NMEH

“Wiking” is the newest trend in recreation…read more about it here http://ping.fm/whb29

We have just one world. And my heart breaks every time I read another article about “population curbing” in the natural world, especially when it comes to endangered species. To read more, click here.

A name is such a seminal concept that it can make or break your experience of a person, a time or a place…click here to read more.

Hiking requires a different mindset and timeline than what is typically found in daily life. One cannot separate stages of a hike by days or even hours. Trekking in nature allows us to get back in touch with what we lose in the daily rush. 

It seems ever increasingly (and sadly) that the chronology of our lives is marked by insignificant details and remembered in reference to meaningless events….. for more, click here.

Some settle for the easy way out while others always -ALWAYS- choose for the harder course. It is -for lack of a better analogy- like the compass hand that always -ALWAYS- points out due North, no matter what the circumstances.

And so, here again, a choice was to be made between the longer-but-easier Aspen Vista -12 miles of well-maintained, well-traveled trail- or the shorter-but-more-rugged hike up the side of the mountain to the ski lift, then another mile almost straight up to reach the top of Tesuque Peak, NM.

But the choice was purely a retorical one. Like the compass hand, I took up the side of the mountain, bundled up in warm clothing, snowshoes laced up tightly and backpack stocked with provisions.

As I wound my way up through Aspen groves, boldly following in the snowshoe prints of other intrepid -if only slightly more of an early bird than I was- hikers, I whistled and traded jokes with my hiking partner, still fresh, still innocent, still confident I would outsmart the mountain and its dreaded buddy, altitude sickness. 

Altitude sickness is a treacherous condition; some will never experience it, some will always be affected by it, and for some others it will come and go.  I am one of the Hit-or-Miss kind.

More often than not, I will amble along unscathed. However once in a blue moon, the feeling will hit me, and it will hit me hard.

It always happens between 10 and 11 thousand feet and it leaves me breathless, nauseated and vertigo-ed. I do consider myself lucky though, as the symptoms do disappear once I get past 11,000 feet.

But for a dreaded one thousand feet it is a battle of every instant between my body and my mind - the former  wants to quit while the latter berates away, swears like a sailor and is of a generally foul disposition.
During the time it takes to climb to that plateau where my organic mechanisms finally adapt and the switch gets flicked back to the “ON” position, it is as if I am audience to the internal battle of Will against Want. I plead and cry, scream and grunt, taunt and fight back, all within the span of a few seconds, then all over again until the headache abates, my breath return to a regular rythm and the horizon comes back into focus.

Emerging above timber line at 11,000 on the way to Tesuque Peak means sharing space with the hordes of skiers and snowboarders unloading off the Santa Fe teleski system to start their laugh-filled descent. And while they swish and swoosh this way and that way, I turn my gaze towards the ultimate prize -at least for this day: Tesuque Peak, a little bit less than a mile away on a crow’s wings.  I, however, must skirt the edge of the busy run and snowshoe up the mountain at an almost straight angle along the outermost boundaries of the ski domain. That makes this last push longer than it should be and also more painful than it need be.

And so, while others wind up the mountain at a leisurely pace along Aspen Vista trail, I huff and puff; take 3 grueling steps towards the radio antennas spiking out of the mountain top then close my eyes; take a deep breath; launch again only to stop again; and yes, I am not ashamed to admit I shed a couple tears along the way because the sheer amount of willpower it took to climb the last few hundred yards in blood-freezing weather was so exhausting, so completely draining that crying felt like the only appropriate thing to do.

Yes, you are right, it does sound like a miserable experience.

Yet, you are also wrong.

There is a unique -one dare say, transcending- quality to an experience such as this one. The mountain put me back in my place; it stripped me of my ego and reminded me that lifting weights, running and swimming on a regular basis mean so little in the face of a 12, 069 foot giant shrouded in shawls of snowy mist and howling winds. It reminded me that physical fitness without a mental edge is useless; that being indignant in the face of  Nature and its unwavering forces is mere hubris; and that the Ien talian saying “Chi va piano Va sano” is the only mantra worth repeating when a single step -much less ten- takes so much out of you.

But it also showed me that what the Mountain taketh away, it giveth back in the quintuple once you reach the top. It laid the world at my feet and made it my domain. In a few moment of unmatched grace  it paired me with a fearless Gray Jay that ate out of your hand; it showed me how close I was to the clouds and how far I was from them;  it also infused me with the knowledge that I can conquer anything I set my mind to. For a brief moment in time, Tesuque Peak became my own private Everest.

Until the next Mountain comes along and strips Tesuque Peak of this title by teaching me yet another lesson about Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness.

May this time come in sooner than later.

Wilderness 1rst Aid training courses teach Outdoors-bound populations valuable skills yet most hikers appear unprepared to deal with backcountry emergencies, an informal study conducted by Albuquerque-based outfitter New Mexico Enchanted Hikes shows. Also, most hikers do not understand the differences between urban and wilderness rescue trainings.

For instance, when interviewed, 98% of hikers said they were unaware how many rescue personnel are needed to evacuate someone who is located 2 miles out in the backcountry. According to the National Outdoors Leadership School (NOLS), it takes 42 people to carry an injured hiker for 2 miles.

Also, most hikers neglect to carry a 1rst Aid kit and venture in the woods with the bare minimum in terms of rescue equipment yet carry the latest technological gadgets, such as Global Positioning Systems. Although such systems can prove handy to provide exact coordinated to Search and Rescue units in the case of injuries that cannot self-evacuate, a basic wilderness 1rst Aid kit, as well as Wilderness Emergency training can be the difference between life and death when stranded in the backcountry.

When asked about the determining factors in hiring a backcountry hiking guide, 43% of respondents cited Wilderness Emergency Training as being at the top of their concerns.
36% cited cost and 21% guides’ scope of knowledge.

When traveling to New Mexico, consider  New Mexico Enchanted Hikes  for all your hiking needs. All of New Mexico Enchanted Hikes’ guides are Wilderness 1rst Aid certified through the National Outdoors Leadership School, as well as “Leave No Trace” certified.

For further information, contact Adelaide McMillan at 505-847-6348 or visit
http://www.NewMexicoEnchantedHikes.com

When talking about off-the-beaten-path destinations, Cabezon Peak has to be right.up.there. at the top of the list.

It is so off-the-radar that a lot of native New Mexicans don’t even know what or where it is.  And that, in and of itself, is already an oddity considering how prominent a feature to Central New Mexico landscape Cabezon Peak really is. Indeed, on any clear days -and often times on others as well- it looms in the distance, a very real, very towering figure that could very possibly be the mythical pot of gold to be found at the intersection of those imaginary coordinates Alfred Hitchcock made famous in his movie “North by Northwest”.

Getting to Cabezon Peak is as much an adventure as trying to conquer it. As you leave the comforting everyday-ness of Metro Albuquerque, headed due North on I-25 , you first think that it will be a walk in the park -indeed Cabezon peak lies a mere 73 miles in the distance.

But it is when you make a right onto US-550 that you begin to grasp the scope of the undertaking.

As you inch further away from the big city and closer to your destination, roads become less traveled and maintained until the road is not anymore. Instead, you find yourself traveling on a dirt path that creeps by quasi-deserted hamlets sitting in the middle of a moonlike landscape. And thus you are reminded of the harsh realities of life in the Upper Rio Puerco Valley. No metropolis here, no jobs, no malls, no entertainment other than that provided by a quite unforgiving Nature. Reminders of a different time abound,  ranches in ruin, old decrepit adobes and wells in disrepair. In this corner of the world, you will come across herds of cattle before you see a human soul.

And as the road becomes even more bumpy (or “bumpetty-bumpetty” as yours truly would qualify those), once again you are reminded that you are a mere guest in these parts. Yes, there is a way to Cabezon peak, but it is not easy to get there. And just when you think you have reached the end of journey, when the Peak reveals itself as you turn a corner and leave the mesa behind you, reality sets in: in order to reach what serves as a parking lot at the foot of the mountain, you must travel down a beaten-down, potholed service road -which is only of service because it was so labeled.

But you do eventually get to the pot-of-gold and there, armed with directions you downloaded from the World Wide Web you set on your journey of conquest, much like ancient conquistadors must have done when they first set foot in what was then called “New Spain”. They -these men of great valor and courage- were looking for the 7 mythical cities of Cibola. We -just two ordinary explorers- were looking for the passage leading to the top of Cabezon’s chimney.

The Spaniards never found gold in New Mexico, and we never found  the way to the top of Cabezon.

Much like them, we searched, fumbled, lost our way, double-back, sat down to rest and reconsider, gathered up more courage and continued the assault;

Much like them, we looked at our written directions, analyzed and dissected, looked for a clue in the unforgiving rock face, shrugged our shoulders and threw our hands in the air;

Unlike the Spaniards though, we knew we would be back to the comfort of our home before sundown and that gave us more leeway in enjoying the rugged landscape for what it really is: a spectacular display of Nature’s forces at play.

But we must be honest here. As we sat on a rock in the shaddow of the peak’s towering chimney, drinking water and munching on trail mix, we felt less like adventurous conquerors and more like defeated fools . The mountain remained an unpenetrable fortress to which we did not hold a key.

And as majestic birds of prey (Golden Eagles we think) circled the top and glided along wind currents, dove down the rocky walls only to swoop back up in an effortless ballet of endless gracefulness, we did the only thing that seemed appropriate: shrugged off our disappointment and made a pledge to return and give it another try.

And that, my friends, is the lesson of Cabezon Peak: optimism without determination will lead you nowhere. We were guilty of carrying too much of one currency and not enough of the other.

But now we know.

And we will be back.

“Mountains inspire awe in any human person who has a soul. They remind us of our frailty, our unimportance, of the briefness of our span upon this earth. They touch the heavens, and sail serenely at an altitude beyond even the imaginings of a mere mortal”  —Elizabeth Aston

(Thank you Audra Jones for this oh-so-appropriate quote)