Santa Fe Part 2

So, we left off last time saying goodbye to producer Shannon and the camera crew. But James and I still had so much more we wanted to see and explore. We decided to continue south toward Las Vegas, NM and stop in Glorieta, near Pigeon Ranch, where the famous Battle of Glorieta Pass was fought in 1862. It was a turning point in the Civil War, and the climax of the New Mexico Campaign, resulting in the Confederates being forced to retreat to Arizona.

Depiction of the Battle of Glorieta Pass by Roy Anderson

I wanted to check out an old car I found on Google Earth that looked a lot like The Bullet. I'd found the trailhead to Glorieta online; it's located on a religious retreat property, and the website for this property said that hikers were allowed into the gated area to park at the trailhead.

However, when we got there, the gate was shut, and there was no one around. A sign said that hikers were NOT allowed to park on the property.

We weren't about to let that thwart us, and we drove around the area slowly, looking for somewhere to park. We finally found a spot, and started what would be a long, very strenuous hike.

Just getting to the trailhead was quite a trek across the large retreat property. However, the weather was beautiful, not too hot, and not too cool. We had a light bounce in our step as we approached the trailhead.

The trailhead signs were confusing, though, and we weren't sure which of the three or four trails would take us to the car. I consulted GE, and read some online info about the trail, and we decided to take the path to the right.

Well, that was the wrong path, as we would realize a good hour into the steep and often dangerous hike. Sometimes the trail disappeared entirely. We crossed streams, edged along narrow strips of earth on steep hillsides, and ducked under or climbed over fallen trees.

"Um, this doesn't seem like the beginner's trail the website said this was supposed to be," I said to James as I skidded down the side of a lichen covered boulder.

"Yeahhhh, I don't think this is the right way..." he replied.

So, we applied some mountain man wisdom to the situation, and promptly disagreed about how to rectify the situation. I knew the correct path was to the left, and squinting through the trees, I thought I could see how we might be able to connect with the right path. However, the way would be precipitous, and difficult. There was a deep, narrow canyon separating our path and the path we should have been on. I thought we could do it.

James was a little more tentative, afraid that we might expose ourselves to danger and wind up not even finding the other trail. He proposed we backtrack all the way back to the beginning of the trail and start over.

I was too impatient for that, and we'd come so far already, and I dreaded the thought of going back the way we came. It was getting really warm out, and my knee was already pinging with little knifelike jolts of pain.

So, we began the descent down into the canyon, crossed a muddy stream, and started the ascent back up to what I prayed would be the right path.

Despite the difficulty of the trail, we maintained a positive attitude and joked about our predicament. It was either laugh or cry at this point, and I like laughing better.

As we climbed, it became more and more apparent that we wouldn't be able to complete the climb without some serious rock climbing equipment. I had to admit defeat, and that's not something I like to do. We had to turn back. But I proposed we follow the muddy stream back, and avoid climbing until we were forced to.

Eventually, we made it back, and although a little hot and tired, we started on the right trail. I'd measured the car to be about a mile and a half from the trailhead, and figured we'd already hiked a strenuous two miles. My mind was beginning to tell my body I wasn't going to make another 3 miles, especially if the trail was as difficult as the one we'd just been on.

However, this trail turned out to be a bicycle ride compared to the other one. And in reality, it was a popular mountain biking trail. The walk was, for the most part, easy, and we eventually ditched the sturdy walking sticks we'd used on the difficult trail.

We trekked across butterfly-laden meadows, admiring the different trees and flowers and reeds that grew in the wetter areas.

It was hard to imagine a bloody battle had once been fought there. Like the beautiful turquoise waters of the South China Sea, the fields and meadows we strolled across hid a violent history of bloodshed.

Finally, our eyes fell on the most beautiful rusted piece of junk I've ever seen. The Bullet...that ended up not being The Bullet. But it was definitely "shot."

I started poking around, trying to find the serial number Forrest mentioned in the book.

Despite my enthusiasm, I didn't find the serial number that would prove this to be the actual Bullet. I did find a couple of spiders that made me scramble out of there pretty quick, though.

I don't think they were tarantulas, but to me, every spider is a tarantula.

After we had thoroughly examined the car and the immediate area, my curiosity tried to convince me to continue on to the ghost town of Glorieta. But we'd already hiked so long, and there was still one more place we wanted to visit before the sun set. So, with one last glance over my shoulder, and a promise to return to explore this amazing place another time, we headed back to the car.

It was probably a good thing we did...by the time we reached the retreat property, I was about dead. The temperature had risen, and we'd pretty much stopped sweating. With just a couple hundred yards to go to the car, we collapsed under the shade of a giant oak, and drank the last of our water. After absorbing some welcome breeze, we picked ourselves up and finally reached the car.

Here's a cool old Texaco station on the retreat property:

We'd already done so much that day, but we weren't done, and the most exciting part was still to come...