Horse Mountain Wilderness Study Area - Nance Canyon Saddle

The idea, which had been with me ever since we acquired the property in Teepee Ranch, was to climb to Horse Peak leaving directly from the cabin. It's really not a good idea. I knew all along. It was farther than a direct route from the west side. It would require side-hilling or climbing over three intervening peaks which would also take considerable concentration to stay on a reasonable route that doesn't lose significant elevation. There were more problems that I will address shortly.

 I got out reasonably early on the first day of June, hiking upstream along the canyon that runs through our property onto BLM land. Just past the old wire corral, where the ridge on my left is at its least imposing, and consequently easiest for climbing, I crossed over to the canyon next door. It was still dark and cool down there, as I crunched through the pine cones and followed the good trail. As the canyon curved to my right I saw a lone cow elk and then, on the ground a couple of piles of fairly fresh bear scat. I know that bears are on Horse Mountain, but I have yet to see one, and frankly I wasn't really in the mood for a sighting this morning. Getting out of the canyon is a lung-buster, but I was patient and took it slow, not wanting burn myself out so early in the hike. I emerged into the bright and warm sunlight and began using a wildlife trail I had used before to take me up to the parched landscape of the plateau in the vicinity of Monolith Rock (which I've written about before in this blog).  After drinking my first water of the day on a little hilltop I decided to traverse,  I walked onto another great wildlife trail that was just the ticket for the route I had planned. When it ran into a really rough ravine, I decided to to just head straight up on the side I was on, skirting some huge rock formations that from certain angles looked like a mother and child.

  

I was counting steps uphill, then counting out my rests, something I've been doing for several years now to insure I don't exhaust myself on these really, really steep hillsides. It's a bit tedious, but it works.  I finally arrived at very nice little saddle with views down a canyon running to the east and up to the higher ridge that also runs out to the east.

Leaving upwards from the saddle I spied a hole, or window in a large rock formation above me. I decided I  had to have a closer look. Zig-zagging my up there (with the obligatory rests again), I accidentally roused first one enormous bull elk and then a second just as large. I felt bad for disturbing them while they enjoyed the peace that comes with being in the high country of Horse Mountain.

 The hole in the rock was not huge, but it was a fun first highlight of the trip. Getting to it got me part way up one of those intervening peaks, and I began side-hilling  on a pretty good wildlife trail that headed toward the second peak. I was enjoying the relatively easy walking in the shade, but eventually I had to carefully pick my way down through the boulders and trees to a second saddle This one was much larger than the first and from the few bits of trash (a can, a metal fork,  a hand-warmer packet ) I saw, gets used as a campsite sometimes. I was really happy to be there. 

The views to the south extended down the canyon to the Plains of  San Agustin and beyond to Pelona Mountain. This was the same canyon I've looked up longingly at while driving on NM 12, catching brief glimpses of the couple of large hoodoos (rock towers) to be seen at its top. Now I was there and the towers were close at hand.

Over to the southwest was Horse Peak, perhaps a mile away and already becoming my erstwhile destination. 

There was no fortuitous wildlife trail,  or even a reasonable bushwhack to be done on the sun-baked south side of the intervening peak directly to the west. The entire hillside, the entire peak, was just boulders.  Where there weren't boulders, a few cliffs jutted out, below which gravel slides ran down the mountain. I had the idea of just going over the top and I went at it too, climbing upwards with a few pines for company.  It was slow and hot and not all easy, and when I looked at my time I realized I was not making it to Horse Peak today. I came back down to the saddle. I briefly thought of going round on the forested north side of this nameless peak, but realized  when I checked my On-X app that it would  be a very long way around to get back on track toward Horse Peak. Today's journey had reached its end. It was time to return. At first I was just retracing the route that had brought me there, but I decided to  descend to Log Canyon via a branch canyon I had not been in before. I was tired, but happy, as I walked the last miles in the canyon, now as familiar as an old friend.

Rim Spring (Forest Roads 4010L and 4010K) - Gila (Apache) National Forest

Old wooden trough at Rim Spring

Concrete block and rusty pipe at the spring

Late May and early June are a dreary time in the forests of western and southwestern New Mexico.  The parched, pale tufts of grass on the plains and between the trees seem without hope. The pines, both the standing dead and the living continue to dry out day by day until it seems that even massive ponderosas and Douglas-firs could be lit with a single cardboard match. The graying, bare downfall, which is everywhere, begs to carry flames acre after acre. If there aren't major fires happening already, dread permeates  every trip into the outdoors  because it appears as if they are all but inevitable. Winds blow continuously on overkill still trying to evaporate every molecule ( long gone, of course) of moisture left over from winter and early spring. The sound is sickening especially if there are already fires burning as we know they are fanning the flames to maximum potential. In the desert temperatures begin to hit 100 and in the mountains they climb upward as well sometimes reaching close to 90 even at 8000 feet.

Still we get out, because it is still our place. We did it last year and the years before, and we will do it in the years to come. It doesn't make sense, just like it has never made sense to me ( a public school employee) that we let kids out of school for their summer "vacation" at this most dreadful time of year, when the best course of action is to stay enveloped in climate controlled environments for as much time as possible.

We did the drive out to Rim Spring. We hiked, mostly in shade, and then picnicked. The spring was dry, of course, but it looks like it could seep a little at the end of winter or perhaps in fall after good summer rains. It's odd to look at a map of the northern Gila and see so many springs. It gives me a sense of excitement, false, I know, because many, probably most are just like this one.

 I continued to walk to the very end of road to take in views afforded by being at the very edge of the mesa, to the southeast, south and west of Bull Camp, Gallo and Gallita canyons and the mountains and mesas that surround them.

Horse Mountain Wilderness Study Area - alternate branches of Horse Mountain Gorge

 

Pillar along the old road

So I ventured out more than a month ago (Easter Sunday, 4/5/26) to have a look at the upper end of a branch of the gorge I explored back in the Fall and also have a look at a third canyon just to south.  I started at the Log Canyon trailhead this time where  I was greeted by an elk carcass laying right across the trail just beyond the gate. Weird, but I won't go into detail here all the reasons that made it so in my mind. Once at the drinker at the top of Log Canyon, I angled south (picking up the road from Nance Canyon  after a brief bit of cross country through the piñons) heading toward the huge tower of rock I call the Monolith Rock ( locals may call it something else and if I ever find out what I'll change this).

Monolith Rock

 From there I headed steeply down the canyon on its east side, snapping photos of the formations on both sides of the canyon as I went.

Eventually  the canyon fed into a gorgeous little park-like area with tall skinny pines and extensive meadows. 

I went up over a low ridge and the proceeded downstream again until I was at the top of the dry falls formed by several large boulders. Below here is where I had been stopped back in October, but from above it looks like there is a passageway through, if you are willing to trust the stability of these huge rocks by walking and scrambling under and through. Luckily, I had already been to the area downstream, so there was no need to risk it today.

Above the dry falls

I backtracked, climbed through a rocky maze on the hillside and then walked over to the shade of a large douglas-fir where I sat down to have my lunch. After accidentally marinating myself with sardine juice (and finishing my food) I was up and at it, climbing up a second rocky ridge and then descending (somewhat treacherously) through rough formations down to another deep valley. 

Rough hill side I came down.

Undulating, jutting layers of craggy volcanic rock formed a wild wall over a hundred feet high on my left. Massive towers  emerged from the top of the slope on my right. At the bottom of the wall were large alcoves beyond a thick hedge of newly green squaw bush. Another alcove appeared about half-way up as I walked further down.  I knew I was approaching the private property boundary, so I began trek out. I had a good plan for returning to the landmark Monolith Rock, which was made even better by discovering an old road  that took me right to it.  Only light winds were blowing most of the day, and it never really got hot even with the sunny skies. A great spring outing.

Monolith Rock from the old road