make it short, I told him to follow me to the nearest pullout where we turned around and headed back to TA49 with constantly making sure he was behind me. The whole adventure only took about 40 minutes so when I finally did park the car there was still an assembled crowd of fire fighters to join. By the giggles and smiles that welcomed my grand entrance I realized that Dale's radio wasn't very quiet when I reported in, and that everyone had witnessed the crash course in "how to turn on the police lights".
The only one that didn't know what was going on was Fred, the chief ranger, who's baffled look bounced from me to Dale to the ranger car. He wasn't annoyed, he just couldn't decide if he wanted to know why his very civilian SCA had just gotten out of the drivers seat of a law enforcement vehicle. I guess he decided not to know, because he turned his head and seemed very interested in the "accommodations for outside crews" part of the briefing.

That night Gumaz, Joel, Kevin Molly and I piled up in Gumaz's car and went down to Santa Fe to hear the Old Crow Medicine Show. Ignition was set for 10am the next morning, and all the traffic people were supposed to be ready for work at 6:30 to start putting out signs and cones on the highway. The show was excellent. During the break I guy got on stage and announced that he was selling tickets for a the Dirty Dozen Brass Band who were playing at the Santa Fe brewing company the next night, for only 9$. Gumaz looked at me and I said- "I'm gonna have to get some sleep!", but at the end of the break I handed him a ticket. We all ended up buying tickets. We were having such a great time that even though we were burning hours of sleep we were all happy to go grab a beer after it. It was really a great night and I laughed and danced like I hadn't done in a while. We all did.

It was pretty cold the next morning when I met Dale and the others at the maintenance yard and we started loading the signs on the truck. Then we drove up to to the highway and started putting them out. I drove the truck, and Tillman, one of the imported LEs, rode in the back and unloaded the signs as we went along. Then came the long proccess of laying out the cones. We spread them out on the side of the road and were going to move them to the middle when right before the fire crews would light. I got to ride in the back of a pickup too. My american expperience wouldn't have been complete without it. At 9:00 Dale went down to TA49 for the morning briefing and we had nothing to do but sit around and wait. 10 minutes later we heard "No Burn" over the radio, and Dale told us all to come down to TA49. When we got out of the cars and joined the circle of fire people, the meteorologist was already half way done explaining about the cold weather and the lack of wind that would lock the smoke cloud in place. It was even colder than when I got up that morning...
Now we just had to collect all the cones back in the trucks (the signs could just lay on the side of the road) and enjoy the free afternoon. I was quite happy about it since I didn't get much sleep the night before and I had volunteered to be the sober driver to the show that evening (Joel did it the first time). So I enjoyed an afternoon nap that day.

Joel Gumaz and I headed out an hour and a half earlier and went to visit Moe who had worked in the park earlier in the season. We hung out, grilled some chicken and made a tray of drumsticks disappear. Then we went to meet Kevin, Molly and Beth at the show. Another great night. Good music, lot's of dancing, and a late night.
The best part of it was that we didn't have to meet that early the next morning, since all the signs were out and the cones were already loaded on the trucks.

Setting up the next morning was quick and painless and by 8:00am the morning comuters on highway4 were driving past a bunch of government employees in orange vests sitting on a fence and doing nothing. As we waved them by, we couldn't help but feeling proud about making them feel good about their tax dollars.

Dale was of to the morning breifing and then finally, at 10:30 he called us on the radio and said "We're on. Move those cones to the middle of the road and get ready to stop traffic. I'll be there in 15 minutes". Not long afterwards, the fire engines and crew started arriving and spread out along the highway. Matt and I took one control point, and Joel and Virginia were stopping traffic at the other one. The retired chief ranger was driving the pilot car.
They were going to start the burn at our end, so most of the fire crews were assembling around Mine and Matt's control point. By the time Dale showed up we had a bit of a traffic jam at our end between the line of cars that were waiting to follow the pilot car, and the crowd of fire fighters and engines. He got there right in time to see three big trucks unload 30 convicts from the state prison's fire fighting program. I'm not sure how the tax payers that were waiting in line felt about the pirate-eyed men wearing orange jump suits with "state prison" written on the back, and holding an assortment of tools of destruction- Axes, Pulaskis, shovels and even two Chain saws, all lined up on the side of the road with nothing but a hnadfull of traffic cones to seperate them from the law obiding citizens of Los Alamos county. I have to say that the convicts turned out to be a hard working bunch of fire fighters, helpful and responsible and all the other crews were happy to have them on board.
The moment we were all waiting for came with no trumpets or formal announcement. It just got very smokey very quickly. Though I had never seen anything like it before in my life, my watering eyes washed away the excitement relatively quickly. More than a few fire fighters were nice enough to hide the laughter as I waved them through the control point with tears in my eyes. Only a couple rolled down their window and told me I shouldn't cry, and if it meant so much to me, they would come back later that day to visit me. The rest of the day was pretty boring. We traded spots and took turns driving the pilot car. We exchanged nonsenses over the radio and shared goodies from our packed lunch. The drivers we were stopping gave us a lot less of an attitude than we expected, and except for the occasional "You gonna burn down the town again?!" we were greeted mostly with patience and polite disappointment. The last smartass of the day that gave one of us the "burning the town down" line, recieved the following answer: "Well, it's not on the schedule untill Friday, but since it means so much to you, I'll see what I can do about bumping it ahead. I just hope the weather is right for town-torching tomorrow. You might want to check with me again in the morning". Which one of us it was, is a secret I'll take with me to the grave.
The day ended really late. By the time all torching activities were stopped and the crews all hiked their way out of the forest, is was well and dark outside, and the comuter traffic from Los Alamos out was lined up so far back you couldn't see the end of the line. When we finally opened the road- walking in the middle of the highway, moving traffic cones to the shoulder it was just one long line of cars driving past us. That was also when we found out some worrying news. Gumaz, who got fire certified back in the begining of the season (Joel and I were both SOO envy), was put on the night watch. After all the activities are stopped for the day, and the night chill calms the fire down, one crew is left out to keep an eye on everything. On it's own, there's nothing wrong with working the night shift, but we had planned to have his birthday party and my goodbye party on the following evening, and he would not be able to attend. We had nothing to do but wish him a good night and drive home.
The view, as we were driving home was simply surreal. The moon was just rising and the combination of the smoke and the dying flames from the forest made a ghostly image that no camera could capture.

When we arrived the next morning, for my last day of work, Joel and I set the traffic cones and then walked into what had become a haunted forest. The trees were not harmed, but the ground was all black, and there was smoke everywhere. Here and there there were still the smoldering remains of a downed log that burned all night. One of the dead trees that caught fire the day before burned to the ground throughout the night. Even it's roots burned away, but the ground around them stayed in tact, so you could see the imprint of the roots. Of course neither of us gave up the opportunity to pee on smoldering ashes.

Most of the work for that day was along forest road 289, so the highway stayed open most of the day except for a two hour period when the smoke was making it a little dangerous and we ran the pilot car to make sure everyone was driving slowly enough. Us traffic people were just standing at the control points slowing traffic down and making sure the drivers knew what they were driving into.

Joel got most boring traffic point at graduation flats on the forest road. He could see nothing of the fire action, and very little traffic came through. I think he enjoyed the quiet for a while and was practicing his harmonica skills. He did get some excitement when the hellitach crew used graduation flats as a landing area for their helicopter. On fire fighting scenarios the helicopter is used to deliver fire fighters to remote areas for water dumps. The helitech crew is also very good at directing aircraft water drops. On a prescribed burn, however, apart from their role as good scouts the helitech crew is also in charge of lighting the fire in areas that are hard to access on foot- steep slopes and deep canyons. To do that, they shoot ping pong balls full of fuel at the the area they want to catch fire. Yes, you don't have to read that again. You understood corectly. Ping Pong ball full of fuel. I think that was the moment when Joel made his final decision to become a fire fighter.

There was a lot of action in the forest, that day, and very little action on the road.

We were all very happy when operations for the day were shut down by 5:30 and we didn't have to move the cones in the dark, with anxious-to-get-home drivers zipping by.
We all drove down to the park and were going to meet later at Joel and Gumaz's for my good bye party and Gumaz's birthday party which Gumaz was not going to be able to attend. I was leaving in the morning so I had to check out with Dale first, and give back all of my gear, and get started on cleaning my apartment (Tori was going to check me out of my apartment in the morning). After I showered and packed up all of the leftover food in my fridge I went up to their place and found both Joel and Gumaz there. Gumaz was able to get someone to switch him on the night shift, so it was going to be a full house after all.
It was a great goodbye party. We cooked, like usual, and drank, like usual.
Everyone was tired from a long day of working the fire (Gumaz, Kevin and Beth actually worked fire), and yet, it was still great- there was good cooking, good drinking and a lot of laughs.

Even John Mack, Chief of the resources division, came around to say goodbye, and drank quite well.
Tori got me checked out in the morning. I believe there was a hint of a teer in the side of her eye.
At Noon, Shanon picked me and my backpack up and drove me to the train station in Lamy, not before I said goodbye to everyone, one last time, over the radio.
I don't know what I was expecting, but we had to drive past Santa Fe on I25, then get on a state highway, and finally on a county road. We reached a train station that hasn't changed much since the 1880's, when it was built.
That's when I said goodbye to New Mexico, got on a train, and started my long way home.

A grand finale

2007-10-31T17:06:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was little, and my parents started taking us out hiking there were certain things that it was obvious you would carry with you. At first it was just water. You always carried water. Then sandwiches and snacks came in- and made perfect sense. Later on I was allowed to carry a penknife (I don't think I was even allowed to peel oranges with my first Swiss army pen knife). I was also excited about my first compass and I think I almost walked off a ledge because I was too busy looking at it, rather than looking where I was going. As you grow up and your hikes grow longer things get added into the pack- Sandals (for walking in water), warm clothing, a camera, a sleeping bag, a tent...

The army adds a whole list of things I never thought I'd pack- guns and ammo for one, explosives sometimes, but also less deadly things like first aid kits, a stretcher, a shovel, radios and spare batteries and camouflage nets...

After I got out of the army I went through a period of caving and repelling trips (I hope to do I few more of those). That's when I stuffed my pack with a repelling harness, a helmet, a good head lamp and rope. Climbing rope can get pretty heavy. especially when it's wet.
During my three months in the park I have had the opportunity to carry a few things that I never thought I would pack-
Never thought I would carry a 2 meter level- and Gumas made sure I did that.
Never thought I would pack a plunger for a hike- but when my cabin sink got clogged up, Terri from maintenance was nice enough to dig up a bran new mini plunger that fit in my pack pretty snug.
Never hiked with an axe or work gloves before but with all the trail clearing that I did- I got used to that one pretty quickly. Oh, and lets not forget the single-man crosscut saw.

Carrying wooden signs and sign posts and post-diggers was new,
never carried three ceramic water filters, never hiked with a bucket in my hand.
This last week I had the opportunity to add to the list-

Never hiked with an air-pump before... And oars... and an inflatable boat.

The thought of boating down the Rio Grande has been living in the back of my mind since about my second week here. It's a very calm shallow stretch of water, at least the part the borders the park, and all the canyons in the park run into it. Hiking to the Rio is always downhill from everywhere in the park. It always seemed like such a waste to hike up stream after I got to the river. I've discussed the idea with Gumas and Joel and we started looking around at our options. Getting a hold of a kayak didn't seem too difficult- a few people in the park are into boating and would lend us their vessels (especially if they wanted to be invited to the next meal we cooked). If we wanted a bigger boat, Joany's canoe had a scrape through the bottom of it and we thought of negotiating a trade- fixing it in exchange for taking it out. Arranging for someone to pick us up at Cochiti lake didn't seem too complicated- probably wouldn't have cost more than a six pack or two... Putting in posed a bit more of a challenge. The closest vehicle access was on state highway 501, on the way to Santa Fe, but that spot is on Pueblo land and you need to get permission. Not as easy as it sounds. Another option was hiking down the Falls trail from the VC, Three strong guys could handle carrying a canoe down that trail. Like many other things- we talked about it, and talked a little more, and the talk didn't get us much closer to actually doing it. Then, one day about a week and a half ago, I mentioned the idea to Dale, as we were chasing the bear away from the main parking lot. "Brian from veg has an inflatable kayak, you know. He got it for his department when the water level at Cochiti went up a few years back". Later that day I saw Brian walk by and asked him about it. "No problem", he said, "I'll bring it in tomorrow". That was a quicker reply than I thought I'd get. The next day I had a note waiting for me, telling to find Brian and the boat. He had it all packed up in an old outer frame pack, and when he handed me the two oars he asked me with a bit of a smirk on his face: " Just how far were you thinking of hiking with this?". At that point I didn't really feel comfortable telling him that my plans for the whole thing hadn't gone beyond my conversations with Joel and Gumas on a couch in their living room- where, usually after a meal, with each one of us holding a beer in his hand, we would dream up a very lazy float down the river. Heavy big old aluminum-frame backpack were never part of our visions of leisure. Amused as he seemed, Brian did expect an answer so I told him I would hike down the falls trail, put it at the mouth of Frijoles canyon, sail to Capulin Canyon and hike up to the Cabin. He didn't ask how I was going to get it out from the cabin, and I didn't volunteer any information. "The vegetation at the bottom of Capulin is pretty dense, but I'm sure you'll find your way", he said with a grin.
I lifted the pack to test the weight. It wasn't too bad. The frame seemed old but in decent shape, and there was still enough padding on the straps. It was only when I took it to my apartment and saw my regular pack leaning on a the wall that I started having second thoughts. I stripped it down and moved only the essential gear to the other pack- First aid kit, radio and spare batteries, light, warm clothing... oh and water- you always carry water. It was going to be my last trip out to the cabin, and I had to eat up all the supplies that I had accumulated there- so I wasn't packing in any new supplies. I left my book out of it, and voted against taking my university workbook. Then I zipped all the old zippers and tightened the straps and latched the two half-oars on the outside. It looked heavy and uncomfortable. I crawled under it and with only a bit of moaning I lifted myself off the floor and into the straps. "Not too bad" I thought to myself, took it off as fast as I could, and went to bed.

The next morning, after a hefty breakfast, I loaded my load, tightened the waist strap, and headed out, not before I spent a few extra minutes negotiating through the doorway with extra width of the pack and the two oars sticking out from the top of the pack. Like every morning, I did a radio checked-in with the ranger on duty, and gave him my general plan for the day: "This is 451, Good morning. I'll be headed down the falls trail today, then on the river and up Capulin canyon to base camp. Have a good day". There was only a short silence. "You mean ALONG the river..."

"No. I mean ON the river- Floating. Over"
"...OK...have a... good hike...sail"
The hike down the falls trail really wasn't bad. The pack was heavy but bearable. It took about an hour to get down to the river, and the sun was still too low to heat the bank inside the canyon. I spent about half an hour inflating the kayak and strapping my gear in, and right as I was about to push in the sun poked in- so it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

I pushed in and spent about 10 minutes experimenting with the paddles and testing how strong the current was. The water was calm and flat but very shallow the current was steady but not too strong. The only danger was getting suck in the mud in the shallow areas, So the only paddling I did from there was just to steer the kayak to the deeper parts.
It was great! I had hiked along the river before so the scenery was not new to me. But whenever you're hiking there is the sound of your steps and the squeaking of your heavy backpack's straps. With the way I hike there is also the huffing and puffing of the march. It's still quiet like nature should be, but unless you stop- it's not silent. The kayak was. I was half sitting half lying in the sun, floating along and listening. Slowly floating along, going past the cliffs and canyons that I've been climbing in and out of for the past three months. It took almost three hours to float down to Capulin. Three hours of calmness and ease. When I got to my destination, finding a place to get out was a bit of a challenge. I climbed out and up a rocky slope, and found a ledge to deflate the boat on. I also had my lunch as I waited for the boat to dry. Then I folded it all up and stuffed it back in the backpack. I had 8 km ahead of me. All up canyon. Two of which were off trail on a rocky dry stream bed. But first I had to get trough (or around) the vegetation. Well, before that I had to lift the backpack off the ground. "God!!" I mumbled to myself as I heaved and pulled. I didn't remember the pack was that heavy coming down to the river.
I started up and around the dense brush. I had to stay along the slope at the side of the canyon and walked over slide of boulders. Jumping from boulder to boulder with a folded boat on your back really challenges your balance. My walking stick could have come handy at that point but I left it at the apartment, in the "unessential" pile. Finally I got around the vegetation and headed up on the rocky (but at least leveled) creak bed.
Then I reached the park boundary fence, and discovered this fabulous contraption:
Where the park boundary crossed the creek you couldn't build a regular fence because it would get washed away whenever a flash flood would come by. Instead, a metal cable was strung from two strong metal posts on the two banks. wooden planks were hung from the cable and their bottom ends were chained together. This "flood gate" is only anchored to the banks at the top, so when a flood comes the gate, theoretically, lifts up and lets the flood through, and then drops down again to block the way for livestock,

and backcountry rangers with over sized, overweight packs with two oars sticking out from the top. I got so tangled up between the planks and the cable, that I had to get myself out of the straps and crawl under the flood gate dragging my load as I went.
I pressed on. I was seriously dragging my feet through parts of it, but I have to admit, after a while you get used to the extra load pushing you into your own footprints. I was plenty hurting by the time I got to the cabin. I Dropped the pack and suddenly I felt I was floating off the ground.
There were plenty of noddles left from prior trips and even a box of rice, and I had a selection of beans, lentils and peas, so there was no shortness of dinner. Even had "fruit cocktail" for desert.
Since this was my last trip out to the cabin, and I needed to clean up and seal it off for the winter, I stayed put the next day, on house keeping detail. I stocked up on firewood, I cleaned out the stove, I took apart the water filter and packed up the leftover supplies. That's when it dawned on me that I would have a number of extra items to carry on my hike out: The leftover food, my sleeping bag, which has been leaving in a metal box in the cabin for the past three months, the ceramic filters from the water tank and whatever garbage I accumulate. I was only a little sore around the waist from the strap, but the thought of hiking out of Capulin canyon and up to the Dome overlook TH wasn't a warming one. I was distracted from my self pity by three backpackers who came to the cabin looking for advice and ideas for place to go to, but they were soon gone, and I was back to beating myself up for getting myself into this mess. I started cooking dinner earlier than usual that night, and I used more noddles and more beans than usual- anything so wouldn't carry that much. There was still a can of "fruit cocktail" but i stuffed myself so decisively that I just couldn't fit. Since I am the guy that just a couple of weeks ago wrote about the hollow leg condition, you can imagine there was some serious lots of food. I rolled over to bed and fell asleep in front of my wood stove for the last time- stuffed and warm. I woke up the next morning and had lots for breakfast. There was only one bagel left but I smeared an extra thick layer of peanut butter and jelly on it. Anything in order to lighten the load. Also downed the last of the oatmeal and the last onion (I had fried it the night before). Then I started the long good-bye and close up process. Shut the fridge and unplugged the solar panel, emptied all the water containers, unscrewed the sink drain (so there wouldn't be any water left in it to freeze and crack the plumbing) locked all the windows, said good bye to the mice, went to the outhouse for the last time, and packed up all of my trash. The dreaded pack waited patiently for me on the picnic table outside. At 9:50AM I harnessed myself in and set on my way. This time I was smart enough to prepare a good walking stick for the climb. It's one long constant climb all the way from the cabin in Capulin canyon to Dome TH. From 6300 ft to 8200ft. 10 minutes into it I was already huffing and puffing. The pack was heavy. Very heavy. The climb usually takes people about 2 hours. I came down that way a few times, only went up that way once before. It took me an hour and 20 minutes- but I was pushing. This time I planned for a two and a half hour stretch and arranged the pickup according to that. I don't know how I did it. It definitely took some pain (but nothing that lasted). An hour and 35 minutes later I dropped my load at the TH. It was a while before dale was supposed to show up but I didn't care. I pulled out that can of fruit cocktail that had been spared the night before and laid in the sun. When Dale came around the curve I could see his sunglassed-smile turn into a baffled look when he saw me pick up my oar-caped pack and walk over to him. As I started battling the over sized pack to get it into the back seat, taking the oars off, and making room for it, he said "I didn't think you were going to carry it all the way up to here! What's wrong with Cochiti lake? you could have floated all the way down"
I said nothing.
Just as I was about to throw the oars on the top of the pile a jeep came around the curve and stopped next to us. Three camo-wearing, tobacco-chewing, hunters came out (Dome TH is on forest land. Hunting is legal there). "Did you just throw oars into that truck?!" they asked.

"There ain't no river up here. Where'd you come from?"

Dale, in kind of a fatherly proud voice, said "He hiked all the way from the river with a boat on his back".

"All the way up to here? What's wrong with Cochiti lake?!"

In the end, there was a turkey sitting on a can of beer...

2007-10-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

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.

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

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.

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'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.

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.

Balloon Fiesta

2007-10-16T07:48:00.000-07:00

We interrupt our usual broadcast to tell you about a lot of hot air.
Balloon Fiesta is the largest balloon festival in the world. It's a once a year deal in Albuquerque, at about this time of year.
Dale has been telling me about it for the past couple of weeks. According to him "We used to go there every year before the boys got older..." Then, a week ago, I happened to talk to Brian (ranger) and Matt (fee collection). Brian said that they go down there every year- "It's great for the kids!", and Matt, the proud owner of a huge new pickup hooked up to an ever huger new RV, and the proud father of two young boys, couldn't agree more- "It's packed with more people than you'll ever see in your life, and the traffic is horrible- we've stood in line for 2.5 hours on the highway once, and that was just for the parking lot, but since you can see a lot of it from the highway, and we were lucky enough the wind made them drift over us- the boys were pretty occupied and didn't drive us crazy. Really, you should go."
That evening, Molly had mentioned she wanted to go and was looking for someone to tag along for the two hour drive (on a normal day, without any traffic), so the issue of transportation was solved too.
So this is how I found myself heading down towards an event that stood against everything I was ever brought up on- There was an entrance fee involved (additional to the parking fee), a huge crowed and a line to get in. Every person that I spoke to about it said it was "great for the kids" which should have given me every reason to run from it like the plague. I could just see my dad going "Have I thought you nothing??!".
Well let me just start by saying it was great for the kids. Kids of all ages. Including this kid of 26 years of age. The drive down took us exactly two hours. I have to hand to Molly, she did an excellent job passing everyone on the highway. Even though her habit of not trusting the rear view mirror, and actually looking over her shoulder every time she changed lanes did make me feel slightly uneasy for the first hour and fifty minutes. The sign for Balloon fiesta pointed towards exit 254, and the directions Molly had downloaded said exit 253 (the next one). We had a moment of uncertainty, but the lines of cars at the first exit made us vote in favor of Google directions. That ended up being the wiser of choices. We only crawled in a line of traffic for about 10 minutes. We were safely directed through the maze of blocked streets and parking isles by a swarm of, courteous yet firm-expressioned, law enforcement officers from a variety of agencies, most of which were mounted on golf carts, and were finally taxied to a parking spot by a volunteer parking attendant that flagged us with two flashlights as if we were driving a 747. The line for tickets wasn't too bad either.
When we walked out to the field, past the food booths and gift stands (I am never going to be the proud owner of a hat shaped like a hot air balloon. No matter how catchy the slogan might be), Molly and I looked at the endless ocean of people and the three Wells Fargo balloons at the far end and mumbled to each other, as if trying to convince ourselves- "hmm... this is nice...kinda". We walked around for a bit and found an area with a bit less of a crowed and started asking ourselves if we should have brought a Frisbee. There were balloons all around the field, but they were all spread on the ground and the crews were fiddling with them, but didn't seem to be in any haste to get them out of their two dimensional state on the soft, very horizontal bed of grass. This lasted for about half an hour, and just as I was about to offer we walk over to the chainsaw carving tent that was set up at the other end of the field as a side attraction, an over enthused announcer got on the speakers and said "Pilots, you are GO for cold inflation". Suddenly, from all around us came the combined sound of giant industrial fans and the OOhh and Ahh of the crowed. Starting slowly and slowly taking shapes, colorful sheets of nylon material were rising all around us. It started as wide, very moderately-rounded domes slowly gaining height and then they grew limbs and slowly filled the sky line. And it's happening all around you. That's when everyone pulled out their cameras and fired away. The good thing about taking pictures of hot air balloons, especially when they are so close ad all around you, is that very quickly you start pointing your camera up and the crowed is no longer an issue. No one is in your line of sight.
As cool as it was seeing this big inflated tents- these still were crippled creatures- held up by the crews and with their baskets fallen on their side. It wasn't until the speakers shot out "GO for hot inflation" that the balloons started reclaiming their glorious graceful floating ability. Giants of hot air and fabric of all shapes and variations of mainly once size- "big", were rising all around us as the sun was going out of service for the day. It took about twenty minutes for the skyline to fill up with air born giants. Nothing actually left the ground- they don't fly at night, but the balloons were all hovering over the endless crowd of people. I never thought anything could hide sow many people. They all looked like balloons (obviously), except for Darth Veda- Which really looked like the duke of darkness hovering over the crowd.

When it got dark the sky was occasionally lit by the count down burn. All the balloons firing their burners at the same time. Great fun.
After about an hour, they started deflating. A fireworks show was put on, but it did not posses the ability to hide the crowd. Lines and lines of the average consumer-type American fair-fairing families magically produced themselves in front of the food tents, to the sound of the air-force band that was brought in to set the tone for the after party. At that point my up-bringing caught up with me and I was ready to leave. Molly, on the other hand, wanted the experience to last to it's fullest and we joined the herd for nachos and a burger. Can't complain about the quality of the food, but that was hardly the highlight of the evening.
With the crowd, the two-hour drive, the 10$ for parking, 6$ entrance fee, 5$ burger, and the line getting in and out I can still easily say-
It's was great for the kid. This kid.

2007-10-09T05:19:00.000-07:00

This week started with another unbelievable photo opportunity. Dale picked me up in the morning and I rode around with him for a few hours before he dropped me off at a trail head.
We are now at the midst of a 2 week break in hunting season. We just finished bow and muzzle loader seasons- those are sporting hunts with hard core dedicated hunters who drive from all around the country to spend a couple of weekends dressed up in camo early in the morning waiting for a bull elk to stroll by them so they can get a clear shot to the heart- cause you usually don't get a second shot with a bow or a muzzle loader. These guys tend to get drunk on whiskey in the evenings. The next hunt coming up is the all American favorite rifle season when all kind of characters will drive from all around the country to walk around the woods (not too far from their pickup) with a loaded rifle in one hand and a beer can in the other. Occasionally they will fire multiple shots into the thick of the woods because something that was bigger than a squirl moved there. Of course, since alcohol is involved, there is always the problem of "open container" so the forest dirt roads become one long stretch of small crushed aluminum Budweiser advertisements. Their new slogan should be: "Bud-light, trashing our forests the American way...".
Even though we are a quiet 2 week period between the seasons, there is still a need for hunting patrol. The Valles Caldera, that borders both park and forest, has it's own hunting seasons going on, and the hunters are walking around the forest, looking for good spots for when the hunt begins (You'd be amazed at how serious some of these guys get about the whole thing). Right now they should only be armed with binoculars, but they all have their arsenal in back window of their pickups and some of them get what is known as Elk fever- once they spot one of those trophy bulls- a red curtain falls in front of them and everything else goes out the window- hunting seasons, park boundaries, permits... they just grab the rifle and start firing away. All of this is to explain why, during a brake in the hunting season, I was waiting for dale to pick me up in the park parking lot at 6:20 am, literally the crack of dawn, with my week's supply stacked snug in my backpack. The first thing we did was drive along the highway to all the different pullouts that the hunters usually park in. We even drove out to the Caldera and checked out a couple of pullouts there, because they were easy to access the park from. This is when we saw this morning image. The morning rays shining onto the Caldera over the road that leads to the park.
With this beautiful sky we drove down one of the dirt roads for a bit, parked the car, and headed up Scooter peak. Dale had spent the better part of the day before in that area, because a surveyor that was working there had reported hearing shots. The obvious assumption was poaching- but neither Dale or Brian couldn't find anything. So the day after we headed up to see if we could spot any unusual bird activity. Poachers don't usually take the whole animal- especially if it's as big as an Elk. Even if they are hunting for meat they usually gut and carve the animal on the spot- leaving a lot of food for the birds, but in most cases these guys are trophy-hunting so they take the head and, maybe, the back strips and leave the rest behind. So no-matter who is doing the hunting, if you come around a day later, the birds have had enough time to gather around whatever leftovers there are, and you can either see the flock or hear the chatter, and that's what we were looking for. We ended up finding nothing, but it was a pretty nice hour to be up on scooter- sun rising and a chilly morning breeze.
After we got down, Dale drove me to the Dome TH. That's the closest TH to the cabin and I've used the trail that goes down from there a few time before (especially when the backpack I was carrying was more on the heavy side). This time, however, we picked a different route for me to drop down along. There used to be a trail that went down from that TH, through national forest land and connected to the park boundary right where Capulin canyon comes into the park. My cabin is in Capulin and it would just be a matter of hiking down along the canyon once I got to the boundary. That forest trail got badly damaged after two major fires (96', 2000'). Burned trees have fallen on it and some of the switchbacks had been washed away in the floods that followed the fires. So for the past 6-7 years, that trail has been abandoned. Last year the rangers did see forest service trail crews working on the trail, and a new sign was installed at the TH, but the work was never finished. Apparently inter-agency communications aren't working so well, because the guys at the park have not been able to get an answer from anyone in the forest regarding what exactly was the plan for this trail. So, in the mean-time, the Bandelier backcountry ranger (that's me) was sent down to see how far along they have come with clearing the trail, and what exactly is the condition of it, all the way down to the park boundary. It's a good idea to be able to tell hikers what to expect, and maybe even put a warning sign at the park boundary, if the trail is in really bad shape, for people headed out of the park. I was eager to check it out because if the trail was in good condition, IT would be the shortest way in and out of from the cabin. The trail was in pretty good condition all the way to the rim of the canyon. When I started down the switchbacks it was obvious that the trail crews have not come this far, but it was still just a matter of stepping over fallen trunks and pushing through overgrowth that needed to be cut back. The lower I dropped into the canyon, the worse it got, though. Parts of the trail have been washed away or totally covered by piles of fallen trees that had pushed one-another down. The challenge wasn't about walking the trail, it was about finding the trail. I've done off trail hiking in these canyons before, and wasn't worried about getting lost(you're in a canyon, headed down canyon...), but I was trying to avoid it for the sake of being able to report about the whole length of the trail. About three quarters of the way down I did make an interesting discovery.
I've told you about the phone lines that ran along the trees (See entry September 12 2007). You can still see the ceramic insulators nailed to trees along the canyon. Here, on the way down, I found the leftovers of a split in the line, and pieces of the copper wire. It's no big archaeological finding, but it was neat to come across. My little finding came with a loss. From that point on, I couldn't find the trail anymore. It's almost like it led to that point where the phone lines split- and that's it. So, I had to go back to the old bushwhacking for the rest of the way down. Once I got to the creek at the bottom of the canyon it was a 15 minute hike to the park boundary, where I met up with the park trail the leads to my cabin.

That night Gumas was supposed to come out to the cabin. He had asked me to help out with collecting data from erosion bridges on one of the mesas. His partner, Caroline, had hurt her knee and wasn't able to go on any long hikes anymore. I got the cabin at around 2pm and had some time to do my school work. I was going to wait for Gumas to start making dinner. I got all of my reading done, and even finished the questions at the end of the chapter and Gumas was a no-show. It was getting late and dusky at this point so put the water up and started cooking beans (that takes about 2 hour anyway), and still, no Gumas in sight. Right when I was about to get on the radio and call him to see what was going on I heard voices approaching and Gumas showed up. And he brought Joel along. And Joel brought a bottle of whiskey. That was a pleasant surprise. Apparently Caroline, the wounded partner, was supposed to drive them to the TH, and she was late. Very very late. They had no problems hiking down, it was just a difficulty getting started. Along side the bottle of whiskey they also brought tortellini and sauce, summer-sausage, yellow cheese and cream cheese and other bits and pieces of nutrition. It was easy for me to forgive their delay. I already had the beans going and between the hot dogs that i added to them, and the pasta, we had quite a pile of food. It was a hefty amount- but it stood no chance in the face of the three of us, and we each even had a can of "fruit cocktail" for desert. Between dinner and the card game that followed- the bottle of whiskey stood less chance than the food, and the only reason I still have the bottle standing in the cabin, with a thin layer of liquid in the bottom, is because Joel didn't want to have to hike back with it. I think this is a good place to tell you about an interesting, almost alarming, anatomical phenomena that I have noticed out here. I don't know if it's the thin air, or some ancient Indian spirit that drifts around on these mesas... but something is emptying the inside of my leg. Now, I know, most of you are sitting there right now trying to imagine how that is surgically possible, and some of you are just getting flashbacks from the last horror movie that you've have seen, but I mean it. I've developed a hollow leg. There is no other explanation to the amounts of food I've been able to consume- in one sitting or along a 24 hour period. This isn't hunger. Hunger can't keep up with this. It's just that whenever I stop whatever I'm doing (including if what I'm doing is eating a hefty meal) and take a moment to enjoy the scenery, or take a breath of fresh mountain air, the first thought that comes to mind is "hmm... I could eat right now". I could be washing the pot that was full of noddles just 20 minutes ago, the fry pan that housed 6 hot dogs and the bowl that now holds nothing but a few licked streaks and the scent of the pile beans that used to live in it, and a warm fuzzy feeling comes along- "If there was anymore, right now, I'd kill it too..." my body seems to be saying.
Judging by what we did to that poor pile of food, and the bottle of whiskey, and the canned fruit, I suspect that Joel and Gumas suffer from the same condition, though perhaps not to the same degree. I should ask them. There could be an important medical discovery here.

We were sitting outside and watching the stars when the rain came to signal us it was time to do the dishes, but considering that three people make a cabin pretty warm and cozy, we rolled into our cots and went to sleep very much on the content side.
The next morning we woke up, had an impressive breakfast (not as impressive as dinner, but enough to crowd the table), washed it down with coffee that was dark and thick enough to make a horse shoe float in it (this one isn't mine. I stole it from Joel) and set out. We were headed down Capulin, almost all the way to the river and then we were going to head up one of the mesas- where the erosion bridges were, along an old Indian trail. We had a long day ahead of us so I set a lively pace. The rain that had fallen the night before was hanging on the grass and leaves along the trail and by the time we made our first stop at Painted Cave, about 6 kilometers down the canyon, we were pretty wet from the knees down. (Thanks to the great treatment my shoes have been getting, my feet stayed dry- in case any of you were worried) The sun hadn't come up enough at that point to heat up the canyon so we made it a short shivering stop and pressed on.

Out of the three of us, Joel is the newest addition to the park, and he has done the least hiking in the backcountry. He really got a kick out of climbing the old Indian trail. You cant see it from a distance, and really, you are still climbing the same steep cliffy slope. It's just that most of the loose little rocks have been cleared out of the way and in some places you can still put your foot down on a ledge that was once a carved stair. It helps you get to the top of the mesa without tripping over loose rocks and scraping your hands. We had twelve sites to record on that mesa and four more sites across a steep dry canyon.
An erosion bridge is just two pegs stuck in the ground, leveled in height. We hiked in with a long level with ten holes along the length of it, in fixed intervals. The level is set between the two pegs and an aluminum arrow-pole is put through the holes, one at a time. Then, the distance from level to the ground is measured along the pole. As these measurements have been taken once a year for the past 15 years, you can get an idea of how much the soil between the two pegs has eroded over time. We also had to take soil samples at each site and record information like the slope and direction of the wash and the depth of the layer of soil. Between the three of us it didn't take much time to take the readings and write them down. The problem was the soil samples. You're all thinking of a test tube. So was I. Gumas pulled out large Ziploc bags and made Joel fill them up with about 2-3 pounds of dirt. One bag doesn't sound bad, but we had 16 sites in total. that's quite a bit of dirt. Since I wasn't hiking out with them that day, there was no point in me carrying the samples. I helped as much as I could by carrying the level and much of the water, but they were still heavier than I was and were going to get heavier before the day ended.
We had lunch when we finished the first mesa and crossed the canyon to the last four sites. This time there was no Indian trail to help us out so it was more of a roll down, and a carefull pathfinding job up. We took turns scouting for next steady spot to step on.
When all the measurements were taken and Gumas and Joel's packs were all loaded up with the dirt that was needed back in the labs we headed for the nearest trail and started our long hike up along the mesa. Not before Gumas made a new friend.

When we reached the junction where I was to leave them, we stopped to rest. Gumas and I engaged in a debate about bachelor recipes (hollow leg, remember?). Food that did not make friends or even associate with words like "aroma", "saute ", "marinade" or "simmer", but was more likely to be graded by phrases like- "quick", "tons of it", and the ultimate-"a drunk monkey could do it". Joel didn't contribute his educated opinion to our conversation. He was not happy about his load of dirt and his backpack was not fitted well. knowing he had about three hours still ahead of him, I'm sure didn't help.

It only took me about 45 minutes to make it back to the cabin and start working on dinner. It took another three hours from when my eyes started watering from chopping the first onion until I heard them on the radio reporting they were back at HQ. Looking at the leftover whiskey I had, I took a moment to think nice, fond thoughts about them both. The sky was totally clear that night, and a chill moved in. This was the first time it got really cold. The next morning, when I headed out, I could get away with wearing a short sleeve shirt because I was sweating up the steep trail to Turkey Springs, but I had to put my work gloves on because the dry chilled air was biting my fingertips. I had been out that way several times before, and I like that part of the park. This time I was trying to find a cliff with petroglifs that Dale had told me about. I got to Turkey Springs, went down the canyon, and up to the ruins of San Miguel Pueblo. Then I went down a small wash on the other side, that was supposed to end at a cliff over another canyon. The rock art was supposed to be on the side of that wash at that cliff, but I couldn't find anything. I kept on walking along that ledge and enjoyed the view- but still no rock art. I figured I was on the wrong ledge, so I took off my pack, tied a rope to it and climbed onto the ledge above me, pulling my pack up under me. After all that effort- no petroglifs. Then it was just the long hike home. A disappointing day for backcountry ranger Limon.

There had been two big fallen trees that I had had my eye on for quite some time blocking the trail at lower Capulin. They seemed too big for one man to tackle so I kept them for when someone else would be out at the cabin with me. I thought I'd have Gumas and Joel for another night- but they hiked out with their dirt filled packs. So for a grand finale for this stint I decided to take them on. I packed my long saw, an axe and a couple of plastic wedges and cleared my schedule for the day. I was prepared to spend the whole day out there chopping away, if that's what it took. It didn't.

It took a lot of work. I huffed and I puffed and my arms and back were already aching by the time I got done with the first one, but each cut took me about half an hour- and I had four. Two for each tree.
So at the end of it, when I got back to the cabin I had all of the afternoon to write down my home work assignment nice and neet and get it ready to be sent overseas. I got quite a bit done. Is the pen mightier than the axe after all?

I hiked out on monday. I only met one hiker on my way out and she was on a day hike. I got back to the visitor center and found it was packed with visitors and low on staff. Culombus day. I had no idea. I borrowed one of the abandoned park vehicles and went grocerie shopping and bought a whole chicken, a large aluminum pan and box of rock salt (Kosher salt). Any of you who know where this is going also know that I showed Gumas the undesputid all time champion of bachelor recepies- Chicken and Salt in the oven. Six people ate well that night, and licked their fingers. Sure, Gumas had salmon and potatos going too, but it was only the chicken that was torn to pieces and eaten as finger food without cutlury or plates. A hole chicken... Oh and this isn't a guy thing- two women were part of this band of savages.

A crowded week

2007-10-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

I have to say, I saw more people out in the backcountry this week, than I have seen in all of my time out here up until now.
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.

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.

Wet feet and wood stoves

2007-09-25T15:12:00.000-07:00

This week started with a revelation. I got up pretty early in the morning, grabbed my backpack, and went to the office to wait for Dale to pick me up. I was going to join him for the morning hunting patrol (hence the early wake up call) and then head out to the cabin from one of the trail-heads on the other side of the park. While I was waiting I even had a chance to call a friend in Israel- so the morning really started pretty well. We drove around for about an hour or so, looking for trucks parked in places that would indicate that the owners were hunting on park land. Also got out and walked around for a bit in an area that has had a few poaching cases in the past. After that, Dale drove me up to the Alamo Springs TH (Trail Head) to start my hike. I think I mentioned before that Dale is really fun to ride with. He has been in the park for the past 17 years and is full of stories. There is a lot to learn from the guy. I also happen to like his taste in music. He has his Sat radio tuned to 60's-70's music all the time, so in other words- he would fit right in with the Mike's Place crowd. I've told you about him before- but as he parked the car and we both got out to admire the beautiful clear morning- we both realized I didn't have any pictures of him.
Had to use the hood of the truck as a tripod and put it on timer, but I finally have attached an image to my imaginary ranger-friend.
Alamo springs TH is one of the less used trail heads of the park. the main reason for that is that in order to get to it you need to drive on a very bad dirt road for about 40 minutes, through national forest, and that dirt road is not always open. Little to no people would hike all that just to start their hike in the park. As a result, it's very easy to loose the trail and especially in the early morning hours- when I set out, you end up whacking your way through the brush and getting soaked from the wet branches and leafs- after the night fogs. Dale sent me out this week with a specific task. Keeping record of all the signs in the back country. Writing down their condition and taking pictures of them. Some of the signs need to be replaced because they point to trails that are not open any more, and some of the signs get damaged from the weather or the wild animals. For some reason, the bears really like to claw the new signs- something about the smell of the treated wood, and let me tell you- no sign will stand that for long.

As I hit the main trail I was supposed to take, the one that is more well maintained, I really enjoyed the rays of the morning sun warming me up and drying up my pants that got wet coming down Alamo Springs. The sun didn't stay out for long, though. After about 5 minutes, I saw the clouds coming in from behind me. Thick heavy grey clouds rolling down from the Jemez mountains. I had just enough warning to pull out my poncho and the rain cover for my backpack, and to bury my camera deep inside the pack. Then the hail came- and I still had a good hour and a half to two hours of a hike. I wasn't sure which of us- Dale or me, got it worse. I had to hike in the rain and was getting undeniably wet. He had to drive back, uphill, into the center of the storm, on a dirt road that got very slippery in the rain, with a serious cliff on one side...
I'm very happy with my poncho, because when I finally made it to the cabin, I was only wet from the hips down. My shoes and socks were soaked and my leather hat was dripping. My fingers were a little cold- but that's about it. It was time to put the wood stove to the test. Though I got to the cabin before noon I went no-where that day. For one, I didn't have shoes to walk anywhere in- they were drying up in front of the stove, and secondly- I was hiking with a pretty heavy pack and pushing my way pretty quickly to get out of the rain. I was pooped.

Did some reading, cooked some dinner, and dried out.
Woke up the next morning with the flames dying in the stove and dry shoes waiting in front of it, and dry socks hanging over it. Quite a soothing pictures. All it needed was a kettle warming up on it. Should have taken a picture of that- but my camera was in the other room, and the concrete floor was too cold to attempt in bare feet. After breakfast (that was indeed cooked over the wood stove) I headed out to the south end of the park with a hand drill and two screws. On one of my last trips out, I discovered the sign down there had not been mounted on a post, but was just leaning on a pile of rocks. So the next time out I hiked out with the post and stuck it in the ground. Only problem then was that I discovered there were no holes in the sign to put the screws through. So this time I intended to finish the job with the hand drill. Some gut feeling told me that nothing is that simple, so I also hike out with some wire and pliers. Knowing how wet the grass would be after yesterdays storm, I wrapped my legs, from the knee down, in garbage bags reinforced by duck tape. After an 8 Kilometer hike I got to the sign and discovered two things. One- though the garbage bags had, by now, slipped down and were no longer covering my shins, but were wrapped around my ankles- they did help keep my feet relatively dry, and two- I was right to hike out with a backup plan because the holes in the pole were too small for the screws I had. If no bears hang out in the southern part of the park (they usually keep to the greener areas), sign might stand a chance.

From there I decided not to go back on one of the trails which i have hiked before. Instead I headed back north along Hondo canyon. I've crossed Hondo before and came up along an Indian trail- that's when I met Gumaz on the mesa. This time I was going to hike the whole length of Hondo canyon. I guess I hit it just at the right season. The first few miles of the canyon have a wide sandy, dry, creek bed. I the summer, I'm sure hiking along that would have meant sinking in the sand the whole way, but after a few rains the sandy bottom was packed down and it was like trekking on a highway. Another amazing thing about Hondo were the crazy rock formations I found about a mile up from the mouth of the canyon.

It was a long hike, in mileage, but those soft comfortable first few miles, really made it fun.
I also had a chance to record quite a few signs that day.
On my second day I stuck around Capulin canyon- where the cabin is. The park boundary crosses Capulin up canyon from the cabin, and the signs in that part needed to be checked on. I also wanted to do some clearing on the trail that comes down to the cabin from the Dome TH- the shortest way in to my cabin. So I started the day hiking out with a new sign for the boundary and after lunch took the big cross cut saw and an axe and went up to the big log that blocks the trail where the rattle snake had surprised me on my last hike to the cabin. Just in case, I also took the snake hook with me, but he wasn't there. That saw can be used by one or two people, and I've only used it, up until now, for cutting firewood for the cabin. I never tried any large trunks. It took me a lot less time than i had expected. Within 20 minutes I cut it twice and got it out of the way. Just imagine what two real lumber jacks, that know what they are doing, can do with that thing. I cleared 3 more trees off of that trail and called it for the day. I was going to use that trail the next day- so I was expecting instant gratification. I spent the rest of the day replenishing my supply of firewood, and taking a cold shower outside. These showers tend to be really short, as you can imagine.
I woke up the next morning with the sound of rain on my roof. I stalled the whole getting out of bed and making breakfast process enough to convince the clouds to go find somewhere else to play, so by the time I headed out, it wasn't raining anymore, and the sky was pretty clear. Like i had planned, I was headed up the trail that i had cleared the day before, towards the west boundary and I place called Turkey springs. It's the only steady source of water in the park outside of the three main canyons. again, the mission at hand was recording the condition of the signs at the boundary. After I was done with that I headed down along the creek that comes out of Turkey springs. There is no trail there, but as I made my way down I realized that I was, in fact, following the foot steps of others. Well, it's more like following paw-steps. Apparently the bears walk along that creek a lot. They left quite a lot of evidence behind. During this season the bears like to feed on cactus fruit. I guess it doesn't entirely agree with their system, because that's what it looks like when it comes out. The other side of the bear, that is.
Following bear trails is really great. The trail is very wide, and they are pretty lazy, so they keep all the climbs really gradual. Only problem is they walk on all fours, so here and there the trail just goes under branches that are too high to climb over, and too low to easily go under when you are carrying a loaded backpack. I was headed towards San Miguel pueblo- one of the three largest ruins in the park. It's off the maps and not easily accessible from any of the trails. I was going to follow the creek until I got under the meas where the ruin is on and then find a way up the steep slope. On my way along I stopped for lunch on this funky boulder that I found just sticking out on the side of the creek. From there it was just a matter of climbing up the side of the canyon and on top of the mesa. The climb was harder than i had planned. At the top of the slope it turns into a cliff, about 3 meters high. I wasn't going to play rock climber, so it took me about 15 minutes before I found a way up. Then I started looking for the ruins amongst the junipers. I only found one when suddenly i heard Dale's voice on the radio calling one of the vegetation monitoring crews that were working one of the mesas north of me. "Veg crew 1, this is LE3. Are you still on that mesa? I'm above upper Frijolis canyon. There is a storm coming down your way. It looks pretty serious, and I can see lightning. You better get down to lower ground". I turned around, and sure enough, those clouds that had gone to play somewhere else in the morning... well they decided to claim back my back yard as their playground, and they weren't happy I fooled them earlier that day. They brought along some lightning and were headed my way quickly. I decided I better take Dale's advice, even though he wasn't talking to me, and get off the mesa. Again, poncho came out, camera went in, and my pack was covered. As the first drops started falling I realized that while no one ever died from getting wet feet, getting hit by lightning while hiking the top of a meas wasn't a great idea, and falling off a cliff while trying to get off that meas wasn't a great idea either. About the same time Dale decided to check on me and when I gave him the general picture, the only advice he could produce was "...be careful..." I made it down in one piece but it was another hour and half back to the cabin through wet grass and on-and-off rain, so, as could be expected, my feet were wet again, but when I got to the cabin and started the fire I realized that one of hiking boots had a seam tare and the side of it was pretty open. Again I was housebound until my boots dried out and I used the rest of the day going through some of the first aid equipment in the cabin and checking the Search and Rescue kits. The oxygen tank gauge showed it was empty, so when I called in to say good night I said i would hike out with it so it could be filled. I also packed a couple of first aid kits that were missing a lot of items.
The next morning I got Wendy to pick me up at the Dome (Shortest way out). Right before I stuff the oxygen tank in my pack I decided to check it again, and this time i opened the valve. Yeah, I made a boob out of myself. The tank was fine. I just checked it wrong. At least I found out before I hiked out with it and proudly handed it over to the rangers. I had set a time with Wendy- 11:00 am, and between packing up, checking the oxygen tank, and duck-taping my torn shoe, it was getting pretty late. So when, at 9:20 I headed out, I was in quite a hurry. Though the Dome trail is the shortest way out- it does have one very obvious disadvantage- It's one long steep climb, the whole way. I was a panting hurt'n dog (that's a Dale phrase- I kind'a like it), but think I broke a record coming up. I got up in an hour and 20 minutes, which even left me twenty minutes to climb Boundary peek. I've been wanting to climb that one ever since I saw it. It's only about 15 minutes up from the trail, but you feel like you're at the top of world. The whole park is down at your feet. The peek itself is a pile of boulders that look like they were left there after god had finished some construction project. I was really hoping Wendy would be early and I could call her on the radio and take a picture of me on the top- but I guess you can't have everything.
In fact she was even a little late, so I had time to eat a snack and doze away under the sun in the cool breeze.
When I got back to HQ I handed Dale my sign report and preceded to take care of the shoes. In fact, a good portion of my two days off has been spent on trying to get them fixed. Unfortunately, though the shoes are made by an Italian company that has a very good reputation in Israel, no one here seems to have heard of them, and their website was offline and I couldn't find any store in the area that services them- so my life time warranty was pretty worthless. New shoes, in my current financial situation are out of the question too. Finally Dale recommended a boot repair shop in Santa Fe. I had to drive there on Tuesday and beg that they would do it as quickly as possible. Drove out there again today to pick them up, and also picked up a bottle of HUBERD'S SHOE OIL that they recommended. Hopefully that will reduce the number of wet feet incidents. And all at a total cost of a mere 21$. I'm headed out again tomorrow morning, so we will find out how good a job they did. Wish me luck.

A week in the front country

2007-09-19T14:34:00.000-07:00

That's it, This week is over. It's back to my cabin tomorrow, for another five days of solitude.

There is a large archaeological site that's out there, off trail and off the maps, that I've been told about and I really want to visit it. It's called San Miguel ruin and I will be taking pictures, if I can find it.

This past week was a very slow and calm week. I came back from the backcountry on Monday, had a couple of days off on Tuesday and Wednesday, and even had the opportunity to call the family on the holiday. Then I had Thursday and Friday for day hikes and went to a very well-done wilderness first aid class on Saturday and Sunday. Went on a day hike again on Monday, and a couple more days off which end today. I was also able to squish in some studying- So I might learn some Micro economics after all.

That was the quick sum of things.

Thursday started with Dale and I going on hunting patrol in the morning. It's still bow season out here, and you have to make sure that the hunting is just going on in the forest, and that no one is doing any hunting in the park. Got to tell you- Some of the characters that partake in the sport of Bow hunting are... interesting. And some of them hunt bear too (we are only in Elk and Deer season right now). I mean, you need to be pretty ballsy to hit a bear with an arrow- if you miss the heart and the bear survives- that's one very pissed off animal with teeth and claws running at you, and your weapon of choice is not a fast loading weapon- to say the least. Come to think of it- having an injured bull-elk running towards you might not be that much fun either. Nevertheless, graduation flats (the name of the picnic area/camp ground where most of the hunters park their campers) has been filling up every weekend for the past three weeks. I did get to see my first full size elk that day.

Around 9:00 am, Brian went on shift (We started at 6:00- those hunters get an ungodly early start- I suppose they listened when their mother told them that the early bird catches the worm), and took over, so we went over to HQ and picked up a sign that needed to be mounted at a trail intersection about 16 miles up canyon from the main park area. Apache springs is one of the only trails I have yet to hike and Dale and I took it into the canyon carrying a post-hole digger and sign post with two signs mounted on it- pointing at all four directions. Dale was nice enough to grab the uncomfortable load of the sign. It's about 2.5 miles each way and let me tell you- this is probably one of the worst designed trails in the park- steep descent with not enough switchbacks. However, since the trail gets very little use- there is little motivation to get a trail crew in to fix it up. Upper Frijoles canyon, I have to tell you, is quite breath taking.
After we got done we headed back to HQ. Dale, and the rest of the law enforcement division had a very long meeting to attend, and I decided to finish the day with a short hike down canyon, on the falls trail, which is probably the most used trail in the park (not counting the paved loop that goes through the main ruin area). This trail got seriously damaged during the flood we had three weeks ago. Bridges were washed away and the creek split and washed over the trail in a few places so the lower you drop as you go- the closer you get to where Frijoles creek runs into the Rio Grande, the harder it is to follow the trail. You can't really get lost- you are hiking up and down a pretty narrow canyon. When I got to the bottom I saw a small white balloon in the sky hovering over what seemed to me like the southern boundary of the park. I radioed it in and finished my hike.

In the evening some of us got together to play Ultimate Frisbee in White Rock, and we could still see the Balloon hover over the park.

The next day I was told by one of the visitor center rangers that at first, when she heard my report over the radio, she thought I was seeing a weather balloon- they sometimes drift over the park, but later that day she was watching the news and they said that the strange balloon was actually a NASA solar balloon 200 feet in diameter, hovering in an altitude of 23 miles. Pretty cool, ha- Not only do I have the instincts of a cat, but also the eyes of a hawk (and a lot of times- the brains of a squirrel, or so I've been told).

On Friday I went on one of the most beautiful hikes you could take- in my opinion. Brian drove me outside of the park to Vales Caldera natural preserve. The border between the park and the Caldera is a ridge of peaks called Rabbit Ridge. Both the Caldera and the park have trails that climb that ridge, and there are two very impressive peaks that these trails climb to- Rabbit ridge peak, and Scooter peak. Brian dropped me off at Coyote Call- a trail head on the caldera side, and I hiked up that trail to the top of Rabbit ridge. From there, off trail, just along the saddle between the two peaks, I hiked to scooter peak and from there I dropped into the park. It was a clear chili morning when I started up the old logging trail that climbs from Coyote Call. The road is well preserved so you have a very wide trail that climbs at a steep but constant grade almost all the way to the top. I was wearing a short T-shirt and was playing the fine line between sunny-warm and shady-chili as the sun rose through the trees. The last half mile of the climb breaks off from the logging road, so you're winding between trees and boulders. At the top the view opens up towards the caldera, when you reach a boulder filed- the remnant of an old avalanche.

I got to see some more elk up there, but they were quick to get away from me.
From there, my hike across the saddle to Scooter peak was off trail and along the boundary between the park and the caldera, so I was just walking in the woods. It's a pretty steep drop and climb, but it was a nice morning and I took my time. Had an early lunch at the top of Scooter- two of my (now famous) home made granola bars.
I dropped down the slope of Scooter into the park. The forest on that side of the mountain was a lot more dense, with fallen trees and bushes all over the place. But making my way through it was really beautiful, plus here and there I picked up stretches of an old forgotten logging trail that helped me get down. When I got down to the bottom I radioed in for a pick up and ended up waiting for almost an hour. By the time Virginia from fee-collection showed up (Law Enforcement folks were all busy- that's why it took so long), I was taking a nap in the sun at Graduation Flats, right next to a pile of Bud light cans left over by the great white hunters.

On Saturday and Sunday Shanon, Bree, Gumaz, Caroline and I drove down to Tesuque (a pueblo about 40 minutes away from the park, on the way to Santa Fe) for the Wilderness First Aid class. It was being given in the Santa Fe Mountain Center.
http://www.sf-mc.com/index.html

Their counselors take groups out on trips and they needed the class for them. Since getting two instructors for two days is quite expensive, they invited other agencies around the area to send their people to the class- and that's how 5 people from the park got in on it. There were about 10 folks from the mountain center and we were 32 altogether.
This was probably one of the best first aid classes I've ever taken. They had simulations going all the time- with good case stories for the patients and even make-up and props. Each time, two thirds of the groups coupled up and got take care of seemingly real patients- with aches, pains, complaints and bruises. Very well done. Another good thing about this class was that the way of thinking about the situation was different than what I'm used to. In Israel, in all the first aid classes I've taken up until now, it was always- "patch it up and go". Find what's going to kill your patient now, deal with it to the best of your ability and get him to an ambulance. This works under the logic that you are never more than an hour away from an ambulance (or a helicopter rescue)- true for Israel. In this class, the thought was- what if you are in the back country and it's three days hiking to the nearest road? With no cell phone reception... Imagine you have to spend three days with this person until your other friend, that went to get help, is able to reach someone. How do you keep him warm? How do you prevent his wounds from getting infected? How do you change dressing?
I learned a lot of clever tips and practiced all kinds of stuff. For a two day course- It was awesome.

On Sunday night, Gumaz had a gathering at his house. We all made something and came over. I got to meet a whole bunch of people from the fire crews for the first time. They've all been "Working the fires" in Montana for the past couple of months, and only came back this past week. Maybe now I'll start seeing some people in my little neighborhood down in the canyon. Well, that is, on my days off.
My last hike for the week was on Monday. There is a piece of the park that is detached from the main park. It's a small area called Tsankawi- about 20 minutes drive from the entrance to the park, on the other side of White Rock. It is a mesa with more ruins on it. There is an automated payment station at the entrance, and a ranger opens it up every morning. The plan was not for me to hike the trail, but to go around along the boundary fence. It was a pretty cloudy morning when I headed out to find me a ride. I knew that they were doing some thinning work around Tsankawi and I walked into John Mac's office (Head of the resource division) to see if anyone was headed out there. "Why don't you just grab a car from the car pool?" he asked me. "Because I didn't know I could..." was my hesitant answer. With a swift "Come with me!" John took away any doubt about that matter, and led me to where all the keys were hanging. "Some of these are pretty old vehicles, and people don't like using them, but if you don't mind driving stick-shift, and just need to get to Tsankawi and back, you would be doing me a great favor if you took one of them, since we really ought to get them started and running every once in a while". And that's how I found myself driving a yellow 1985 Suburban, with 5 gears in total- "Reverse", "Low" and 1-3. Not a bad ride at all.
Once I got there I saw that the automatic payment station wasn't opened yet, so I radioed Wendy and asked if she wanted me to do it. She was glad to take me up on that, since it would have saved her the trip, but failed to mention that there was an alarm system. She ended up having to drop whatever it was she was doing and drive down to Tsankawi- to turn off the alarm I triggered. so much for saving her the trip.
My hike went pretty well. For the first two thirds of the way I followed a couple of narrow Mesas and then turned east and crossed a small valley. Then I climbed the ridge on the other side, and just as I was about to drop down towards the road on the eastern boundary and follow it north- for the last third of the way, the clouds got cloudier and it started raining. Then it started raining harder,

And then it started hailing. I was pretty happy to be off the mesa top, since there was quite a bit of lightning going on. Except for the general discomfort of walking in heavy rain I was doing alright. I had my poncho and was only worried about my camera getting wet.

Towards the end of my hike I got to Dutches castle- and the rain stopped for just enough time for me to take a couple of pictures. The art of native pottery was almost gone by the middle of the early 1900's. Dutch's Castle was built by a woman by the name of Madame Vera von Blumenthal as a school for pottery for the pueblos, the name was given after she was already gone.

http://www.nps.gov/band/photosmultimedia/tt-vy-stop-9.htm

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the storm, and I was singing in the rain for the rest of my hike.

One of those days

2007-09-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

Hello again

Let's see... I'm sitting in the public library waiting for a very large file I'm trying to upload. It's the Video of my Cabin. I hope the librarian doesn't kick me off before I have a chance to finish. I'm on the second day of my two days off.

You see, Dale has changed my days off from Thurs-Fri to Tues-Wed. I also have a two day wilderness first aid class on Saturday. So I'm not going to be out in the cabin this week, and Dale and I are going to do some sign work on the trails around park HQ.

This last trip out to the cabin was only 3 days long, and yet I did discover a few new things.
I found interesting phone line fittings on some trees around my cabin. Back in the day, when the forest service had watch towers around here, they ran phone lines between them. The towns that grew here tapped on to those lines. Why put in phone line poles if you have trees? The copper lines are all gone, obviously, but the ceramic rings are still nailed to the trees.
A Pretty weired thing to find in the middle of a forest, a bit like the street light in Narnia.

I've had yet two more encounters with rattle snakes and they were both very close.
The first one was on my way in. Brian drove me out to the Dome road (on the other side of the park). The hike from the Dome to the cabin is only about 4 miles and downhill. It's also a beautiful view as you are coming down into Capulin Canyon (where the cabin is). Brian drove me because I was carrying a pretty heavy back pack- and hiking 10 miles, across two major canyons and a few minor ones, with the Jumbo jar of peanut butter, the Jumbo jar of Jelly (strawberry) and the Maxi-Jumbo bag (it's a small sack really) of beans, didn't seem like a lot of fun to either of us. Only problem with the Dome trail is that that whole area was hit by a major fire back in '96 and there are a lot of dead trees fallen across the trail, so you find yourself going over a quite a few downed logs. Doing that with a full pack ain't fun either. Just as I was going over the last downed log before the creek- we're talking a shout away from the cabin, just when I had both feet on the ground on the one side of it, but still some of my balance on the other end of it, that's when the fat brown rattler that was resting in the shade of the log decided to let me know it was there... I mean, it could have done it before I went over the log (I could have checked too)- As before, I promise- I would have moved! This one was really close and there was no where to jump- I got caught between the log and a big boulder, but this fat one just gave me another little notice and crawled away. I swallowed my heart back down to it's place with only little difficulty.

The second rattle snake friend I made was hiding in a deep hoof-print in the sand on the trail south of my cabin. I was headed down canyon with a heavy sign post on my shoulder and a Pulaski (funny name for a tool, isn't it?) in my bag. One of the signs in the southern part of the park was just leaning on a pile of rocks and needed a sign post. So that's where I was headed. We also had a group of the park's biology and fire-effects folks camping out on one of the mesas all week. They are collecting data and stuff... They had a packer ride in every other day to supply them with water (from my creek) and food. So, I was walking along the trail, following the tracks of the packer and his horses when suddenly I look down and see a medium size, grey rattle snake all curled up in one of the deeper hoof prints left in the sand. It had rained earlier that morning and I think it was just enjoying the shelter and possibly the heat that the hoof had left behind. This one didn't even bother moving or rattling when I jumped. It just stayed there, gave an indifferent look, and went on tasting the air with it's tongue.

My conclusion from my three encounters with these animals (and from talking to Dale) is that they will get out of your way if you give them as much as half a chance. They don't always rattle- if they think they can stay hidden by keeping quiet, and the only quick movement they'll make is biting. You (the average hiker) are too big too be food- which makes you a waste of venom, plus a pissed off big animal (which you will surely become once bitten) is a lot more likely to try something stupid like stomping. Snakes don't like stomping. If you just stay still and let them be- they will crawl away. Another interesting thing, that I didn't know, was that they are deaf. They can feel the vibrations you make on the ground when walking- but they can't hear you.
Only after I finished digging, and put up the post for the sign did I notice that no-one bothered to drill holes in the wooden sign- so I had no way to put it up. So now, instead of the sign leaning on a pile of rocks, it's leaning on a post. Quite an improvement- don't you think?

From there I went on to look for the biology people up on the mesa. I knew, generally, where their camp was supposed to be, and where they were working so I headed towards the general direction. Had to cross a canyon over to the next mesa, so I was expecting a bone-breaking roll down the rockslide/cliff all the way to the bottom of the canyon, and a climb that would kick my little behind up the other side- since all of this was off trail. To my (pleasant) surprise, right before I started rolling down the cliff I spotted an old Indian trail that went up the other side. That saved me the ass-kicking. These old Indian trails can be found all around the park. They, usually, run along the length of the mesas and connect different archaeological sites. They also drop down from the mesas sometimes to where the ancient residents of this region got their water and maybe hunted some of their food. They are no 4 lane highway, they are not even wide enough to ride a horse on, but they will make climbing out of a canyon, and more importantly dropping down into one- a hell of a lot easier, and without rocks rolling from under your feet.
When I got to the top of the mesa I started heading north- again, based on a general perception as to the whereabouts of the survey team, and on the direction the narrow mesa climbed. As far as the landscape goes- it should not have been too hard to spot them- they were working on the top of a pretty flat mesa, if only the junipers weren't exactly the height of your eyes. These trees aren't tall enough for you to get under and enjoy the shade, but they are exactly the right height to block your view. Oh, and they do get dense enough sometimes to force you to go around a whole bunch of them. After about 20 minutes of walking without seeing much I suddenly heard someone go "YO!" and there were Gumaz and Rebeka sitting and having lunch. I sat down and joined them (pulled out my two homemade granola bars) and we had a nice rest and conversation. After about half an hour they had to go back to work and that's when I got to see, for the first time, what these people did. Gumaz is an SCA (intern) like me, and back when I was applying for positions I had also applied for a few position like his in other parks. THANK GOD I DID NOT GET THOSE! The research they are working on has been going on for the past 15 years now. What they basically do is record each and every plant and all the different types of rock and soil along these 300 meter lines they have in different locations in the park. The resolution is one CM. They have two pegs stuck in the ground (so they always return to the same exact line on the ground) and they stretch a length of measuring tape between them. Then they walk along (crouch actually) and write down each plant the tape goes over- where it's foliage starts, on the tape, and where it ends. Talk about your tedious work. You can't argue with the amount of knowledge that's been collected like that over 15 years, but still- I take my hat off for Gumaz. I would go BANNANAS.
The other two members of the team- Kay and Caroline, were back at their camp so I headed over there on my way home. That was easier to spot since 4 yellow tents tend to stick out in the grey-green background. Occasionally I make an ass out of myself- and this was one of those days. When I got to their camp Kay got out of her tent and we started talking. I told her i had just come from visiting Gumaz and Rebeka and she said something along the lines of "That's not a bad hike, they are on the next mesa over", to which I answered- "No they are not. They are down south on this one". What followed was a 4 minute (polite) argument that really didn't go anywhere. Let me just tell you that
A) She was right (of course)

B) It didn't occur to me, even for a second, to stop and think- they have been working on this survey for 15 years now, they use GPS to verify their location and she's been hiking this park for a little longer than me.
We parted as friends- but only because both of us just dropped the subject. I should try a catch her today and apologize.

It was getting late and I headed home, but I had room for one more adventure, and I guess it was time for me to spook a bear.

When I say I spooked a bear I mean that I was just as spooked as it was, only it was quicker than me in running away- so that makes me, kinda' by default, the last man standing.
As I was heading home I saw a bunch of ravens on a tree and decided to go check it out. It was obvious to me that they weren't having a social event, but that something was either dead or dying, and the birds were waiting for their turn to feast. I figured if they could smell it- it wasn't too fresh, so whatever killed it had gone away, and I'd be dealing with coyotes, at the most. Well, just in case, I took my walking stick out. As I was approaching the area I suddenly heard something running in my direction. Something big enough to make stomping noises. Cats can run very quietly- so that really didn't leave too many options as to what animal was approaching. The area was quite dense with Juniper so I couldn't see it. I tried to move to get a better view and suddenly it stopped. I just stood there for about 2 minutes, feeling pretty dumb, and I'm sure it did the same. After those very long 2 minutes I started walking away quietly. Off to my right I could see what all the fuss was about. Hidden in the dense underbrush under a Pinion-Pine was the, pretty old, carcass of a deer. Bears usually can't get full grown bucks, and they sure as hell don't hide them. Apparently this bear got a whiff of the fragrant stash of a mountain lion, and was enjoying his stolen meal when I decided to poke my nose in it's business.
Which was I, more lucky or more stupid?
Between the snake, the sign with no holes, being a know-it-all, and spooking smokey the bear- I think I was just having one of those days

Two Homes

2007-09-12T12:13:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone!

This is going to be a very short post- Since I have limited time on the library computer.

The computers in the park are government computers, and as such they are blocked from doing all kinds of things in order to protect national security. The public library, however, is all open for dangerous web sites like Facebook, Youtube and other Homeland security threats as such. The truth of the matter is that the fact that the park computers are blocked to all of those sites actually protects the public- not from terrorists, but rather from government employees spending government time, and tax payers money, on their own private online hobbies.

Anyway, it is only here that I can upload this video of my cabin, that has been taking up space on my memory card for quite some time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nhd52Xx0Xmk

Thoughts about solitude, hygiene and supplies

2007-09-07T11:33:00.000-07:00

Hello again!
I'm back from five days out in my cabin.
Actually I've been back for a day now (I have two days off each week), but the shower I took when I got back, including shaving (my head and ALSO my face), scrubbing my toenails and fingernails and washing behind the ears- took longer than I thought, and I only got to a computer today.
So what have I learned?

I learned that even if you are a rough-tough hairy-chested man (which I am)- your ego doesn't get too bruised while using a walking stick, especially if you are carrying a full pack (30kg) with 5 days worth of supplies, and there is nobody to see you do it. That third leg comes in very handy when you are going up, but even more when you go down steep slopes. Those fold up telescopic canes are highly recommended, and they come in any range of color to match your "lone wolf" eyes. It's the new fashionable thing to do- "accessorise".
I also learned, to my surprise, that hikers, and hiking families are not only dropping in numbers (which I have now suspected for quite some time), but that they are actually an endangered species. I spent all of labor day weekend out in the backcountry (Saturday through Tuesday), and I met a total of five people during this entire time, one of which was Joel, one of the other SCAs* in the park who came out to spend a night in the cabin. Two were a couple of girls (college age, maybe) out on a day hike, and in a hurry to get back to grandma's house for 4 o'clock cocktails, and only two were true backpackers- and they didn't have permits to camp in the park so I had to tell them they would need to camp out on forest land (no permit required there). It's not that the park wasn't busy- throughout the whole weekend the silence of the forest around me was constantly interrupted by my radio broadcasting the desperate cries of my fellow park employees at headquarters, the entrance station and the visitor's center going on about the long line at the entrance and the full parking areas and the need to put out the "20 min minimum wait" sign. The lovely retired couple that volunteers at the campground was all ready to come down to the canyon and assist with directing traffic and parking cars, and this whole time I was hiking, off trail, with the stunning view of the Rio Grande on one side and the Jemez mountain range on the other- pretty much the whole park in my sight, thinking- "Where the hell are all these people I keep hearing about?". All these people paid the entrance fee ($12 a car-not cheap) and came in for a walk around the ruins that takes 2 hours if you are really going to take your time about it. I'm sure most went through the museum and watched the short movie. The more adventurous type grabbed a bottle of water and went to either the falls trail (2 hours of the beautiful lower Frijoles creek as it comes down to waterfalls), or ventured up to the canyon rim- a good healthy climb of about half an hour to 40 minutes in each direction to visit the Frijoleto ruin. Only the two girls that I saw went on a full day hike. I mean, obviously not all these people should or would enjoy packing food for a couple of days and walking about 7-10 miles to the backcountry camping areas- but someone? anyone? during the entire weekend- 5 backcountry camping permits were issued.
I don't know why I'm complaining though- more for me, I guess. Dad, you would have loved it.

During my time out in the backcountry, I also had a chance to work on my cabin and install the solar panel for my fridge. This is an interesting example of government spending. The cabin used to have a propane powered fridge. The kind of fridge you find in trailers and RVs. While the motor of the vehicle is running- the fridge works on electricity from the battery, but once you park it, and turn the motor off, you switch to GAS mode so your car battery doesn't drain. The old fridge worked just fine just on gas. Last season, the new park superintendent (the big boss of the park)and her husband went out to the cabin for the weekend and decided the fridge needed to be replaced. It was working fine- or so the people lower on the totem pole have been telling me. So money was given and someone, (who this mysterious someone is, might have some importance- but I definitely am TOO low on the totem pole to get my nose into this one), anyway SOMEONE went out and bought the new model of the same fridge- same make, same size. The fridge was brought out to the cabin and hooked up, and the old one was taken away (where to? that is another mystery that the solution to definitely falls in the realm of freedom of information, but for some reason another mysterious SOMEONE has yet to declassify it). Only problem was that since this appliance was designed for vehicular use, safety regulations have forced minor adjustments into it's design. In case of an accident, an unfortunate combination of circumstances could lead to a very explosive situation. If any of the electrical circuits in the cars were lose and were causing sparks, and at the same time, if the pilot light in the fridge went out- you'd have a gas leak and sparks in very close proximity, plus an RVs gasoline tank not too far. In order to prevent that kind of thing- the fridge now needs a constant electrical current to work. Nothing of any great voltage, just enough to indicate that the car's electrical system is functioning properly. Well, the cabin has NO electricity what so ever. A car battery was then carried out to the cabin and hooked up to the fridge- and it worked! For a while...
Eventually it did drain out- as was expected. Only at this point, the pack horses that were being used to carry all of this stuff out to the backcountry had been sold away as part of park system cut backs and tightening of belts. Propane tanks and essential supplies were now to be flown to the cabin by helicopter once or twice a year. On the next helicopter flight, along with propane, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, new signs for the backcountry camp zones and toothpicks, a new battery and a solar panel were also loaded onto the helicopter.
So, for a couple of days during this past week, after coming back from my daily hikes and rehydrating on "TANG" (unbelievable invention- you can really get addicted to the taste of toxic waste), I've been fiddling with installing the solar panel and getting it to charge the battery that doesn't power the fridge, but allows the propane to flow so it can power the fridge.
Sorry if I got all technical on you this time- this is what has been occupying my mind this week.

To any of you that thought that rattle snakes were called that because they rattle- let me tell you- not all do. especially not the big monster I almost stepped on walking on the dry creek bed of Alamo canyon. This 6 foot friend was just waiting for me, all curled up and ready to leap, with eyes that said "I won't make a sound, I'll just wait here until you step on me so I have moral justification to bite you".
All you people as my witnesses, I swear- I would have moved out of it's way, if only it did what God had intended it to do - and rattled.
I jumped pretty high when I did notice it.
Another thing that I discovered this past week is that creek water is cold and that wash-cloth baths are not fun or refreshing. Hopefully when it gets a little colder, and I have to light the wood stove to heat the cabin, I'll be able to put a pot of water on it to bathe with. But I guess until it gets cold- I'm going to be taking cold showers. Come to think about it, that could also explain why yesterday's shower took so long.

It would seem that people get extremely poetic when they are out on their lonely-own for a while. Evidence to that observation could be found on the walls of my out house. It seems like all Backcountry rangers before me have left their scribblings there and will be forever remembered in the pages of outhouse history. I will need to think carefully about how I would like to be remembered in such an honorable place. It also happens to be that my books from the open university have finally caught up with me (thanks again, Mom and Dad), so my thoughts this coming week will be less occupied with the proper way to be recorded in local New Mexican history, and more with "An introduction to Micro economics".
We will see.

P.S.
I had no relevant pictures this week, so you get to enjoy the flowers.

My Cabin

2007-08-31T22:59:00.001-07:00

Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I went to my cabin, and let me tell you- it is awesome!I went there on Tuesday and only spent one night. I'm going to go out for a whole five day stint tomorrow.

Who would have believed that in the 21st century, when I can sit in front of the computer and write this blog to you all- which will reach anywhere around the world the second I hit "post", pictures included, that in this same reality I can go out and survive for 5 days without electricity and running water?

I have a hand pump outside and I have to carry my water in a bucket to the filter in my kitchen before I can use it.

I have a propane stove and oven- but once it gets cold- I'll probably do all of my cooking on the wood stove- that I need to cut firewood for...

The propane refrigerator is not working yet- I'll have to fiddle with that. But don't you worry- this cabin comes with a complete set of tools and a tool shack. My outhouse

has a great view of the cliffs of the canyon (yeah, I keep the door open. It's one of the perks of being alone in the wilderness), and at night I cook and eat to the light of candles. GOT TO LOVE IT!

I can't wait to go out again.

Down canyon from my cabin is a site called painted cave. It's pretty cool, as you can see.

So this is my new home, and for now- I am really excited about going and spending some time out there.
I took the long way out on Wednesday. Dale picked me up outside of the western boundary of the park (opposite side of HQ). That meant hiking a long trail that is no longer used very often. After you leave the park boundary you still have about 4 miles in National forest land. As I was walking out, dealing with a whole bunch of fallen trees on the trail (The ones in the park I cleared, when I crossed the boundary out to forest land I just started jumping over them), I could see the sky darkening, and a thick layer of black clouds approach. No one likes to get caught in the rain, and I was already late to my rendezvous with Dale (fallen Junipers really put up a fight when approached with an axe), so I started walking really fast. I got to the "pumis mines trail head" quite short of breath- but it was well worth it. Three minutes later the skies opened up and it started pouring. Rain and hale dropped like it was being poured from buckets. Since we were all the way around on the other side of the park and most of the way back was through forest dirt roads- it took about 40 minutes to get back- and it was pouring the entire time. When Dale dropped me off we had another surprise- The creek that runs through the main canyon had over flooded from all the rain and was washing over the small concrete bridges. Apparently a very rare thing. We all ran out to see the flood- which lasted about an hour.

The next morning was supposed to be my day off. At 11am, as I was having a late breakfast, Brian (another law enforcement ranger), and John Mack (head of resource division) came knocking on my door. "We need someone to patrol the main canyon trail to see if they can re-open it to the public, after closing it due to flood. So I packed up and went on a three hour hike, during which I was glad to see that all the small double-log bridges were washed away. It was like nature sneezing away all those man made restraints on it. Like a dog shaking water off from his fur. Some parts of the trail were washed away- but you could still hike it. Anywhere you needed to cross the creek- you could still do it by jumping on a few rocks. I was also surprised to see at least four small bull-snakes just warming up in the sun. I guess the flood washed them out of their normal hiding places. Another species was out of it's element: the fish that I found lying on the trail. The flood brought them there and then settled down and left them high and dry on the high ground. Took photos of all the fallen trees and washed out bridges, along with GPS locations- put them all in a report for the rangers, and went on to enjoy what was left of my day off. In the evening Bree was nice enough to drive me over to the library and the grocery store.

Today, on my second day off, Bree and I headed to the post office in Los Alamos and then went hiking to a hot (luke warm actually) spring. A lovely little spot in the Jemez Mountains- about 40 minutes away from the park. The sky was threatening rain again so there was no-one else on the trail. The spring flows out into a little pool (assisted just a little bit by a man-made dam to deepen it). Had a great time, though the water wasn't really hot. Later today Dale had me over for dinner at his house in White Rock. There was a Zydeco concert in the park and we went over after dinner. Not a bad weekend (Thursday and Friday- but who cares). Tomorrow I head out to my cabin, and besides the beginning of a new month it's also the beginning of hunting season. No hunting is allowed in the parkalthough there will be a lot of hunting going on in the national forest land all around us. I'm definitely going to be wearing my orange vest this week.

Weekend activities

2007-08-26T17:32:00.000-07:00

Had a weekend. A real weekend. You know, the kind of weekend you wait for all week, just so you could do nothing important and kick into that chill pace of things.

I don't think I've had a real weekend like this in a very long time. Between working at mike's place, on weekends, and having to study- on weekends, it really has been a while since I had a good quiet weekend.
I guess you got the point.

Got up Thursday morning and went out to clear some fallen trees off of the trail up-canyon in Frijoles (That's the canyon the visitor's center is on). Hacked away at 2 and a half trees but had to be back at HQ by 11:00 because they were having a staff meeting and wanted to introduce all the new people. It was pretty interesting, because other than the introductions and the usual stuff that goes on at any staff meeting ANYWHERE, they also showed us a few items that were going to go on display once they finished remodeling the museum (that's only supposed to start next year). So we got a sneak at next years display. The some beautiful pieces of art and different traditional tools made by artists from the surrounding pueblos. The were very nice, but I think this does raise in interesting question- should the museum be presenting items from the pueblos that claim the people that lived here were their ancestors, or should it be presenting artifacts that were found here, as unimpressive as they might be?

After the meeting a goodbye lunch was put together for Lorel, the maintenance secretary. She got a promotion in Rocky Mountain National Park. The BBQ wagon was pulled out and burgers were spread out. No shortage of food. Hungry interns like myself don't give up on opportunities like these... I was stuffed.

The only notable event from the rest of that day was that Dale and I went up to one of the large storage buildings (snow plow garage, I think) to move a small rattle snake they found in one of the corners. Picked it up with a hook made out of a golf club and put it in a bucket. Then carried it out side and let it go. Really uneventful afternoon. At 5pm my weekend started.
I read a little, I cooked some dinner, and then I grabbed my camera and Joined Bri and Moli who were doing the effects for the night walk. I won't ruin the surprise by explaining why a night walk at Bandelier needs "effects", but I will say that going on the night walk is a very special experience. Well recommended- if you ever find yourself around this area on a Thursday night during the season. The three of us hung around after the walk was over and took some pictures of the Ruins and the cliffs in the dark. Friday was truly a day of nothingness. I woke up late, I spent a few good hours E-mailing, I went over to the park library and checked out a couple of books, I took a nap... I almost was called to go on a search- but the wife of the missing person found him exactly were he was supposed to be right as I was putting my backpack on. Later on I cooked some dinner and carried up to Virginia's place, at the other end of park headquarters. Virginia works for fee collection (stands at the entrance station- most of the time). She is relatively new at the park and when she came none of the regular apartments were available- so they put her up in the old "Superintendent's house". The park superintendent hasn't lived in the park for quite a few years. They just get a house in White rock or in Los Alamos, but the house that used to belong to the superintendent is still being used. It is a hug house with a living room designed for entertaining guests. Wooden floors and a fire place. Too bad it's at dark the end of the housing area, and has only one girl living in it. She theoretically has a roommate, but she's only around a couple days a week. Plus she only has the stuff the fit in the back of her pickup when she came down from Seattle- so you can imagine how empty the house looks. A lot like the opening scene of oh-so-many horror movies.

Had rice and stir fried chicken, which I cooked, and fine root beer that she bought. Sounds like a fair deal to me since Virginia turned out to be quite a root beer connoisseur, and she buys some fancy aged root beer.

Saturday morning stated early with a load of laundry, and then Bri picked me up to go to the Farmer's Market in Santa Fe. Considering the lack of taste that the vegetables in the grocery stores have around here, I understand why Americans would want to go to the Farmer's Market. But for someone that grew up on food from the REAL market- a market that's open 6 days a week instead of just on Saturday, and is CHEAPER than the grocery store- I'm sorry, the price and wrinkled pepper were just not for me. It was a fun experience- colorful and friendly, but like a tourist attraction would be. I would take the shouting in SHOOK HACARMEL over this any day of the week.

Then we went for a late breakfast at a deli type place- and I had some awesome pancake with blueberries. Even got to take some home. We had other things to do- go to a book store, buy some stuff at target, got to a grocery store... but we just did it at our own pace, with no hurry and with good conversation and laughs. Weather was great and the music in the car just seemed to fit (Did I just write that???). On our way back we talked about movies and realized that neither of us had seen the Borune Ultimatum, so after we unloaded the car we headed out to Los Alamos and caught the 4pm show. Liked it a lot.

As we were driving home again, we decided the sky was too good, and stopped at the fire tower to take pictures of the sunset. We ended up staying there and taking pictures if the moon too. Not to worry- we had leftovers from my stir fried chicken and half a bottle of wine to keep us company while we waited.

Tuesday morning

2007-08-21T07:43:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone,

I'm stuck in the office waiting for one of the rangers to give me a ride to one of the trail heads, so I might as well use this opportunity to explain a little bit about where I am and what I'm doing.

Bandelier National Monument is a little bit north of Santa Fe (about 45 minutes). The nearest town is Los Alamos which takes about 20 minutes from park headquarters.
Basically, the park is laid on the southern slope of what used to be a huge volcano, that one day exploded and turned into the "Valles Caldera" (http://www.vallescaldera.gov/). When this volcano exploded, and during various eruptions, this whole area got covered with volcanic rock and ash- and that's what makes up the rock and soil of the park. The park is set along three parallel canyons that run down form the rim of the Caldera (what used to be a mountain), all the way to the Rio Grande River- Southern border of the park. During the 13th and 14th century, native american tribes built their homes along the cliffs of the canyons and on the flat mesas between the canyons. The park was established to preserve these archaeological sites (according to some of the archaeologists that I've spoken to- hundreds of small sites), and the wildlife in the area. The visitor's center is down in the middle of the eastern canyon- Frijoles Canyon, and most people just come for the day to visit the excavated archaeological sites along that one canyon and maybe to take "Falls trail" that runs down from the visitor's center towards the Rio Grande. Some people, however, go hiking, and camping, in the two other canyons- Alamo and Capulin. There are no roads that cross the park. One road goes down to the visitors center- but not further. In order to get to most of the campgrounds and to many of the trail heads you have to drive out of the park and around- along state highways and through National Forest land- and that's where I come in. In order to patrol the farther areas of the park a ranger would have to either hike all day or drive around and leave his car at a trail head (at the end of a dirt road in middle of the forest) and still hike some. So, a cabin was built in the farthest canyon from headquarters- Capulin Canyon. The rangers used to ride in on horses and spend up to two weeks at a time there. Now, with cut backs, that job has fallen on volunteers or interns. Interns like me. Oh, and the horses are gone too. This cabin is also used by crews that are doing all kinds of field work in the wilderness areas of the park- Archaeological surveys, fire studies and trail maintenance. I haven't been out to my soon-to-be home. The rangers are a little short on staff, so they don't have anyone to take me out there and show me all the ins and outs of the place. In the mean time they're having me do day hikes, patrolling trails and backcountry (not necessarily on trails) areas. These are places that I can either get to on foot from the visitor's center, or they can drop me off at the trail head.

How does it look?
Well... it ain't no desert. It's pretty high in elevation (6000 feet at the visitor's center, at the bottom of a canyon). The mesas are pretty dry and have Juniper and Pinion pine growing on them, but the draught is not doing to well for these trees and a lot of the Pinions are dead or dying. There are also Panderosa Pines (tall TALL trees)growing there. The canyons are just lush forests of Panderosa and all the smaller plants that follow. At higher parts of the park, close to the rim of the caldera, on what used to be the slopes of the mountain, there are lots of Panderosa and also a lot of Aspen trees. A big fire in 2000 killed huge areas of trees along the upper parts of the park, so there are a lot of dead trees hanging around and they tend to fall and block trails- all the time.

Animals...

Rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, a few skunks. Wild turkeys, Turkey volunteers, Ravens and a lot of birds I can't recognize. Rattle snakes (mainly in grassy areas) and bull snakes (not poisonous) and a lot of tiny lizards. Deer (mule deer, mainly) and Elk (only saw them from a distance). Coyotes, Bears (black bears) and mountain lions. I didn't see any mountain lions, and probably won't the entire time I'm here, but you see the signs all around- droppings, tracks and here and there a carcass of an animal that was hunted, partially eaten and hidden away for a later meal. On my second day here we had to move a dead baby deer away from the trail so the lion wouldn't come to close to the people walking. Chances are the mountain lion was already done with it because it was already stinking- that's how we found it.
The bears are pretty good about not coming close to people- I guess they haven't learned to associate people with food yet- like in other places, but especially during this season, when food is getting hard to find, they stroll down into the canyon (where most visitors are) and come looking for insects and fruit along the creek. When that happens the rangers just try and scare them away- that's what I did the other day- I guess I was so scary the bear ran up a tree.
Until I go out to my cabin I get to ride around with Dale, my supervisor, (Very cool guy-19 years in the park) in the ranger car, and pretty much do what he does- so it's been pretty interesting.

That's me at the top of Cerro Grande- the highest point in the park.

Other than that I've been cooking some good food and sharing meals with my two neighbors- Tori (maintenance, used to be a poker dealer for 15 years) and Shanon ("hidden treasures" project, I think, does restoration on the excavated buildings and on the CCC buildings we all live in).
Oh, and let's not forget the "Ultimate Frisbee" game last week. I didn't think I had any trouble with the elevation until 5 minutes into the game and breathing started requiring some serious effort. Effort and pain. But that was on my third day here and I've done a lot of hiking since. Next time we play, I'll kick some butt.

My new home

2007-08-18T11:50:00.000-07:00

How do you get from Santa Fe to Bandelier?
Well, I spent two days at the hostel trying to figure out the best way. My possition officialy only started on Wednesday, which meant that I needed to be there by Tuesday night, but since I had nothing exciting to do in Santa Fe I decided to head there a day early. I almost got a ride from a couple of girls that were headed up to Taos, but that fell through on the morning of the trip. The other option was to use a bus that runs about 6 times a day from the lab in Los Alamos to Santa Fe and back. It's meant for commuters so the first three runs are at ungodly hours of the morning, and then it only runs again at 2pm, 3pm and 4.
So I had the morning to sit in the sun and read, and the afternoon to cook some lunch (the leftover stirfried chicken from two days before mixed with tomato sauce and nuttles- not bad).
Loaded my backpack and headed for the bus station- about a 15 minute walk from the hostel.
At 2:15 a clean, air conditioned, empty bus picked me up and about an hour later, after driving through a few narrow streets in Santa Fe, and stopping at a couple of Indian Casinos on the highway, the driver let off at an intersection outside of LA (Los Alamos) saying- "this is the closest I can get you to Bandeleir, and probably the best place for you to try and hitch...
After driving around with Dale for the past days I know that across the road from where the driver let me off is a the entrance to the "Tsankawi loop trail", a detached piece of the park that the rangers check on a daily basis- at least twice a day. But I didn't know that, so I crossed the intersection towards Bandelier, picked a wide spot at the side of the road and stuck my thumb out. I was going to give it an hour (it was 3:15 pm at this point), and if by then I wasn't picked up, I would start walking towards Los Alamos (where the bus turned to). My only real fear was getting caught I a thunder storm- This is after experiencing the Monsoon season in Santa Fe.
There was plenty of traffic on the road, but no-one seemed to be in the mood for picking up hitchhikers. Took about 25 minutes (Can't complain too much) for a large Buick to stop and for a young, college aged, guy to say "I headed towards White Rock. Is that any help for you?" White rock is on the way, so I hopped in. It only took about 5 and a half minutes of conversation for him to offer to take me all the way to Bandalier (20 minutes out of his way, round trip). Funny how things just work out, when you are in no hurry at all. My ride dropped me off at the entrance to the park and I loaded my backpack and walked over to the booth. A couple of days later I got to Mindi. She is sweet and friendly, plays great Frisbee and bakes awesome granola bars, but when I showed up on foot at her booth and said "Hi, I'm Yoash, I'm the new backcountry SCA", she took two quick steps back and very suspiciously picked up the radio and shot out "I have a guy here who says he's the new backcountry SCA. Anyone know anything about this?" Luckily Dale was on shift and I overheard his voice come on the radio saying "Yeah, I'm not far from you, I'll be there in a few minutes to pick him up". I think Mindi was more happy to see dale (Law Enforcement ranger with a gun) than I was. Dale seemed only a little surprised to see me when he drove me down to park headquarters at the bottom of Frijoles Canyon. "Well, I'm not sure your accommodations are ready, we will check it out now. If not, you are welcome to spend the night at our place". When Dale interviewed me, over the phone, a while back, he said that I'll be spending five days a week in the cabin in the backcountry, and for my two days off, there will be a bed for me at park headquarters. Well, the "bed" turned out to be a small apartment with a full kitchen, bathroom/toilet. This whole bunch of buildings were built by the CCC and are historic buildings.

Not bad for my first day, Hah.

Santa Fe

2007-08-16T14:35:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone,

I know, I still owe you the story of my travels from NY to DC, the hang in DC and my time in West Virginia. I also need to fill in on my trip from Pittsburgh to Santa Fe, or as I like to call it- "The GreyHound chronicles". Nevertheless, for now we'll just skip straight to Santa Fe.

Arrived in Santa Fe at 10pm on Friday. When I asked about a cheap campground around- all I got from the GreyHound dude (and I do mean DUDE) was a slow shake of his head to the beat of whatever MTV clip he was watching instead of trying to give me directions.
So I found myself walking at night through the main drag of Santa Fe- and let me tell you- it didn't seem very friendly.
Stopped at a gas station and bought a loaf of bread and some peanut butter. You can't really go bad with peanut butter, now can you? The woman at the station was nice enough to direct me towards the motel area of town. After a bit of a walk, I found myself at 10:45pm checked into a motel, watching a bad western on a fuzzy TV, and having my dinner of PB sandwiches.

Morning brought sunshine to Santa Fe and the bluest sky I've ever seen.

As I learned from my last visit to the US, the best place to start in a new town is on the Internet in the public library. The motel guy pointed me at it and away I went. On my way over I passed a guy on the street and asked for directions. He said he was on his way over there himself. We started talking and he mentioned a music festival that was going on in town, a little bit about himself and his work and the fact that there was a hostel I could stay in for 15$ (instead of the 45$ I paid for the motel and was complaining bitterly about). I wonder why the Greyhound guy didn't tell me about it...
After I told him what I was doing in Santa Fe and that I was looking for a way to get out to the park on Tuesday gave his phone number and told me that if I didn't find a better ride, he'll be happy to drive me up there- since his sister lives not far from the park.
I didn't end up using the offer, but when I tried calling him to thank him anyway- the number was out of service. Weired. I do thank him for the offer anyway.
I got to the library and left a very general E-mail for Dale (the ranger I am working under), saying that I was in town and asking if he wanted me to come in early since I'm already here. Also tried calling him- but only got the voicemail.
Since there was nothing else to do I headed towards the hostel. I had a quiet day in mind, a shower and some reading, walking around at night and getting to know the town.

The hostel turned out to be a cool spot. Nice and friendly people, big kitchen and pretty well stocked, and a bus stop right in front.
After dropping off my backpack and relaxing for a while I started talking to Karen from Denmark. She's been in town for over a week and got a job in a small french style cafe'. She had traveled the US with a friend and wanted to stick around in one place for a while. She offered to show me around Santa Fe, and I promised to cook dinner in return. I grabbed my Camera and we went out to the bus stop. After waiting for the bus for a while, and missing it because Karen had to run back in (Nature called at the wrong time, I guess), and catching the next bus we landed in the Plaza in the middle of Santa Fe.
It's a pretty neat town. It's all very touristy and fixed up, but it's fixed up to look like what it might have looked like, if that makes any sense.

A lot of Jewelry stores, selling "authentic" Indian craft, a few fancy cafes and bars and a couple of really impressive churches. The churches date back to the Spanish influence in this region.
As we were walking around we stumbled upon this police car, and Karen couldn't resist but to go over and ask the cop where he would sit someone he arrested. He told her they have to call another car to come and get the suspect.

Karen also showed me the Gallery area of town. A lot of artists work in Santa Fe and the town has a whole bunch a galleries. Only problem was it was getting late and they were all closed. Some of them do have some artwork outside, though.

Just when Karen said- "well, that's pretty much all there is to show around here" it started raining. At first it was kind of a drizzle, so we kept on walking towards the grocery store (we had thoughts about stir fried chicken), but suddenly it turned into a full out thunder storm, with heavy drops and lightning and all. Apparently this is the monsoon season in New Mexico.

The storm lasted about half an hour, and then the sun came out again. This pattern repeated itself three days in a row. It would be pretty hot and dry all day, at around 5-6 pm, it would rain for about half an hour and a nice warm evening would ease itself in. I could get used to that.
All that was necessary was the rainbow, and since we were both getting pretty hungry- the stirfried chicken.

Got to the grocery store, bought the chicken. Went back to the hostel and cooked. Dinner was served and leftovers were kept.

An English opening

2007-08-11T10:08:00.000-07:00

Well , just a quick run of things-

Flew to London. Noisy ElAl flight, but not too bad. Got to Charley and Steve's place and had a good night sleep. Woke up the next day and took the underground into the City. Did a bit of walking along the river (Thames) and visited an old Power plant that was turned into an art Museum- Pretty cool. Went down to Covent Garden, grabbed a sandwich and sat down to watch a really bad street performer. Then took a boat...

Wait a minute, the bad street performer is worth another sentence or two. This guy was soooo bad it was almost addictive. Imagine a French madman with a really bad accent getting tied up in a strait jacket and chains while screaming and moaning in mid ecstasy. The preparation for what we were constantly informed was going to be an AMAZING escape act, lasted for 20 minutes, during which, the two poor teenagers the madman had selected from the horrified audience to tie him up, were attempting the complicated maneuver of holding the chain in one hand, hiding there faces in shame with the other, and following the ridiculous instructions of the madman which included sentences like "get it tight between my legs". A man in a straight jacket trying to point, literally point, where he wants the guys holding the chains to go, belongs in a straight jacket, I always say. One of the guys had a look on his face of "I hope none of my friends will walk by" and the other simply had a frown that read- "Am I the only one that thinks this guy just likes to be tied by young boys?".

As horrific as the whole scene was, Charley and I found ourselves not able walk away and kept saying to each other- "this couldn't be real, he's faking the bad act to create the atmosphere for some amazing trick. Just a couple more seconds... here we go..."
Well, he didn't do anything notable except for a whole new batch of sexually implying moans and screams. If you really must know- yes, he escaped. None of us did.

The guy after him was alright- walking a slack-rope and juggling "The swords of destiny", but he didn't leave as much of an impression.
Walking the streets London, for someone that is used to driving on the right ("right" as in "correct", not just as the opposite of "left") side of the road, has it's dangers. You either get hit by a car or you sprain your neck from frantically looking from side to side whenever you reach a crossing. Good thing I had Charley with me to stop me from stepping in front of moving traffic, even though I think that by the end of the day some of my cross-walk paranoia rubbed off to her and she started shaking her head too at every cross walk.

We took a boat up the Thames, all the way to Greenwich. Good way to chill out on a day with good weather in London. We climbed up the hill, and behind the "Royal observatory" we found a mysteriously large bronze cone with a window cut at the top. "The largest single-piece bronze structure in the world"- or so said the sign. We were both very impressed, but had no idea what purpose it serves. I don't remember which of us suggested that it could be used to break the world record for largest number of men peeing on the same single-piece bronze structure. You could even put it on a sign.
Got home, had a quick bite and went out for some drinks at a lovely bar on the water.
Indian Food for dinner and a good night sleep.
Next Morning Charley put me on the train and away I went.
Great couple of days!
Oh, and Charley, Thanks for the great weather.

Uncle Yoash

2007-07-15T03:20:00.000-07:00

I'm slightly sunburned (a little more than slightly) and I'm an uncle. These two facts are not linked, but they sum up my activities from yesterday.
Joey had asked me to take a shift behind the bar on Friday. He is short on bartenders...
A friend's friend is here from England, for the first time, and they wanted to go hiking on Saturday. Well, if you put the two together you don't come out with too much sleep.
So after working through the night I crashed on Joey's couch for about three hours. Chicha and 8ball (his dogs) were happy for the company.
At 9:00 my friend gave me the wake up call. I was very close to saying "Here's the map, I hope you have fun", but I got up anyway and dragged my ass down to the car. It took us about five minutes of brainstorming until we decided where we were going to fulfill the friend's-friend's desire for an Israeli adventure. Since he is English, we decided the desert would be a good choice.
With My friend behind the wheel and his friend to keep him company- I shut my eyes.
Got down to Sde Boker. There is a good trail there that goes acrross to the other side of the canyon and around the rim and drops down to Ein Akev from the back.
Ein Akev is a great spot- a running spring in the middle of this desert canyon. Took us about 2.5 hours to get there- which is really good time considering FF had never hiked before. What a spot!!! It was a very hot day- not a cloud in the sky, and the look on FF's face after he dove into the pool was worth listening to him complaining about the heat the whole way there. Can't blame the guy though- it was his first time in the desert.
The way back took about an hour and a half in the blasting sun of mid-afternoon. I had my big hat on, but my face still kept getting sunburned. Took me until today to figure out that the white lime-stone cliffs were reflecting the sun... much like how snow reflects the sun when you go skiing (As if I'd know).
FF was not happy on the way up- it was a tough climb- we chose the "short but steep" trail.
When we finaly threw ourselves over the low wall of Ben Guryon's grave-plot- at the final end of the trail, we had the opportunity to show FF another thing that only happens in Israel. A group of young british tourists were there, looking at the scenery. We started talking and after about 30 seconds we found out that the Rabbi of a couple of the girls on the group who also is the good friend of the head of the group used to work at the Bar, and was actually the one that hired my friend. 15 seconds later, the head of the group said "Oh! you're Yoash?! My friend (The Rabbi) gave me your number so you could help me get a table at the bar for the group on Friday night. Haven't had time to call you yet..."
Well, I guess hiking in the desert for 6 hours is good for business after all...

When we finally got to the car and turned on the AC, I pulled my phone out of my bag and turned it on. An SMS from my Dad was waiting for me- "Cong, you're an uncle. Baby was born at 3pm and he is a healthy 3.3kg boy. The proud mother and father are exhausted and well".
My friend was all ready to drive me to the hospital that second, but after talking to my sister we realized the hospital kicked everyone home after the end of visiting hours- no exceptions, and I could see the baby the next day. Disappointing but smart.

Not a bad weekend.

2007-07-12T17:21:00.000-07:00

Had a pretty good day today.

Instead of wasting time studying for my certifying exam I went out for a day of erans.
I had a good counseling meeting about signing up to Uni and bought a new camera.
Wasn't a cheap experience, but hey- If' I'm gonna be stuck in the middle of the New-Mexico wilderness for four months- I better have a good camera.

After riding from one end of Tel Aviv to the other, between the university and the camera store, I figured i could use a bite, and went over to the Bar for lunch.
Oshrat (ain't she a doll?) was there, and modeled for the first pictures of the camera that I still don't know how to operate properly.
Came out alright, I think.
Thanks to AUTO mode, of course.

Starting off

2007-07-12T16:49:00.000-07:00

Hey boys and girls,

Right before I leave for my western adventure, I decided to start this Blog, not because I have a story to tell, or because I want my voice heard. The reason is simple- I'm lazy. I figured it'll be a lot easier to start this and have you guys subscribe, than have to write E-mails all the time. This is my way of keeping in touch. If more comes out of it- why not.

hehehe....