The last day. Or, the last day in New Mexico, which for me is the end of the trip. Crossing the state line into Texas is like walking back into the rabbit hole. At least, where I am now.

I was up before sunrise and took Buck for a walk up to the knob that provides a 360 degree view of the lava beds. The sun was rising, and it was my Alone Time to commune with some of my 'buddies'. And take a few photographs before we left.

Friday came, and time to head back. We took our time loading up and pulling out. On the way to Bernardo a week ago on Hwy 380, we passed a place called Valley of Fire. So we stopped there and set up camp for the rest of the day and night. 

Valley of Fire Campground

I'm going to cheat and paste in an excerpt from their website (recovering from surgery and tired):

The area is amazing. The BLM campground is the most developed that I've ever stayed at. Nearly all the spots overlook the lava beds because the campground is situated on a kipuka, an island of high ground (usually sandstone) that the lava did not cover.

Cholla cactus in bat cave.

Rope-like strands of lava.

Dusk-lit prickly pear cactus growing in lava.

Our self-portrait.

After stopping at the visitor's center for the El Malpais area to obtain road maps, we turned south on a dirt road. The road was well maintained. In fact, it was being graded even as we drove on it. We passed the grader and waved to the driver. 

Ponderosa pines, pinyon pines, junipers, some oaks, volcanic rock, pumice. It was all wonderful and grand. And it went on for thirty miles. 

Many miles later we passed the headquarters for a ranch. Which surprised me because I thought the road was on public land (BLM and Park Service). This place may be one section that was not obtained by the government. Otherwise, the road snakes through national forest, wilderness, monument, BLM designations.

Passing by the big log ranch house, and over a cattle guard (one of many), the road changes. It narrows, has more rocks and less even. In some places ruts are deep, but not impassible. Only once did we have to stop and inspect where the best lines for the truck would be (one line for a bike would be easier). And then the trees gave way to high desert shrub and grassland.

The trees and shrubs become less numerous, smaller and the horizon gets bigger. Soon we are going up on sandy arid grassland steppe country, a favorite for pronghorns. It's beautiful up there with the mountain ranges along the distance no matter which way one turns. I got out and opened up my arms asking it to embrace me. And thinking, 'I could live here. And never go down.'

Hours after we started on the dirt road, we began to descend south off the big mesa. As we got closer to the highway, we saw a small truck with a pop-up camper pulled off and set up. Thumbs up and a wave. Far enough off the road, they can't be seen. And I bet the nights are black as black and the stars as big and bright as saucers.

Dusk was soon approaching. We drove northeast on Hwy 117, which is a well maintained asphalt road, but with little traffic. I knew that towards the north was a place called 'the Narrows'. But did not know what it was. We found out as we approached.

The road hugs the base of towering sandstone cliffs that mark the west edge of Cebolleta Mesa. This was once Acoma land. The lava flowed up to the base of the mesa, which made navigation treacherous. However, the Zuni and Acoma people literally chipped a trail between the two territories for trading. That trail remains today. And over time, the Acoma people have bought back some of their native land (now, how does that figure?).

A trail ascends from a parking lot on the highway and up to the rim of the mesa for a few miles. I bet the views from there are fantastic, and it is on my list to hike when I return there.

The monumental attraction is one of the largest arches in the state, even the country: La Ventana. This massive arch is breathtaking, and we were in the right spot at the right time as it was lit by the setting sun.

It was too late to stop at other points of interest along the eastern edge of El Malpais, but we knew that we would be back. Next time, I want to be on the DR and camped closer.I want to explore more on my feet.

The days were going by quickly. Too quick. There was one last place where I had my heart set on going: El Malpais.

Malpais is Spanish for 'badlands'. And in a sense it was, or is. Yet, I view it as wonderful lands. The area was covered with lava flow from the mountains north (Mount Taylor) millions of years ago, but that was only the first eruption. Later, rifts in the earth's crust bled hot molten lava which flowed and covered the first flows. Scattered alongside these lava flows are cerros, or craters, and cinder cones. It is a volcanic geologist's dream land.

We had intended to ride the bikes along the Chain of Craters Scenic Byway which follows the western edge of the El Malpais Monument area. But the logistics just didn't allow us to do that. So we drove the truck. As it was, we were gone all day until late at night. And, I'm actually glad we didn't ride the bikes. We wouldn't have been able to take our time and enjoy it like we did.


First we stopped at Bandera Crater, the largest crater in the chain. The land is privately owned and visitors are charged a fee, but it is worth the hike and views. Also nearby is an ice cave which one can visit. (see their website here) Clicking on the link, you can see an aerial view of the crater. Standing on the rim is another story. It is magnificent.

 
The ice caves are thrilling, too. The temperature at the bottom inside the cave rarely goes above 30 degrees F. Yet, the thickness of the ice has decreased by several feet over the last 50 years.

 Indigenous peoples used the caves to keep food cold, and local settlers often made a day of visiting the cave to make ice cream. Many artifacts have been found in and near the ice caves; many are on display at the headquarters (once a trading post).

Several caves are scattered within the Malpais Wilderness area, but are closed to human visitation to protect the bat population that live in them. 

The next day we went south to visit another wildlife refuge; Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. Covering thousands of acres along the Rio Bravo, it is the winter home for thousands of birds, mostly geese and sandhill cranes. The Rio Bravo is a stop on the Central Flyway for migratory birds that winter on the Rio Bravo or as a stop over on their way to Mexico and Central America.

Because human population of the Rio Bravo valley has altered the course and flow of the river water, refuge management tries to simulate the natural vegetation and water habitat for the birds. Actually, as we learned, there are several refuges along the river that coordinate availability of food and water during the year for the birds. It is so complex and intensive, that it seems almost impossible. Trying to duplicate what was natural requires more work than I ever imagined.


But we have changed the face of the Rio Bravo valley in such a way that nature cannot follow its natural course. We have terraformed it to suit our own purposes without regards for other species. And I am glad and grateful that the national wildlife refuge system is in place to help maintain a place for the birds and other wildlife to stay alive.

We hiked a few trails with Buck the Dog. I practiced my stealth walking to creep up on a group of cormorants and later a painted turtle.

We hiked through the desert area (this is the Chihuahuan desert) where we practiced our tacking skills. We found lizard, bird, snake, deer, rabbit and coyote tracks. And equine. Those were shoeless, but definitely equine tracks. Perhaps burro tracks. Tracking in dry sand is not as easy as people think because sand along the edges of a track will flow back into the impressions and obscure the outline. Wet sand is the best terrain (other than snow).

Several weeks before we left, I had contacted Growing Awareness Urban Farms in Albuquerque to arrange for a visit. So the next day, we started our way north to the big city to find the place. Scattered across a street is a group of buildings that comprise  the East Christian Ministries and the GAU Farm. They acquired the rundown and almost condemned buildings to restore and turn into a community center for people in the area.

Morgan, the manager for the farm, took us on a tour and I videoed an interview. Behind one building is a garden for produce and herbs, a large composting area (both bin and worm (vermi-)composting), several greenhouses, a chicken coop and run, and a bee apiary.

Particularly off interest for me was the ollas; unglazed clay jugs that are used for irrigation. The jugs are buried in the garden soil with only the top of the neck exposed, filled with water, and capped with a stone. Water then diffuses out of the clay jug and into the surrounding soil, thus irrigating the plant roots. This technique has been used by many indigenous peoples in the southwest and Mexico for eons.

At the Urban Farm, they make ollas and sell them, teaching people how to use them. We bought four of their rejects (slight blemishes) that we will try out in our own desert garden. When I have time, I will coordinate the video clips into a final video of the Farm.

Since we had time and we were already in Albuquerque, I suggested we visit the Acoma pueblo, which I had read about. So off we went, west on I-40, gratefully fleeing the city (which is like any other city). Shortly after we turned south, we were on Acoma reservation land. And every vehicle that passed us -from truck, car and even buses- waved to us. It was refreshing to see how friendly people are there.


We arrived at the visitor center and museum in time to take the last tour of the day to the Acoma ancient pueblo; the Sky City. The pueblo is about 600 or more years old and is built on top of a mesa, 375 feet above the floor of the desert. One road, which was built in the late 1950's, winds up to the top. Before that, a foot stair way carved into the side of the mesa was the only access to and from the pueblo. All their water and food had to be carried up.

The next morning we relaxed; not having any commitments to be anywhere. We decided to take a bike ride south to visit one of the several wildlife refuges in the area. Sevilleta National Wildlife Refuge, just north of Socorro is one of the largest in the country.


It is especially unique in that it is the northern most section of the Chihuahuan desert. Four ecosystems (or biomes) converge here: that of the Chihuahuan desert, Great Plains grasslands, Great Basin shrub-steppe, and Bosque Riparian Wetlands/Forests. In that respect, it reminds me of its 'sister' refuge: Wichita Wildlife Refuge (Oklahoma), where several ecosystems also overlap.

We hiked from the visitors center up to the top of a mesa and along the escarpment rim. The view east overlooks the Rio Bravo (most folks there don't call it the 'Rio Grande') Valley and a mountain range. To the west is a seemingly never-ending land of grasses and desert shrub, typical of the semi-arid steppe lands, with mountains hovering in the background. In many ways, it reminds me of the Marfa, TX,  area, which also sits on a large mesa.

With two little bikes in the pickup bed and travel trailer in tow, we headed west to central New Mexico after work Thursday, 9/22. The main focus of this trip was participating in an adobe building workshop in Bosque, NM. We decided to extend it into a week's vacation; one that was sorely needed.

I had scouted for a rest stop to spend the night in Snyder, TX. I think we got the last spot available sandwiched between a line of tractor trailers. It wasn't too bad; no unhooking, no leveling, no hookups. Just crawl in bed and sleep. And it was free.

We were up before sunrise, impatient to get on the road. It's always a relief to finally get out of Texas. Sometimes it feels like it never ends. With a route planned that neither of us had traveled, we stopped in everyone's favorite place: Roswell. Where everything, including Roswell, is alien.