Right now it is raining. We are cozied up in our camper, listening to the rain on the roof, in our virtually empty campground in the White Mountains of New Mexico.
It is only the second time we have experienced rain since we left Whidbey Island five weeks ago. And to get away from the rain is one of the reasons we are traveling (although it has been dry there this fall).
We were wiped out from our Dry Canyon hike, so have taken it easy the past two days (if by "taking it easy" one means hiking 10 miles with 2000 foot elevation in the past two days). We have amused ourselves with what "taking it easy" means when you are addicted to hiking, and this great wilderness is just outside your door.
Our first day of "relaxation" involved about 4 miles along the Barber Crest Trail. This hike was OK, something to do, but not all that special for the distance we did it. It basically goes along the edge of the White Mountain Wilderness.
Since the hike was short and because it was on the Barber trail, it seemed like a perfect day for Vicky to cut my hair again.
That morning we had been awakened to the sound of a gunshot. We knew that at the far end of the campground was a large group of hunters. It is black powder season. This group also had a dozen or so horses in the corral.
On our way up the trail we stopped and talked with them. Not sure, at first, whether they wanted to talk with us, probably assuming from our hiking garb that we might be hostile toward hunters. We found out that they took an elk about 300 yards up the trail. I pointed to our camper and casually mentioned that anytime they wanted to drop off a couple of steaks that would be fine.
Then they warmed. Told us about a road from the campground that led to the "Rez," which we took to be the Mescalero Apache Reservation. They said to go up the road and maybe we could see wild ponies on the "Rez." In fact, one of the two riders we talked to was on a pony he got there and broke himself.
Well, this sounded cool, so the next morning we went up there. Found a Boy Scout camp, and looked long and hard for wild ponies in the distance, but didn't see any. Darn.
What we decided to do for the rest of the day was to go a couple of miles up Three Rivers Canyon. We knew we couldn't do the entire 5 miles, but that was OK.
Although close in proximity, it was not like Dry Canyon. We hiked about two miles in. At first there was a gentle ascending trail. Then it went through about a quarter mile of brush, and then we were in a deep canyon with high rocky bluffs on both sides of us.
Most of the time we were following the creek bed, with gently running waters and an occasional small waterfall. It was apparent that the gentleness of what we were experiencing wasn't always the case there, though, as the entire creek bed had fallen trees and evidence of a much higher bank. When things turn violent there, they are probably very violent.
We decided that on our next trip to this area we would do the entire length of this trail, but that we needed to start early, have an entire day for it, and be fresh and rested. It felt like a lot of New Mexico feels--untamed, raw, and wild.
On our way back to the camper we spotted a beautiful gray grazing by the corral. We didn't know if it was one of then wild ponies or not, but we are going to pretend it is so we can say we saw one.
For dinner tonight we are having elk burgers--brought them from home. We thought it was fitting.
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