Cibola National Forest - The Gorge, San Mateo Mountains

  I saw the name of this place two years ago either on the Cibola National Forest map for the Magdalena District or on the forest service topos I have on my MacGPS Pro app.  Who can resist a  place called " The Gorge?"I tried to visit there last year but was prevented as the area was part of a closure order due to the Roberts Fire. Well sometimes things like that stick in my craw, so I off I went on Saturday ( 4/25/20 ) for completion's sake to do this little adventure hike.
 The driving was all good, even though I got onto NM 1 an exit early, until the descent into Nogal Canyon on FR 86 when things slowed down considerably. There was spot of water at the road crossing, and downstream was a dark and narrow box section that I would love to visit. Unfortunately it is on a section of private land which several signs I had passed attested to, although passing through on the road is allowed. Up out of the canyon, FR 86 follows a fence, that separates public and private land for awhile as it descends through a vast area of open grasslands.

 Right after opening and closing the last of one of three gates through this section, there were three hawks, less than 30 feet off the  ground, actively engaged in some sort of squabble above the shallow arroyo just below me. A love triangle was my suspicion, but I don't really know. I initially passed the road I needed to turn on to head west toward the mountains, and then passed the road I needed to turn back to the north to go around the west side of Bell Hill.  In the first instance I just had my mileage wrong, but in the second,  the roads, which are very seldom used, had greened over with plant life  from our spring and winter rains so much, that dirt two track was hard to see. After backtracking  I did find this very rough un-numbered and un-maintained road where soon enough I put the truck into 4  wheel drive.
 I made it out to Steel Tank where there were cows hanging around the water supply. This was where I was supposed to turn to the west again to drive to Dick Spring but I really couldn't see the road very far past the intersection. Wildflowers, weeds and even a few center line, sawed off mesquites were almost completely concealing the tread  which I'm sure in dryer years would be easily visible. I headed out, concentrating, much more than I anticipated, on staying with the trace of the road, and hopefully not making a new one. Once it began ascending, and then descending the hill  that eventually brought me into the vicinity of Dick Spring, the  ruts were plainly visible which was a relief.
 I parked at the intersection with an old mine road that heads up into the mountains and before two more stream crossings which after looking at them while traveling on foot was glad I omitted. I saw an old metal storage tank, some black hose, abandoned troughs and twentieth century trash on the short trip across a rocky mesa.  Three, good sized, shaggy looking deer popped out from behind the shrubbery, gave me a look and then went on their way. I found a place to walk down to the canyon bottom and then off I went upstream.  I weaved through the boulders following a bleached, algae strewn trail  where water had flowed only a few weeks earlier. The wet stuff popped up in few stagnant puddles in a couple of places as well.
 I made it to the fork where The Gorge separates into north and south branches. I went for the north first. Quickly I was  in  a deeply shaded tunnel- like passage where a huge old walnut tree was still managing to survive.



I passed under an archway created by a large chockstone wedged in the narrow walls of the canyon above me. A small amount of water was trickling over bedrock into sandy pools through this continuing shady and skinny section, but eventually as I emerged into the sun the surface flow disappeared beneath the boulders and gravel. Up above on my right was tall alcove with a steep apron of gravel and boulders coming out of its entrance and reaching all the way to the stream bed.

On my left I thought I had seen  a natural arch high in the rusty cliffs earlier on, and now in the bottom of the creek, I couldn't see up there at all to confirm. Later while checking out the cave and alcove on the opposite side I would realize it had been  just a trick of the shadows and morning light.
 It was very thick going through the blooming apache plume and I had to climb several boulders that clogged the passage, but I made it to the waterfall I knew would be there. It was just dripping, but the big cold drops felt good on my head. I reached out to steady myself on rock and felt something odd. On closer inspection, it was a chubby toad, almost invisible, with skin completely matching the texture and color of the rock on which he sat.





As I headed down, I angled out onto the north side of the canyon heading for the alcove I had seen earlier. On my way I found an old broken bottle which assured me I was not the first person stupid enough to come here. Scrub oak tree leaves glowed orange in the sun. Dried grass and gravel crunched beneath my boots. I arrived at a cave, not visible  from below, where two juniper limbs were propped up from ceiling to floor. It was large and high enough to easily walk in and had a flat floor where a metate sat dumbly with several rusty paint cans nearby.







I examined the gravel as best I could for other artifacts. My eyes were having trouble adjusting to the dark of the cave from the intense sunshine immediately outside it. All I could see was anonymous gray gravel. Leaving, I saw an aluminum tin with a pull top ( probably bean dip) that let me know someone had been here in the last 50 years. Then I spotted a piece of ancient pottery, black with incised lines, just for contrast.

 Now I headed over to  the big alcove, but was immediately disappointed to see that it had no flat floor, just that steep talus slope. Somehow I crossed over where sotol and grass clumps stabilized (hopefully) the loose rock, to the far side and tried creeping along the bedrock wall to get a closer look. A rattler that I never saw gave me a brief shake of his tail as I went, not an encouraging sign. I ran out of hard rock, and nerve. My only choice now would to be get on the gravel slide itself, but I had strong sense that doing so would have me at the creek bottom in short order. There seemed to be flat bench-like surfaces at the back of the cave tempting me to continue, but I carefully changed my direction and crawled back, gave the snake a wide berth and walked out onto a navigable prow of grass and rock to make my way downward. Eventually, much closer to the bottom, I had  to step lightly over the large rocks at the edge of the slide and onto the loose gravel where I did the first of two involuntary glissades that day.



 Now I was off to the south branch, which, since it faces slightly northeast is thickly filled with  abundant, dwarfish greenery such as chokecherry, deciduous oak, mountain mahogany, cliff fendler bush and walnut.





Like a giant among them was very tall, very straight fir tree looking quite out of place at 6400 feet elevation.

The going was so  tough that I lugged myself up on the hot north side of the canyon just to have some clear walking for awhile.Water ran in a few spots. I drank  my own in the  shade of cliffs. Big circles of recently deposited bear scat  cropped up every  100 yards or so. I had heard a creature kicking the gravel loose escaping up the hillside early on, but never saw it. The disturbance seemed too small to have been a bear, but who knows, from experience I know they can  be  very light on their feet when they want to be.
 I thought there would be more water in this branch, but there wasn't. I also thought I might encounter another waterfall, but I didn't. It really wasn't that much fun, with  one hard fall emphasizing the point. The constant appearance of butterflies of all kinds, and the canyon wrens laughing at their foolhardy visitor kept the mood mostly light throughout though.
 I headed back, and before the slow drive, poked around the spring area a bit. It had been a tough little 3 mile scramble. So much so, I put it into the  "do as I say, not as I do " category of hikes. It's highly unlikely I will return, but it was a good day in the mountains. Better than some, worse than others. At the "Welcome to Cibola National Forest sign on 225 I ate lunch and then headed home.

Gila National Forest - Noonday Canyon, Spring hike

Noonday Canyon's seeps and springs were all flowing, as were several of its tiny feeder streams, which made the main creek a dashing little delight. It wasn't as colorful as the hike I did  here in October a couple of years ago, but the sound of all the little falls easily made up for that.

 Temperatures were cool this past Sunday, only 55 degrees at the trailhead ( elevation 6700 feet) when we started close to the noon hour. It probably never got above 65. The wind picked up a little on our return, but otherwise it was another perfect April day in the Gila.
Leaves on the cottonwoods were barely arriving. Oaks appeared to still to be in winter mode, although close inspection revealed the buds had begun to swell. The shade of the pines and junipers was enough though.

Down in the narrow box below the Rabb Canyon confluence   was a beautiful place to be, and not coincidentally  a place where livestock don't seem  to congregate in large numbers as in other areas in this over-utilized allotment.  Last years growth of  bear grass lined the stream  in between tiny cascades, while rock formations and cliffs carved out of the slate textured volcanic rock towered above.



Close to 3 miles in, and about a 1/3 of mile from the Forest boundary, where a huge pillow of pale orange rock forces the stream to take a sharp turn, we turned around.

  A few unusual occurrences on this particular trip:First there were other footprints in  the sand, a quite rare experience in  most of the places we go. Second, we saw a bicyclist on the " trail". Over twenty years ago we met some bicyclists who nearly ran us off  the Sawyers Peak trail, I believe this recent sighting is only the second time in the Gila I've seen one( on a trail that is, they are frequently on the highways). He was quite polite, although I heard him saying ( he seemed to be talking on the phone) he was "amazed at all the people out here this weekend." I don't know if I was amazed. I mean seeing any people at all in the Gila, except on the most "popular" trails is unusual.  We did see two more people after this however,  although they had the look of folks who wouldn't be straying too far from their truck, which we encountered just before the road crosses the stream a bit further on.  So  five people, plus perhaps a couple more ( by the look of the footprints ) from that morning or the day before. Not exactly a collapse of social distancing protocol but a definitely  getting crowded by Gila standards.
 Now back at Railroad Canyon as we drove home, it was different story. As it's only one of three still open official trails along NM 152 corridor, it was drawing them in this Sunday (4/19/20). With all the campgrounds closed with locked gates, we saw close to a dozen cars parked in places too narrow to park in along the twisting highway, known for its many blind curves. A half a  dozen folks and their dogs crossed in front of us, returning to vehicles, while another half-dozen sat on tailgates and drank beers. I'm not sure why there were so many people out there. There wouldn't be normally. I guess when there's nothing else to do, people take to the forest as a last resort.
 NOTE: I don't think I like bikes on hiking trails, or worse on really rustic trails ( like Noonday Canyon) that aren't even trails just wildlife or livestock paths that kind of come and go. Bicycle riders are quite common on weekends over in the Lincoln. They are usually quite polite and deferential to hikers, but I hope the trails that are usable by bikes in the Gila don't  become popular destinations for them. These places, like Noonday and Rabb Canyon, have been like de-facto add ons to the Aldo Leopold Wilderness( where bicycles are not allowed).   I was hoping they would stay that way as they are  so much more accessible, with most of the hikes just to enter the Aldo running over 6 miles round-trip.