Tuesday April 28: When I step out the door I am struck by the smell of fresh clean air. I take the G12 (Canon point & shoot), since it takes good macro shots and head out to take photos of flowers around the campground. There are a variety of flowering shrubs and several flowers; most notable are the rhododendron or azelea and wild iris in shades of lavender to white. I take lots and lots of photos because I can’t resist these delicate little beauties.
Azelea in the woods
Delicate beauty in the forest
Frills in the forest – wild iris
A lady with a golden throat
Back at camp I make a campfire, the morning cup of coffee (organic, with organic honey and organic coconut milk), write in my journal, look at our map of California, and read through the material with area information that will be of interest to us. Jeff, our host extraordinaire, gave us the handouts as well as pointing out a route, the Howland Hill Road, we might want to take back from Crescent City through the redwood forest of the Jedediah Smith State Park and the Stout grove. This is a road we will not want to miss, he tells us.
The morning campfire and coffee
Much of my day, most days, is spent with cooking, eating, and cleaning up, in addition to wood-gathering and fire-tending. As I’m gleaning wood from the forest, which is allowed here, I visit Jeff and his quiet wife, JoAn. Jeff is bursting with a wealth of experience and information, shared always with his quirky sense of humor. JoAn is his opposite, so quiet that I am honored that she and I have a conversation.
As I walk through the forest, I find the very tall madrone trees with their sensuously smooth and curvy branches to be quite interesting. The outer bark peels off to reveal an inner skin, smooth and firm like the taut thigh of a dancer in yummy shades of golden to reddish-orange color.
Madrone tree in the forest
Pealing away
We are fortunate that my cell phone has service here so I can check email briefly and Clifford can make business calls from the campground. One important call involves the Carnicom Institute: the IRB for the Morgellon’s Research Project is nearly in place.
Later we go down to the river for another walk-about. We have learned that this is the only river in California in its natural state, i.e. no dams or diversions. Perhaps this accounts for its incredible clarity while the aqua color comes from the mineral serpentine in the rock cliffs that rise up from the river bed.
Smith River at Panther Flat
Aqua-hued Smith River
After dinner I put Velcro on the sheets and sleeping bag – my attempt to keep our sheet liner in place, while Clifford falls asleep sitting up. Once the Velcro and the sheets are in place, we head to bed.
Wednesday April 29:I make a campfire when I get up. I love being outside and it is a bit too chilly to just sit without the fire. As usual, coffee and journal completes the picture for me.
Today we go to Crescent City for errands: laundromat, groceries, information at the Forest Service office, and sundries. While we are at the laundromat, Clifford makes another business call and I walk to a nearby natural food store. It is small and pricey, but I am happy to get a few organic veges into the diet.
After the errands, we go for a drive along the ocean on the outskirts of Crescent City, stopping at a vantage point for photos. I am quite enthralled with the waves that come crashing against the rugged rocks of the coast here. It is so windy, however, that I have to sit in the car and shoot through the window.
Rugged California coast at Crescent City
Rocky California shoreline
Noticing a lighthouse, we check it out. It is not open right now, but we will be able to visit it another day, since it is now a museum.
Battery Point Lighthouse at Crescent City, California
We go to Denny’s for lunch before heading back to camp, stopping a couple of times to take photos of the lively Smith River in the gorge below the highway.
Smith in the gorge
Smith River – aqua from the mineral serpentine in the rocks of the gorge
It is too late to take the Howland Hill Road through the redwoods back to camp, so that is something to look forward to for another day.
Sunday April 26: Some of our homes on the road have been hard to leave, but we are eager to say good-bye to civilization, even with its conveniences, and get back to our journey. The brief stays in Sunriver and Ashland were important layovers, both in terms of the connections that were made as well as the increased awareness of environmental issues for those who come to hear Clifford speak. We are grateful for the individuals and groups who invited us to be with them on our route through Oregon. But the trees and the rivers and the oceans beckon us and onward we go.
I make tea for the to-go cups and take cheese, crackers, and apples out of the cooler for us to eat as we travel rather than taking time for breakfast this morning. Doesn’t take us long to get the Pony (our pop-up tent trailer) ready for the road since we had just done a modified setup yesterday and we are soon on the road. We head to Grants Pass, taking the slower scenic highway along the Rogue River. It is a lovely drive, lots of trees of all sorts, many of them in bloom.
Many trees and shrubs are in bloom
After we reach Grants Pass, we head southwest on highway 99 toward Crescent City, California. I think about my friend, Cyril, who lives in Grants Pass, but since we didn’t know when we would get here, I didn’t try to make connections. I hope he is well and happy.
We catch glimpses of the Smith River in the ravine below as the road becomes more narrow and winding. Lush vegetation carpets the slopes of the hillsides around us.
Smith in the ravine
We arrive at our forest service campground, Panther Flat, mid-afternoon and pick a site on the side of the loop nearest the river below and furthest from the highway. The sites here are well-spaced and there is an abundance of shrubs and small trees amidst the towering Douglas fir, tall straight not-giant redwoods – a mere 100 feet tall, and sensuous madrone trees.
A colorful shrub at Panther Flat
Once we are set up, I explore a trail from our campsite, making my way to the river below and after awhile Clifford joins me. We find a charming gravel beach right on the river’s edge. I am amazed at how crystal-clear the beautiful aqua-hued water is.
Aqua-hued Smith River
From this little gravel beach I can see cascades both up and downstream as this lively river cuts its way through rock walls, creating the gorge where we now stand.
Cascades on the Smith River
We are told by our camp host extraordinaire, Jeff, that it is the only river in California that has not been dammed or diverted. He points out a much better trail leading from the end of the loop not far from our site down to the river. This is a trail I will traverse many times over the next several days as I come down from the campsite to visit Mr. Smith.
Trail through the woods
Back at camp, we are happy to discover that our cell phones work here; I call Mom to let her know where we are. Clifford sprays more bleach to get rid of mildew spots; I should have stayed outside to let it air out much longer than I did, as I end up feeling quite ill from breathing the residue of the bleach as I set up the inside. When I go to bed, I open the zipper to the window next to my head and breathe in fresh air with the hopes that I will feel better in the morning.
Monday April 27:My head is still buzzy this morning, but a whole lot better than last night. After an exploratory walk about camp, enjoying the light filtering through the trees and photographing the wild flowers – wild iris and others that I don’t recognize, I make campfire and a French press coffee.
Morning light filtering through the trees
Campground residents
Campfire and French press coffee
Sitting at the campfire, I plan to write in my journal, but instead I spend this quiet time looking up at the wonderful tall trees that surround us.
Looking up
I feel blessed by the trees as I gaze up at them. Reminds me of what a wise woman recently said to me: it is often when we are down – through illness or other hardship – that we look up to God or Presence or whatever one wants to call that deeper sense of the Life Force, but I realize as I gaze upward that such awareness does not have to come through illness or hardship, but through being in awe of nature or beauty or whatever will bring us to that deeper appreciation of life.
After breakfast, I begin reorganizing everything in the Pony and the Blazer: clothing, food, dishes, and so on, incorporating another set of light-weight stackable drawers. What a difference this makes. I know where everything is once again.
Reorganizing the Pony
While I do my domestic nesting activity, Clifford continues his research and study.
Clifford studies while reorganization is in process
It gets quite warm this afternoon – near 80 degrees – which is quite a change from the cool weather we’ve had for the most part up to this point. We go to the nearby small village of Gasquet to get ice, as we are going to need it. After we return to the camp, we take the trail to the river and explore up and down its banks. Sitting on a boulder by the bank, I watch the slow graceful dance of the trees as they sway in the wind.
Exploring along the Smith River
What a delightful place we have found. I am so grateful to be here, grateful for the trees, the river, the pleasant weather, the pleasing campground, the comfortable bed. Tonight I sleep well.
Forty-two degrees when I get up and the sun has just risen, casting sunlight through the trees in long skinny patches.
Today, after breakfast, we head to the Galena Trailhead near the path from Rosebery to Slocan Lake. The Galena Trail is the old N & S Railway bed, so it is a mostly level and easy hike. A portion of this trail heads east and then south along Slocan Lake to New Denver, and that is where we will walk today.
After parking at the trailhead parking space, we get our cameras and hiking sticks, and are soon ready to go. We first traverse a cedar forest, rather dark and spooky. As we emerge from the cedar forest, we cross Wilson Creek on an old railroad bridge near its confluence with Slocan Lake. When the view opens up, we can see the lake and what appears to be the remains of a once commercial pier.
Slocan Lake and the railroad were instrumental in the moving of silver, lead, and zinc ore from the mines to freight steamers in the 1890’s. Past the pier, the trail bends to the south and is a straight shot along the lake most of the way to New Denver. A great variety of trees on either side create a canopy over the trail.
In the distance, Clifford on the Galena Trail
Looking west, the lake can be seen in glimpses through the dense trees, while the other side of the trail slopes steeply upward toward the highway, also obscured by trees, where we can hear occasional traffic. Another mile and we find a pathway down to the rocky gravelly beach.
We sit on a sun-bleached log to share a trail bar and admire the view of the lake with the mountains of Valhalla Provincial Park across from us.
It is so pleasant here, we are reluctant to head back, but other activities beckon.
Along the way we stop to watch and try to take photos of a woodpecker that is busily throbbing away on a log not far off the trail. Amazing how fast a woodpecker’s head can move. On we go, stopping occasionally for a few more photos. I am especially enjoying the first colors of autumn.
When we are in the midst of the dark cedar forest, a sound and movement catches my attention. Clifford has already seen the bear cubs, but does not said anything until one of them takes off in the direction we are headed. My inclination is to head straight the other direction to the lake shore, walk along the beach, and take the much more traveled pathway from the lake up to the Galena Trailhead. However, Clifford keeps us steady on the trail and the young bear ahead of us soon gallops back to his sibling deep in the woods.
We are soon at the trail head and I am glad that we don’t have to walk all the way back to camp from here, as I am tired out from this easy two-and-a-half mile hike. It is a concern to me that my endurance has declined so much this past year. Back at camp I take a shower, clean out the coolers, then enjoy a cup of coffee as I write in my journal, moving my chair from one patch of sun to the next as each disappears into tree shadows. Before the last sun-patch goes away, I get out the flute and play for a bit. A campfire extends my time outside and I peel potatoes for dinner by firelight, not wanting to waste any of the heat being generated.
We enjoy mashed potatoes, the last of the broccoli, and kipper snacks (we are getting low on food) for dinner as we listen to old-time pop music on the Canadian radio. What a great day!
Tuesday September 9: Happy Birthday thoughts to my daughter, Ang.
I start the day by taking the scenic route along Wilson Creek to the rest room,
followed by a campground walkabout noting which other sites might be good if we can’t get this one again. Back at camp, I make a campfire and read “Course in Miracles” comparing lesson 7 (I see only the past in this pencil, hand,…) to my current experience of the campfire – its warmth, color, motion, and crackling sound being very much present moment.
Most days I play my flute while looking down on Wilson Creek, but today I play my flute for the forest. Who knows what forest spirits are lurking about and pleased that I honor them with my music. Spend more time along Wilson Creek taking photos, loving its pristine clarity and gorgeous color. Later, by an afternoon campfire, I work on a blog and edit some photos until the battery on the laptop is almost dead. Then another good dinner to finish off the day as we listen to an interesting program on Canadian radio.
A present-moment kind of day.
Wednesday September 10:
I build a campfire, make a cup of coffee, and sit out to read the next section and lesson of “Course in Miracles,” but let the fire die out soon, as we are headed out this morning to New Denver. The sandwich shop is closed today, unfortunately for our plans – no internet for us.
We do a bit of exploring and by time we get back to camp, the afternoon has slid past. I build another campfire and sit out to continue writing and editing, having charged the laptop as we drove about.
A bit of a toothache tonight, but can’t find the mouth tonic. You’d think in such a small home (Pony set up is 7’x 16’) that nothing could get lost. But the opposite is true, actually. With such a small living space, things get tucked away and then are hard to find again. Use coconut oil instead and then off to bed. Tomorrow I can reorganize our space.
First stop on Highway 6 north is Summit Lake Provincial Park located along the shore of a lovely mountain lake. It is very pretty there, especially those sites that are right on the water’s edge. Maybe this would be a possibility for us next summer. But for right now, we are happy to stay at Rosebery.
Our next stop is a forest service camp a ways off the highway: Box Lake aptly named, as one does feel a bit boxed in there. The road is narrow, the camp is dark, the sites are not very level, and the lake is small. Good for fisherfolk, but not so good for Pony campers like us.
On to Nakusp, which is located along Upper Arrow Lake. It is one of the larger towns in this part of British Columbia, not so much catering to tourists as New Denver, but serving the larger population of the area. We get ice and groceries at a good-size market there.
A lovely Japanese garden runs along the length of the lakeside portion of Nakusp, a testimony to the Japanese people who lived in this region since the early 1900’s, but who were treated poorly during the Second World War. We spend some time there walking through the gardens and along the shore.
On the way back to Rosebery, we decide to take a little detour and head up the forest road on the other side of Wilson Creek to see if we can find Wilson Falls. Arriving at the trail head, we take hiking sticks and light rain gear, as it looks like rain could move in before we return.
Clifford reading the GPS on the trail
The beginning of the trail is level through a lovely dense deciduous forest. Piece of cake. But then, the landscape changes and we begin a steep upward ascent over roots and rocks on the trail through a spruce forest. Not nearly so pretty and much more of a hike.
I am finding myself getting quite winded. Not a good sign, but then downhill and I catch my breath and heart-rate is back to normal until the next steep upward climb. I have been an active hiker most of my life, and especially in my 60’s, but again I am winded and my heart-rate is elevated. The wind comes up and my hair is blowing in my face, as I had not planned to hike today and had not tied it up or back. This is not good. So, even though we can hear the falls and catch glimpses of it through the dense trees, we decide not to take the next downhill section of trail. It only means that much more uphill on the way back. If I could have taken my time, I think I would have been okay, but we are pushing a bit because of the time of day and the gathering clouds. This trail will not be a good one to be on if it gets wet and slippery. I hate to miss seeing and taking photos of the falls, but wisdom prevails and we head back with Clifford carrying my small backpack and one of my cameras. I have to stop often to rest until we reach level ground again. I am very grateful to reach the car in the now steady rain. I don’t feel so great as we drive back to Rosebery, but as the evening carries on, I begin to recover from our adventure and build a campfire to extend my outdoor time for today.
We end the day with a good dinner as we listen to the Canadian radio station which is airing a program about the Beatles. In spite of falling short of Wilson Falls, it has been a good and interesting day here in British Columbia.
Sunday September 7: Today we go to New Denver, the small town about six miles south of Rosebery. We want to see if we can get cell phone service or internet while we are camped at Rosebery. New Denver is a cool little town right on the shore of Slocan Lake – very pretty and well-kept with lots of shops to cater to tourists, as well as a couple of gas stations and a decent grocery store. We walk through a park along the lake shore and then find a sandwich shop with free Wifi. Clifford takes care of CI business while we eat our excellent Rueben sandwiches as we sit out on the deck.We decide to explore a bit, driving a few miles on down the lake to Silverton. This town was also important in the history of the valley, but does not, at this point, have as much to offer as New Denver. We take a look at the municipal park. It seems that all the small towns we have come across have a municipal park, handy camping for travelers on their way through the area.
Back at camp, I continue editing the blogs and photos of our outing to Trout Creek in August until the battery on my laptop goes dead. We have a solar panel, but it can’t keep up with the demands of our laptops and all the gear that Clifford has plugged in – ham radio, and other stuff.
Clifford showing how high in the tree he has his ham radio antenna. It is way way way up there.
Comments on health and self-care: My health seems to have deteriorated in the last month. Most disconcerting are the heart palpitations and constriction, and shortness of breath, even without exertion, but there are other things going on also. When we first began these longer outings, contemplating even longer times spent traveling and camping, I had the thought “who will I be taking care of, who will I be nurturing?” The immediate return thought was “yourself.” My whole life has been wrapped up in taking care of family, animals, home, students, gardens, houseplants, and so on. But now I need to take the time to nurture myself. I’m sure there will be many levels as to what that really means. This longer trip to Canada will give me a chance to explore what that experience is, as I did briefly at Trout Creek when I just sat looking down at the river – not reading, not writing, not taking photos – just being there. And what about leaving my campfire last night: I stopped just being to fit a schedule. It will take gentle awareness to move beyond automatic “doing” to mindful “doing” to allowing myself to just be without any doing.
Friday September 5: This is rainforest country with great tall cedars,
and moss hanging from tree branches and carpeting the ground,
the rocks, logs and tree trunks.
Nearby Wilson Creek tumbles down from the mountains to the east, qualifying as a river in my book. Exploring its banks, we see bright red-orange fish, the likes of which we have never seen before, hanging around in the pools created by rocks along the water’s edge. We later learn that they are kokanee, a type of small freshwater salmon.
We are seeing them as they make their way upstream to breed, just as their bigger cousins from the oceans do.
In the afternoon we go for a short drive to the Galena Trailhead across the highway from Rosebery Provincial Park and walk down to the shores of Slocan Lake. On the map, Slocan Lake does not look huge, but standing beside it with the towering mountains of Valhalla Provincial State Park across from us, we see that it is quite a good-size lake.
Slocan Lake from Rosebery Harbor
Reading a brochure picked up from the trailhead, we learn about the history of the area and the important role played by steamers navigating the lake, bringing passengers and freight into the Rosebery harbor in the 1890’s, as well as railroads taking out silver ore, the commodity for which the area was famous. A submerged portion of the great harbor can still be seen.
Saturday September 6: As soon as I get up, I walk from the campsite to the shore of Slocan Lake and along the lake to the confluence of Wilson Creek flowing into Slocan Lake.
I feel like I need to be doing more walking and the light is very nice this time of the day. I take photos and sit on a log in the sunshine enjoying being in the presence of the lake and the mountain before heading back to camp and breakfast.
Campsite at Rosebery – Clifford aka Dagwood
I get my chair and a small table set up on the gentle rise behind the Pony (our little pop-up) where I can look down on Wilson Creek as I write in my journal, read, and play the flute. I have recently started playing the flute, as the cello (I am a cellist) is big, awkward, and fragile when it comes to camping. Guess we’ll see how it goes with the flute. Much easier to pack around, but not sure if my personality resonates with it.
Clifford is working on a science lab in connection with his research for CI.
Notice the beautiful picnic table – one of the most charming things about the campsites here.
In the afternoon as the campsite becomes shadier and cooler, I build a campfire. We buy the wood for fires, as wood-gathering is not allowed, even though there is a lot of deadfall in the area.
Sitting by the campfire, I review blogs and photos of our trip to Trout Creek (near Superior, Montana) in August and pick photos to go with the blog. Once it becomes too dark to read by the firelight, I head inside to consider dinner. There is a part of me that wants to stay outside by the campfire until every little ember has died away, but the more practical side of me is still in control. So many years of “shoulds” and “musts” – it might take awhile to move beyond “doing” to just “being.”
Canada is a big country. If one is going to travel there, where does one start?
Slocan Lake, British Columbia, Canada
Lots of questions remain, but what makes it do-able without a lot of preparation is that southern British Columbia is right next door to northern Idaho were we live, and we have never-before-used passports in hand. Clifford looks into free camping and lots of dots show up on the map, but what does not show up are the roads that lead to the dots. Hmmmm……. Luckily, my friend Ken suggests that a trip along the Kootenay lakes would be close and very scenic. So, in looking at the map, and seeing no dots for free camping in the area of the Kootenay lakes, I look into the provincial parks in the area, jotting down a few notes as to their location, size, and price. We have been talking about making a camping trip to Canada for over a year, while we still lived in New Mexico. Couldn’t pull it off from there, but Idaho opens the door, so to speak, for us.
Wednesday September 3: I have packed enough clothes for a two-week trip, most of the food that we will need, personal items, and the passports. The daypacks, satchels, two coolers, several cameras, briefcases and purse are in a pile by the door. Everything is carefully stowed in the back of the Blazer in the pouring raining. We take extra coats and raingear – who knows, it could rain on our entire trip – but we don’t care. We are going to Canada, rain or shine.
Clifford gets the Pony (our little pop-up tent trailer) hooked up to the Blazer and by early afternoon, we pull out of Wallace, stopping to run errands in Coeur d Alene on the way. By late afternoon, we are at the turn-off to the campground we see on the map south of Sandpoint. It is not a detailed map, but it looks like we should drive several miles east and then south to the shore of Pend Oreille Lake. We come to a junction a few miles in, but stick to the main road. After some time, it becomes apparent that this is not the road that we want to be on. So back to the junction and take other fork, but as we near the lake, it seems that we are on private land with homes along the shore. Hmmm….. With no sign of a campground, we drive all the way back out to the highway and find the nearest gas station where we ask if there really is a campground somewhere out there, which we now have to find in the dark. Someone says “yes,” so we retrace our route, taking the second fork and back down to the lake, and less than a quarter of a mile from where we turned around before, we see the sign to the campground. We head up the steep road and sure enough, there it is. We usually like to check out the sites before picking one, but not tonight. We back into the first available spot that is level enough. We aren’t going to be here long enough to be fussy about it. In order to keep setting up and take-down to a minimum, we don’t unhook the Pony from the Blazer and only pull one bed out part way. This gives us a very limited space to sit as we cook quesadillas with Clifford’s little back-up camp stove and mess kit that he keeps in the topper. Not the most comfortable, but it will save us time in the morning.
Thursday September 4: I wake up not feeling rested, my eyes puffy and bleary. We take the mess kit and camp stove out to the picnic table to heat water to wash up and make tea. The spot we picked in the dark is nice enough and maybe we’ll come again sometime and stay longer. We share a banana and get things repacked and soon we are on our way.
In Sandpoint, we go to a bank and exchange American currency for Canadian currency, a sign of respect for the merchants we will encounter in Canada. At the border, we present our passports and the smiling Canadian border guard asks where we are going and if we have any fruits or vegetables. All that comes to mind are the two slightly wrinkled apples that I put in the cooler, knowing they wouldn’t last until we got home. We are asked to pull forward and dispose of these apples. That takes us by surprise and I think it is a shame to waste good food, even wrinkled apples. Hmmm…… there is more to this story, but not for the public record.
Blazer and Pony taking a ride on the ferry.
Leaving Creston, we take the wrong road, but soon get ourselves turned around and find ourselves on a wonderfully scenic drive north along the Kootenay Lakes to the ferry crossing at the north end of South Kootenay Lake. The ferry crossing is lovely and fun.
Ferry Crossing – Kootenay Lakes, British Columbia
After leaving the ferry, we investigate a nearby provincial park, but deciding it is too civilized and too expensive for our tastes, we retrace our tire tracks (well, sort of) and continue north to Kaslo, a charming little town at a junction that takes us west to New Denver and then north to Rosebery Provincial Park, one of the parks that I had looked into. By now, it is getting to be late afternoon and we are ready to find “home.” We are delighted that this park has lots of available spots and is not as expensive as the others. An absolutely lovely campsite on the end of a loop is available and we are pleased to claim it. We have privacy, a creek nearby, wonderful tall trees including great old cedars, moss covered ground – like
Wilson Creek
Old cedars at Rosebery
a fairyland – and a steep mountain to guard our backside. Setting up goes smoothly, but I am beat; by time we have a little dinner, I am so tired I can hardly stand up to do the dishes. Bed is ever-so-welcome at our home at Rosebery, British Columbia, Canada.
Friday August 15th: Dark and overcast in the morning. We make a trip to Superior to get on the internet so Clifford can continue his research. Back at camp, I pick June berries to make a topping for yogurt. Most of the berries are drying on the branches and I will pick some later to add to trail mix. Even dry they are tasty little gems.
Later in the afternoon the dark clouds finally drop their burden of moisture; I set up my table and chair under the awning to watch the rain as I continue to write in my journal.
Later I join Clifford inside and begin editing photos until the battery on the netbook runs low.
An enjoyable day here at Trout Creek until a mishap with the hammock put a damper on things. Clifford invited me to sit with him, but the ropes gave way, leaving us both with tender tailbones. I am hoping that a good night’s sleep will repair the damage. In spite of the soreness, a good dinner followed by yogurt with June berry topping is a treat at the end of the day.
Saturday August 16th: As soon as I am up, I get ready to head to Alberton to join my daughter Ang in watching the play “Briar Rose” as performed by members of this little community. We join a friend (who had done a very convincing rendition of the wicked witch in the play) for lunch before Ang and I head down to the “natural pier” as I am eager to take photos there. There is a great rock formation in the middle of the Clark Fork River that is quite scenic and deserving of the attention of a TVK (Traveling View Keeper). We walk out onto the bridge, admiring the river and the rock.
We linger awhile, then head to her place on Ed’s Creek about 7 miles out of Alberton, as I want to give my grandson Oden a cello lesson. After the lesson, which goes very well, Ang and I visit awhile over a cup of coffee before I head back to Trout Creek. It was a fun day, pleasantly coming to a close as I sit at my vantage point at the top of the path looking down to the creek before darkness tells me to go inside.
May 5, 2012 –I crawl out of bed as the sunlight reaches the top of the far ridge. It is quite chilly, but we decide to forego a morning campfire, since we will be hiking after breakfast. We eat our breakfast – granola, a smoothie, and hot tea- as we sit on boulders in the sunshine.
Yesterday afternoon Clifford and I backpacked in on the Borrego Trail to camp at the same spot we camped when we came up here in September. We had intended to backpack to Stewart Lake in the Pecos Wilderness, but found out just before we left that that there was most likely snow on the trail – over 3 feet just a couple of weeks ago and it has not yet melted off. So, we changed our directions and drove up Hyde Park Road behind Santa Fe to the Borrego Trailhead and hiked up the Borrego Trail instead. Uphill and down, I can tell that I’m not in as good condition as I’d like to be. At the Tesuque Creek crossing, the water coming down the creek was higher than I’ve seen before, so Clifford carried my pack over for me. Then we made our way off the trail and upstream to our campsite. We set up camp and soon had a cheery campfire going. Dinner was refried beans and raman noodles – easy stuff to fix and eat. After cleaning up, we enjoyed a cup of tea at our campfire. The moon rose full in the east and Venus to the west was hugely bright. Soon to bed in our new little backpacking tent – light enough to carry and roomy enough to get in and out of bed with ease.
Our Cheery Campfire
Now, with the morning sunshine warming the crisp mountain air, we prepare for the hike which will be cross-country using GPS and compass, with our destination being a small mountain meadow. Clifford has plotted a journey for us, but many deep ravines and steep side hills force us to change our directions. We see lots of deer sign as we make our way amongst tall ponderosas, dense scrub oak, and scruffy fir trees. Deadfall and good size rocks abound, making hiking challenging. Eventually we reach a ridge-top knoll where we rest on a big fallen log and enjoy our lunch of hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and an avocado.
Cross-country Hiking
Thanks to Clifford’s skills, we are not lost, even though we are a bit off our route. We soon drop down to the Winsor Trail for an easier route back to camp. The Winsor Trail traverses the mountain behind Santa Fe from Tesuque to the ski basin and beyond. As we hike along in the direction of our campsite, the trail crosses the meadow that was our destination. It is a lovely spot, more open than most of the terrain here, but no water for camping. Further on is the junction to the Borrego Trail which takes us back toward Tesuque Creek and our campsite.
Mountain Meadow
On the map, one can see a triangle created by the Borrego Trail, the Bear Wallow Trail and the Winsor Trail. Each leg of this triangle is about a mile, although the Winsor Trail goes on for many miles either direction of the junctions with the two shorter trails. The Winsor Trail is a favorite of serious bicyclists and hikers, while the Borrego/Bear Wallow/Winsor triangle is great fun for casual hikers and folks taking their dogs out for a good walk.
Back at camp, we lounge around for the rest of the afternoon, reading and writing a bit. I love the article in my Outdoor Photographer magazine, ”Realizations”, by Dewitt Jones, photography being a spiritual practice for him, which I totally relate to. I walk around taking photos of the creek, sunlight in the aspens, little red shooting-stars, and anything else that catches my attention. Clifford studies his new GPS unit, learning more about its capabilities. We are surrounded by tall ponderosa and aspens, and I marvel at their beauty. When the breeze picks up, these 80-100+ foot trees sway in the wind, and I hear one behind our camp making creaking sounds. Hmmmm…. Hope its roots are well anchored. As the sun approaches the western horizon, the temperature drops and once again we enjoy a lively campfire, a tasty dinner, and another night of sleeping where the sound that prevails is that of a rough and tumble mountain creek.
The Trees Are Tall
For anyone wishing to go backpacking or just a good hike, this is a great place. But please please please take all of your trash out with you. Keep this pristine area clean for the person coming behind you and for your next visit here in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of northern New Mexico.
