Cañada del Ojo: An eyeful of hoodoos

We fly as only a wide, smooth dirt road allows a vehicle to do, then stop short.

Before us, more than a dozen horses trot across a junction.

When we park and open the car doors, silence engulfs us. Ravens break it to trade caws across the valley.

We hike to the ruins of two small stone houses. We have to strain our eyes to distinguish the foundations from the rock landscape as we approach.

We walk a cow path through cholla cactus taller than most humans and sun brighter than most places on earth.

A short, steep track deposits us on a mesa. With the 100-foot elevation gain, wind emerges from the stillness. Juniper replaces cholla.

Rock twists red and rust and burgundy around us. We haven’t reached our destination, but I stop to clamber among the towers and peer through windows in the rock. Herrera Mesa looms tall and flat across the valley.

Beyond the red land, the arroyo we seek: sand, rock shelves, juniper branches.

We’re in it before we see it: Cañada del Ojo, a hoodoo garden on BLM-designated land near the To’Hajiilee Navajo Chapter.

The hoodoos rise bulbous, chalky, topped with the rich red we saw earlier. Balanced rocks. Moqui marbles. An arrowhead, chipped and discarded in the arroyo.

The drainage begins to resemble a slot canyon. We climb to a ridge, walk its edge to gaze down on the hoodoos and over the valley.

The ridge holds numerous tinajas, rock depressions in the desert that can hold water, sometimes for weeks. All are bone-dry. The animals whose scat and sign dots this corridor must seek succor elsewhere.

Rather than retrace our steps, we descend the ridge’s stone shoulder, long and sideways.

Cloud wisps stretch across the sky. The sun’s blast becomes a glow. The ground beneath our feet reveals a chunk of chalcedony, a bobcat print.

We follow a long fenceline through cactus and sky to our car.

The horses run beside us as we drive away.

Hike length: 6 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Wildlife spotted/heard: crows, ravens, cottontail, chipmunk, butterflies, grasshoppers

Trail traffic: none

Tips: This route is from the latest edition of “60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Albuquerque.” I recommend this hike November-March. There’s no shade and the terrain looks like prime rattlesnake habitat. As noted, the dirt roads to get here are mostly good in dry weather, but the last couple miles could get dicey quick with any rain or snow.