Ghost Ranch Hike to Box Canyon

Roger here....   Dianne is resting her bruised leg and looking forward to a quiet day outdoors in a reclining lawn chair.  We had planned to return to Ghost Ranch for a second hike, but hiking really isn't an option for Dianne for a few days.   So while she stayed with the dogs (and cat), I set off on a hike to the Box Canyon at Ghost Ranch.  Before leaving, it was necessary for me to assure Dianne that I would have plenty of water, a charged cell phone, gorp, and several promises not to fall off the side of a mountain.  I also slathered on plenty of sunscreen and donned my shade-giving cowboy hat.

The hike to Box Canyon is billed as a four-miler with an ascent of 500 feet - a mile further than the trek to Chimney Rock, but 100 feet fewer in ascent.  This was definitely a different hike than yesterday's.  The path meandered through a wooded (and shaded! Yea!) canyon.  Yesterday, we spent a lot of time looking down, often straight down, to see the spectacular views.  Today, I spent the majority of my time looking up, straight up.  If I develop an injury from this hike, it will be a stiff neck.  

Along the way, I passed by three Native American hogans....

A rock formation that reminded me of an Indian head, complete with head gear....

And, Barbara Bush speaking behind a lectern.  

A national herbalist convention/seminar was taking place at the ranch.  The attendees were everywhere.  It has been a long time (college days in the late 60's) since I have seen so many tie-dyed shirts, men with pony tails, and ladies in flowing, beaded dresses.  One of the mellow (and very nice) ladies pointed out an interesting spiral seed as I was passing her on the trail.  She indicated that the spiraling feature allows the seed to travel well in the wind, then helps to screw it into the soil.  It also provides a larger surface for the collection and transport of water in this high desert environment.  Interesting.  Worth a picture.  Fun and unexpected to have a conversation with an herbalist.

Back to the hike.  After crossing a small stream several times in a narrowing canyon by hopping from rock to rock, the trail reached a dead end.  

A recent rockslide blocked the stream, creating a chest-deep pool where the path should have been. I could see the path on the other side, and thought about wading through, but did not want to take a chance of getting the camera wet. (Keeping the camera dry was not one of Dianne's warnings, but it would have been, had she thought of it.)  A young man and his two (four-  to-six-year old) kids soon arrived at the blockaded trail. Together we conceived a plan to see if we could cross the water downstream and scramble up the slope to find a way down on the other side.   I volunteered to check it out. 

 I scrambled up about thirty feet and carefully made my way above the stream where I took a picture of the newly formed pond below.  However, to go further would mean scrambling along loose gravel at a precipitous angle with a thirty-foot drop to an area of scattered boulders.  Since I promised Dianne that I would not fall off the side of a mountain, I did not make the attempt.  The man and his children waited for me to get safely back to the trail before we reversed direction and headed back to the ranch.

On the walk back, I was passed by a flurry of very chatty, wet, young teenagers, who simply ignored the obstacle and swam across the pond.  Ah, youth!  Near the approach to the ranch, several of the young people were peering through the shrubs toward a decent-sized pond.  Except for some quiet giggles, they were being very still -- unusual for 14-year-olds.  Skinny dippers in the pond!  Were they free-spirited herbalists or young college docents?   I decided not to take pictures and quickly walked by the gawking adolescents :-)


Back at the ranch I took a few pictures of the cool adobe architecture and the skull of a steer that hangs on the "ghost house."  I then stopped by the office to report the rockslide.  Glad I did, because they were not aware of it.  Didn't report the skinny dippers ;-)

On the way back to the campground I stopped to photograph a couple of historical markers.  One marked Abiquiu as the eastern end of the Spanish Trail connecting Santa Fe to Los Angeles.  The other recognized the work of the artist Georgia O'Keeffe.  You really cannot go anywhere in this area without hearing her name.  I also stopped to pick up a few groceries at Bode's, the local store, and returned to find the "patient" resting comfortably.  (She is much better, by the way, and should be good to go in a day or two.)

Tomorrow, we will break camp and travel sixty miles down the road to another Corps of Engineers campground at Cochiti Lake.  This will be our base for exploring Santa Fe, Los Alamos, and Albuquerque. 

Ghost Ranch Hike to Chimney Rock - Abiquiu, NM

Hi all, Dianne here.  First, just a reminder that you can click on each photo to see an enlarged view.  These might be worth it!


Well, it's Sunday, and I'm watching the weekenders pack up and leave the Abiquiu Reservoir campground in droves.  We're here for two more nights.  Roger is hiking the Box Canyon hike at Ghost Ranch.  I'll explain why I'm not accompanying him later in this blog.  (I actually have one leg elevated and iced as I write this!)  

While he's gone, my assignment is to write about the amazing hike the two of us, plus the boys, took to Chimney Rock, also at Ghost Ranch, on Friday.  

We've had a distant view of the colorful bluffs at nearby Ghost Ranch from our camp site at Abiquiu Reservoir for the past 8 days.  Ghost Ranch is only about four miles away, in the middle of the bluffs.  Georgia O'Keeffe visited there in 1929, then maintained a casita at the ranch because of the amazing vistas in this remote high desert area of Northern New Mexico.  Many of her paintings include views from here.  As you see from our amateur photos, it's easy to understand why an artist would be drawn here.  Many artists still are.  I think it's impossible to take a bad photo here.  

My first inkling that this was going to be a special day was on the short drive from our campground over to the trail head.  All I can say is "Wow!"  We turned onto the ranch property and followed a long, bumpy, dirt/gravel road to the conference center.  Ghost Ranch was once a dude ranch (1920s and 1930s).  In the 1950s it was donated to the Presbyterian Church, which now maintains it as a busy conference center.  

There is no charge to visit the ranch for day hikes; you simply check in at the visitor center.  After completing this hike, we understand why they ask hikers to sign in:  There are steep, rocky climbs with sharp drop-offs.  The sun is unrelenting (no shade at all).  This is, of course, high desert and is also rattlesnake country.  Luckily we didn't see any wildlife at all, other than a soaring hawk and some squawking ravens, who were not pleased with us and our four-legged friends invading their space.  

I can tell you, that had we not brought along ample water for both us and the dogs, we might have been in trouble.  Should you take this hike, be sure to also wear sturdy shoes or boots with a good grip and don't be like me, wear a hat!  

We took so many photos, each one a "keeper," that it would be impossible to include them all in this blog. 

Here's a shot of a tiny cairn in a hole in a rock: 

  If you have time and want to see all 87 photos, here's a link to my photobucket album of our hike:


If you follow this link, there should be a red button on the top right corner of the page that says "Slideshow."  Click on that, and the photos will follow automatically. 

Hike to Chimney Rock at Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico

Roger wore his cowboy hat.  I should have worn mine, but I am on a quest to lighten my hair naturally since I no longer color it.  I colored my hair blonde from the time I was 16 until we hit the road in 2008.  When we left the gloomy midwest, I realized that the sun does a better job of it, and I no longer have to worry about root touch-ups.  I plan to enjoy this until the gray overtakes the blonde.  This vanity on my part resulted in a sunburned neck; I guess I had it coming.  Folks wear cowboy hats in the west for a reason.

The elevation on this hike rises 600 feet.  There are rocky uphill scrambles along the way, and twisty switchbacks with the aforementioned drop-offs.  The views were worth every minute of it!  I have finally acclimated to the altitude, so this hike seemed much easier to me than the one at Taos.  However, if you look closely in this photo, there is a large bruise forming on the back of one leg, above the knee.  At this point I didn't even know it was there, but I started having pain as we came back down the mountain.  Turns out, I have hurt my hamstring muscle, enough to cause the large bruise.  I'm taking it easy for a few days and it already feels better, although there's still a knot in the muscle the size of a large marble.  Getting old is not for sissys!

At the beginning of the hike, Chimney Rock was just an unmistakable landmark in the distance. 

 We climbed higher and higher.  Finally the hike ends on the mesa behind Chimney Rock, and affords a close-up view of the back of Chimney Rock, as well as panoramic views of the Piedra Lumbre Basin below.  

We took turns climbing across a slot drop-off to a rock giving the best views.  

By this time, the dogs were done in.  We found a small  patch of shade and let them rest for a while and rehydrate (us, too.)   Once we had recuperated, we made our way carefully down the rocky, sometimes loose gravel, trail.

Relaxing in our recliners, we did a little sky watching as we rested our legs.  This cloud reminded me of Roger doing one of his standing-on-a-rock poses!  

Another photo-worthy sunset ended a memorable day in a place we'll never forget!  

Abiquiu Reservoir - Disturbing the Peace

Roger here...  I have written about unexpected irritations in idyllic places before.  Here is another installment.

Sitting by the motor home in the shade - enjoying a good book.....  Sniff.  Yuck.  What is that smell?  Without warning, the clear mountain air smells like sewage.  A few minutes later, I recognize the culprit:  A honey wagon materializes on the other side of the hill and is headed my way.  (For those of you who don't travel in an RV, a honey wagon is a truck with a large holding tank and a pump.  The purpose?  Sucking sewage from motor home tanks, and in this case, from the several outhouses scattered around the campground.  Fun, huh?) 


 One of those outhouses was near our site.  We had never noticed an odor, until now.  Loud pump on.  Disgusting smell.  I go inside.

Sitting by the motor home in the shade - enjoying a good book.....  What is that noise?  Oh great, it is a gas-powered weed-eater, and it is coming this way.  (Good news - since we no longer own a house, I am not the guy running it).


  As the man and the weed-eater work their way onto our site, I go inside.  As the man trims the few patches of yellow grass, the dust flies and so do the pebbles.  Bam! That one hit the motor home.  I'll have to see if it chipped the paint.  (It didn't.)

He's gone.  Heading toward the door to go back outside.  What's that noise?  Oh great, it is a guy on a riding mower, and he is coming this way. (Good news - since we no longer own a house, I am not the guy on the mower).  I stay inside. 


 The guy on the mower randomly mowed our site.  He did not go back and forth in a straight line.  He did not mow in a square.  His dust-blowing ride was totally random. 


 Watching him for a while, he reminded me of the Roomba vacuum cleaner that Dianne once had.  It would go in a straight line until it hit something and then randomly turn and go in another direction.  The poor guy must not have had any other places to go, because he re-mowed the patchy grass several times - one particular spot was cut six times.  The inefficiency was kind of irritating for a concrete-sequential guy like me, but, oh well! 

 After about a half hour (no exaggeration) he finally moved on up the hill.  I went outside to dust things off.  Look!  Missed a spot!

Sitting inside on the couch, looking at the scenery.....  What are those giant footprints in the dirt just outside the motor home?  Has Sasquatch wandered into the wilds of New Mexico?  Upon closer inspection, the footprints turned out to be skid marks where the mower guy slammed on the brakes to make one of his random turns.


But look.  Could that be the shadow of Sasquatch next  to the "footprints"?  

A second visit...  I was able to photograph the same mysterious shadow the next day.  Creepy. 


Dianne here:  I won't even try to compete with Roger's Sasquatch observations, but here are some random photos we've taken this week here at Abiquiu:

First, yet another shot of sleeping whippets (the landscaping noise didn't bother them at all....)  My dogs are not exactly cuddly in the normal doggie sense.  In fact, one of our friends once described it as "sleeping with a chicken carcass!"  But they are lovable in their own way.

To cousin Leslie:  Roger, the Grill-Master, grilled the last of your summer squash.  Not sure what all he put on them, but it was delicious!  We paired it with grilled chicken and salad, and ate outside at the picnic table. 

 This was our view.  This mesa (Pedernal) was a favorite subject for painter Georgia O'Keeffe.

Finally, this is a great place for camp fires.  (Chuck:  I did a bit of "dumpster diving" for firewood at empty sites).


  An observation for my Indiana RV-ing friends:  We don't have to cover anything up here, or fold up the chairs at night.  There is NO dew, and things stay perfectly dry overnight. Temps dip into the 50s every night after 80s during the day.  Perfect weather and amazing blue skies.  


Check back soon.  Remember the hike up to Williams Lake that made me feel I needed a lung transplant??  (Apologies to Laurie of "Semi-True Tales of our Life on the Road" for stealing her quip).  Well, we did it again, at Ghost Ranch.  The scenery was as awesome as Zion, no kidding.  You won't want to miss this one!