Embudito Canyon: Judgment Day

“SHE doesn’t have any kids!” the child across the parking lot exclaims.

Et tu, kiddo?

I’m judged daily by adults for my choice not to have kids, but this is the first time I’ve heard it from a 4-year-old.

“Maybe she has kids,” the child’s dad says. “Maybe they’re just not here.”

Um, I CAN HEAR YOU.

How would you feel, single dad, if I hollered “Maybe HE has a (husband/wife), THEY’RE just not HERE.”

We step onto Embudito Trail behind the family. The 4-year-old immediately begins yanking datura flowers off their vines.

I see teaching your children Leave No Trace ethics isn’t part of your repertoire, Pops.

We quickly pass the family as an illegal drone buzzes overhead. I can’t wait to leave the voices behind.

Of course I know the kid and the dad were just blurting out the first observations that came to mind, nothing more than that.

But the last place I want to hear a comment about my reproductive choices is on the trail.

That’s why I’m here. If I can go far enough up, or out, all the voices offering unsolicited comments about my being fall away.

 

Embudito Canyon begins wide and sunbaked, green ridges rising steeply away on either side, blue sky pulsing above.

Wildflowers riot: sunflowers, aster, Apache plume. All fed by Oso Spring, a trickle we cross over and over as we ascend the canyon’s throat.

Layers of limestone mount under our feet, pushing us up to the next ledge, the next sand landing. Lots of spots require some upper-body work or a lift from above. It’s a difficult hike.

As the canyon narrows, cool stone and vines surround us. Evergreens begin to appear. Boulders become more frequent.

We ascend a very long arroyo through thick pines. After what seems like forever, we spot endless blue sky through the branches ahead. A ridge.

As we eat lunch, two giant hawks cross overhead, keeping close to each other. The trail leads us higher on the ridge, opening up views of the Sandia Crest, where the aspens are beginning to turn yellow. We glimpse a perfect view of White Mesa across the Rio Grande Valley.

Enormous boulders abound. We detour off-trail for some bouldering. My husband’s more comfortable with that than I am, but I make it two-thirds of the way to the top of one boulder cluster.

When we rejoin the trail, we realize it’s heading down. We surmise that we accidentally left the trail when we climbed that arroyo, and rejoined it heading back the way we came, but on a side path, one of the many that crisscross the canyon walls.

Though we’re below 8,000 feet, it looks almost subalpine up here; high meadows of wildflowers surrounded by mountains, more boulder thickets.

 

I’m enjoying the views when I notice that the tree cover has ended, the cacti have multiplied and the grade of the trail has tilted.

Rather than rejoining the canyon, we’ve ended up on a path that will take us down those steep, sunbaked ridges we saw from the canyon’s mouth.

It’s a long trip. The sun’s relentless. I stumble constantly. I fall several times. Once, when I get back up, I realize every careful step is causing me pain.

I have a cactus needle embedded in the back of my thigh.

I try to pull it out through the fabric of my pants. Not happening.

Looking around to make sure the coast is clear, I lower my pants just enough to reach for the needle. Still not happening.

As we carefully balance on the steep slope, me half-pantless, my husband pulls the needle, plus five more, out of my leg.

And there wasn’t a soul around to judge us.

Hike length: 6 miles

Difficulty: difficult

Trail traffic: moderate (light above midcanyon)

Wildlife spotted: lizards, butterflies, hawks, blue jays, Bewick’s wren, canyon wren, black-chinned hummingbird