Woman Seeks Elevation

Before today, I had never been to the Sandia Crest.

That’s right. In eight years of living in Albuquerque, I had never had the quintessential local experience, the thing many visitors do within a few hours of arriving.

I can’t really say why. I’d hiked all over the mountain, including to the tram terminal at 10,400 feet. But I’d never made it up to the top, two trail miles and 300 feet higher.

Today was the day.

If you are beginning your hike from the Crest House, your first impression of the Crest Trail is staggering. I’ve hiked steep trails on many mountains, but none with such a steep dropoff so close on one side.

The scene is breathtaking. With the dropoff and the elevation, I didn’t have much breath to spare.

“CAW!” hollered a crow cruising just above us, closer and louder than I’d ever heard one. Then, as we stared up, five vultures wheeled into sight, riding the wind.

I hoped they weren’t circling because of an instinct about my ability to keep from plunging over the edge.

It was 65 degrees, sun and clouds regularly trading off, as the temperature climbed to 90 on the valley floor below. A gentle rain fell.

We climbed a short and narrow rock stairway, the limestone cool under our hands.

As we headed into the darkness of the tree cover, I felt steadier and more secure on my feet. Moss dangled from fir trees around us. The familiar scent of the forest filled my nostrils.

The sky ahead grew brighter, and a huge, lush meadow came into view on our left. It was closed to hikers, so we admired it from afar. The rain lessened, then stopped.

We spotted our destination: the Kiwanis Cabin, a stone cabin built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s.

The cabin is amazing. It stands at the edge of a rocky limestone hill, sturdy and strong. Birds flutter onto its sills and into it.

But as awesome as the cabin is, the view is even more incredible.

It offers a perfect vantage of the long limestone ridge where the tram terminal sits and the Ortiz and San Pedro mountains beyond. We could see the tram making its slow way down the mountain. It was hazy below because of smoke from the Oregon fire, but on most days, you’d be able to see the Jemez and Ladrones mountains, too. The cloudy, hazy sky created an incredible play of light and shadow on the ridge and the steep, rugged canyons below. I could have watched it all day.

I climbed down to get a better view of the meadow. As I climbed back up, my husband exclaimed, “Hey! I almost stepped on you.”

Luckily, he wasn’t talking to me. It was a horny toad, nosing around for a rock crevasse to disappear into.

We headed back through the forest and emerged on the edge of the mountain. It started to rain again, or maybe it had been raining up there the whole time. But now that I had my bearings, I carefully explored the detours that ran a little closer to the edge than the main trail.

As I stood by our car stretching, a crow flew into a fir tree above us. It began a low, steady bleat from its spot within the branches.

On our way down the mountain, we saw two deer on the side of the Sandia Crest Highway, and a bluejay flew overhead.

I still don’t know what took me so long, but the view from up there was worth the wait.

Hike length: 3 miles

Difficulty: easy

Trail traffic: heavy

Wildlife spotted: horny toad, crows, ravens, vultures, towhees, chipmunk

TIP! The pit toilets at the Crest are super gross. They just get such heavy use that it’s kind of hopeless. The Tree Springs trailhead at 6 miles up the Crest Highway and the 10K trailhead at 10 miles have perfectly acceptable pit toilets. Go there.

As I made my way cautiously along the side of the steep mountain, the sloping green meadows, soaring stand of fir and jagged peaks nearby kept catching my eye.

So did the fresh – and enormous – cow patties underfoot.

It blew my mind that a 1,000-pound creature could not only navigate the narrow path, but could relieve himself (or herself) there without toppling off.

I saluted that cow.

***

When I searched for a hike near Durango, the options overwhelmed me.

I found exactly what I wanted in a little guidebook in Maria’s Bookshop downtown: Castle Rock. A hiker stood triumphantly atop the rock in the picture, taking in 360-degree views.

The hike was only 6 miles. Yes, it rose 1,600 feet to top out at 10,000 foot elevation, but I’d done a similar hike in length and altitude at home. No sweat.

Actually, sweat was one of the defining features of this hike. Copious amounts of it.

It was hot this Labor Day weekend in Durango, much hotter than when a thunderstorm chased us down from Engineer Mountain the same weekend last year.

On this day, it was 80 degrees even at 8,500 feet. The brilliant sun blazed down as the first two miles of the trail switchbacked through some of the tallest aspens, spruces and firs I had ever seen.

The tall, thin trees meant few sizable patches of solid shade.

Electra Lake glimmered into view across Highway 550 as we climbed, followed by rocky peaks. The sounds of the highway began to fade.

When we finally reached a cabin at the edge of a meadow, I wolfed a sandwich from the co-op and guzzled water.

I knew I wouldn’t stand atop Castle Rock this day – the tree cover was basically finished, the steepest climb lay ahead and the day just kept getting hotter.

But before we turned back, we couldn’t resist climbing across the meadow to see what views lay around the bend. That took us out to Cow Patty Ledge.

As we descended, the will-I-make-it-to-the-top chatter stilled, I focused on getting into a rhythm so my senses could engage more fully: with the scent of fir, the sound of crows in the trees 60 feet above us, the chickadees flitting from one side of the trail to another.

This is probably the last week heat will be a factor on that hike for a long time. Patches of aspen leaves already glimmered golden, and some swept down in the breeze around us as we descended.

I still want to see what southwest Colorado looks like from the top of Castle Rock.

Maybe I can catch a ride with a cow and see how they do it.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: a bunch, including horses

Wildlife spotted: finches, chickadees, crows, butterflies, grasshoppers

On some maps of the Manzanita Mountain trails, it just appears as “Gnasty.” Which is eye-catching enough.

On others, its moniker is even more in-your-face: “Gnasty with a G.”

I hadn’t thought I would ever end up there. It’s a mountain bike path, and part of the warren of Manzanita trails where we tend to get lost.

But I was destined for Gnasty today, though I didn’t know it.

Our hike began at Otero Canyon, the second pulloff where you can hike on Highway 337 south of Tijeras. I’d seen a friend post a beautiful picture of it and was intrigued.

I’d slept late, and by the time we dawdled to the trail, it was nearly 11 a.m. We had three cool, cloudy days in Albuquerque this week, and the sky was that punch-me-in-the-face blue you get in fall.

But within our first steps onto the trail, it was obvious that it was still summer. There are many unshaded sections of this hike and the sun was absolutely blazing.

So were the wildflowers. If there is a better place within 20 miles of Albuquerque to see wildflowers right now, I don’t know of it. Sunflowers and yellow daisies danced in the wind, while red Indian paintbrush, lavender asters and tiny white flowers we couldn’t identify carpeted the ground. We saw every color of the rainbow and then some in wildflowers along the trail. All sizes and colors of butterflies danced around the canyon. The most plentiful were black, orange and white.

The Otero Canyon trail winds through stacked limestone formations. We saw no other hikers, but tons of mountain bikes and a few motorbikes. Luckily, there was pretty much always an arroyo when we needed to scoot off the trail.

We watched two Abert’s squirrels chase each other up and down a tree, and later, we saw a Cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk chase another along a ridge. I knew I was anthropomorphizing them, but it was hard not to. There was no obvious evolutionary benefit to what they were doing; it seemed it had to be play.

The maps showed the Otero Canyon trail extending nearly four miles. But two miles in, we came to a blatant Department of Defense stay-away-from-our-unexploded-bombs sign.

Plenty of bikes were whizzing in and out of that area, but I didn’t want to get arrested or exploded today.

However, the trail climbing up a ridge just north of the unexploded-ordnance area was – you guessed it – Gnasty. Trail signage confirmed it, and there was even a hand-carved wooden sign, the kind you’d see on someone’s front porch, hanging from a tree: Gnasty with a G.

Gnasty is lovely, though challenging. It’s steep, rocky and narrow, with Gambel oak squeezing in on both sides. Ridgeline vistas quickly come into view through the trees.

As we ascended, a couple of folks on mountain bikes were descending. We watched a ripped 70-year-old man steer his bike rapidly and with complete control down a stepped hairpin turn.

We went about a half-mile up Gnasty, then reversed course. When we got back to Otero Canyon, we stopped at the first limestone arroyo for a snack.

We lay on the cool rock beneath a giant ponderosa, watching clouds scuttle across the sky, listening to silence until the buzzing of flies overtook it.

That’s when it hit me: I could get used to Gnasty living.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: moderate

Trail traffic: moderate

Wildlife spotted: jays, crows, hawks (Cooper’s or sharp-shinned), butterflies, canyon towhees (we think), Abert’s squirrels

The 10K trail got its name because it follows a ridge along the 10,000 foot elevation line in the Sandia Mountains.

I was here because I’d put the word out on social media for a hike I’d never done before. I’ve spent the past two summers chasing shade, and there are fewer and fewer cool, shady hikes close to Albuquerque that I haven’t done.

When a friend suggested the 10K trail, I knew we had a contender.

The trail gains a total of just 600 feet in elevation over its five-mile one-way length. Piece of cake, right?

Heh.

There’s plenty of up-and-down within that 600-foot range, but what really makes this trail challenging is 1) the high elevation (huff, puff) and 2) the ankle workout from the tree root networks poking out of the path.

This is spruce-fir-aspen wonderland, complete with carpets of wildflowers and many kinds of mushrooms. The sweet-sharp smell of fir was our constant companion. Neither my husband nor I could resist poking a finger in a drip of fir sap. At some points the trail was mostly deadfall, mushrooms growing out of giant dead spruce trunks.

As we reached a beautiful overlook just a quarter-mile in, thunder rumbled. We debated turning back, but neither of us wanted to and both our instincts told us no storm was close enough to present danger, so we kept going.

There was plenty of traffic on this hike, but the folks who were just out there to gossip turned around after about a mile. The silence was even more welcome because we’d craved it.

I got into the rhythm of the hike, the trail leveled out more, and breathing became easier. We turned around after two and a half miles, and I realized why that last part of the trip out had felt so easy – it was all downhill. I huffed and puffed again.

Once we were close enough to the trailhead that I knew I’d get back under my own power, I had another problem; I did not want to leave.

Chickadees and nuthatches twittered above, squirrels and chipmunks darted along fallen logs, and sunlight filtered in through the trees. It was a cool 75 degrees with a refreshing breeze – even with rain nearby, the elevation kept it from being humid.

We heard thunder rumbling again on the last mile of the hike. But I couldn’t say no to stopping for a snack at the overlook, or walking down into a meadow to get a better view of the San Pedro Mountains.

The fields of wildflowers that had begun our hike greeted us again at the trailhead. Another side trail called to me, but the thunder grew more persistent and the dark clouds were rolling our way.

We climbed in the truck and drove the 11 miles back down the mountain. We caught the flint-smell of rain about halfway down. We drove through puddles. Mist rolled off the road’s surface. The temperature dropped another 10 degrees. Then, real rain, a steady beat against our windows that kept up all the way through Tijeras Canyon.

We passed the lovely trail that’s closed for three months due to heavy bear activity.

We passed the sign telling us we were leaving the Cibola National Forest, “Land of Many Uses.”

Hiker and motorcyclist and bear and caterpillar and chipmunk, all using the mountain in different ways.

I gave thanks for it and took my leave until I am lucky enough to be at 10,000 feet again.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: Moderate

Trail traffic: Moderate

Wildlife spotted: chickadees, nuthatches, caterpillar, butterflies, chipmunk, squirrel

“Hey!” my husband yelled. “There’s a bunch of Swiss cheese penises!”

I’d already done more climbing and scrambling than I expected, and was ready to head back down.

But how do you not look at Swiss cheese penises?

I dug in my poles and pushed up the steep slope.

***

In fall 2015, my sister gave me the gift that started it all: Stephen Ausherman’s “60 Hikes Within 60 Miles of Albuquerque.”

When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a place called Paliza Canyon Goblin Colony.

Sold.

Upon our arrival there in November, a ginormous tarantula greeted us.

It’s my only hiking encounter with a tarantula. So far.

That day it was around 40 degrees, with a cold wind. We were eager to see the canyon in summer, and when we reached it today, the morning after an hours-long soaking rain, we were not disappointed.

Paliza Canyon is seven miles up a narrow forest road from Ponderosa Winery. The hike is on another old forest road that winds along little Vallecito Creek. Brick-red dragonflies, a good 10 kinds of butterflies and little striped lizards darted across the road. Small electric-blue butterflies swarmed around what appeared to be elk scat. Ponderosa pines swayed in the wind above; thick vines wrapped around the trunks of the ones near the creek.

There are two gorgeous campsites tucked into the pines, right next to the gurgling creek. We didn’t see a soul there or anywhere on this hike, despite the full campground just a couple of miles away.

The road climbed gradually. Rock formations appeared. Then, a mile and a half up, the goblins. Acres of hoodoos, tombstones, fingers point into the sky. Your challenge: navigating the steep canyon for a closer look at them.

Bonus: As you climb, the view of the forested ridges around you just gets better and better.

Indian paintbrush and other wildflowers lit up the base of some of the goblins. Tangles of vegetation grew out of shaded spots in the rock in the big formations.

After a good hour of tramping around the goblins, we hiked further up the road. We passed through a small section of burned trees where new growth of wildflowers and vegetation carpeted the ground. A mullein plant stood as tall as my husband. We rounded a bend and views of mountain ranges and mesas opened before us.

So did a threatening bank of dark-gray clouds. We were running out of road. It was time to head back.

As we neared the creek again, I spotted an even smaller pocket of burned trees.

What kind of fire burns a few trees here and there? I asked my husband.

One that gets rained out, he said. The canyon serves as a natural firebreak too. (The area had been closed for remediation from the Cajete Fire when we tried to hike here three weeks ago.)

I stopped to take a picture of a butterfly on a bush, and thunder boomed in the black sky behind us. I abandoned picture-taking and hustled. Ahead, the sky was brilliant blue. There was no sign or sound of the storm when we reached our car.

As we drove back down through the valley, we admired a soaring ridge full of the same Swiss-cheese holes we’d seen on our hike.

No penises, though.

The goblin colony’s the only place I know of where you can see that.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: The hike’s easy; clambering around in the goblins is not

Trail traffic: none today

Wildlife spotted: bluebird, chipmunk, dragonflies, butterflies, nuthatches, jays, squirrels

Tip: This is a beautiful hike in the summer, but go early in the morning. While some sections are well-shaded, the sun really beats down on that first mile and the ridge.