What a wonderful, spectacular, perfect day. The rain and snow shoved on and left me with blue skies, a light breeze, perfect cool hiking temps and pine needle scent all day long.
I am so glad Miriam did not fetch me as she had said she was doing then decided against it. It forced me to just keep walking and spending last night inside somewhere warm was just what was needed.
I laze around in the morning reading the newspaper and resting my body. Chad picks me up after it was already light but frost still clung to the windshields of the cars parked at The Mountaineer.
It’s a long way up a narrow, winding dirt road without guardrails. Snow covers the higher peaks and I proudly think I walked through that snow.
We chat about hunting with turkey season opening soon. A coyote cruises across the road unafraid of us. How different it all looks this morning, fresh and sparkly instead damp and misty.
It’s cold at the top and I wear two jackets to start, pay up and then I’m off.
Maybe the best part of section hiking is not seeing a soul on trail. I like my own company and am so happy to be out here in this beauty.
A few cows with enormous horns move out of my way as I climb up onto a ridge. The views are astounding to far off peaks, most lightly dusted with snow.
I climb up and up then walk
along a narrow ridge where some tree trunks remain from a long past fire. Coming down is a whole other story on dusty switchbacks blocked along the way by fallen logs and clogged up with thorns.
If this trail is on your agenda, I highly recommend wearing long pants unless you enjoy being scratched, poked and flayed.
I meet a saddle then begin a series of ups and downs, winding my way through the mountains. Nothing is up (or down) for very long and I’m just feeling high from the fresh air and solitude.
I stop next to a tank – a man-made earthen pond for cattle – and rather than collect water, sip one of the liters I’ve been carrying. Chad gave me another liter when just driving up the road and seeing how dry everything is, I was concerned I hadn’t carried enough water.
There’s more just a few miles ahead, so I don’t linger snd soon reach the cutoff tor the Govina Canyon Alternate. This must be an oasis when water is plentiful, but it’s dry as can be and all in deep woods, no more views.
I reach the first tank and stop for lunch. Cows and likely all sorts of creatures walk right up to the edge and it’s thick with mud. I find a few rocks and use my pot to scoop low and get reasonably clean water. It’s brown, but filters clear and tastes just fine.
As the water pours through my gravity feed, a long eared squirrel digs around for acorns. The oak trees are beautiful with miniature leaves shaped like wee hands. Just like at home, the brown leaves cling to the trees until pushed off by new growth.
I needed the water, so this alternate was a must, but it’s a bit boring. Rocky with a very difficult to follow trail that just seems to peter out. I lose it twice heading down a road, but get back on track before I go too far off trail.
The second tank is dry to the bone, in fact a cow’s vertebrae sits on what would have been its bank. The third looks like chocolate mousse. I practice another section of my talk, but that only causes me to get lost, so I focus in and assure I’m headed the right way.
Soon enough, I’m finished and back out in the bright light. The sky is azure with puffy white (non-threatening) clouds. It’s chilly, especially when the sun is obscured. I keep one jacket on all day.
It’s a steep up and I catch views back to the mountains I crossed and far away ones in my future. I think I spy Mount Taylor, at 11,000+ feet, the tallest on the CDT in New Mexico.
Now it’s a long way down as I begin to leave behind the Gila and return back to the desert. At the end of the day, down feels exhausting, but I move faster and breathe normally.
Steep and right on the edge I go with an icy wind in my face. But not for long as I come to an opening and a stunning view towards what I think is Mount Taylor, a carpet of trees then grassland and desert in between.
Soon it’s fairly flat with a bit of roll. Another hiker has suggested camping ahead in trees. I had sort of hoped to get to the next water tank tonight, but my daylight is disappearing and they really don’t want us to camp near the tanks. Besides, I still have two liters.
I find what she was talking about. Trees protect me from the wind, but I’m right on the edge of a wide open space with mountains beyond. The last of the sun turns the grass orange.
Camp chores include set tent and bed, clean my dusty feet, make and eat dinner then brush my teeth, put on every item of clothing and crawl into my warm(ish) lair.
And just like that, it’s dark and the stars begin to appear somehow coaxing the wind to take the night off.
