Close, But No Cigar
Monday, November 27th, 2023: Hikes, Pinos Altos Range, Southwest New Mexico.
My problem foot had turned out okay after last Sunday’s hike – probably because I was wearing the stiffer winter boots – but I still wanted to work my way gradually up to longer and steeper walks. So this Sunday I was looking for something more than 12 miles but with less than 2,500 feet of elevation gain, and no prolonged steep grades. That’s a big ask around here – all the level ground within an hour of town is private land, hence all the nearby trails climb mountains.
There was really only one option – the boring north-south segment of the national trail I’d done twice before. I was still hoping to link it with the segment I hike from the opposite direction, but wasn’t optimistic – it would involve more than 20 miles out and back. No way would I accomplish that today.
Especially when I discovered my driver’s side door lock had frozen overnight. I had to let myself in the passenger side, then clamber over the center console and shift lever in my big winter boots, start the vehicle and run the heater for 20 minutes before the lock would operate. And while waiting, clamber back out and scrape frost off the windows.
Then on the drive, I had so much on my mind that I passed the turnoff and drove up into the eastern mountains for another 10 miles until I realized my mistake. After turning around, I finally reached the trailhead 45 minutes later than usual.
The climb to the ridgetop was scenic as usual. The sky was mostly clear, with bands of clouds hanging over the horizon, and although the temperature was in the 20s, the climb generated a lot of heat and I kept shedding layers.
Once you reach the ridgetop, it’s just a trudge through forest, with occasional boring views, about 7 miles to a little-used forest road. Birds were active, but I only recognized jays, flickers, quail, and juncos. I did find smallish bear tracks in snow that had fallen the day before.
I was giving myself 8 hours, and I reached the forest road with an hour to spare. And my foot seemed to be doing okay, so I would continue and see how close I could get to linking the two segments of trail.
Past the road, the trail began climbing steadily. I knew from the topo map that it was approaching a ridge that curved around the watershed of a creek – the other side being the segment I’d hiked from the opposite direction. Eventually I reached the ridgetop, and was rewarded with an unexpected 180 degree view, from the 9,000 foot high point of the range I was in, to 9,300 foot Black Mountain, 55 miles north, and the 10,200 foot crest of the eastern range, 35 miles east. My time was up, but despite not closing the chain, I’d reached a worthy destination. I figured I’d gone more than 8 miles, and felt pretty damn good.
But as usual, the descent of that long ridge seemed endless, and before the halfway point my entire lower body was aching. About three miles from the trailhead I encountered a couple about my age, with a dog, just starting up the trail. The sun was setting, and they were only carrying day packs, so I asked how far they planned to go. “We’ll turn around soon,” the man said. “We’re just trying to work off that Thanksgiving dinner.”
I was able to reach the vehicle before full dark without using my headlamp, but I worried about them. The lower half mile of the trail is like a maze. A full moon was rising but only sporadically penetrated the tall ponderosa pines.
