Winter howls through Juan Tabo Canyon

This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I’m on top of a ridge in Juan Tabo Canyon. Barely. Frigid wind howls from the northwest into my face. I fight the wind for each breath, each step.

A light snow falls, dropping a curtain between us and the mountains 4,000 feet above. We pass a man and two dogs coming out of the canyon. It’s snowing more back there, he says, the sky behind him dark and angry.

I was sure Juan Tabo Canyon would offer shelter from the wind. My husband was not. As it turned out, we were both right.

We scramble into a side canyon’s narrow neck. Its walls rise around us, a barrier from the wind. I begin to find my breath. The sun peeks through the clouds, just as the forecast said. The snow stops. Moments ago, I’d worried about hypothermia; now I’m shucking layers.

A trail rises from the canyon floor into the hills. We debate turning back, but the conditions will clearly only improve. We climb, clouds scuttling across the canyon’s back ridges and the notch in its west wall. The Sandias’ iconic Shield, Prow and my beloved Needle slowly begin to emerge above us, covered in snow.

We seek higher vantage points, more clouds and mountains and canyon. My husband notes a steep hill at the canyon’s southwestern end, one we’ve never explored. We’re ready this time for the wind as we reach a high saddle. He walks beside me and we steady each other against gusts that make staying upright a battle.

Atop the hill, we see everything: the flat plain west to the mesa, the snow-dusted South Peak of the Sandias, the sun playing on the icons above. The snow-covered cell phone towers glisten on Sandia Peak like icicles.

There’s no alternate way back to the trailhead from the hill; the path ends at the fence separating public land from the Sandia Pueblo. We have to backtrack, which means walking into the wind on that steep ridge and descent. My husband has tied my hat strings to my backpack, which keeps me from losing my hat when the wind rips it off.

Our city had no winter last year. We haven’t felt snowflakes on a hike in nearly three years.

Today offers a glimpse of how brutal and spectacular a winter hike can be.

Hike length: 4.5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: almost none

Wildlife spotted: jay, beetles, one startled and unidentifiable medium-sized bird being carried on a gust