The moon appeared last night, a slivered crescent that rose
behind the glory of the sunset and set almost as soon as we noticed it, going
orange itself as it went.
Much as the beauty and silence of this place appeals to us,
we have made the decision to move on. There is rain in the forecast for
tomorrow and we already see cloudy signs of the system that’s headed our way.
Should it arrive earlier in the day than anticipated, we could end up stuck in
the mud either here in camp or as we make our way back to the highway. Also,
the weekend is nearly upon us and campsites close to urban areas (Santa Fe and
Albuquerque in this case) become crowded. Our plan is to stop at a Forest
Service campground tonight, assuming we can find a space at lower elevation—it
is MUCH too cold for camping in a tent trailer above 6000 feet—and then move
over to a state park near Santa Fe. The Friday arrival is a bit risky, but
we’ll try to get in there early in the afternoon and hope that and the rain in the
weekend forecast will ensure a spot is available for us. If not, we’ll probably
end up in a motel, which neither of us would hate.
Later in the week, we have our sights set on Carlsbad
Caverns and White Sands, not necessarily in that order.
(Update later in the day: The above is maybe not very
interesting, but it does reveal some of our thought processes as we decide when
and where to stay and go. It also reveals how little we care about our own
plans. Other than leaving Nageezi, none of what I wrote up there happened or is
going to happen. Instead, today we drove all the way down to a state park
outside Roswell where we are currently enjoying free Wi-Fi and dodging
mosquitos. We do still plan to visit Carlsbad and White Sands, though.)
We missed the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque by a few days.
Too bad! I’ve always wanted to see it. Maybe next year.
Frank tells me today is Day 99. It doesn’t feel like it! But
some of our summer adventures are months
behind us. Crazy. We’re still having fun and looking forward to more.
Memories from Gail’s place:
We were indeed in someone’s way, parked in the middle of the
road. About 9 a.m. on Tuesday, Melvin and friends arrived and were quite
surprised to see us parked there. But they very kindly drove through the scrub
to get around us and out to the fence repairs they had planned for the day.
With both Gail’s and Melvin’s encouragement, Frank and I
hiked out to the rocky bluff/mesa. The “trail” is a dry wash formed by the
runoff from the bluff. As the walls of the wash got taller, we had to guess
which branch of take whenever we came to a Y. Eventually we hit a dead end and
had to climb out, but we were pretty close to the rocks by then. We were
undeterred by the fencing between us and the rocks— we rationalized that it’s
intended to keep livestock in rather
than people out—and found ways beyond
the barbed wire so we could explore the rocks some. We climbed to the top of
the mesa for some fabulous views. Then we worked our way around to Melvin’s
road (he graded it) and walked along the fence line back to Gail’s drive.
On
the way, I’m pretty sure we saw a wildcat footprint, but maybe it belonged to a
big rabbit instead. We also spotted one of the horses that wander free here
(the fences being no real obstacle to them, judging by the hoofprints that are
absolutely everywhere). Melvin says they are wild horses, which is pretty dang
cool to see. Anyway, this horse was black with a white blaze on his face. He
watched us very carefully and at one point broke into a gorgeous gallop to make
sure that our paths would not converge. We spotted him on and off all day.
The next day, I walked the other direction along the huge
dry (for the moment) riverbed. The riverbed runs from Highway 550, past Gail’s
place, to Chaco Culture park. It was a really interesting walk, with lots of
waterflow mysteries to ponder, previously deposited debris to check out, and
really pretty sand-dunes to gaze upon with all their multicolored vegetation. The
walk back, though, was warm; I hadn’t
realized on the way out how much having the breeze in my face was helping!
Wednesday morning, a neighbor came by to find out who we
were. He was as friendly as Melvin and told us the name of the rocky area is
Hawk’s Nest, which I think is the
translation of the Navajo name of Gail’s place. To be confirmed with Gail…
The roads out there are sandy dirt that takes prints really
well. It was fun to go out each morning and see what kinds of critters had been
by. Horse and coyote prints are the most prevalent, but we also saw snake and
bird tracks, rabbit and rodent footprints, and maybe the aforementioned wildcat.
By our second morning, the birds had become accustomed to
the trailer and would use it as a perch until we were out of bed and moving
around. It was fun to wake up and hear them scrabbling around up there.
