Treasure Hunt

At the end of the summer, I got a tip that there was some new CDT trail tread around Bear Mountain some 15 miles out of Silver City.  I quickly ran to the local bike shop for more information but got nothing.  The USFS had nothing.  At the end of fall, the Forest Service updated their maps to include all new trails.  Still nothing.  I went searching out there a few months ago, couldn't find it, despite the planning map I found here.  Instead, all I found was some ribbon on a fencline where the trail should have been.

Pondering my failures last night, I resolved to try again.  This time with a GPS in tow.  Cheating I know, but I didn't want to return again empty-handed.

Early this morning, GPS confirmed that I wasn't a failure months back; there merely is no trail there.  I was luckily able to find a shorter segment of trail further to the west that more than satisfied my desire for something new close to home.  4 new miles of fantastic singletrack.  Hopefully in the next year everything will connect, and our sweet little network will get even sweeter.  

I've created a topo map here for your running/hiking/biking pleasure.

Embarrassing Expectations

Moving to Silver City meant moving closer to the Gila.  Although the Gila became the newest huge wilderness out the backdoor like the Maroon Bells or the Indian Peaks, it is a bit further of a reach to get to.  Now that we are down to one car and time is more precious at home, I find it harder and harder to justify over an hour or so of driving each way to get out for a run.  The real heart of the Gila near the Cliff Dwellings is over 2 hrs away, so I've found myself trying to gnaw away at the edges.  This weekend was another experience in the margins of the Gila.  Sapillo Creek environs.

The thermometer read 37 degrees at the house, but the temperature at the bottom of the canyon of Sapillo Creek must have been 19 deg at the start of the run.

19 degrees is manageable while running, or it is until you have to deal with water.  Iced-over rocks made me shy away from rock-hopping at each crossing of Sapillo.  Instead, I grit my teeth and went straight through.  My guidebook claimed 3-4 crossings, but I counted 6.   Not such a big deal in summer, but twice as painful in winter.  My toes went from sharp pain to fully numb very quickly.  I'd long forgotten the feeling of running/hiking with cement blocks at the end of my legs, and was saddened by how soft I'd become in a few short years.

Eventually, the trail climbs out of the creek bed, up and over and thru many smaller side drainages, and dries out.  30 minutes later my feet still had no feeling.  I couldn't figure out why until I looked down and saw that my shoes were still partially frozen.  These shoes drain poorly and are ill-suited for constant fords, no matter how thin the socks inside may be.  Note taken for spring/summer trips along the Gila River where 50+ fords is the norm.

I'd not expected too much from the terrain on this run, but just wanted to be in the woods and getting a glimpse of what the deep Gila could be like.

After a few miles, I was fully enchanted by this area and couldn't believe that I'd had slightly low hopes for it.  Sapillo Box opened up below me and I felt like I was amidst any of the better wildernesses I've been lucky to set foot through.

After photo-gawking for too long, I made it back down to the sycamores of Sapillo Box further downstream of my starting point, and not far from the Gila River.  I'd had dreams of going further downstream just to set my toes in the Gila, but thought better of it when I saw the ice forming all along the banks of Sapillo.

I vowed to return again in the spring, but with the added weight of my tenkara rod.  The waters are incredible, and I've read that Sapillo Box holds tons of trout.

Out of Practice

After 4 months, I'm still trying to get used to life so far south.  Shorts in the day despite running in tights under the clear skies of 20* mornings.  Excitement over a paltry 2 miles of snow, giddy to run two-track in first light.  Knowing all too well that the source of exclamation will be gone by 11.

There has been nary a cloud in the sky for nearly two weeks.

With gradual increases in strength and distance comes a desire to explore places new.  This past Sunday I finally made it down to the Big Burro Mtns on the very southern edge of the Gila National Forest. The CDT runs over a high ridge down there before playing around on Gold Hill and finally descending to "real" desert around Lordsburg.  I'd heard the geology down there was different than what I've grown used to around Silver City so knew I needed to check it out.

An abnormally late starting time of 2:30 pm brought in the harsh reality that I'd forgotten sunscreen and a headlamp.  Add to that the fact that the CDT is mapped in various ways due to numerous reroutes depending on where you look (refer to Openstreetmaps or Bear Creek Survey FYI), and it became obvious that I didn't know exactly how far I was going to run.  The plan was to park at the Jacks Peak CDT Trailhead, head southwest on the CDT for who knows how long, up Jacks Peak via Gold Gulch/Jacks Peak dirt rds, and then back to the car via ridgeline CDT singletrack.  Roughly 15-20 miles, right?  Close enough it turns out.

 Cruiser grade along Gold Gulch Rd.

 Chollas look mighty tame in the winter.  This is a long cry from the strange feeling of being in an alien landscape when we first moved here in August.  Back then, the chollas were downright creepy to a Coloradan.

 Quintessential Chihuahuan

Finally the fast speeds along the CDT and Gold Gulch gave way to interminable climbing and grunting up Jack's Peak Rd.  The previous 2 weeks of bluebird sky overdose finally gave way to a bit of haze which made me smile.  No one enjoys blue skies more than I, but I also like a bit of variety.  Clouds and variety aren't in abundance down south, so whenever the skies change, it's always a memorable day.

View East from Jack's Peak.  Way out there is the Cooke's Range, ranking high on the short-list.  Although it's roughly a 2 hr drive from home, I'm holding off until I can fastpack it from the front door.

We all use copper everyday.  The difference is that in the southern Gila, we have to stare at what it does to our landscapes.  Our Majesty, The Tyrone Copper Complex:

Wind and the low sun made me pull out a Buff and arm sleeves before heading a bit further north along the CDT to tag Burro Mountain.   There weren't too many views on that summit, but the size of the trees were noteworthy for this area.

The stress of descending 4+ miles with less than 30 minutes until full darkness clouded my memory of the good times of the first chunk of the day.  Instead, I was worried about catching a toe on a rock, falling into a cholla, or finding my way down vague tread by the lame light of an eTrex 20.  When I finally made it to the trailhead, I was shocked that I had less than 2 minutes to spare until I would not have been able to see the trail anymore.  Next time I'll carry a 3 oz headlamp.