Wilderness Homecoming
Monday, October 27th, 2025: Hikes, Holt, Mogollon Mountains, Southwest New Mexico.
Despite its apparent failure, I was still following our local doc’s treatment plan for my knee: gradually increasing the difficulty of my hikes, in two-week increments. Since the injury/condition didn’t seem to be healing, I just wanted to restore as much cardio capacity and lower-body strength as possible.
After almost two months of this I felt ready to try over a thousand feet of elevation gain, and the hike I’d been saving for this starts on the trail that first introduced me to our vast wilderness area. As such, that trail is more special to me than any other. It first enabled me to reach the crest of our high mountains and penetrate deep into the heart of the range.
The main trail starts at 6,400 feet, climbs through foothills, descends to the canyon bottom at 6,500 feet, follows the creek north for about three miles, then climbs steeply to the crest at 9,600 feet. Today’s hike would follow the creek for less than a mile, then take a branch trail that climbs over the right-hand wall of the canyon into the next canyon to the east, one of the biggest canyons in the range, which doesn’t have its own trail. Climbing to the saddle between canyons would give me a spectacular view and 1,500 feet of accumulated elevation gain in six miles out-and-back.
On the highway north, the first thing I noticed was the absence of southbound snowbird RVs and big pickups hauling UTVs – so thankfully, that phenomenon is seasonal. But our weather is still unseasonably warm, and the forecast today was for a high of 70, with thin clouds over the mountains.
I found a late-model city SUV and a big, generic pickup at the trailhead – fairly typical, although I often find it empty.
It had been a year and a half since I’d hiked this trail – all the way to the crest, where I’d found snow and a young German had joined me most of the way. It really did feel like coming home to the wilderness, especially after crossing the boundary a half mile in. My knee had been pain-free for a few days so I started without the brace – my constant companion for almost five months.
Since I’ve hiked this trail more than any other, everything was immediately familiar: the emerging views, the late-season annuals on the trail, the steep and rocky stretches, the fall colors. Past the wilderness sign I encountered two friendly guys in their 20s in camouflage outfits, wearing packs and carrying tripods.
“Scouting?” I asked, stepping off the trail to let them pass.
“Yeah, looking for deer. We’ll start hunting in a couple weeks.”
“Seen any?”
“We found some south of here, but nothing today.” They asked me if I hike here often, and see deer myself. I said yes, often see deer, whitetails, but not so many bucks.
We wished each other a good day. Shortly afterwards, beginning the descent into the canyon, I spotted a bright red stand of sumac far below.
In the canyon bottom, the combination of late-season rain, warm days and the first cold nights had resulted in a magical mixture of flowers, berries and colorful foliage. The initial stretch is burn scar, but after entering intact riparian forest I was watching for the maples – and although there aren’t many, I wasn’t disappointed.
My knee was less comfortable by the time I reached the branch trail, so I strapped on the brace for the climb.
I’ve only hiked the branch to the next canyon a couple of times – it drops 1,500 feet on the other side, dead-ending at an old miner’s cabin. I reached the canyon bottom once but was blocked by a riparian jungle before reaching the cabin.
The climb to the saddle involves many switchbacks, with great views northwest to the rocky walls of the canyon hiding the main trail. It was perfect hiking weather for my long pants and long-sleeve shirt.
From the saddle, treetops block the view into the big eastern canyon, so as usual, I continued about a quarter mile to the high point of the trail on a mostly exposed slope. The trail to the saddle had been overgrown but with good tread; past here it was almost invisible.
I gratefully realized I hadn’t seen cowshit anywhere on this trail, which up till a few years ago had provided cattle a direct route to the heart of the wilderness. Since then, the Forest Service had hired shooters to kill feral cattle from helicopters. Ranchers had stopped that eventually, but maybe it had some effect.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed identifying spots across the canyon that I had reached on past hikes.
Since my return took place in mid-afternoon, those remaining flowers were hosting swarms of late-season butterflies – mostly too small and skittish to photograph. The brace masked any pain in my knee, and this turned out to be the most enjoyable hike I’d had since being immobilized at the end of May.
In the coming week I would see a sports medicine specialist in Tucson for a second opinion…
Neighbor, I enjoyed hearing about your hike yesterday, and the photographs made it even nicer. It is good having you as a neighbor.