Last Chance Canyon- Camp Night 7
Last Chance Canyon is a canyon in the Guadalupe Mountains of New Mexico, just north of Guadalupe Mountains National Park. It is located in the Guadalupe District of the Lincoln National Forest. This canyon is a riparian zone, with a wonderful contrast between desert and lush, wet creek bed. It was also the site of a 1869 battle between the U.S. Cavalry and the Apache. The exact location of the battle site is restricted by the National Register of Historic Places, but there a brief mention of Apache breastworks in the area of the canyon. While not the main object of this trip, I had hoped to "discover" for myself this bit of history.
Of course, as with all my posts, click on the photos for a decent, full view of the photo. Please.
I left Texas early Tuesday morning under overcast skies. It had been raining and dreary for what seemed like forever, nearly two weeks without sun. Driving down U.S. 180, I passed through patches of purple and greenish/blue fog, the color of the ground below the fog reflected into the sky. Almost magically, the skies cleared as I entered New Mexico. Bright sunlight from Hobbs eastward. Believing in nothing, I could only shrug off the good omen, but I found myself smiling anyway.
The trail head for Last Chance Canyon is a short walk from Sitting Bull Falls, the only developed area of the Guadalupe district of Lincoln National Forest; though it is only a day use area. I was a little worried when I pulled up to Sitting Bull Falls, as that there were three school buses and tons of kids and people running all over the place. This was not starting out as the empty-land hike for which I had hoped. There also was some concern about a sign at the trail head that stated that parking was $5 per DAY, and while I planned on being there six days or so, I had planned on only a $5 total parking fee. I was in search of a ranger to sort things out when I met Byron, the host ranger that lives on site. Byron lives in a travel trailer that is chained to the ground to keep it from being blown away in the winds for which the Guads are famous.
Byron was very helpful, and we were able to work something out on the parking fee. Even though the place was crazy busy, Byron asked me if I had five or ten minutes to kill, and when I said I did, went as far as to mark on a map places I should find good water, and cool things to see that are off the beaten track. Byron talked of places that he had found hiking and living in the area, and was more than willing to share the secrets that some people would have held dear. He really helped make this trip. He also said something that has stuck with me, but perhaps that is because I am a late comer to the public land scene. Byron said, "This is _your_ forest. Your tax dollars bought it and go towards maintaining it and paying the people that keep it up. Enjoy it, it is yours."
I love my home, really I do, but Texas is the land of the "No Trespassing" sign. There are few truly great state parks here, and very few truly wild places that I can legal spread my footprints all over. At age 14 signs and fences and the word "trespassing" meant little to me. My mother would drop me off on a desert stretch of road and I would spend a couple of days exploring an area that looked interesting, and whose owner didn't know me. I never took anything I found on these lands, I never tore anything up, and I did not leave anything but footprints. Just the same, the risks are not worth the reward anymore, as that my job is tied to my lack of a criminal record. It is (in part anyway) why I have fallen so hard in love with New Mexico and her empty areas that I can walk across as a man.
Once I got on the trail, I would see no one for four days.
I left the trail pretty early in the hike to explore up Williams Canyon. Off trail is pretty rough in this place, with catclaw, sotol, octillio, soaptree and just about every other plant just laying in wait to poke you, and your self inflating pad.
I climbed up the canyon wall to take a look at things, and every single second I've spent on the stairmaster paid off this trip. My legs held up beautifully, and I felt I could do anything.
The guads started out as a giant coral reef back a few years ago when Texas was a shallow sea.
Of course it would be too easy to climb back down the wall and follow the canyon back around to the trail, so I climbed up over a small cliff of coral and managed to twist my ankle. I also learned that it might be possible to climb up onto something I can't climb off of. Do anything indeed. Finally, I found a spot on the other side I could get down, by lowering my pack on 1/8 inch cord and climbing down after it. Which of course caused me to rip the rear out of my pants.
I know this probably doesn't sound like the best start to a trip that was supposed to last a week, but honestly, I was having a blast.
Once I got off the canyon wall and back on the trail proper I made pretty decent time to where White Oaks trail hits the Last Chance Canyon trail. Stopped for water, and made camp under the open stars.
That night the moon was terribly bright. Almost enough to read by. So bright, that as it set behind the canyon wall, that suddenly being in the dark woke me up. It was cool, eerie, and surreal to watch the sharp line between darkness and light crawl across the canyon floor and up the far wall.
Of course, as with all my posts, click on the photos for a decent, full view of the photo. Please.
I left Texas early Tuesday morning under overcast skies. It had been raining and dreary for what seemed like forever, nearly two weeks without sun. Driving down U.S. 180, I passed through patches of purple and greenish/blue fog, the color of the ground below the fog reflected into the sky. Almost magically, the skies cleared as I entered New Mexico. Bright sunlight from Hobbs eastward. Believing in nothing, I could only shrug off the good omen, but I found myself smiling anyway.
The trail head for Last Chance Canyon is a short walk from Sitting Bull Falls, the only developed area of the Guadalupe district of Lincoln National Forest; though it is only a day use area. I was a little worried when I pulled up to Sitting Bull Falls, as that there were three school buses and tons of kids and people running all over the place. This was not starting out as the empty-land hike for which I had hoped. There also was some concern about a sign at the trail head that stated that parking was $5 per DAY, and while I planned on being there six days or so, I had planned on only a $5 total parking fee. I was in search of a ranger to sort things out when I met Byron, the host ranger that lives on site. Byron lives in a travel trailer that is chained to the ground to keep it from being blown away in the winds for which the Guads are famous.
Byron was very helpful, and we were able to work something out on the parking fee. Even though the place was crazy busy, Byron asked me if I had five or ten minutes to kill, and when I said I did, went as far as to mark on a map places I should find good water, and cool things to see that are off the beaten track. Byron talked of places that he had found hiking and living in the area, and was more than willing to share the secrets that some people would have held dear. He really helped make this trip. He also said something that has stuck with me, but perhaps that is because I am a late comer to the public land scene. Byron said, "This is _your_ forest. Your tax dollars bought it and go towards maintaining it and paying the people that keep it up. Enjoy it, it is yours."
I love my home, really I do, but Texas is the land of the "No Trespassing" sign. There are few truly great state parks here, and very few truly wild places that I can legal spread my footprints all over. At age 14 signs and fences and the word "trespassing" meant little to me. My mother would drop me off on a desert stretch of road and I would spend a couple of days exploring an area that looked interesting, and whose owner didn't know me. I never took anything I found on these lands, I never tore anything up, and I did not leave anything but footprints. Just the same, the risks are not worth the reward anymore, as that my job is tied to my lack of a criminal record. It is (in part anyway) why I have fallen so hard in love with New Mexico and her empty areas that I can walk across as a man.
Once I got on the trail, I would see no one for four days.
I left the trail pretty early in the hike to explore up Williams Canyon. Off trail is pretty rough in this place, with catclaw, sotol, octillio, soaptree and just about every other plant just laying in wait to poke you, and your self inflating pad.
I climbed up the canyon wall to take a look at things, and every single second I've spent on the stairmaster paid off this trip. My legs held up beautifully, and I felt I could do anything.
The guads started out as a giant coral reef back a few years ago when Texas was a shallow sea.
Of course it would be too easy to climb back down the wall and follow the canyon back around to the trail, so I climbed up over a small cliff of coral and managed to twist my ankle. I also learned that it might be possible to climb up onto something I can't climb off of. Do anything indeed. Finally, I found a spot on the other side I could get down, by lowering my pack on 1/8 inch cord and climbing down after it. Which of course caused me to rip the rear out of my pants.
I know this probably doesn't sound like the best start to a trip that was supposed to last a week, but honestly, I was having a blast.
Once I got off the canyon wall and back on the trail proper I made pretty decent time to where White Oaks trail hits the Last Chance Canyon trail. Stopped for water, and made camp under the open stars.
That night the moon was terribly bright. Almost enough to read by. So bright, that as it set behind the canyon wall, that suddenly being in the dark woke me up. It was cool, eerie, and surreal to watch the sharp line between darkness and light crawl across the canyon floor and up the far wall.
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