to another border

Right now I'm sitting at a train station in Santa Fe, four hours into the journey of bus, train, plane and car getting me back to Colorado for the final push. Two young ladies walk by, their hair long, black and straight. One of them walks with a cane and I'm fascinated by this.

It suggests that no matter what, her grace cannot be of an unconscious type. The cane represents an encounter with infirmity that means her straight back and graceful walk must be chosen, rather than inherited. To be young but also to have fallen and risen again seems a great wonder to me. What one could accomplish, too young, wise!

Happily, they didn't notice me staring, the long bangs acting as blinders, lol...

This 95 miles stretch in far northern New Mexico was more beautiful than I expected. I starting walking at the Ghost Ranch, somewhat sheepish as I filled my water bottles from their fountain, because earlier in the summer, some CDT hikers dishonestly reused meal tickets to feed their friends without paying. Now hikers aren't allowed to purchase food or visit the dining hall. Really sad, but there is always friction between nomadic and settled populations as the history of New Mexico makes clear (read Blood and Thunder).

Some nomad gives in to a bad impulse, then the settled people have their suspicions confirmed. Oh well... I escaped without incident. Soon I was creeping through narrow gullies, the pack weighing me down with four days of food and two liters of water. The trail climbed out of the canyon to a hot, windless chaparral of sagebrush and cactus. Before I knew it, I had a dozen cactus spines in my left hand. I've clearly forgotten how to hike in New Mexico! I picked them out and continued, gratefully ducking into pine forest after a couple uphill miles. 

At close of day, I meandered along an open ridge. A truck somehow navigated the road up here, and after talking about the beautiful sunset, the old woman in the passenger seat told me to be careful because bow hunting starts in the morning. "Wear orange!" She said.

I'd just have to hope they can tell I'm human...

For the next two days I moved north and east, grateful for rare water sources, usually about ten miles apart. Sometimes I was in high, open country that was never too hot thanks to cool wind, and sometimes picking my way through narrow, pine valleys of deep silence.

In one valley, there were many bones decorating the trail, and a bird, recently killed with a broken neck lying right on the trail. I couldn't help thinking of witchcraft.

Which is not a harmless thing. Today, such activity gets a pass because people code it under "self help" or "you do you." 

But I say this: suppose there is no unseen world to which the rituals and ideas of witchery point. What then does it say about the psychological health of the individual who is willing to do strange things (kill birds, arrange bones, etc) in order to please beings of that imaginary, unseen world?

Nothing good! 😂

And then on the other hand, if you do believe in the unseen world, then you have some familiarity with the rules. Such as the first commandment. And the words about knocking at the door rather than climbing in through a window.

So...I wandered along thinking my strange thoughts...

A delight at the end of the second day was the mysterious "Icarus shrine," hidden amid stones above a rocky canyon. Who made it and why?

On the third morning, I left the trail for a nearby road because it should save a few minutes (I'm very practical by this point). I met Gwynn, out for her morning walk. She offered me fresh water at her camper which really hit the spot because I was just wondering how far off trail I'd have to go to get water at a lake. And I'd read that the lake was closed because of "fungus." Ew. 

Gwynn invited me in for a seat at the table and made me a ham sandwich with all the fixings. I told her how great it felt just to be in a home, even if it's a moveable home! We talked about her son and grandkids, about the camper van, and about my life in Germany. I finished the tall glass of milk and reluctantly started off, as I still had twenty miles to cover. Thank you so much Gwynn!

That day ended with a beautiful hike above the Rio San Antonio. The next morning was windy and cold, one of the coldest of the trip. I picked my way along a high crest with a view down to Apache land along the Rio Brazos. Clouds and wind convinced me to take a lower route around a road to my exit at Cumbres Pass.

It was gorgeous country...a parkland of meadow and forest, even a herd of sheep! I crossed into Colorado then found my way to the pass, sometimes walking on the railroad tracks of the train my aunt and uncle took me on when I was a kid.

I got a ride down to Chama after about thirty minutes with my thumb out. Homemade ice cream, a beer, and fish and chips for dinner...I was worn out and ready for the last leg of this adventure.