Born again
After leaving Sedona, we camped for the night in a ponderosa pine forest by the name of Tonto. Ponderosa forests smell spicy like any other pine groves, but if you sidle up close and breathe in deeply, the bark smells sweetly of vanilla.
The next day, we crossed into the state where I was born. New Mexico surprised us from the outset. We entered from the west into the vast expanses of Gila National Forest, as seen below.
We quickly reaped further rewards after spotting signs for the San Francisco Hot Springs. We pulled off onto a dirt road and found, instead of the hot springs we expected, a trailhead. A quick calculation indicated that the 1.5 mile hike to the springs was possible before the sun set (around 5pm now), and off we went. We followed a rudimentary map through cactus-filled hills, down into a river canyon. After some misadventure and directions from a local, we found three small shallow resevoirs created by rock dams. The springs were sitting just alongside the river, each progressively warmer. We were alone in the late afternoon, and we able to take baths in the river after a good soak. Here's John lounging in one of the pools, the river just beyond the rocks.
We camped at the trailhead that night and were treated to the most incredible show of stars yet. We even left the rain fly off to better appreciate the view, although the temperature dipped near freezing that night (the fly holds in a lot of heat and makes camping in the cold a lot more manageable). We met a crazy lady from Colorado, who was so lonely she couldn't bear not to speak for about two hours straight. But she fed us homemade banana bread and yummy Colorado apples, so we liked her just fine. Next day, we headed south and east, stopping at a state park called City of Rocks. Here, in the middle of the desert, an outcropping of rocks rises up smoothed into alien shapes that resemble some impossible ancient city. John scrambled up some of them.
Later that afternoon -- an uncelebrated Halloween -- we arrived in south central New Mexico at one of our most anticiapted destinations, the White Sands desert. The desert sits in the middle of the White Sands Missile Range, where the first atomic bomb was detonated, and adjacent to an Air Force base and numerous other places where scary things happen. We were treated to a viewing of the Stealth fighter jet, and the next morning we received an 8 AM wake-up call from one of the missiles they were exploding on the range (from 30 miles away it sounded like it was happening under the tent). To say the least, it was a strange place, no less so because of what we were there to see -- the snow white dunes of the gypsum desert.
It looks exactly like snow, and like snow drifts, the dunes here can move remarkably fast -- up to 30 feet in a year. They move so fast that most life can't survive. We went for a ranger-guided walk at sunset and learned a lot about the unique ways that life forms have adapted -- including, incredibly, some cottonwood trees (which are normally found along rivers with abundant and constant water sources). They don't know for sure how the trees stay alive, but hypothesize that the trees are able to collect fresh rainwater in pools just above the alkaline watertable, which the roots can draw from in dry spells. The desert gets 8 inches of rain a year.
Another unique life form is this plant, which collects water from the sand (the sand acts as a sort of sponge for water) around it's roots, which then hardens and crystalizes the gypsum. It's able to create pedestals, which hold the sand in place even as the dunes move around them. Inside the pedestals, the temperature is a constant 77 degrees, through the 110+ degree summers and winters that cool to below freezing temperatures. The desert's animals--including mice, owls, and foxes--mostly live in these monoliths.
It's hard to resist taking a few glamour shots in a place like this.
It's also hard to resist having a little fun. We grabbed a tarp from the truck for a little sledding.
The next day we decided to drive to Albuquerque, where I was born, to meet my godparents before they left for a trip to Europe. I hadn't seen them since I was a toddler, when they and my parents were very close friends. John, my godfather, did his residency with my father, and Mary Ann and my mom were constant companions. They were there for both mine and my brother's births. We an excellent, if hurried, visit and got to learn a bit about how my young parents lived their lives.
We spent some time today driving along the old Rt. 66, which stretches through the southern part of the city as Central Avenue. It's lined with old motels possessing decadent vintage neon signs. We also sported through old town, the original settlement of Albuquerque, founded in 1706 (celebrating it's tricentennial next year!). It's full of tourist shops now, including some high-end galleries that have incredible Native artifacts -- pottery, rugs, baskets, etc. Since we'll be visiting some of the pueblos later this week, we refrained from spending any money. In the afternoon, we met up with Matt, and old friend of Johns' from DC, who took us on an incredible hike at Tent Rocks, about 1/2 hour north of town.
We had to almost run to the top in order to get out of the park by closing time at 5, so we did the 1.3 mile ascent in about 20 mintues. We hiked through the weird formations you see in the pictures, to this view at the top.
This is looking out over the Jemez mountains from the top. You'd almost never know that both Albuquerque and Santa Fe are both within about 30 miles of here.
The next day, we crossed into the state where I was born. New Mexico surprised us from the outset. We entered from the west into the vast expanses of Gila National Forest, as seen below.
We quickly reaped further rewards after spotting signs for the San Francisco Hot Springs. We pulled off onto a dirt road and found, instead of the hot springs we expected, a trailhead. A quick calculation indicated that the 1.5 mile hike to the springs was possible before the sun set (around 5pm now), and off we went. We followed a rudimentary map through cactus-filled hills, down into a river canyon. After some misadventure and directions from a local, we found three small shallow resevoirs created by rock dams. The springs were sitting just alongside the river, each progressively warmer. We were alone in the late afternoon, and we able to take baths in the river after a good soak. Here's John lounging in one of the pools, the river just beyond the rocks.
We camped at the trailhead that night and were treated to the most incredible show of stars yet. We even left the rain fly off to better appreciate the view, although the temperature dipped near freezing that night (the fly holds in a lot of heat and makes camping in the cold a lot more manageable). We met a crazy lady from Colorado, who was so lonely she couldn't bear not to speak for about two hours straight. But she fed us homemade banana bread and yummy Colorado apples, so we liked her just fine. Next day, we headed south and east, stopping at a state park called City of Rocks. Here, in the middle of the desert, an outcropping of rocks rises up smoothed into alien shapes that resemble some impossible ancient city. John scrambled up some of them.
Later that afternoon -- an uncelebrated Halloween -- we arrived in south central New Mexico at one of our most anticiapted destinations, the White Sands desert. The desert sits in the middle of the White Sands Missile Range, where the first atomic bomb was detonated, and adjacent to an Air Force base and numerous other places where scary things happen. We were treated to a viewing of the Stealth fighter jet, and the next morning we received an 8 AM wake-up call from one of the missiles they were exploding on the range (from 30 miles away it sounded like it was happening under the tent). To say the least, it was a strange place, no less so because of what we were there to see -- the snow white dunes of the gypsum desert.
It looks exactly like snow, and like snow drifts, the dunes here can move remarkably fast -- up to 30 feet in a year. They move so fast that most life can't survive. We went for a ranger-guided walk at sunset and learned a lot about the unique ways that life forms have adapted -- including, incredibly, some cottonwood trees (which are normally found along rivers with abundant and constant water sources). They don't know for sure how the trees stay alive, but hypothesize that the trees are able to collect fresh rainwater in pools just above the alkaline watertable, which the roots can draw from in dry spells. The desert gets 8 inches of rain a year.
Another unique life form is this plant, which collects water from the sand (the sand acts as a sort of sponge for water) around it's roots, which then hardens and crystalizes the gypsum. It's able to create pedestals, which hold the sand in place even as the dunes move around them. Inside the pedestals, the temperature is a constant 77 degrees, through the 110+ degree summers and winters that cool to below freezing temperatures. The desert's animals--including mice, owls, and foxes--mostly live in these monoliths.
It's hard to resist taking a few glamour shots in a place like this.
It's also hard to resist having a little fun. We grabbed a tarp from the truck for a little sledding.
The next day we decided to drive to Albuquerque, where I was born, to meet my godparents before they left for a trip to Europe. I hadn't seen them since I was a toddler, when they and my parents were very close friends. John, my godfather, did his residency with my father, and Mary Ann and my mom were constant companions. They were there for both mine and my brother's births. We an excellent, if hurried, visit and got to learn a bit about how my young parents lived their lives.
We spent some time today driving along the old Rt. 66, which stretches through the southern part of the city as Central Avenue. It's lined with old motels possessing decadent vintage neon signs. We also sported through old town, the original settlement of Albuquerque, founded in 1706 (celebrating it's tricentennial next year!). It's full of tourist shops now, including some high-end galleries that have incredible Native artifacts -- pottery, rugs, baskets, etc. Since we'll be visiting some of the pueblos later this week, we refrained from spending any money. In the afternoon, we met up with Matt, and old friend of Johns' from DC, who took us on an incredible hike at Tent Rocks, about 1/2 hour north of town.
We had to almost run to the top in order to get out of the park by closing time at 5, so we did the 1.3 mile ascent in about 20 mintues. We hiked through the weird formations you see in the pictures, to this view at the top.
This is looking out over the Jemez mountains from the top. You'd almost never know that both Albuquerque and Santa Fe are both within about 30 miles of here.
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