I start this hike angry.
I’m angry about the brisk wind shushing across the hills. The forecast called for zero wind. Being out in the wind is one of the biggest risk factors for me having a giant gusher nosebleed this time of year. Now I’m worried.
I’m angry because I’m tired of worrying about my health. Due to my extreme juniper allergy, I spent six days of January in bed, three with a fever.
I’m also angry at someone. Two people, actually, neither of whom are here.
But I have made it to a trailhead, so we’re going hiking, anger notwithstanding.
We’re in an open bowl, city on one side, the southwest flank of the Sandias on the other. Our destination is a human-painted eye on a rock reached by a steep climb. As we ascend, we pass a man huddled under a juniper.
It’s rare to see a homeless person while hiking a trail in Albuquerque, but it happens. Our city is failing at meeting the needs of our population. There are more people all the time on the streets, under a bush. The loudest response to this enormous amount of human need – with notable and wonderful exceptions like the Albuquerque Indian Center – seems to be “not in my backyard.”
We climb to a saddle, then make a long, steep corkscrew up. Tijeras Canyon and the Manzanitas and Manzanos emerge below. Two people in white T-shirts climb a red rock outcropping across the canyon.
Blue blazes down on us. The sections of the climb surrounded by boulders warm us. The parts on a high ridge huff cold wind in our faces.
I crest another ridge, see a crumpled mass of clothing, and shudder. A sleeping man? A dead man? Just some sweatshirts someone, probably the man under the juniper, left behind.
We reach a high landing. What little vegetation exists here tosses in the wind like we’re on top of Everest.
I gauge the final climb to Eye of the Sandias. It will mean at least half an hour with that wind in my face. That doesn’t seem wise, and I don’t really care about missing the rock. I’m in the most compelling scenery.
Nothing looks the same going down through the warren of social trails. My husband and I argue about the right way back. I think he’s going too far south. We cliff out repeatedly, then descend a path steep enough that I slide down a decent chunk of it on my butt rather than even trying to stay upright. (Today may have been last rites for my five-year-old REI pants.) We emerge north of where we began this morning, indicating that my husband had been headed toward the right trail.
As we get close to the car again, I catch myself smiling. There are worse things than being out here under rock and sky.
That is, if you have someplace sturdier than a juniper to go when it’s time to get out of the wind.
Hike length: 4.5 miles
Difficulty: moderate
Trail traffic: moderate
Wildlife spotted: pinyon jays
Woman Seeks Elevation 