Snowy Ridge
Monday, January 30th, 2023: Hikes, Pinos Altos Range, Southwest New Mexico.
Conditions hadn’t changed since last week’s stroll across a basin teeming with pets – our mountains were still blanketed with snow, our trails muddy, our creeks flooded. But I felt ready for a more challenging hike, if I could only find a lower-elevation trail that didn’t cross any major creeks. And preferably something less popular than last week’s pet parade.
I reluctantly settled for the segment of the national trail that climbs from the remote valley northeast of town toward the crest of the range just north of town. I’d hiked that segment in dense fog at the beginning of December, so it would be nice to experience it with good visibility.
Mornings were still below freezing, so I’d be spared the mud until later in the day. On the way up the valley, the landscape reminded me of possible alternatives, so I pulled over and studied the national forest map. It’s huge but doesn’t show enough detail, and I didn’t want to end up on a lengthy detour that would turn out to be a wild goose chase, so I continued to the now-familiar trailhead.
The large campground around the trailhead was blissfully abandoned – I had the day to myself, and savored the initial climb through windy volcanic badlands to the ridgetop.
The next stretch traverses the eastern rim of the long ridge, winding back and forth, in and out of shadowed slopes that held up to 6 inches of snow. The snow was trodden and pitted by a chaotic mix of old and new tracks that I eventually sorted out as a man who had been here yesterday, and a horse and dog that had been here last weekend. Even where untracked, the snow had a soft inch on top of a harder base, but the tracks made for an uneven surface which turned my gait into a sort of lurch.
Birds were active. I’d seen hawks hunting down in the big valley, and flocks of dark-eyed juncos would surround me on the ridge, throughout the day.
This hike averages about 7,200′ elevation, and I was hoping the snow wouldn’t be too deep. But three-and-a-half miles in, the trail crosses to the west side of the ridge, where the patches of snow were up to a foot deep. The man from yesterday had turned back, and I was now alone with the deep holes punched by the horse. And the snow was sometimes soft enough to sink through, so now I was lurching even more. But there were still a few dry stretches of trail, and I stopped in one to put on my gaiters.
With no fog, I could now see how the trail approaches the crest of the range, starting from 7 miles to the north and trending south to within less than 2 miles before turning east to climb around the head of an intervening canyon. From a clearing 3 miles north of the crest, I could even identify the road climbing to the fire lookout, despite my recently impaired vision.
On the second half of the hike I was walking in almost continuous snow, ranging from 6 to 16 inches deep. But this segment of trail is mostly either level or at a gentle grade, so I was making good time and could take it slow where necessary.
I was hoping to go at least 6 miles, and as before, was relieved when I finally reached the ponderosa forest above 7,400′. This rolling plateau of broad meadows and exposed bedrock continues to the edge of a little valley, and past that, begins the climb towards the head of the next canyon. I figured I’d passed the 6-mile mark and didn’t want to have to climb back out of that depression in deep snow, so I stopped and enjoyed the snowy forest for a while before turning back.
Last weekend’s horse and dog tracks continued – I assumed they’d had someone waiting to pick them up at the other end of the trail.
It was a long 6+ miles back, but at least most of it was downhill, and the snow eventually got shallower, to be replaced by mud. I’d timed it just right, completing the one-hour drive home by sunset – with the sun directly in my eyes so I had to hold one hand up to block the glare.
