Actually, when I saw this sign I knew I was no longer lost, but had found my way back to the trail. And, considering the type of terrain I was hiking in, it’s probably not accurate to describe my experience of getting off the trail as being “lost.”
I had set off to hike the 9-1/2 mile Chupadera Wilderness National Recreation Trail, which I have hiked before. The first couple of miles traverses Chihuahuan desert scrub dominated by creosote bush and prickly pear cactii growing in loose, gravelly soil. Recent rains had caused the surface here to erode with multiple, small ruts weaving over and around the trail. Since this is a wilderness trail there are no trail markers. As I walked the first mile I was having difficulty figuring out if I was on a trail or on an eroded section of gravel.
When I finally spotted some rock cairns I thought all was well. Further along, the trail crossed under a power line and started heading down an old gravel road. What I failed to notice was that the trail and road overlapped for only a short distance. I kept walking on the road, eventually figuring out that there were no more rock cairns and that the road was curving back towards the parking area instead of heading west towards Chupadera Peak.
Once I realized I had lost the trail I had two choices–either backtrack to the last cairn I had seen or continue forward and see if I could reconnect to the trail. As I said, it’s hard to be truly lost in this terrain because the mountain is directly visible ahead to the west and if you get on a ridge the Rio Grande is visible behind to the east. Plus Interstate 25 bisects the trail about 2-1/2 miles from the parking lot.
When the trail gets to the Interstate there is a hiker tunnel that goes under the road. I pulled up Google Maps on my phone and by looking at the satellite imagery I was fairly certain I could see where the tunnel was. I decided to take the continuing forward option, leaving the gravel road and bushwhacking across the desert towards what I guessed would be the tunnel.
When I reached the fence line that separates the refuge from the highway, I wasn’t at the tunnel so I had to make a guess if I should follow the fence line north or south. Fortunately, I had correctly picked the tunnel on the satellite imagery. It showed the location was south of where I was and I didn’t have to walk much further before I found the tunnel. At that point I knew I was back on the trail–Whew!
Reaching the fence line and heading north along the fence to find the tunnel.
Heading into the Hiker Tunnel under Interstate 25.
Trail goes through canyon of red, volcanic rock.
Looking east after having climbed up and over the red rock area.
View towards north.
Made it to the top. Looking southeast.
The only wildlife I saw.
On the way back I figured out this is where I had missed the cairns going to the left, instead keeping on the road to the right.
Friday was another day spent making the connections to get on the several trains that would take us from Zurich, Switzerland, to Ilmenau, Germany. All went well and we arrived on time at Ilmenau station where we were greeted by my uncle and his wife. It was dark when we got there so we had to wait until the next morning to get a look at the area around the village of Manebach where my uncle had made reservations for us at a small hotel on the outskirts of the village.
Although Germany has many attractive villages, Manebach is special to our family. It is where my mother’s father was born and raised. My mother shared memories of the vacations she enjoyed as a child when her family would come from the city of Leipzig to visit her grandparents at their house in Manebach.
Manebach is in Thuringia Wald (“Wald” in German means “Forest”) and it is a popular destination for hiking. So, of course, our first day there was spent hiking one of the nearby trails.
The hike started by walking through the woods behind the hotel on a path to the village. In the middle of the village some stairs led up into the woods where we continued to climb the trail to the summit of Kickelhahn Mountain. There we found Kickelhahnturm (means Kickelhahn Tower), which required more climbing up the stairs inside the tower. It was all well worth it for the views and then for the refreshments that awaited us at the small cafe next to the tower.
Today, instead of hustling after 2 boys on scooters, we got our exercise by climbing up 2 of Zurich’s viewpoint attractions. The Uetliberg mountain is visible from the city and easily accessible by train or by walking from one of several tram stops. We chose the tram and walking option and enjoyed the steep but pleasant trail that climbed through the woods to the top of the ridge. After enjoying the view from the top, we walked further along the ridge for a hike back down on a different trail.
Another opportunity to get a bird’s eye view of Zurich is available within the city. The Grossmuenster church is a distinctive landmark with its double towers. One of the towers has a viewing platform that can be reached by climbing 187 steps (I counted them) up a winding staircase inside the tower.
After hiking and climbing stairs it felt good to sit by the lakeshore for a while to relax and watch the swans. Another beautiful day in Zurich.
I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the first day of autumn than to hike up one of the many trails in the Sandia Mountains. It will be a couple of weeks before we see the golden colors of the aspen and cottonwood trees. But the timing today was perfect for enjoying the beautiful displays of the feathery pink seed heads on the Apache plume shrubs along the trail.
I think I have a love-hate relationship with rocks. I was hating every single one of the rocks that littered the countless ruts in the maze of dirt roads we were navigating in our attempt to find a trail that started at an abandoned campground in the Manzano Mountains. I winced at every thud and jolt under the body of our car as we inched forward at a snail’s pace. No one in their right mind would take a Toyota Corolla on these roads. Lee could tell I was greatly annoyed at having been persuaded yet again to do one of these “exploratory” hikes.
But after two hours, when we finally got to the base of the mountains and started up the trail, all was forgiven. I was no longer upset with Lee and I was absolutely loving the rocks I was seeing in this part of the mountains. I was pretty sure they were metamorphic rocks, which we don’t see as often as igneous and sedimentary rocks. The intense heat and pressure that’s required to form metamorphic rocks gives many of them fascinating wavy layers in patterns referred to as foliation or schistosity. I could have hauled home pounds of beautiful specimens but limited myself to a few photos. Rocks are meant to stay where God put them for us to enjoy and cars are meant to stay on the paved roads. Me and rocks will get along just fine if we both stay where we belong.
We succeeded today in finding an isolated hiking destination that avoided the crowds of other outdoor enthusiasts enjoying the Labor Day holiday. In fact, the destination was almost too isolated for comfort. When we leave the highway and turn onto dirt roads that have multiple warning signs “Road Impassible in Wet Weather” and the weather report is calling for isolated thunderstorms, I tend to get a little nervous. Especially when our vehicle is a sedan not designed for rough roads and we are heading into the backside of nowhere and we don’t see another human being on any of the dirt roads.
Our goal for the hike was a section of the Continental Divide Trail that climbs Mesa Chivato, a prominent landmark in the vast Mount Taylor volcanic field. Mount Taylor itself is not visible from this section of the trail but numerous other eroded cinder cones and volcanic necks are visible in every direction. The iconic Cabezon Peak is one of our favorites and we had excellent views of that, since one of the dirt roads crossed in front of it.
As we drove on the dirt roads it was obvious that there had been a major rainstorm recently in the area. Dark clouds were on the horizon all around us so we knew that we might have to leave in a hurry if the rain headed our way. It’s not that we would mind getting wet but we know how quickly the roads would become a sea of mud in a heavy rainstorm. We could hear thunder in the direction of the black cloud that was hovering over the mesa as we headed up the trail. Fortunately, it didn’t get closer and we made it most of the way to the top before we decided it was time to turn around.
Our last camping trip to Villanueva State Park was over four years ago. I had forgotten what a quiet, peaceful little spot it is. Nestled between sandstone bluffs along the Pecos River it’s a nice compromise between camping in higher elevations of the Pecos Wilderness (headwaters of the river–too cold) and being along the lower stretches of the river (too hot) as it crosses the deserts of New Mexico and Texas on its way to join the Rio Grande near Del Rio, Texas. I like this time of year for camping because, unlike earlier in the summer, it doesn’t get very cold at night. Late afternoon thunderstorms can be a problem in August and, although there were some threatening clouds when we arrived to set up camp, nothing more than a few sprinkles developed. On our evening walk along the river a rainbow arched behind a hill across the river.
There are two sections to the campground, one along the river and the other on a couple of hilltops above the river. The first time we were by the river, but this time we selected a site on one of the hilltops. It was a good choice. The river side campsites were practically full by dark but we were the only ones up on the hilltop. We could hear the river down below and in the morning our site got the first rays of sunrise.
At Villanueva there are a couple of short hikes on the cliffs above the river and one short hike along the river, but to do a longer hike it’s necessary to drive back to the highway and find something in the mountains. The next day we decided to hike a Santa Fe National Forest trail close to Glorieta, New Mexico. It was another trail that ended up being longer than I had planned for, but since it didn’t have as much elevation gain as the Pino Trail, it didn’t wear me out quite as much. We didn’t have accurate information on how to access the trailhead and much of our walking was wasted miles before we got to the forest boundary. There might have been better views if we had gotten to higher elevations, but when the GPS showed we had gone over 4 miles I figured it was time to turn around. Between 9 and 10 miles is about my limit for a day’s hike. Maybe another time we can start at the right place and get further up the trail.