October 14th
Well, New Mexico continues to be one of the coldest states on this trip. I bundled up with everything I had and moved along in the dark. I knew there were a couple good water sources ahead, but I also knew I would be going through a very dry area called “The Badlands” a name which must’ve gotten published without first running through the chamber of commerce.
My second water source was a windmill tank. There was a slight breeze in the valley and therefore the windmill was pumping out fresh water from the ground. I filled my bottle and my 3 liter platypus bladder. My hands were very cold after that, but the sun was about to crest the hill and then, I knew, things would be very different.
I came to the highway and crossed it to reach the parking lot for the national monument known as El Malpais. Nobody there and surprisingly little signage. When all you have to offer is sharp rocks, no water, little shade, and hard-to-follow trails, it is no surprise that the public does not come streaming in. I did see an interesting symbol/sign. Perhaps I have been on the trail a long time and apparently crawling on your knees with a headlamp is a new trend, but not allowed in El Malpais.
Also, there was a handwritten poster attached to the stop sign. On top of worrying about water and tarantulas, apparently I now had to watch out for fallen angels. Unfortunately I was out of range and could not google an image so I would know what to look for…
The badlands were not so bad. Volcanic rock is very grabby and so I stumbled a bit more. However, I grew to like the patterns the dried lava made and seeing some of the holes where it had spewed out millions of years ago. There was also a surprising amount of plant and bird life there. Later on, I met a hunter who explained that the remains of a father and daughter were recently found after going missing for six years in the Badlands. I could see how one could get truned around if there was not a lot of wilderness experience.
When I emerged from El Malpais, I found a lovely water cache maintained by the Mumms, a local family. The water was in a cooler tucked under a thick juniper. It was still cold from the night. I drank over a liter and restocked my water supply. What struck me as odd was that my predecessors would take a bottle, drain it, and then put it back in the cooler. For people who live and breath small spaces, why none of them crushed the empties and put the cap on to save space was amazing. I spent several minutes reducing the size of the empty bottles and then set out on a long highway walk.
It was a long hot road walk along 117. I did go past the La Venatana arch. One route recommendation was to scramble up the hill beside the arch and walk along the mesa parallel to the highway. Why I would climb up to a thorny mesa to bushwhack my way above a highway was an unanswerable question. It promised a good view of the badlands, which struck me as both ironic and unappealing. Instead, I trudged along the narrow shoulder for 6 hours.
For many miles this highway had robust barbed wire fences on both sides. On the east, every 150 feet was a placard indicating the land was owned by the National Park Service. On the west side, every 150 feet was a placard indicating the land was owned by the Forest Service. How many dollars were spent documenting and defending these boundaries was mind-numbing. I wondered, as I often do on long slow walks, whether there was some sort of unknown controversy where the Forest Service is squatting on Park service land (or vice versa) and we just aren’t aware of this terrible conflict.
Towards sunset, the Forest Service won the eeny meeny and I hopped their fence. I went over grazing land and got next to some hills. The cattle were gone, but I surprised a few elk cows. Another lovely New Mexico sunset and moon rise helped soften the fact I was camping near a highway. I fell asleep before the 9:00 coyote cacophony.
backpacking over the hill 