Sunday, August 9, 2020

Magdalena Mountains, Cibola National Forest - South Canyon Trail ( FT 15 )















































  I've been trying to spread things out the last few years with my spring and summer forest hikes.Getting in at least one hike in the more distant ( from my home) San Mateo and Magdalena Ranges. I've been wanting to get out to the Capitans as well, but my research ( and my one and only hike there several years ago) left me feeling unmotivated for the long drives that usually have their final miles on slow, true 4WD forest roads, only to hike on crazy steep, mostly missing trails over endless downfall with views dominated  by blackened snags in the foreground of any direction you turn. 

By contrast, the Magdalenas remain green and if you choose to do hikes from the inside out, there really is only one road to contend with, the well maintained FR 235.  I had both the upper reaches of the Sixmile Canyon Trail ( FT 16)  and the South Canyon Trail ( FT 15) in mind.  Sixmile begins at the cooler elevation of 9650 feet, but I opted for South Canyon, mostly because the trailhead is located just a short ways  from Water Canyon Campground before FR 235 begins all its twists and turns which add a bit more driving time. I was parked  2.5 hours after leaving Las Cruces. 

It was warmer than I would have liked as I hiked along in the ponderosa forest at 7500 feet. Mercifully, the sun stayed behind some clouds as the trail climbed steeply out of the drainage. Ancient junipers guarded the easily followed path, and several mini- switchbacks helped bring me up to the dividing  saddle faster and more easily than I expected. Along the way there were great views of the fir ( with a few spruce) clad hillsides all the way up to Timber Peak,  which only improved at the top when looking across South Canyon.  

The extensive talus fields, rimmed with evergreens, sloping  steeply down the ridge that culminates with Buck Peak give the impression ( as with the Magdalenas in general) of mountains in Colorado or northern New Mexico ( a similar observation is made by the anonymous writer of the Forest Service trail descriptions for the high country of the nearby San Mateo Mountains).

The trail continues through piñons and junipers on the southeast side of the small clearing at the saddle.  Though receiving limited use, it was still easy to follow and only occasionally covered with brush. A few short off- camber sections were a little dicey on the slippery gravel. At  the bottom, my fantasies of Colorado or Northern New Mexico evaporated. Near  the small, broken Trail 15 sign was a stagnant puddle, one of only three or four which constituted  the sum total of water in the stream. I was still in southern New Mexico and surrounded by desert. I am not sure why two north facing canyons ( Sixmile and South) have so little surface water, while the canyon I hiked last year, the southeast flowing East Fork Sawmill Creek, has a live stream.

 There is almost no trail or blazes in this upper part of the canyon, and plenty of smaller diameter downfall (mostly firs). Still, it wasn't too difficult to negotiate my way downstream. Large and small box elder were the dominant deciduous trees here and kept the walk shady.  In a little while I came to three walls of an old cabin. Scraps of rusty sheet metal, and small bits of glass were on the surrounding ground, but nothing much else in the way of artifacts from a bygone era.

Further down still, after passing through lovely wider areas with green grass and mature ponderosas, I came upon the sign for Forest Trail 12 ( Dead Horse Trail) nailed to a juniper. I briefly thought  about what a loop using this trail would  be like, but since it would involve road walking and I had done no research on the trail, I let the idea wisely pass. From here on the  tread of the trail was mostly visible as were the old blazes on pines and junipers.

 It was nearing my turnaround time of 12:15 when the towering cliffs of the narrowest part of the canyon came into view. I was glad I hadn't relented to thoughts of turning around early ( mainly because of the increasing temperatures that accompanied the decreasing elevation). Deciduous oaks, small chokecherry and even a few cholla showed up and the box elder disappeared as I got to the lowest point of the hike ( around 7000 feet).

I kept going on past the bare rock formations, through a small wire gate hidden in oak brush,  down to where the canyon really widens, probably less than a mile from where very rough FR 37 comes in. Turning around I hiked back up to the narrows and ate in complete shade.

Heading  back up I came across several signs I hadn't seen on my way down.  One was for the leg of the Deadhorse Trail that heads over to Sixmile Canyon.  A cleared, but obviously unused path was visible angling up the hill. I passed by the cabin again and soon I was back to where the trails leaves the canyon. Unfortunately the water in the puddle was not of quality that allowed me to wet my hat and shirt. Once again, wildlife seem to have the sense to hunker down in the heat of the middle of the day ( unlike humans). I saw two bushy - tailed squirrels. Nuthatches clung to trunks and jays hopped in the branches. A unseen hawk screeched from above and lizards quickly scurried to their hiding places. That was all.


 I rested and drank under a large box elder before heading up. It wasn't too bad at all even though it had to be in the upper 80's. At the saddle I sat under a juniper and ate my sardines, before heading down. By the time I'd gotten back I'd been out almost six hours. I like this hike. The only thing missing was just a little more water which would make it an all time southern New Mexico classic.

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Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Black Range Walkabout - Gila National Forest


















The intended hike was the upper reaches of Bull Trap Canyon( see my blog from October, 2017 for more details).  As is sometimes the case, I was somewhat less than diligent about re-checking all information gathered from a visit to Lower Bull Trap a couple of years ago.Instead I was relying on memory, which although is still  mostly reliable, is definitely not the steel trap it once was.
 Strolling along in the closed Lower Gallinas Campground. I was easily distracted by the beauty of how nature is reclaiming this spot. The road is now almost completely a single track path through waist high grasses. Willows and alders are taking hold on the rocky stream banks, and the creek always seems to have a least a little flow through the several bends before the road ends and it plunges into a bouldery box where there is a small waterfall.
 Hoping in my heart, that the Forest Service, never decides to re-open it, I realized, and then panicked because I hadn't been paying any mind to how far I had walked. Not remembering my landmark ( a giant old juniper in the old roadway, actually the second of two, the one I wanted being on the south side after the stream crossing), I hastily decided that I had arrived and began hiking up the canyon immediately on my left. I commenced to scramble and climb over bedrock, and then slipped and slid up the loose canyon sides looking for the trail. Up and up. I had a pretty good idea I was in the wrong canyon because  I couldn't find the obvious trail, but by the time I knew it for a fact I had gone too far up to head back down and start over again. Did I mention it was hot? And dry. Cotton balls in your mouth dry.
Luckily a side draw appeared on the west, and I though it would be convenient to scoot over that way in the direction of the canyon with the trail. It was easy walking and soon I came to a barbed wire fence with orange metal posts ( which I did have memory of), the thing was, I was, to my thinking on the wrong side  of it. Hmmm. I saw gate in the fence too, but it wasn't the gate I remembered.
 On the other side of a little saddle I now came to another rocky little canyon. Thinking I still needed to go up more and over to get to Bull Trap. I headed upstream. It was a pleasant walk, through unburnt forest. The stream even had bit of water, which was good for wetting my hat and shirt on this blistering day.  I saw a frog. I heard a larger animal but never saw it. It seem that most animals in forest hunker down on hot days like this, when only idiot humans would dare be out and about.
The longer I kept following  canyon, the more  the creeping suspicion that I  was heading the wrong direction grew. I finally got to the very head and then climbed up on a completely burned over hill where madrone, silktassel, and oak brush was now filling in between the blackened snags.  I could feel the sun burning my skin in real time. Vultures circled. They seemed to have hope in their eyes.I looked down the far side and knew the steep gully before me was  definitely not the way into Bull Trap, unless I was much farther to the west, which seemed impossible. I climbed to a slightly higher summit of the burned over hill, and quickly spied the lookout tower of Hillsboro Peak. I looked down and saw the road ( NM 152). I rotated and saw Sawyers Peak. I had my bearings, sort of. I decided to head back down the canyon ( thinking it would take me back to Gallinas Creek) and call it day.
 I was enjoying the walk very much, now that I knew my plans were officially scuttled. I came across an old concrete dam where the water trickled over the top. I found an old shovel ( well, just the metal blade) nearby in a perfect little camping spot. I went through a gate in the fence I had encountered earlier. I had to bypass a really narrow section, thick with brush, by climbing up the hillside on my right. Coming down I saw some willows and and the confluence of the canyon I'd been in, with a wide canyon ( that was not Gallinas) with well spaced mature ponderosas.




 I remembered this place, I was in  . .  . Bull Trap!  I knew there was a stone dam just short ways downstream. I went to check just to be sure. Son of a bitch. There it was. 
 I'd been in a north branch of Bull Trap ever since I'd crossed that unassuming little saddle hours ago. I checked the time. Not much left if I wanted to stay on schedule, but I walked up the main Bull Trap for a few minutes and turned around when I saw a rocky passage just ahead. I easily found the trail going back up to the fence and the other saddle with the other gate and then easily found the good trail that took me back down to Lower Gallinas.
 I was exhausted and dehydrated. It had been way too hot for hike in the forest. I sat on the bank of Gallinas and purified a liter of water and then drank it. Further on, near the culvert which I had walked under from the parking on Dry Gallinas ( beware, novice campers are using the culvert for their bathroom needs as evidenced by several lengths of toilet paper),  I sat on the bank again to regroup and then I was on my way back to my desert home where the temperature had peaked at 107.

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