Back in the Southwest

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We are firmly back in the Southwest now, and it is a very different place than it was last November and December. It is pleasantly warm and summery by day, cool by night, and it stays light until about 9:00pm (four hours later than before). It has struck me that our van has been through an amazing variation of temperatures, and we have struggled with different problems at each of these times. Last December, on the rim of the Grand Canyon, we had our coldest night, reaching down to below zero fahrenheit, and now, after our time in the South and some places in Baja, we have hit our highs in the 90's. While we were struggling to keep our contacts and car battery from freezing before, we are now working hard to keep our refrigerator cold, and our fresh vegetables from wilting. Some nights on the road in Texas were nearly unbearable, as the air was so hot and sticky, but we were sleeping at rest areas to facilitate efficiency, and it was too loud and smelly to leave windows open for airflow. Our little van has now both over-heated, as well as freezing to the point of the battery not working. Such extremes we are putting her through! Our last set of extremes has been with elevation, as our journeys through New Mexico took us up as high as 10,000 feet by car, and higher on foot.

After getting our bearings in New Mexico in the Santa Fe area, we took off for a much longed for backpacking trip. One of our guidebooks suggested spending a few days in Santa Fe before hiking higher, to acclimate oneself to the altitude, but in our earnestness, we spent only one night near a trailhead before ascending into the high country. (This had us going from sea level in Louisiana, to Dallas and Wichita to the trailhead at about 8,500 feet.) Our journey was in the Pecos Wilderness, only a short distance from Santa Fe as the crow flies, but a little longer by car through a lovely river valley of ponderosa pine and aspen. We were out for three nights, and were able to make a loop from where we left our car. The first day was hard work, as our packs were heavy, the oxygen level low, and our bodies out of shape after so many weeks focused on eating and visiting. We finally made it to Stewart Lake, our first destination, distinctly before sunset, a true feat for Lance and I. If you are not already aware of the fact that we are known for arriving at camping spots well after dark, sometimes hiking with head-lamps, then I am sure learning this information will not surprise you. In many ways the landscape was not too different than the east side of the Cascades at home: lovely pines and fir trees, alpine lakes surrounded by rocks, with high ridges overlooking them—it was all just a lot higher (we were over 10,000 ft. the first night). The second day we were able to day hike to a gorgeous lake a bit higher, and then the ridge above it which was part of one of the major peaks of the area, Santa Fe Baldy (many of their peaks were called "Baldy," which we supposed was because of their barren bald tops). We had lovely views to several peaks from the top, as well as a glimpse of the Santa Fe valley and where we would next be hiking, before the harsh winds shooed us toward more cover. The next day and a half took us north about ten miles, over terrain which we called rolling. This was a pleasant change compared to Washington, where the ridges are steep and very deep; these in New Mexico were gentle, with short steep sections, and grassy open areas gracing the level areas in between. The last steep section nearly did us in however, and we panted as the elevation caught up with us—11,500 ft, at the end of a long day of hiking. We were happy to find the picturesque lake soon after, and relax until evening. The evening's entertainment arrived in the form of a thunderstorm, and we scurried to the tent. Lightning flashed on the high ridges and sleet pelted the little valley, but it was not enough to frighten us, and we were very snug in our tent. Happily, thunderstorms like this tend to pass quickly, and we were amazed by how dry the rocks and even the ground were just minutes after the storm left. The dry landscape just sucks the moisture in. We were able to do another day-hike the following morning, with the very accessible high ridges making peak-bagging a snap in this area. We later found out that this was the worst snow year in over 100 years for the area and that usually this terrain was still very thick with snow. We sat at our high point (12,000 ft.), gazing across a long, high open ridge, which lead to several other peaks, feeling truly at peace to be deep in the wilderness once again. The view beckoned us on, but we had to leave as our food was running toward empty, so reluctantly we turned to hike back to our car. Many miles later, but still before sunset, we reached the van (it's always amazing what you can accomplish when the days are light for so long) with rather sore feet, but happy hearts. Lance was feeling so great after getting his pack and boots off (and guzzling cold water), that he put on appropriate music, and pulled us into a lively swing dance to celebrate.

The following day took us back to town (but not before a quick hair-washing ritual in the camping area behind our van, to make us look respectable). We were pleased to re-supply at the natural food store in Santa Fe (Amanda:"yeah!--tofurky sausage, baked tofu, and aisles of bulk items"; Lance:"Steak?"), before heading up the scenic drive to Taos. The route follows along the Rio Grande, with the canyon cutting deep into the plateau to one side, and high peaks sprouting up all around, the road at one point funneling into a pinched canyon with the river. The area is known for its skiing in winter, and the traces of snow remained on the highest peaks. We were able to camp near a hot springs at the edge of the Rio Grande, where we lazily admired the steep canyon walls while blissfully soaking in hot water. We enjoyed the laundry, coffee, and internet facilities in Taos (necessarily a unit for us), as well as a quick trip to the adobe-lined town square and a mechanic (for the replacement of a bolt which had fallen out of our wheel shock—at least we now knew what that terrible rattling noise had been). We could live in the Taos area, we decided, as we fit right in: it was easy to observe the number of Subarus and VWs on the roads, and long-haired outdoorsy types patronizing the laundromat.

Our drive west brought us through the northwest corner of New Mexico, entering the Navajo Nation at the town of Shiprock, where a huge rock formation juts out of the desert floor, indeed resembling a marooned ship. The Navajo territory was beautiful, gently bringing us over a mountain range into the rock and canyon studded land of the Colorado plateau. Our destination, Canyon de Chelly, was near here. This national monument protects a valley where ancient Pueblans lived in amazing cliff-hugging dwellings, and the Navajo still inhabit the valley floor farming as they have done for generations. Except for one trail, tourists are not allowed to enter the valley floor without a guide, and so most of the observation takes place on the canyon rim, where many overlooks lead you to view the gorgeous red walls of the cliffs, and the amazing dwellings that cling precariously to them. Many of the dwellings were viewed through binoculars, as they were deep within the canyon, but we could still see the individual stones of the construction which sometimes included more than 50 rooms, towers, and public areas. In the morning we were able to take the one open trail which leads from the rim down into the canyon, a wonderful example of trail engineering in a rock canyon wall. The lushness of the vibrant green cottonwood trees and agricultural fields at the canyon bottom were a stunning contrast to the deep red-orange walls of rock as we wound our way down. From the valley floor we were able to be quite close to a large Pueblan dwelling and ruin. The in-tact portion sits above you, with steep wall soaring above that, while a more ruinous section of stone pieces and half erect walls sits on the valley floor directly below it. It is fun to imagine how the people lived here, climbing to their aerie homes, and descending to reach their fields and the river.

From Canyon de Chelly at the eastern edge of Arizona, we continued our scenic drive across the Navajo Nation, passing through the center of the Hopi reservation as well, which sits fully surrounded by the Navajo land. The Hopi settlements sit dramatically perched on the top of three main mesas, the original towns situated very much as they were historically. The mesas are quite small, and the homes sit along the edges of the mesa cliffs in narrow rows, at times only two rows fitting along the mesa with a tiny street in between. The Hopi are a very traditional and private people, and so outsiders are allowed little access to their communities. Our views were thus from a distance, and we were intrigued by the obvious marriage of new and old—traditionally sited stone homes wedged onto a small steep mesa, with satellite dishes and television antennas peppering the miniature skyline. The land around was true desert, and we marveled at the tenacity of their survival in such a severely hot and dry environment. The Navajo Nation runs all the way to the Grand Canyon at its western extent, and so we left these native lands just as we crossed the Colorado River. The highway passes through a beautiful spot, just between Lake Powell and the northern reaches of the Grand Canyon, a place where many rafters begin their journey. We were able to drive to the river here at Lee's Ferry for a marvelous glimpse of those majestic waters (a significantly easier journey than our hike down to the Colorado last December). The surrounding cliffs are called Marble Canyon, rather appropriately, and the striated rock was a stunning backdrop to the surprisingly clear waters of the river. In the main part of the canyon the waters are milky brown, churning tons of sediment and requiring hikers to do careful purification before drinking it, but here the Colorado was blue-green and clear enough to see through. We finished our evening not far away, sleeping under the pink-orange glow of the Vermillion Cliffs.

By the next day, we easily reached the eastern entrance of Zion National Park, the last corner of Utah we had yet to visit. It was Lance's first visit to this park, although I had been there before, and so he was able to enjoy the descent to the valley floor with sufficient awe. We decided to start with a bang, and headed immediately up the trail to Angel's Landing. For those who have not been there, the hike begins at the valley floor and ends 1500 feet up, at the top of a razor thin rock wedge which juts into the middle of the canyon. While the hiking is steep, what really gets to you is the exposure of the thousand foot drop on either side. We are well trained for such things, however, and with carefully placed steps quickly reached the top, and the amazing views in every direction of the canyon. Zion is known for its sheer red sandstone walls, streaked with dark mineral deposits, and from our bird's eye vantage they were easily visible, as well as the evening colors reaching the beige slick-rock tops of the canyon across from us. The following day we enjoyed another hike from the eastern edge beyond the canyon rim, which wound down from the top to the canyon floor at its culmination, an up-close study of the various kinds of rock, as well as trees and wildflowers, that Utah has to offer. (We thought we were pretty clever to start at the top and lose elevation, and all it required was a hitched ride from a respectable older couple to the trailhead.)

Getting back to our car at the end of the day, we overheard a ranger tell someone that the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend (the next day) was the busiest day of the year at Zion. We looked at each other with raised eyebrows over this idea, and decided to leave the park immediately in search of greater solitude. Happily, Utah has plenty of territory to explore, and all close at hand. And so we set off in search of our next red-rock adventure. Wishing you all a wonderful start to the summer season.

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Photos

Lake Katherine
High in the Pecos Wilderness

Spider Rock
Canyon De Chelly. Spider Woman taught the Navajo how to weave.

White House
Canyon De Chelly. This is the only ruin that you can hike to without going on a guided tour.

Echo Cliffs
Navajo Nation

Angels Landing
Zion N.P.