Flamingo's CDT 2015

“It was someone else’s ashes!” Gloria shrieks. “Twenty years ago we scattered Grandpa’s ashes under his favorite Cottonwood tree. We did the same for Grandma when she died the following year. But last week the mortuary called me and they found Grandpa’s ashes in storage… so, we don’t know who we scattered – but it’s not Grandpa! – and Grandma’s been sleeping with a stranger all this time.”

Just before this, I'm sitting in the shade where the Continental Divide Trail crosses New Mexico Highway 12. I'm drinking water and reviewing my maps, when Gloria rolls up in her purple pickup truck.

“Hey, are you one of them trail walkers?” she asks with a Texas drawl. “You want some pizza!?”

After leaving Gloria (and eating a couple pizza slices) I follow the CDT on a seemingly endless network of abandoned jeep tracks. It’s not inspirational scenery, but the tracks are easy to follow and the water sources are reliable. I develop a habit of hiking with my headlamp past sunset. The days are getting shorter, but I accomplish big mileage.

I enter Gila National Forest and follow well-maintained trails into rain clouds on Wagontongue Mountain and through burned pine forests on John Kerr Peak. The burn area seems to be recovering with wildflowers and bees. Eventually I arrive at Snow Lake, a reservoir that collects snowmelt from the broad plateaus above the Gila River.

From Snow Lake, the official CDT follows an eastward route on dry mesas that bake in the sun and water is scarce. Nearly all thru-hikers take an alternate route that drops into the Middle Fork Gila River Canyon and follows the river. This alternate route is unlike anything else on the CDT. It’s a deep red rock canyon where cottonwood, oak, and pine forests thrive along the riverbanks.  The trail crosses and re-crosses the river 85 times in 35 miles. There are no bridges, but the water level is below my waist. In some places, the canyon becomes very narrow and the only way forward is to hike through the river and hope for an exit downstream.

Two years ago, a flash flood ripped through the canyon and demolished the trail. Walking this route today involves miles of bushwhacking. I find short remnants of the trail – old sections built with rock – but mostly I go freestyle and push through alder bush and climb over fallen trees. I grit my teeth and wade through miles of prickly thistle weed. The twisting canyon walls force me back into the river, and I’m wet all day.

“Did you get poison ivy?” Mike asks me. He’s backpacking with his friends on a two-night trip, and we meet at the confluence of Indian Creek and the Middle Fork Gila River.

“… is there poison ivy here?” I ask like an idiot.

“Well, yeah,” Mike laughs. “It’s everywhere. Look, here’s some, and more over there.”

When it comes to poisonous plants, the CDT is relatively benign. After hiking thousands of miles through sagebrush and piñon forests, I wasn’t thinking to look for poison ivy. In fact, I didn’t know it grows in this ecosystem.

“Oh, and here’s poison oak,” Mike continues. “And over here we have stinging nettles. How in the hell did you not get a rash?”

After talking with Mike, I am certain I bushwacked through miles of poisonous plants, but I unknowingly washed away the toxic oils during my numerous river crossings.

I continue down the canyon, and I see poison ivy, oak, and nettle everywhere. In many places the canyon is so narrow, and the poison ivy is so prolific, I have no choice but to push through the ivy and then rush to the river and rinse.

My progress downstream is slow. Every twist in the canyon is grander than the last. The red rock spires grow taller and the canyon walls feel impossibly high. I’m walking through a cathedral, and it’s beautiful.

Eventually, the canyon joins the main Gila River and the trail becomes a paved road. I enter the Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument. I visit the archaeological site on a sunny morning, and I join the guided tour with the volunteer ranger Dave. It’s a collection of vaulted caves with engineered stone houses. The dwellings were constructed 1,000 years ago, but humans inhabited the caves thousands of years before that. The ceiling is stained with smoke from countless ancient fires. The dwellings leave a strong impression on me – something about the timeless narrative of families trying to make a home in a cruel world. After the tour, I climb around the rock houses and try to imagine the lives of these ancient people. I return to the largest cave and watch a colony of swallows tend mud nests attached to the ceiling; at least someone still lives here.

I pickup my resupply package from Doc Campbell’s country store, and then I camp at the nearby Gila Hot Springs. The pools are very clean, and I sit in the 107’ pool while watching dusk fade from pink to obsidian. In the campground, I meet a young couple currently biking across America: Joe and Devon (http://USBikeTrip.blogspot.com).

I follow the CDT off the road and into the lower Gila River canyon. I spend another day pushing through poison ivy and crossing the river too many times to count. At Sapillo Creek, I climb out of the canyon and I cross the Piños Altos Mountains. Later, baking under a noon sun, I hike downhill to Silver City.