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“Bad weather makes for good photography”. One of the many statements uttered from my landscape photo instructors. Bad weather is
promised; rain most of the day Friday and Saturday with partial clearing on
Sunday. How much rain, who knows,
somewhere over a half in is promised in Jemez Springs. I’m going higher so I’m expecting more.
This is the second expedition in my camper. I’m not expecting any problems; but I don’t
want my truck sitting in water and or mud up to my axles. Paranoia abounds since I have not been on
this forest road in a couple of years, all I remember is deep ruts and loose
gravel under dry conditions.
The Jemez district forest office says the roads are fine;
they have not received any rain for the past few days, but strongly suggest a
high clearance 4 X 4. This is a
dispersed camping area; I have a spot in mind about 7 miles north of NM
126. The road parallels the San Antonio
Creek along the top of the mesa immediately to the west of the valley.
I finish packing around 8 Friday morning making sure for the
third time I have everything I need.
Once before I only checked twice and found upon arrival at the campsite
I didn’t pack my sleeping bag. I used
all the cold weather blankets and jackets stashed in my truck to keep me warm
on that trip. I don’t want to experience
that again.
The trip is uneventful until I get to the forest road. With the exception of a few stretches where I
have to straddle the deep ruts running up (or down) hill the road is pretty
good. It takes me about 30 minutes to
drive the 7 miles.
A few of the prospective sites are either already taken, or
the campers have not left yet. Arriving
at the site adjacent to the trail to the valley floor I see several cars
already parked. I continue on but the
next mile of road is an occupied cow pasture.
They stare at me as I pass but this is not an area I wish to walk around
in the middle of the night, or during the day for that matter.
Returning towards the site near the trail I decide I have to look ever
closer at prospective sites. The second
one I came across had just opened; as I passed on the way in I saw a vehicle
with its lights on but I didn’t know if they were setting up or leaving. Fortunately for me they were leaving. I jump out of the truck for a quick look taking
the site immediately. With some
apprehension I open the door of the camper hoping there are no catastrophes
from items spread over the floor because I forgot to secure everything in the
camper. All is good. After setting up and wandering along the top
of the cliff I decide I have the best site in the area. I am intentionally not being too specific about
my campsite; you will have to find this one on your own.
After lunch I load up my pack with camera and fishing
equipment. Using my GPS I am able to
hike directly from my campsite to the old forest road taking me down to the
valley. On cue with my arrival at the
valley, thunder rolls in along with light rain.
I put on my rain jacket but within a couple of minutes I have to don my
rain pants as the deluge commences. I
keep telling myself this weather will make for good photographs as I move my
camera to a drier spot inside my pack. Within
minutes my hiking shoes are soaked. The
year-old waterproofing holds up, keeping my feet mostly dry. Following along the abandoned road towards
the Valles Caldera I come to the fence which kept us inside the Caldera a few weeks
ago. Slowly the rain moves up the valley
but the ominous, dark clouds remain. I
hike downstream a mile or so to try fishing.
I hope I remember all the things Byron, Mark and Tom taught
me as I have no outside guidance this
time. Within the first few minutes I
pull in my first brown trout so I’m feeling pretty good. In all I catch about a half dozen before a
longer term moderate rain moves in. The
rain increases to the point where I cannot see the flies, so I call it a
day. I endure a 45 minute soaking hike
back to the camper; with the rain continuing on for an additional hour after
arriving at the camp site. One last look
before entering my welcoming dry camper I check the river valley; it shows
promise of some ‘good’ photography coming later this evening. Ahhh… a dry place to make dinner and relax.
As evening progresses the clouds lower, flowing in and
around the mountain tops of the Caldera.
It’s too wet for a campfire so once it’s too dark to see the outside
show I retire to the camper to read.
Being in the camper I feel closer to nature without having
to deal with the wet of being in a tent.
At home I do not hear the rain hitting the roof. Having refrigerated air means I keep my
windows closed most of the time. The
sound of the rain pattering on the roof lulls me to sleep with visions of
valley fog for the morning.
My expectations of waking to some fog are surpassed. The valley is full of fog. The mountains are covered. All I see is a white world. Nothing exists beyond the edge of the cliff I
am camped on. My campsite and everything
in it are the only things that exist this morning.
The sun is out ‘there’, but all I see is a large undefined
bright area.
I shoot the ever changing fog for a few hours. It flows through the valley to the south,
lowering to reveal the profile of the mountain across the valley; then thickening,
covering the mountain again. The little cerros in the San Antonio valley play
peek-a-boo with the shifting fog. As I
think the show has come to an end more fog moves in. As the sun burns off areas of fog I see long
shadows of the trees raking across the remaining fog. Sitting back watching the scene unfold I see
droplets of moisture illuminated by the sun wafting past me. This display of nature happens in total
silence. Being from the city, noise
accompanies everything, here the silence is deafening. 
The entire valley finally appears after several hours of the
sun vs. fog wrestling match. Later that
morning several cars pull up to a trailhead inside the Valles Caldera deploying
eager hikers. The scenes I witnessed
earlier could only happen by being there; enjoying the previous night and rising
early to catch the sunrise. I am elated
that I could witness it.
Hiking off in a different direction I work my way across the
mesa, deeper into the forest. Following
an old forest road means I don’t have to bushwhack allowing me to cover more
territory. I see hoof prints and elk
droppings, hear lots of birds and dodge hordes of grasshoppers all making
racket as they fly out of my path. The
sounds emanating from the grasshoppers remind me of the days when we put
playing cards in the spokes of our bikes.
Clouds roll over me, getting darker as I continue. It decides to rain on me once again,
but not with the ferocity of the previous day.
The rain wins again as I decide to return from my hike. The campsite is a bit wet but with the clouds
parting the sun starts drying out my pile of tinder and kindling for the fire
this evening. I have to have a campfire
at least once this weekend!
After a short nap; because I regularly have to check my
eyelids for light leaks; I decide to hang around the campsite. I am supposed to be relaxing after all. Dinner, a campfire and staying up to see the
Milky Way are on my agenda this evening.
All three were contentedly enjoyed.
I was awakened a couple times overnight; once by an elk
bugling, and sometime later by a pack of coyotes howling. It sounded like everyone was off in the
distance, probably in the valley.
Sunday arrives too soon.
I’m meeting Laurie and Nicida for a hike along the San Antonio
Creek. Packing up and closing the camper
seems to be somewhat routine. I have
opened and closed the camper many times while at home trying everything out
before this trip. I made a list of a few
things to bring along to make my adventures easier and more pleasurable but
overall everything went well.
We don’t make the connection at the campsite so I hike down
to the San Antonio for some more photography.
Today there are several people enjoying the day. I didn’t see or hear much more that a dozen
people the two previous days, just what I was hoping for. About a mile downstream I see two familiar
profiles coming my way; Laurie and Nicida.
They actually listened to my directions and decided they missed me,
turning around probably a mile from where I was waiting for them. We continue back along the creek, they on one
side, I on the other. All along we scout
for logs, rocks, shallow areas for them to cross but no luck. Finally, almost knocking at the gate of the
Valles Caldera Laurie crosses the creek shoe-less while Nicida hops across the
creek on a couple rocks poking their heads above the water.
Arriving back at the
truck, after a long climb up the trail, we have to find where Nicida
parked. “It’s at one of the turnoffs
between where we are sitting now and Hwy 126”.
It is about 7 miles, fortunately there are not a lot of turnoffs to
choose from. This is a good opportunity
to try a few additional turn-offs, scouting for other campsites. We come to a turnoff ‘that looks familiar’ and
we find a lonesome SUV waiting for its owner.
This was a good weekend.
Thank you for stopping by.
Mark
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