The Continental Divide Trail 2012: May 12th--- The Mouth of Armijo Canyon to On the Edge of El Malpais

Old Homestead in Armijo Canyon

Sand Canyon Windmill

     I was still sleeping deeply, when suddenly I was rocked into consciousness by a voice outside my tent. It was Wyoming, who, needless to say, was an earlier riser this morning than this slugabed. She just wanted to tell me that she was passing so I'd be aware she was ahead of me on the trail. As soon as she left, I started tearing down my tent, which was saggy from the nighttime moisture it had sheltered me from. Looking into the heavens, I could see there'd been a clear change in the weather since last night. A pale blue cloudless sky indicated that today should be a beaut.
     Immediately upon entering Armijo Canyon, it became more scenic than anything I'd observed yesterday. For one thing there were a few more trees and the features of the encroaching canyon walls offered more that would divert attention from my footfall. Even got to explore the remnants of an old homestead that appeared to have gone through different stages of development before being abandoned as it was now. I'm not certain when it was first built, but I'd guess around the turn of the 20th century. When I looked at my next map and its accompanying notes after climbing out of the canyon, I was disappointed to find out that I'd missed a pueblo house that dates to 1200 A.D. and a petroglyph that are located in a side canyon above that very homestead. Drat!
     I caught up with Wyoming on the climb up and over the bench that separated Armijo Canyon from Sand Canyon and started walking with her. She said I could go on ahead if I thought I was holding her up, but as I told her, looking at the maps, there was no reason to rush because I was not going to be able to cross the lava flows of the El Malpais that day. May as well spend it in good company. So we shared a good deal of trail time today, except for the paved highway of NM 117. Forest roads are fine, but when I'm on asphalt with traffic I kick it into overdrive. It's the one thing on a thru -hike that I simply can't stand.
     We passed by a couple of dirt tanks with questionable water before pulling in at Sand Canyon Windmill, which I'd caught a glimpse of through a small copse of juniper. You can follow some side roads to it, but I just cut through the trees. The wind-bladed turbine pumped water through a pipe, which ran at knee-level, emptying into a catchment tank. There were a few floaties in the tank, but the water coming out of the pipe was clean and pure. Funny thing was, as soon as Wyoming had placed her water container at the mouth of the pipe, the wind stopped, and consequently so did the water. Imagine the disappointment of these two thirsty hikers baking in the sun! We both were forced to wait a few minutes before the wind kicked up once more and started turning that wheel.  Oh, what a relief.
     It was a hot 4.4 miles along NM 117 before reaching the shaded picnic tables at the Rim Trail trailhead. I had quite literally left Wyoming in the dust, so I had some time on my hands until she'd arrive. Enjoying the relative cool, I relished a leisurely lunch and then proceeded to wander about in due time arriving at the information kiosk. The thing that caught my eye was the poster "YOU ARE IN COUGAR COUNTRY". On my hikes, I'd seen plenty of info warning me about the dangers of bears and rattlesnakes, but this may have been the first about these big cats. Thinking about it, I'm almost sure I'd rather face a bear than a mountain lion. All the bears I've "faced" on trail have made a dash for it once they saw me. I'm not sure how a puma would react. I also know how badly I've bled when a little kitty has sunk its playful claws into my skin. I couldn't imagine the damage a cougar could do if it did the same. Nevertheless, I'd sure like to see one up close! :-)
     Once Wyoming arrived, we headed up the Rim Trail which leads up onto a mesa overlooking the black lava flows that blanket the ground below for miles and miles. This is El Malpais (The Badlands), the name that Spanish conquistadors gave it. From the rim, the views are magnificent and you get a much better appreciation of just how difficult it was/is to penetrate this huge expanse of jagged, jumbled rock. Let's just say you definitely don't want to be picking your way through it at night with a headlamp. The rim trail itself is rather nice with its stunted pine, juniper and flowering cacti. Besides, it's really the best trail we've been on since before Pie Town. It doesn't last long though. Soon enough, we had to make our way cross country to where there's a route down. You should be able to pick up some stone cairns along the other side of the rim that mark the way. The descent is rather steep and caution is needed because if you're not careful, you could easily slip and fall. At the bottom, you'll have to cut across an area of tall grass and juniper that separate you from the parking area for visitors to the natural arch. From there, it's another two miles of pavement to the Zuni-Acoma Trailhead.
     At the base of one of the junipers in the semi-circular carpark/pullout, is one of the Mumm's water caches. It would be invaluable for us to rehydrate before crossing the lava fields tomorrow. As I parted the branches near the ground in search of the stash I found a bunch of plastic bottles set neatly in a pile... all of them empty! No!!!!! A feeling of despair swept over me. Then, just as quickly, a glimmer of hope. My prior experiences with caches were having a bunch of gallon/half-gallon containers left in the shade of a tree or at the base of a bush. What I saw here, underneath the pile of empties, was a black lid to a container that had actually been set into the ground. Prying off the lid, I saw the liquid gold inside. In the desert, water means life and my life had just been made a lot less complicated. I took a couple of liters, which I thought would be sufficient for my time in El Malpais.
When Wyoming arrived a while later she grabbed some agua as well.
     We hiked to the lava's edge and hiked no further. With sunset in another couple of hours, there was no way we'd be able to cross the eight miles of treacherous terrain before nightfall. Tucking in close between the lava and some small juniper, we successfully avoided the blasts of a gusting wind. Wyoming asked if she could join me for dinner, so we shared a meal in the evening hours. Hers was hot out of the cookpot, while mine was a delicious uncooked Calzone--- in other words, tortillas, Velveeta Cheese, sliced Italian sausage and a little mayo. It doesn't get much better than that. ;-)

24.1 Miles