Old Boots, New Mexico

Within a day of entering New Mexico, the scenery started to change – lower elevations meant no more alpine tundra. Instead, the trail wound its way through stands of pine trees and stretches of sagebrush and dry grass. At my third campsite in my new state, I noticed smoke from a small wildfire about 15 miles to the southwest.

Next day, I passed the northern junction for the Ghost Ranch alternate and stayed on the redline. Early afternoon, I saw the column of smoke again, much closer now, and directly in my path. There was no cell service when I arrived at Highway 84, and although I couldn’t see any flames, it looked like the fire was close to the rim of Mesa de Los Viejos, about 1,000 feet above me. The trail ascends and follows the edge of the mesa, and I guessed I’d be uncomfortably close to the fire, so I decided to road-walk around it.

Almost six miles later, as I was about to leave the highway to connect with the Ghost Ranch alternate, I checked my phone again. There was nothing about the fire on the CDTC website or InciWeb, and I was slightly disappointed. I was hoping for confirmation that I’d made the right decision.

I camped about a quarter mile from the highway, and the next morning, thick haze blanketed everything. Walking along the north bank of the Rio Chama, I had a good view of the river, but couldn’t see the far side of the valley. The air started to clear about 10 miles later, as I began climbing out of the Chama River Canyon. It was the last (in fact, only) time my hike was affected by smoke.

Planning ahead

Some thru-hikers do minimal planning in an effort to be as spontaneous as possible. Not me. A good plan weighs nothing, and I don’t go hiking without it. Accordingly, I knew my second pair of boots would be wearing out by the time I reached Cuba, NM. I checked the FarOut comments before ordering a new pair.

1. The post office in Cuba only accepts “General Delivery” packages sent using the US Postal Service.
2. If you order something on Amazon, there’s a good chance it’ll ship via UPS.
3. UPS has a small distribution building in Cuba, and its drivers go above and beyond to help thru-hikers. When resupply boxes aren’t accepted at the post office, UPS drivers often hold them temporarily before returning them to sender. If you can catch one of the drivers at the beginning or end of their day, you might be in luck. Another way to get your box is to put your phone number on it and/or leave a note on the door of the distribution center.

To avoid any USPS/UPS confusion, I decided to send my new boots to a hotel in Cuba. While still in the town of Chama, I called the Cuban Lodge to reserve a room and ask permission to send a box. They told me it wasn’t necessary to put any special instructions on the box, but when I ordered the boots, I added my check-in date after my name.

Cuba

The day before I made it to Cuba, I developed a blister on my left heel. It seemed like I’d be switching out my boots just in time. I took the old-CDT alternate, camped a few miles north of town, and arrived early the following morning. After a quick snack at the first gas station I came to, and breakfast at McDonald’s, I killed some time at the library.

Next, I bought two small resupplies and packed them into boxes at the post office. One package went to Pie Town post office, the other to Doc Campbell’s Post. It would be about 10 days before I realized the magnitude of the mistake I’d just made. I’d bought “Olé Xtreme Wellness High Fiber” tortillas because that’s all Dollar General had in stock. Each tortilla has only 60 calories and contains a massive 43% of the recommended daily amount of fiber. Somewhere south of Pie Town, let’s just say that my intestines became a little confused.

The Cuban Lodge is run by a delightful elderly couple, Flora and her husband. It was Flora I’d spoken to on the phone, and she’d confidently predicted my package would be waiting for me when I arrived. It wasn’t, despite an email from Amazon telling me it had been delivered. I had some investigating to do.

I took a shower, did laundry, and purchased a five-day resupply – from Family Dollar this time. Then I wandered over to the UPS building and waited for the drivers to return. They made a few phone calls, I walked back to the hotel to confirm a few things with Flora, then returned to the UPS office.

In summary

The UPS guys I spoke to that afternoon were more than helpful, so a huge thank-you to them. They found out that my box had been returned to Amazon because someone at the Cuban Lodge refused to sign for it. I suspect that Flora thought I’d checked out already.

So, stay at the Cuban Lodge if you’re looking for cheap, clean, comfortable (if well-worn) accommodation. Flora and her husband are very hospitable. Consider staying elsewhere if you’re depending on your resupply.

High desert

South of Cuba, I spent two days in a textbook version of high desert. No pine trees or sagebrush, only juniper and an assortment of spiky stuff. There are buttes and spires, and the trail crosses low mesas made of sandstone and sedimentary rubble. Cover from the wind was minimal, and at the end of the second day, I camped in a dry wash to the west of Ojo Frio Spring.

The view at sunrise, during the 1,500-foot climb of Mesa Chivato, was beautiful. On top, the mesa has plenty of pine trees, and it’s sheltered, smooth, and flat. There isn’t much water though. At lunchtime, I descended a side-trail to a spring, filtered four liters, and hiked back up to the CDT. The detour took 75 minutes, but the afternoon’s high-speed terrain made it possible to reach my intended campsite before a sequence of thunderstorms arrived. Not before I’d managed to acquire another blister on my left heel, however.

Good alternate

It was frosty the next morning, and there were plenty of low-level, high-speed clouds. I reached the junction for the Mount Taylor alternate about three hours after leaving camp. By that time, the sky had cleared and the wind had stopped, so I decided to take the alternate. It’s only 1.5 miles longer than the redline, and although its water sources are dry most of the year, I was carrying just enough. The summit (11,300 feet) is about 1,500 feet higher than the CDT, but the alternate requires only 1,000 feet more climbing, due to the CDT’s plentiful ups and downs.

The alternate is mostly good dirt road, it’s not excessively steep, and has lots of scenic views. I’d run out of water by the time I rejoined the CDT, but there’s a spigot at the junction, and I camped soon afterwards.

As usual, I was eager to get to town. I crossed Horace Mesa with all possible speed, descended the rocky trail to the highway, and turned left toward Grants. The first grocery store I passed was Smith’s, where I bought just enough snacks to sustain me for the next hour. Then I typed “Asian Super Buffet” into Google maps and chose the shortest route across town.

Bad alternate

Walking south along Mesa Boulevard, I began to feel increasingly conspicuous. Thru-hikers stand out when they’re in town, of course, but in this residential area, I felt like an intruder. Google told me to turn right onto Balsam Street, and I balked. I definitely didn’t feel comfortable going that way. Instead, I took the next right down an unpaved alleyway, staying just outside the perimeter of the neighborhood.

Seemingly every backyard had a dog, and each one rushed to the fence to bark as I walked past. Now, I wasn’t merely uncomfortable, I was extremely uneasy. At the first opportunity, I turned right then left to get back to Google’s suggested route. A police car was parked, motor running, at the intersection, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

It was midday on a Wednesday, and if not for the frequent barking, the street would have been quiet. It looked deserted, but then I noticed a figure standing at an intersection a few hundred yards away. The scene was unsettlingly reminiscent of a “Breaking Bad” episode.

As I approached the figure, I realized he wasn’t alone. His trusty Pitbull left his side and trotted purposefully in my direction. It had the swagger of a dog that had never lost a fight, and as it got closer, I could see its numerous scars. The owner issued a command, and his dog stopped immediately. He uttered something else, and the dog returned to his side. I heaved a sigh of relief and left the neighborhood as quickly as possible.

That day, I learned that choosing your own adventure has its limits. There are places you should definitely stick to the redline.