Last week, on a Wednesday, got an early-for-me 11 am start from home. Goal was to snowshoe from the ski hill to Cañada Bonita meadow. Nordic Ski Trails and Guaje Canyon Trail 282 (trail out to the meadow also called Cañada Bonita Trail) finally opened last week after a 6 month closure because of damage from this summer's Las Conchas wildfire. To read details of the huge volunteer effort that went into opening the trails, Google the Southwest Nordic Ski Club's blog.
All through the holidays, during the heavy snows that fell (and fell and fell and fell), I kept wanting to snowshoe but never managed. On the snow days (the lab and schools closed two Mondays in a row - unprecedented!), I didn't dare drive our terrifically snow-weenie car. Anyhow, I know I can't park at trailheads for days after heavy snowfalls and trying to drive up Camp May Road before the road dries out completely is suicidal (the way I drive!)
I didn't lie on the divan and balloon up on Christmas goodies, though. Each day, I eked out a walk in the neighborhood, except one and if I'd started BEFORE the blizzard, my record would be unbroken.
On my walks, I listened to Queen Noor's audio book A Leap of Faith which made my daily 4 miles more interesting. If it was icy, I carried a cane. I used it for balance in fording snowy, icy patches (and as self-defense against errant snowplows). Several days, I unfurled my big umbrella and walked while snow fell.
How I treasured the golden days between storms when the streets dried out. After several weeks of snow and ice keeping me off trails, I began to feel like Jack Torrance in Stephen King's The Shining! (Fortunately, the axe is stored in the shed!) The Los Alamos trails provide my sanity and I like to think that I'm committed (or ought to be!)
On my walks, I listened to Queen Noor's audio book A Leap of Faith which made my daily 4 miles more interesting. If it was icy, I carried a cane. I used it for balance in fording snowy, icy patches (and as self-defense against errant snowplows). Several days, I unfurled my big umbrella and walked while snow fell.
How I treasured the golden days between storms when the streets dried out. After several weeks of snow and ice keeping me off trails, I began to feel like Jack Torrance in Stephen King's The Shining! (Fortunately, the axe is stored in the shed!) The Los Alamos trails provide my sanity and I like to think that I'm committed (or ought to be!)
Last week, with husband FINALLY back to work, I kicked my butt out the door and drove up Camp May Road to the Pajarito Ski Area. The road was in perfect condition. The west end of the ski area's upper parking lot was an ice field but that didn't deter me or the other six vehicles that beat me there. I arrived just as two snowshoers clambered over the rocky, snowy barrier that blocks winter-time vehicular traffic to Camp May Park.
Putting on my gear was maddeningly slow. Two cross country skiers yak, yakked, yakked as they got ready. Finally, got on my gaiters, overboots and snowshoes and started. It being Los Alamos, before I reached the top of the first hill, I ran into 3 people I know from local hiking groups. The first, a snowshoeing couple, said I probably wouldn't need the gaiters! The second, a woman, carried her snowshoes. On the well-tamped down, groomed snow, I probably didn't need my snowshoes either but I persevered!
Going uphill to the Los Alamos Canyon overlook, the snow was thin and icy with bare spots. Even though volunteers worked hard to erect shade fencing, the snow gets no relief from the sun since the June 26 wildfire burnt the trees.
At the overlook, I followed the lower road that snowshoers' use. I stopped often to take photos. Snowshoes make a constant clatter but when I stopped, there was utter quiet unless a jet passed overhead. The trees are standing charcoal sticks, some with burnt orange pine needles still attached and some with unburnt green needles hanging on. Volunteers cut down the larger, burnt trees closest to the trail. The contrast between the black bark and the orange wood is striking. That and the orange pine needles give the scene an autumn look.
Elk have bedded down in the burnt area and melted the snow down to the green grass. Lots of tracks seen in the snow - elk, snowshoes, skis, boots.
About half way to the meadow, I entered the unburnt forest. The shade cooled but compared to the simplicity of the burnt area's charcoal and snow, sunlight and shadow, the unburnt forest is an unlovely dark clot of trees.
Cañada Bonita meadow looks much the same although there are orange burnt trees on the hillsides north and south of the meadow. I can't positively tell if the aspen island that I look forward to seeing in the middle of the meadow is untouched. The true tale will evidence in Spring when the unburnt aspens leaf out or not. At the western end of Cañada Bonita meadow, I gleefully smiled at seeing the tracks of people going over the snow-buried Valles Caldera National Preserve boundary fence!
The grooming done by the Southwest Nordic Ski Club volunteers ends in the meadow's western bowl but I wanted to go further to the high point above the meadow where Guaje Canyon Trail 282 continues two miles to the rim of Guaje Canyon. First I followed a lone snowshoer's track. When that disappeared, tried to stay off the ski tracks but eventually settled on a combination of breaking trail and taking the easy way out by followed the tangle of uphill tracks. Snow was thin in places and rocks popped out. Snowshoes seemed rather optional except for this last "quarter mile" to the ridge. I got to the ridge at 1:38 pm and put on more layers. If I'd started earlier, I thought deludedly, maybe I could have gone another mile to Pipeline Road. I wished that I'd packed a lunch but I probably wouldn't have stopped to eat it because it was late afternoon and I needed to head back to the ski area.
As I came back past the meadow, a ski skater and her dog approached me. The skater took the middle of the trail and vigorously skiied side to side. The dog stopped in its tracks to intensely look at me but continued on to keep up with the woman.
Then I ran into familiar faces, a neighborhood couple. They were walking although I know the man is a snowshoer because after one of the December snowstorms, I saw him carrying his snowshoes, walking his dog, to the Pueblo Canyon Rim Trail. We talked of neighborhood issues for a while but they looked cold and I too needed to keep moving.
Almost out of the meadow and back into the forest, I heard a bell tinkling and the ski skater's dog came bounding up from behind. This time, the dog boldly jumped on my right arm, its claws scratching at my nylon jacket. The ski skater yelled "Nooooooo!!!" as she whizzed by and the dog ran after her.
As I approached the hill to the Los Alamos Canyon Overlook, I saw two buff colored dogs loose on the trail ahead. They saw me and took off. I thought - how exciting - coyotes! When they reappeared, their snow-walking owner had leashed them. I laughed when I told her I'd mistaken the dogs for coyotes! This was her first time on the trail since the fire. She said she noticed things now in the landscape she hadn't before and the burnt area was beautiful in its own way. I definitely agreed with her!
Almost back to the car, my younger neighbors caught up with me. I joked about my slow progress on snowshoes compared to their snow-walking!
At the car at 3:03 pm, I drove back home, glad of progress made in opening some of the Los Alamos trails!
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| at very beginning of trails |
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| looking toward Pajarito Mountain Ski Area, shade fencing along first hill |
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| cut down timber at side of trail |
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| at top of first hill, overlook into severely burnt Los Alamos Canyon |
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| rock outcrop more visible after Las Conchas wildfire |
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| charcoal and snow, sunlight and shadow |
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| more felled, burnt timber along trail |
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| mostly unburnt forest |
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| unlovely dark clot of trees |
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| Cañada Bonita meadow lives on! |
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| aspen island |
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| majestic burnt conifer on ridge |
