SF2T- Day 9 (Return to trail)

Last night I was so tired I stopped at the very first place I could hang my hammock. It was practically on the trail, but no hikers came by overnight while I was there.

In the morning, I had a quick breakfast by headlamp, and I was back hiking about 5:45 a.m., walking downhill along an abandoned old dirt road. It was cool, in the 50s, and overcast, and the easy grade made for a pleasant and quick 3 to 4 miles. The sun was coming up during this time and evolved from an orange smudge to a pretty nice sunrise. There was even access in two places to a small flowing stream, so I filled up.

Near the bottom of the abandoned old road, there was a nod to the band, The Grateful Dead, with a “Dead End Head“ sign. At the very bottom, a fallen, but usable bridge crossed the Rito de la Olla, which flows out of beaver ponds up the valley.

Here the trail/road crossed the stream and turned up the valley, arcing north toward the next drainage. After 4-5 miles of gradual uphill and past several small beaver ponds, I crossed over into the Rio Chiquito watershed and started another long downhill on maintained Forest Road 478.

As I was nearing the crest, I encountered two men in full camo outfits standing by a truck fitted with dog kennels on the back. There were maybe 10 hunting dogs (German Shorthaired Pointers, I think). The guys were amazed I was out there walking “in the middle of nowhere.” We chatted for a moment, then I walked on along the road. About 15 minutes later, they came driving by in the truck, honking their horn. They stopped and explained that they were “honking the dogs in.” And sure enough, about 10 more dogs came out of the woods and jumped into the kennels in the back of the truck. Then the truck drove off. I guess they were training hunting dogs. Their license plate said, HOUNDEM.

From the crest, I walked about 3-4 miles down to Rio Chiquito and had lunch near the river in the shade of a big tree. After lunch, I crossed the river and joined Forest Road 437, which follows the stream down this long, wide valley.

Numerous beaver ponds fill the upper part of the watershed, helping trap moisture in what would otherwise be a pretty dry valley.

By this time, the overcast of the morning had broken up, and the temperature was on the rise. It was about an 8-mile walk along 437, and the temperature was now in the 80s. I put up my reflective umbrella and carried my own shade down the road. I was able to top off my water supply from the river shortly before reaching the Drake Canyon trail that would start me over the last ridge on the way to Taos. The Drake Canyon trail starts in a desert area and steeply climbs up to the pines.

It was about 3 miles to the top of the ridge, but I planned to stop and camp at the two-mile mark where good campsites were reported to be. That was 1,200 feet higher. I had walked 19 miles to that point, was carrying my pack with 5 liters of water, and it was in the mid-80s. But, hey, it was only 4 o’clock and there were good campsites advertised.

It took about an hour and a half to go those steep two miles, but the campsite area was primo and worth the effort. I set up my hammock, had dinner, and retired for the evening.