Up, Up, and Away

​It seems that as of late the common theme for Tucker's and my final hike in a location is stairs. A lot of them. Like Chimney Rock:

​Or this masterpiece of ice and snow in Vancouver:

But alas, there was no stair-laden hike for us in New Mexico. This state demands that you use the earth without the help of manmade materials to rise and descend in elevation.

So, in acceptance of the challenge, Tucker and I took to Williams Lake in Taos, NM, just an hour north of Santa Fe. You want elevation changes? Go to a ski resort.

The New Mexico trail guidebook listed the hike as 8 miles round trip with a 2000 foot elevation gain. AllTrails app clocked it as 4 miles and only a 1000 foot elevation gain. It seemed the book had you start the climb in Taos Village proper, whereas the app had you drive to the parking lot of the trailhead. Granted the road to the trailhead warned “4-wheel drive only” I assume they only meant in the winter. The parking lot we arrived in had plenty of 2-wheel drive sedans, sport vehicles, and trucks. There was even a restaurant a quarter mile from the parking lot, so clearly people don't walk all the way from town.
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Just the main road beyond the parking lot was stunning.

​And someone lives in this house—there’s random private property interspersed with the ski resort.

​I spotted the ski lift, and wondered if we could skip the walk and just hop on.

But I don’t imagine Tucker would stay still for the ride—he’d probably hop off, regardless of the lack of snow to cushion his fall.

The ski lift went out of sight as we veered left with nature: a stream crossing under the trail.

​Tucker tested the water and he approved.

​The path was rocky, but nice and wide. It reminded me of the Mt Mitchell trail in North Carolina—bits of rock and stone adding character to the trail.

Although this was a difficult trail in elevation gain, the hikers coming down as we went up were all pleasant, cheerful, and supportive.
“You’re almost there!”
“You can do it!”
“Not much longer!”
They all had something nice to say and a smile to fuel us onward and upward.

​The trail wound through the shaded forest, making it a little easier than if we were out in the open.

Despite being in New Mexico for almost four months, my body was still not acclimated to the low levels of useable air. ​My faithful companion was always patient while I took much-needed breaks in order for my lungs to fill up with oxygen again.

​When we emerged from the forest, we could see mountains in the distance.

​Just as AllTrails was clocking us at almost the highest elevation we came across this meadow.

I pictured the great Rock Eater from The Neverending Story sitting here eating, his crumbs of stone falling in piles all about the clearing.

A few rocks littered the trail that led us around this Rock Eater’s restaurant.

​The trail went a little downhill before rising up one final time before we came to the promised land:

In case you can’t see it:

​The rock-meadow was slightly higher than that, but it’s still an impressive height.
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Because we tend to ignore warnings such as was on the board at the trailhead: “Do not start your hike mid-day. Weather is likely to change,” and everyone else takes heed, Tuck and I had the lake to ourselves this afternoon.

And yes, the weather was likely to change, as you can see from the grey clouds above and their reflection in the water.

​Tucker and I didn’t mind. What was a little rain? We spent two months in Vancouver. And plenty of time in the south where the humidity congeals itself into torrential downpours every other day. A spattering of rain in Taos, New Mexico is nothing.

​We hung out in this peaceful little gully. Tucker was so relaxed that he didn’t even chase the chipmunk who rose up from the ground and darted off for a swim in the lake.

​I could hear a waterfall somewhere in the thick of the trees, but had no idea how to get there. With the clouds looking heavier every minute, I decided a side-hike wasn’t in the cards today.

Tucker enjoyed the rest on a rock, happy to not be climbing uphill anymore.

When we felt fulfilled, and Tucker’s big goofy smile stayed on his face, we started the trek back.

​Over the rock meadow, the clouds added another layer of beauty to the already stunning view.

Even little details in the meadow held a minute beauty all their own.

​Downhill was far easier than uphill.

Although the road is the same uphill as down, when you change direction, you change perspective and take notice to things you hadn't before.

We stopped by the stream again so Tucker could get another sip of the tasty good stuff, before we headed out.

​As I started the truck, a thunder clap filled the air just as the lightening lit up the sky. We made it down just in the nick of time.

​As we drove back down the mountain in the pelting rain, I said farewell to New Mexico and thanked the Land of Enchantment for her challenges: high elevations, violent flora, dusty lands, and occasional snowstorms followed by blistering heat. Santa Fe isn’t for everyone. It’s certainly not for this human and her non-desert dog. But we appreciate the hospitality during our four month tour here, allowing us to to find the forests and creeks hidden within the desert landscape. Perhaps next time we pass through, this land of enchantment will unveil a few more of its hidden woodsy gems to us.