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| The High Country on the Slopes of Mt. Taylor |
We all woke up at first light to continue our journey on the slopes of Mt. Taylor. The trail didn't actually last that long before we were on a dirt road that wound down and around a small knoll that had a lookout and a number of radio towers on its top. It was cold at first, but on a picture perfect morning weatherwise, the sun soon took effect and made it quite comfortable. Most of the hiking was in high open country that afforded good views to the distant horizon. Somewhere near the grassy fields of Cerro Pelon, some gorgeous, smoky-grey wild horses broke from the trees to our right and with manes and tails tossed about by a zephyr wind, they spiritedly galloped past. One could almost sense the freedom they felt to be roaming the high country unfettered.
Towards the end of this open grassland we left the road for a short cross country jaunt to American Canyon Spring. After a little downhill stretch through spring-leafed aspen we broke into a clearing, which had a car and a tent at its edge. The young couple camped in this idyllic spot, pointed us a bit lower toward the spring, where a metal pipe fed icy water into a large round tub. Each of us considered how much water to take, as this would need to last us until the next water source, some 22 miles distant. With water sloshing in our containers and bellies alike, we left the spring and continued our x-country trek down American Canyon. Once, while picking our path through the trees, we entered a small clearing where we startled three bull elk, one of which was a real monster with an impressive rack of antlers. Getting a whiff of us, they dashed for the trees and disappeared in an instant. Towards the bottom of our canyon trek, it became a bit more open and we found ourselves traipsing along in meadows dotted with yellow dandelions, the occasional tall, stately pine standing like a totem towering over us.
The remainder of the morning and the afternoon were spent travelling the dry, dusty roads of the open range as the sun reached its zenith and the temperature spiked. Since I was in the lead, from time to time, I'd skip off trail to check out the dirt tanks that held water for the cattle we kept seeing at intervals. Most of the tanks held water, but it was so muddy or spoiled that a filter would soon be rendered useless. On one foray, I went to a tank that was well off trail near the bend curving around the Laguna de Cosme. Its waters were clearer than the others I'd inspected, so I filled up the dirty bag of my gravity filter and high-tailed it back to greet the others. After filtering the cloudy liquid, those that needed to, took some in reserve for emergency use. I dumped the rest, but not before giving it a little swirl in my mouth, which told me it would do in a pinch in spite of the hint of cow on the taste buds.
As the afternoon became evening, Wyoming began to lag behind and told us that she wasn't sure if she'd make it to our proposed camp. Assuring us that she had enough water to spare, she urged us not to worry on her account. Us remaining three continued together until we reached a sign indicating Los Indios Spring was a half a mile to the west. Soon, we were looking into a fairly deep side canyon that contained two round, concrete receptacles for the water of Ojo de los Indios. Some steep switchbacks led to the bottom of the canyon, which marked the end of the longest day Shroomer and Why Not had had on trail. Taking time to tank up and wash off, we then settled down for a little grub. While downing our dinner, we heard a whoop that echoed from the canyon walls. Standing on the rim above, Wyoming had signalled her arrival, which made us all very happy. About fifteen minutes later, she joined us in our cowboy camp located in a small, flat area a short distance behind the barbed-wire protecting the water source. Just before bedding down, a few clouds floating overhead began to spit a little rain. We were in a quandary as to whether or not to erect our tents. The moisture was so insignificant that it really didn't seem worth the time it would take. Suddenly, the rain became heavier, and the decision was instantly made... Let's get those tents up! We were all scrambling for tents, trekking poles, stakes and guylines in an effort to get situated as quickly as possible. Before long, tents were standing where only sleeping bags had once laid. Wouldn't you know it that once we were all set, the rain stopped and didn't start up again. Oh well, being in our little shelters should keep us a tad warmer as the cold of night approaches.
30.4 Miles
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| Second Breakfast |
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| American Canyon Spring |
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| The Last Part of American Canyon X-Country |
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| Open Range with Mt. Taylor in the Background |
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| Ojo de los Indios |
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