G la fille: search for the elusive furry, white snow-snake

Here are the complete snaps from our first snowy hiking trip. January 3, 2010.

Haha, I took pictures of the parking lot down the road, thinking we were already hiking in the wilderness.

Cold weather wimp approved snow-hiking gear: Kmart snow boots with Velcro closures, extra thick wool socks (found in the men's sock department), black denim jeans, boyfriend's tee-shirt, boyfriend's ribbed sweater, long Columbia insulated jacket (essential), knit gloves, fur trapper hat and explorer's glasses*.

I stayed exceptionally warm the whole time and the length of the coat allowed me to sit and rest on tree stumps and not get wet butt. I suggest replacing the knitted gloves with waterproof ones if you like to touch snow or have poor circulation.

*The glasses made everything more adventurous. Do not question the glasses.

Thanks, sign. Really. Thanks.

"CAUTION! Bear activity has increased in this area. We obviously have enough space to list a few tips on what to do when you see a bear, but we like to have gaping wide blank areas for the rusty stapler stains. If you don't know what to do when you see a bear, you will most likely be mauled. And do not leave food unattended."

Wow, earth is cool.

I believe this is a Ponderosa Pine (I could be wrong, I'll come back here and fix it if I am). The trunk looks red with black squiggles from a distance.

The outer bark chips off like puzzle pieces. The trunk smells very sweet and its needles grow in bundles very high above the base.

A vacant bird's nest.

(We started hiking much too late in the day. For once, on a Sunday we weren't hungover, but neither of us thought to bring our snow boots so we had to make a quick return to Albuquerque.)

We piss anywhere, man.

So the first half mile is a gradual uphill and most of it is, I think, is parking lot and paved roads, but you wouldn't know for sure because the snow is very deep and hardly melted anywhere. And it sucks. Walking in snow is only slightly more annoying than walking in sand, plus we're going uphill, but not steep enough to get any flat spots or downhills anywhere.

This looks like a Where The Wild Things Are movie poster.

We turned right (north) on the Faulty trail, which was idiotic. Marc and I planned at home to go on the moderate trail, Armijo, for which we mapped out ahead of time, planned enough food and water for that particular trail and then after all that, went down Faulty, which turns out was miles longer than the other one and rated as difficult.

Wonderful.

This is a banana yucca. She's holding up really well even this close to the trail in the winter. Their roots are edible and delicious. (We didn't eat any though).

This looks like a juniper based on the gnarly waves of the bark, but it's been uprooted for a while, so I couldn't examine it's needles. I never knew Junipers could be so red. It's mesmerizing. And the bark feels smooth and light.

The NM natural history museum's website says there are three main types of Junipers: One-seed Juniper, Rocky Mountain Juniper and Alligator Juniper. It's definitely not Alligator Juniper and you'll see why in a few pictures.

The cholla cactus!

This, I found out, is called Creeping Oregon Grape. (Initially, I thought it was holly.) In the spring time, it produces clusters of yellow flowers which become edible blueberries by summer. A strange and untrustworthy website says it gets its name from being found on the Oregon trail and used medicinally to treat infections. Sure. I'm gullible enough to believe that.

The trail was only occasionally mucky and anyway, it was nice to have the sun warming us.

This is an Alligator Juniper.

Pre-nervous breakdown happiness.

I know that expression very well. "Hey, Gigi? I love your photos and I love that you love taking them, baby, but seeing as we have no trail map and the sun is about to set, we might need to GET OUR FUCKING ASSES MOVING ON."

Yessir.

What bird has tracks this large?

Obviously, we weren't lost in the sense a little girl in a Stephen King novel about the lonely wilderness is lost. We were on a well-worn trail with the highway in visible distance.

But we were running out of water and snacks and sunlight and didn't know how long the trail would continue. We could either jump down the ravine to the highway or sit on tree stumps until a pack of wolves found us. Marc kept muttering, "Darkness. Cold. Wolves. Hunger."

We continued walking the steep trail.

We found a trail sign and even though it didn't mean anything to us without a map (stupid, stupid us), we followed it. It ran parallel to the highway so we figured a campground wouldn't be so far away.