We’re up before it’s light and I make spinach and eggs on tortillas for breakfast. Enjoy healthy stuff while you can!
I’ve had the absolute best time with Miriam, my new friend. What a lark to meet her at the parking lot. We went to a party at the historic Bear Mountain Lodge and I got to meet her best friend. She showed me all over Silver City, and I am in absolutely in love with its quirky artsy nature.
Tim suggested yesterday we drive up the road and have me start right where the Gila alternate trail begins. It saves me 12 miles of road walk and I’m all for it.
I don’t know if anyone walks the official CDT trail through here. It misses the river itself, and with drought, I can’t imagine how people get water.
Still, I am on a dusty trail, high up now and covered in pines. There’s no wind yet and the trail is very chill. Gosh, I’m going to miss Miriam and my new friends.
Looking at the weather forecast, I slightly panicked yesterday. Cold temperatures are coming with lows at freezing or just below. Cold is one thing, but a wintry mix is in my future – just a 50% chance, but what a contrast to the desert.
Another friend of Miriam’s named Jay spoke to me on the phone about strategy, especially since I’ll be in and out of water dozens of times per day (or more.)
He decided to give me a sleeping bag liner he never uses and his wife threw in a wool top. What kindness! I picked up tights and a pair of rain pants at Walmart. I think I’m prepared now.
The first bits of trail wind around with views back to the Little Burrows and ahead into the Gila. Bike tracks are everywhere. This is Miriam’s playground.
I practice my speech and am showered with praise by a spunky Mountain Chickadee.
The trail gets steeper like waves of up and down and I need to pause speaking to catch my breath. Rocks fill the trail like ball bearings and I wipe out once.
Soon the trail enters a wide open rocky area, a bit like Moab’s red rock. Hoodoos abound and it’s delightful walking on solid rock, like a garden here.
Nearby lives Doug the Hermit, a man who’s made this place home for 25 years. There’s a small gate and an arrow pointing away, so I don’t disturb him.
The trail drops steeply into a side canyon where magical pools of clear, refreshing water await me and my lunch. The air feels a little chilly when I stop, but the sun is out and I am perfectly content. A Ruby Crowned Kinglet and Bridled Titmouse sing to me.
Good thing I take a few liters with me, because everything changed fast. I enter Sycamore Canyon and it couldn’t be more different.
Where my lunch spot was open with beautiful rock as the floor, the canyon is narrow and densely packed with trees. A recent fire has left some trees loose and the trail is covered with blowdowns.
I lose my way several times. My hands and pants pick up black from charred logs. It’s also very overgrown and thorns grab at my clothes.
Plus, I’m climbing. Jay warned me about this section saying it was tough and that I would eventually be quite exposed to the elements.
No real elements today but a stiff breeze. It’s a long way through this mess followed by a steep climb which affords incredible views back to where I’ve been.
I see the pass in the mountains I’ll climb up through. What a workout that took most of the afternoon. From above, I meet Tadpole Ridge.
For a moment, I see out to an enormous spread of land before what appears to be the canyon of the Gila River. And soon, I am on that spread of land, under trees and walking for what feels an eternity.
I meet a dirt road and cattle corral, and there’s water in a tank I help myself to using a spigot. I drank everything I had coming up that monumental climb, so I am grateful for the water. I really didn’t come that far either, which is why it’s nigh impossible to plan your mileage unless you know the terrain.
I come to a plateau that opens up some and I spy huge mountains surrounding the Gila River. When I finally begin heading down, I know I’ll lose 1,500 feet.
It’s gorgeous, and the sun is still above the mountains and I descend on long swichbacks. It seems to take forever on my tired legs, but I keep moving knowing there’s running water and flat spots for my tent.
The sun angles towards the horizon and lights the rocky far side a deep orange. The air smells fresh and a breeze picks up.
Finally I come to solid ground and see I’ll be sharing the space. They say “hi” but nothing more and concentrate on building a fire smack dab in the middle of a fire burn.
Let’s hope they tend to it well.
I collect water, set the tent and make dinner as the sky lightens pink then goes dark, a crescent moon appearing in the west and chasing after the sun.
Bats flutter past and a mosquito lands on my foot. When I crawl in, I shut the bug net tightly. A chorus of frogs drones loudly, but not enough to cover the sound of the river.
