These are the days when Wisconsin can only give you everything

Sometimes it’s too much.

As beautiful as southern Wisconsin is, I remember a visit when the trees pressed in on me too closely, the sliver of sky frustratingly small. I knew how much bigger the sky was, and it troubled me not to see it.

But on this day, when we stepped onto the trail at Lapham Peak, a trail whose primary material is grass – grass! – I was ready to be swallowed by green.

IMG_0815IMG_0819IMG_0821

At home it was 102 degrees, forests closed for fire danger, all living things parched.

We arrived at Lapham Peak, part of the Kettle Moraine State Forest, on a brilliant, sun-drenched morning after days on end of rain. The wide green trails gleamed in the morning light. Waist-high grasses and wildflowers surrounded us, and the tree canopy overhead sheltered us.

Our destination was the Butterfly Garden, a riot of wildflowers that 12 of Wisconsin’s butterfly species call home. We spotted five of those species, from the small cabbage white to the great spangled fritillary.

IMG_0827IMG_0831IMG_0836

IMG_0840
Found a familiar sight at an unexpected latitude!
IMG_0841
Don’t know this one, but seems like it could come in handy back home.

We dawdled there, my husband watching a garter snake slither through the flowers, plants and butterflies dancing on the breeze.

A narrower trail through what appeared to be fields of wild spinach and rhubarb led us to an observation tower, our original primary destination. The tower was founded as a National Weather Service station that transmitted data from the weather station on Pikes Peak to Chicago, and it boasts views of many surrounding lakes. But it’s closed indefinitely for repairs.

IMG_0850IMG_0851IMG_0852

We walked back to our car on a path sprinkled with some of the wildflowers we’d seen labeled in the butterfly garden, allowing us to name them. An Eastern bluebird darted from tree to tree as we returned to the trailhead.

You could wander the extensive network of trails at Lapham Peak all day. We spent 90 minutes there before a busy day of family activities began. Even that short time in the forest’s embrace made a difference.

Wisconsin bestowed abundance on us all weekend: its sparkling waters, its lake breezes, the land and its growth pulsing green and blue and fuchsia.

Family and food washed over us in waves, too, as we gathered to mourn one we lost suddenly in January.

At one point, a long-lost relative kayaked up to my husband’s aunt’s house, strode into the back door and was embraced as if it had been days instead of decades.

All weekend, people said this was what they lived for, why they called Wisconsin home, what carried them through the darkness: these short weeks into which nature pours all its riches at once.

It’s a shock to the eyes, and the heart, what land and love can deliver.

Hike length: 2 miles

Trail traffic: moderate

Difficulty: easy

Wildlife spotted: butterflies, dragonflies, Eastern bluebird, chipmunk, squirrels, garter snake

Everything is happier when it’s had a drink

Saturated colors.

Flowing ditches.

Hawks calling to each other.

Abundance abounded when we arrived at the Open Space Visitor Center less than 24 hours after the city’s drenching. We received nearly an inch of rain Saturday.

Agriculture and permaculture fields pulsed deep green, a scattering of yellow wildflowers breaking the monochrome.

IMG_0756IMG_0755

We walked into the bosque, squeaked through a path of rushes and cattails, and came to the fast-flowing river. On a sandbar, barn swallows bum-rushed a Cooper’s hawk till he fled the scene.

IMG_0775

Hawks were everywhere today – bouncing from branch to branch at a fancy house along the ditch, chasing each other up into the evergreens.

IMG_0770

Butterflies cavorted. A striped lizard climbed up a cottonwood trunk and did push-ups.

We had the bosque almost to ourselves this afternoon. The sun beamed down and humidity (humidity!) still hung in the air.

IMG_0781

IMG_0783

IMG_0800

IMG_0806

As we walked back to the visitor center, the same hawk bounced from branch to branch at the same fancy house.

We climbed the observation tower to see the color show from a slightly higher elevation and watch wind ripple the grass.

The desert is a miracle in all seasons, but I have spent so much of this dry year longing for color. I’m grateful that I got to soak it in today.

I wasn’t the only one.

Hike length: 3 miles

Difficulty: easy

Trail traffic: light

Wildlife spotted: Cooper’s hawks, herons, spotted and striped lizards, butterflies, dragonflies, grasshoppers, barn swallows, hummingbirds

 

This hike was faulty, but I’m OK with that

I suffer from Next Ridge Syndrome.

I see a glimpse of clear, open blue through the trees, and I just know there’s a vista spreading out in all directions a few steps ahead. No matter how tired I am, I push on.

A quarter-mile later, I’m still in the trees. My body’s more than ready to turn around and head back. My mind? Please. I see another glimpse of blue, seemingly just ahead, and the cycle repeats itself.

Today this game played out in the delicious-smelling spruce-fir forest at the top of Oso Corredor Trail (that really is an “e” in “corredor,” believe it or not.) I finally gave out at a semi-clearing, right where brilliant green trees crowded close against the trail.

IMG_0734

I would have liked to explore that, but the partial view from where I sat was pretty darn good. The grass-green, limestone-capped, rounded peaks that remind me of castles were in view. The birds were singing, a giant ponderosa offered tons of shade, and none of the other hikers and bikers out today had made it this far up this side trail.

IMG_0740

IMG_0744

As we walked back, we saw two tanagers, brilliant in orange, yellow, black and white, flitting from branch to branch. A fat Abert’s squirrel hustled down the trail in front of us, brandishing its bushy tail.

From Oso Corredor we headed back toward our car on Faulty Trail, which runs practically from I-40 to the Sandia Crest Byway. This stretch of Faulty boasts views of the San Pedro Mountains, Ortiz Mountains and the Estancia Valley below.

IMG_0730

IMG_0737

We hadn’t meant to wander around this bend in the Sandias today. I had in mind a 2,000-foot climb straight up Cienega Trail to the Crest Trail. But at the junction at the trailhead, we never located Cienega. We couldn’t figure out our mistake, even with the map, but perusing the map later, I think we just should have gone left on Faulty instead of right.

But our mistake was serendipitous. As we walked the last half-mile to our car, I ran into an old friend with her family. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and they told us all about raising two little kids in the East Mountains.

We wondered how many other people we knew were scattered around the Sandias’ 140 miles of trails on a Saturday morning.

You’d probably have to get lost to find out.

Hike length: 6 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: moderate

Wildlife spotted: caterpillar, butterflies, Western tanagers, crow, vulture, dark-eyed junco, Abert’s squirrels, carpenter ants at work

How to disappear completely, bosque edition

The thicket of green quickly engulfed us.

Eerie squeals nearby filled the air. At first I thought a family with toddlers was on the trail nearby. Nope. Coyotes.

We’d entered the thicket on the hunt for a lightly-trod trail hugging the west bank of the Rio Grande, about half a mile north of the Montano bridge.

Two weeks ago, we’d walked that trail as it glowed with yellow Russian olive blooms, sparkling against the reflection off the river.

Today we started on a doubletrack baking in the sun. One faint path headed toward the river – and straight into the thicket. We were mere yards from the river, but as we went deeper into the growth, the path faded and the brush closed in, becoming impassable without seriously trampling vegetation (a bad idea anywhere, but especially in the desert.)

IMG_0697

It was incredible to realize you could be swallowed up by nature, until your entire vision was blue and green, so very close to one of the most high-traffic roads in town. It was a thing worth celebrating.

IMG_0707

But the sun was already beating down at 9:30 a.m., and I wanted to see more than the thicket before the heat became unbearable.

IMG_0708

And we did. A cottontail bounded away from us. We heard dozens of lizards skittering in the leaves lining the trail. We saw at least 10 lizards, several striped or spotted, one at the edge of an irrigation ditch, so brown and gray he was barely visible.

We saw a hawk sitting on a cottonwood limb that bent all the way to the ground, then watched it fly away.

We watched a water bird flap over the river.

IMG_0718

We saw two turtles basking in the detritus at a spillway, soaking up the sun.

I’ve heard the Rio Grande is likely to run dry through Albuquerque this summer. I’ve also heard water managers are likely to release just enough water that it won’t, in order to keep residents from wigging out at the sight of a dry riverbed.

I wonder how long there will be vegetation in which someone could disappear completely, if the river is allowed to go where nature seems to be taking it this year.

IMG_0723

Hike length: 3.5 miles

Difficulty: easy

Trail traffic: light

Wildlife spotted/heard: rabbit, coyotes, dragonflies, grasshoppers, butterflies, hummingbirds, lizards, water bird (heron?), hawk, black phoebe