But it didn’t start out so Canadian moderate. In fact, it was rather American easy, but with a Canadian flair: snow.
I awoke in the morning to flurries. In May. In New Mexico. It seemed that the storm was passing through, so I waited an hour before starting our journey to Los Alamos in the hopes that we’d get there as the snow died down.
Driving through the mountains with the windshield wipers on, I pondered if I had made the right decision. I sometimes overestimate my New England girl self. But it was only a little bit of snow… in comparison to Canada.
It wound up onto the hill overlooking the town and gave us sweeping views of the surrounding mountains.
The path through the canyon was easy enough, and off the path was a natural agility course of fallen trees. I kept Tucker on track and on the lookout for the trail to take us up to the rocks. This time, looking at my GPS, I saw that we were right on the red trail. So there had been no problem with the GPS after all.
There wasn’t so much wide open spaces, as there was just the same color everywhere.
The agility course Tucker had on the canyon floor was child’s play. This was the real deal. One false move and we’d both come tumbling down. However, I wasn’t thinking about that. I took each obstacle as its own. I only looked at the immediate next few steps, not the ones beyond that. I did espy cairns which helped a little, but even with those, sometimes the best path for a four-footed hiker was a different way.
Tucker and I enjoyed the view and the success of reaching our goal for a brief time. I saw storm clouds rolling in, and again visions of a flash food urged me to get back down off the hill as quickly as possible.