For the past week, I’ve been on a business trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Prior to leaving, I planned a hiking trip in the Cibola National Forest, so part of my luggage included my hiking equipment.
Albuquerque is the largest city in New Mexico, and unlike the largest city in Oklahoma, Albuquerque is not the capital of the state. For those of you who have forgotten your state geography, that distinction belongs to Santa Fe.
Albuquerque is home to Sandia National Laboratories, so there are a large number of highly educated people living here.
The city also has 361 municipal parks. There may be a correlation to the number of PhDs to the number of city parks, but I don’t know what that could be.
Sandia Peak Tramway calls Albuquerque home. At 2.7 miles long, it is the longest tramway in the world, ascending 3,819 feet above the valley floor.
I’m not certain what the residents of Albuquerque call themselves, whether it’s “Albuquerites” or “Albuquerquians”. But, both of these sound kind of awkward, so I will henceforth call them “Albuquirkies”. Not because they actually are “quirky”, but strictly out of convenience, mind you. Just like it used to be convenient for me to call residents of Moore, OK, “Moorons” (for those of you who don’t know, Pam and I used to reside in Moore, OK, so the somewhat self deprecating term should be OK).
In a 2007 article, USAToday proclaimed Albuquerque the number one most physically fit city in America. This year, according to Men’s Fitness Magazine, Albuquerque has dropped to number five. I guess my business trip to Albuquerque has had an unintended consequence.
So, in an effort to help boost morale among the Albuquirkies, I took the tramway to the observation deck atop the 10,378 foot Sandia Peak in the Cibola National Forest and hiked the Crest Trail and the Pino Canyon Trail back into Albuquerque, a distance of about 10 miles and a vertical drop of about 3700 feet.
This feat should boost Albuquerque’s fitness rating by two points at least.
People who have never really hiked think that the ideal hike should be along a flat, level, smooth trail free of obstructions. And there are others who have the notion that the ideal hike will always go downhill, presumably because “it’s easier”.
Well, concerning the first view, I say this: Most hikers go out to see the scenery and to enjoy the experience, so a long flat stretch of smooth trails over featureless terrain leaves a bit to be desired. A long hike should have a mixture of some uphill and some downhill travel along trails with exquisite scenery.
And as far as the notion about always going downhill, I say this: THAT IS INSANE! And I’ll explain why in a moment.
Since my work partner wanted to take the tramway to see the sights, the planned departure point for the hike became the observation deck on the Sandia Crest. This had the advantage of ensuring I could get a ride to the jump off point, plus provide a spectacular view prior to departure, plus make it convenient for my work partner to pick me up after the hike (and after a 10 mile hike I wanted to ensure I had a ride back to the hotel). The main disadvantage was that the entire hike would be downhill, as going downhill from the top of a mountain is inevitable. So, I prepared myself mentally.
But I was not prepared physically.
Now, if you have hiked for any distance over a long downhill stretch, you know the different feeling you get in the legs. After a long climb, the feeling of going downhill is initially almost one of relief, but after only a short distance going downhill you’re ready for some more climbing uphill to relieve the strain you feel coming in the calf muscles and knees. I knew during this hike I would surely experience a slight discomfort in the legs afterwards, but I was totally unprepared for the level of discomfort. I’ve had sore legs after most other hikes, but this morning I was barely able to get out of bed. And for some odd reason, I had the indescribable urge to climb some stairs.
But, about the hike itself:
It had rained in Albuquerque a couple of days last week, and up on the mountain it dumped 14 inches of snow. Although the sky was clear by Saturday, the temperature at the observation deck was 28 degrees and the wind was blowing at 30 miles an hour. I began thinking I should not go on this hike, and decided to reevaluate the situation once we got to the top of the peak.
On the way up in the tram, I met an Albuquirky who was going up to check conditions for a cross-country ski trip. I told him what I had planned, and he informed me that considering the location of the Crest Trail and the wind direction, the trail should be sheltered from much of the wind. That’s what he said verbally, but his body language said, “YOU’RE NUTS.”
When I talk to people about hiking, I always get the impression that they are quite skeptical of my skill, knowledge, and abilities. I have learned that their impressions arise from my personal appearance and not necessarily from any actual knowledge they might have about me. After all, my physical appearance gives the idea that I am a middle-aged over-weight bumpkin. However, I am in fact an ASTHMATIC middle-aged over-weight bumpkin with a bum knee and a bad heart and an abdominal hernia repair. If those in authority really knew anything about me, they would never allow me to go white-water kayaking or hiking in Glacier National or in the Cibola National Forest.
In spite of what others think of me based on superficial criteria, I do have the common sense to know my own limitations. When hiking, I don’t take chances, and I always have a “Plan B” and usually a “Plan C”. My only failing is that I like to hike alone, and that is contrary to the first cardinal rule of hikers, “never hike alone”.
As I said, on this particular hike, I wanted to gauge the weather conditions at the top of the mountain before making the “GO” or “NO GO” decision. I told my work partner that if things looked too bad, I would return to the tramway. At the top, the wind was blowing like mad, but the trail was in fact shielded from the wind, just like I had been told, and the wind at the trail entrance was little more than a nice breezy day in Oklahoma (still questionable by ordinary standards, but . . . ). Although the temperature was less than 30 degrees, the sun was shining and I was well dressed. I decided to go along the trail with the plan to return if things got “IFFY”.
The snow depth along the first mile of the trail was about 8 inches. And the trail was quite visible due to the tracks of other hikers before me. That, along with my trusty topo map and my compass, the trail was very easy to follow and I had great confidence that I would not lose my way.
The Crest Trail runs about 100 feet east of the actual crest of the mountain and about 40 feet lower and I was shielded from the wind which was howling over me through the taller trees. Occasionally, the wind would blow a clump of snow from the trees onto the trail or onto me, but other than that there was no serious wind problem.
The farther along the trail, the better the conditions became. And I stayed warm, which had been my greatest concern, so after a mile and a half I decided to continue.
Long story short, it was a beautiful hike. I stopped occasionally to rest and to eat a handful of trail mix, and I constantly drank water. Halfway through, I entered the Pino Canyon Trail and began a sharp descent. The temperature increased as I descended and the snow disappeared from the trail. I stopped for a solid hour along a small stream to relax and to prepare a lunch of beef stroganoff (no kidding). The only thing missing was a glass of nice cabernet.
If I had it to do over again, I would change the direction of this hike. I think now it would have been better to hike up and catch the tramway down. A different set of muscles would be aching right now, but I think I would be able to walk without looking like an old man with wooden legs trying to make it to the bathroom in time to prevent an “accident”.
Oh well, the legs will recover by this time next month, I’m sure.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment