Month: July 2019

The unmajestic sound – a squirrel-like chittering – tells us that’s a majestic eagle swooping above the Crest Trail. Two, actually.

We’ve claimed one of the finest snack spots within driving distance of Albuquerque, a limestone shelf under a tree. Behind us, the historic stone Kiwanis Cabin commands the tip of a promontory. North of us, the Kiwanis Meadow glows green. In front of us, the Crest Trail flirts with the cliff’s edge. The San Pedro and Ortiz mountains slope beyond. Two nights of rain washed the sky clear as a bell.

It’s no wonder everybody and their dog – literally – is out here.

The 1.5-mile stretch of the Crest Trail from the Crest House to the Sandia Peak Tram’s upper terminal gets the most traffic of any trail on the mountain, according to Mike Coltrin’s Sandia Mountain Hiking Guide.

Steps from your car, or the tram, you’ll find a jaw-dropping cliffside view above 10,000 feet where the mountain just plunges away.

Or you’ll walk into Albuquerque’s little slice of cathedral forest and breathe in wet fir, the greatest scent on the tree menu.

My husband could have hiked this trail twice in the time I took checking out every overlook. Slick limestone, muddy tree roots and making way for other humans kept us alert. The accents and languages we heard were nearly as diverse as the scenery.

Somehow we ended up hiking a forest road most of the way back from the tram terminal. Fewer people, fewer views, more butterflies. I aimed my camera at five or six fritillaries, but wasn’t fast enough to capture a single one.

One more pass through the deep dark forest, uphill this time, and city and mountains and sky open before us again.

You don’t have to go far to get far.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Wildlife spotted/heard: golden eagles, crow, violet-green swallows, swifts, nuthatches, least chipmunk, butterflies, horny toad, deer and fawn (on the Sandia Crest Highway)

Trail traffic: plenty

An hour in, we can finally see.

Many days in the forest, birds blur at the edge of our peripheral vision, nothing discernible except “small,” maybe “brown.”

Now, sitting in a grove of ponderosa pines on Armijo Trail, nuthatches resolve into focus. Once they do, we see them everywhere: sailing from tree to tree, corkscrewing up and down trunks. We identify their testy chirps.

“Small” will resolve itself at other points today into woodpeckers, two sparrows in a spindly pinon, a flicker brushing a ponderosa’s crown.

Butterflies emerge, too: the orange and pink of painted ladies, swallowtails highlighted blue and black. Tassel-tailed Abert’s squirrels wrap around tree trunks, gallop up the trail like dogs.

When we began this hike, along Cienega Trail’s spring, a riot of wildflowers attracted so many butterflies it was tough to zero in on any one.

Before I could see anything, I had to hear. How a grumpy person’s heavy footfalls on a rocky trail sound just like grumbling.

I’ve had a low-grade grouch on all week – exactly the amount of time since our last soaking rain. Exactly the amount of time since the humidity rose and some of this year’s epic grass pollen washed away.

Building above the ponderosas: the kind of towering cloud that could make something happen. Ten, 20, 30 percent chance – these numbers mean little in monsoon season. It will rain when it will rain.

Until then, the abundance of this year’s growing things burn my eyes – but I can see.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Wildlife spotted/heard: woodpeckers, nuthatches, flicker, sparrows, lizard, butterflies, cicadas, Abert’s squirrels

Trail traffic: busy at trailhead, none for the first half of the hike