Category: Manzano Mountains

Weather rakes me like fever.

Cold wind slaps my face, steals my breath. Aren’t west winds supposed to be warm?

Clouds part and sun beats the burn zone around us. Instantly, I sweat.

Ten minutes in, I nearly call it. But the Manzano Mountains loom, every Crayola of green and blue, lush with life. And aren’t the canyon walls and the tall spruce beyond the burn scar a natural windbreak?

We reach them and the wind howls on, but less sound and force reach the forest floor: tree cathedral, bird planet.

The trail transforms again at an old rockslide. Light pierces the canopy. The Manzano Crest ridge peeks into sight above, parts stripped naked by fire, parts layered in green.

If we keep going, tight switchbacks will lift us high over the plains and the salt lakes of the Estancia Basin, deposit us in a meadow on the crest.

I’ve done that once, five years ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

But it won’t happen today. A gray curtain descends above. We need to be back at the car by 11 to miss the thunderstorm.

On the way down we spot stands of new-growth aspen we’d missed, preoccupied with the wind. The trees catch the last strands of sun and shimmer.

Raindrops hit half a mile from the trailhead, then thicken. Before us, in front of the storm, thousands of acres of forest slope down to the valley.

I can’t stop turning to gape at the storm. It touches down on the crest, bruises deepest blue.

The cycle of the Manzanos, the one that will always draw me back here, begins again.

Hike length: 4+ miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: none

Wildlife spotted/heard: hawk, yellow warblers, butterflies, nuthatches, bluebirds (on forest road), sparrows, blue jays

One goes to Fourth of July Canyon in October seeking sensory overload.

What kind you get depends on how far you go.

This canyon in the Manzano Mountains boasts a large population of bigtooth maples. In fall they turn orange, yellow, red and pink like it’s New England and not a cleft in the desert.

Along with leaves, the canyon’s main feature this time of year is humans. This can be magic: a bunch of strangers sharing an experience of wonder. Like Balloon Fiesta.

Or, if your backpack’s heavier than usual and groups of eight, 10 and 12 take up the whole canyon, stage lengthy photo shoots, then stand in the middle of the trail and show each other how great their photos are, it can get old fast.

But if you make it to the top of the Fourth of July Trail, the humans thin out and leaf-peeping becomes a different experience.

Today the lower canyon still had a lot of green, but the trail exploded in color the higher I went. The sky receded as the trees closed orange and gold around me.

Thinking I’d missed an overlook, I headed into new territory on the Manzano Crest Trail. I realized I was walking away from the ridgeline, turned to head back, and gasped. Ripples of red covered the Manzanos’ eastern slopes in front of me. I’d never been high enough on the trail to see the maples from that perspective.

A gold dragonfly buzzed past gold leaves. An orange and black butterfly danced with orange leaves.

I found the overlook, and then a stone ledge below it that I’d never noticed. As I explored the rocks, I spotted a huge stand of red maples in the center of the canyon below.

I wandered the overlook in the sun and wind for a good half-hour, completely alone.

I descended on Cerro Blanco Trail. At times it’s dark, grottolike, colorful leaves forming a snow globe. A few spots open onto sun-drenched ledges with views of the colorful ridges above.

A bend in the trail overlooked a grotto. I sat on a rock. It was 3 p.m. but felt much later in the cool shade. The deep colors and gentle curves reminded me of when I hiked the Appalachian Trail to McAfee Knob in the fall.

Then I looked down, saw a juicy prickly pear cactus on the ledge below me, and laughed.

As I’d approached the peak, I’d passed an older couple on their way down. The man had a wooden walking stick and an open can of beer. I heard the woman say to him, “You can only see so much pretty.”

I understood where she was coming from, but my capacity to see pretty today had only one limitation: how far I could physically hike.

Hike length: 6.5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: heavy on first mile, moderate thereafter

Wildlife spotted/heard: deer and vultures on forest road, mountain chickadees, crow, bluejays, butterflies, dragonflies

TIPS!

-B.Y.O.T.P. Demand exceeds supply at the trailhead women’s restroom this time of year.

-They say not to hike alone unless you fully understand the risks. I do, and I almost never hike alone. But I took the opportunity to do so today. I knew there would be people all over the place at Fourth of July Canyon, so if I fell and broke something, I wouldn’t lie there for days. (Many places I hike, including Fourth of July Canyon in the summer, that’s a very real risk, as they’re remote and little-traveled.) It was a great chance to experiment with solo hiking.

The sounds around me heal: wind rustling aspen leaves, birds chirping.

The sounds in my head tear everything apart.

What the hell is wrong with you today?

I trudge up the top of Red Canyon Trail in the Manzano Mountains. At least I hope to God it’s the top. Before today I’d only hiked down this trail, as part of a loop, and I now see why my guidebooks prescribe that.

I did a hike with the exact same elevation gain as Red Canyon Trail a month ago, but my legs are ready to give out. My internal monologue of judgment, though, has plenty left to give.

Many steep grades and grunts later, sky and a trail junction sign emerge.

My jelly legs deposit me on a shaded rock, where I meditate. I’ve never done that in nature, but I need to stop the runaway train of my brain.

My eyes only stay closed about three minutes, because I have, in fact, reached the Manzano Crest Trail, and I want to see the world around me.

My eyes open to another day than the one in which our hike began.

We shivered in a cold wind at the trailhead, breathed water-saturated air. An early-morning rain had bathed the mountain. Water droplets shimmered on spiderwebs and leaves and buds all the way up the dark canyon.

Here, in a Crest Trail meadow, grass glows in the sun, brilliant blue sky above.

Our original plan called for venturing slightly north to climb Gallo Peak. Climbing any peak is now a ludicrous thought.

All around us rise ridges that promise views of the valleys far below. We start up one, but the top’s not as close as it looks (it never is) and up is no longer a direction my legs will consistently travel in.

We settle into the meadow for lunch, looking into the distant Estancia Valley. When we came up here a year ago, the clouds were so thick we couldn’t see it

It’s not the first time this part of the Manzanos has touched off an emotional cascade in my brain, then brought me back to reality with its beauty.

I don’t know what it is about Red Canyon. I have hiked in many special canyons in New Mexico. This one stands out. It’s dark, walls rising high, a lush microclimate within. It’s steep, obviously. Its rock formations tower like ziggurats, dark gray stone shading to pink and purple on a wet day.

It’s something you should experience for yourself.

Prepare for some feelings.

Hike length: 6 miles

Difficulty: The official ranking is moderate. That’s fair, but you know where I stand.

Trail traffic: moderate today, typically light

Wildlife spotted/heard: hummingbird, nuthatch, butterflies galore, hawk, beetle, caterpillar, cicadas