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Mountain Camping
Four-Legged Point of View July 27, 2010
By Dixie Blue Garcia
 Well they did it! Lydia, my human, and Lee must certainly have read my June article and decided to show this six-pound Papillon what real camping was all about. They loaded up La Señora Tortuga Blanca and off we went to the San Antonio Mountain in Northern New Mexico. This large, free-standing mountain (not part of any mountain chain) in the continental United States sits on the continental divide and is about 50 miles northwest of Arroyo Seco, but it took us about two hours to get the campsite that is roughly nine miles south of the Colorado border. Two Hours! Just how slow is La Señora traveling?
The dome-shaped mountain rises in near isolation as you travel a gravel forest service road. We saw herds of pronghorn antelope as we drove past the sagebrush flats, abundantly dotted with high desert flowers. We then drove past a long meandering Stewart Meadows filled with Blue Flag Irises and other wild flowers.
Lee says this promised paradise on top of a rounded volcanic dome is a major landmark along U.S. Highway 285, and it sits at the southern edge of the scenic San Luis Valley. The summit of the mountain is located in the Carson National Forest and is dotted with BLM and private land. But, we’ll see just how much of a promised paradise this is!
As you drive through the desert, the scale and immensity that define the landscapes of Northern New Mexico are evident, especially to this tiny little Papillon. The sage and chamisa floor seem to go on forever and remind me of the days Lydia and I spent sitting on the Texas coast and looking to an endless horizon of water. No wonder so many chroniclers and storytellers have used imagery of ships at sea as metaphors when writing about this magical place.
San Antonio Mountain is the highest of the cinder cone peaks that dot the nearby landscape and as such appears as an almost perfectly symmetrical dome from certain angles. Nevertheless, the other angles reveal two distinct summits: Antone Peak rises to 890 feet and the San Antone Peak rises to 10,908 feet. Together, they form San Antonio Mountain and there is an interesting little road that leads up to them.
That is where the—oh, let’s call it “the fun”—began. What the Forest Service literature called a road, and what Lee recalled being much different 10 years earlier, was a route of transportation in its simplest form. But, ever the explorer, Lee said, “I’ve never met a road that I didn’t like or that didn’t like me,” and off we went.
Despite the fact that Lydia regularly traverses El Salto Road and has gotten quite adept at dodging giant potholes and craters, this mountain trail brought Lydia a new round of respect for four-wheel drive trucks and their fearless owners who think nothing of hauling a truck loaded with a 1,000 pound La Señora up a road that is widely considered as “barely passable.” The last 10 miles took the longest because Lee was not able to get out of first gear and that geeky gadfly learned what it is to get out of the passenger seat and turn on the four-wheel drive.
This time, Lydia was all too happy to have me sitting in her lap. I spent the time trying to decide if her death-like grip was tighter on the “oh shit” handle adjacent to the front windshield or on me, her furry, four-legged companion who was starting to have a little trouble breathing. Hey, fly lady! Lighten up, will ya?
We arrived at the crossing of the Rio San Antonio along the meadow stretch, so beautiful, but we were quickly onto road quality that had Lydia grasping me ever tighter. The road between this river and the final destination was the biggest humdinger portion of the entire trip. I am not certain my ribs could have withstood it any longer.
Just about the time my human could take no more of the road drama, we turned into and finally arrived in the most beautiful meadow in Tanques Canyon in the Carson National Forest. Lee found a small primitive campsite near the Rio Tanques. The area was full of Ponderosa Pines and Aspen trees and the biggest blue cloudless sky this little Papillon has ever seen!
We had the meadow to ourselves and enjoyed frequent walks, and practiced what Lydia has dubbed as ‘Zen birding.’ When Lee asked her how that differs from typical birding, Lydia replied, “Most birders run around furiously trying to tick off as many birds as they can hear or spot. In practicing “Zen birding,” you sit and let the birds come to you and you get to really know the birds. They’re not numbers or lists, they are creatures to spend time with and enjoy!”
During the three days, Lydia counted about 25 species of western birds, two varieties of ground squirrels and at dusk we heard several male elk roar. I barked and stood ready to take on those scaredy-cat elk, all of them! But they were rightfully hiding in the aspens. Somehow they must have learned about my stellar protective skills.
Lydia sat in her camp chair, notating the birds, when suddenly she exclaimed, “Twenty-five species of birds and not one Eurasian-collared dove or house sparrow! What a rare place this is, as both of those introduced species have invaded nearly every corner of the United States.”
But folks, I gotta tell you, this was camping! While Lydia and Lee did cook some things in La Señora, that girly gadfly gathered wood and built a fire in the cast iron hibachi that Lee says was developed for third world nations. I even saw Lydia place a bottle of champagne along with the food into the cool stream to chill. And about this time I had a little accident, which I am not going to talk about, but let us just say that I too got a bath in the Rio Tanques. It was so embarrassing and cold!
Lydia played in the aspen grove early in the mornings, at mid-day and when the light began to change in the afternoon. And of course, we all enjoyed walking the length of the stream to watch the critters and birds through a pair of binoculars.
Once the night sky showed itself, the immensity of scale became even more evident than the drive through the desert valley. The only light within miles was sparse enough that the sky was a dark velvet blue-black and the constellations seemed so close that even I, a wee-bit of a Papillon, could stretch my paw and touch the stars.
At last, we found ourselves at Father’s Day and day three of bliss, but ready to head La Señora down the mountain and back toward home. Lydia took a deep breath, buckled up and placed one hand on the “oh shit” bar and her other hand squarely round my shoulders. Lee fired up the truck and pointed La Señora down the deeply pocked and narrow road.
At one point while La Señora was perched at a precarious angle, Lee drew a big smile and asked, “At what degree would this whole thing tip?”
You know, I don’t think I heard Lydia respond exactly. But I did hear some muffled pieces of words that sounded like, “full of grace,” and “blessed is the fruit…” but I could be wrong. After all, I am just a dog—really folks, just a tiny little dog.
Alas! We finally found ourselves skirting the Stewart Meadow and watching waves of Blue Flag Irises as we floated toward Highway 285. The temperature difference between the campsite and the desert floor was evident and I was quite relieved when Lydia finally loosened her grip on my petite little body. I can finally breathe!
Since Lydia had let go of her death grip on me, I curled up and drifted off as I heard:
You know, that road is exactly what is taking place all over America right now.
Yes!
Adjustments to the economics of a people with a faith so shattered in Wall Street and multinational corporations that the road ahead looks as treacherous as the road to the Rio Tanques.
You have to slow way down, lighten your pack to only the essentials that you need for the journey and look ahead one hurdle at a time.
You don’t know what the next stretch looks like, but when you look back at the stretch you just completed, you have the confidence to step a little further outside of your comfort zone in order to complete the challenges and opportunities.
Yes! And what else?
And just when you think you can bear no more, the meadow—complete with birds and mammals and streams and the most awesome stars—appears and you know it was all worth it.
Yes.
I, Dixie Blue, would recommend that you contact the Forest Service Office in Tres Piedras for information on weather and road conditions before beginning your own adventure on San Antonio Mountain. But folks, it is so worth it!
Until next time, ¡hasta la vista!
Sidebar:
From the USDA Forest Service
Directions
Wildlife viewing at San Antonio Mountain is from a series of roadside pullouts only; binoculars or spotting scopes are recommended for best viewing. Because the mountain is an important winter wildlife area, it is closed to public access, including foot traffic, horseback, or snowmobile. Snowmobiles are also prohibited off established roads on both sides of U.S. Highway 285, north of the intersection of U.S. Highway 64. From the flashing yellow light at Tres Piedras, go 11 miles north on U.S. Highway 285 to Forest Road 87 and the small brown sign for Stewart Meadows Waterfowl Area. Turn left and continue on gravel road 8 miles to the meadows, down the hill to your right. Back on the highway, travel north 19 more miles to the first San Antonio Mountain sign. Since the mountain looms before you—the largest physical feature around for many miles—it’s impossible to miss.
San Antonio Mountain is cooperatively managed by the Bureau of Land Management (505) 758-8851; USDA Forest Service (505) 758-8678; New Mexico Dept. of Game and Fish (505) 445-2311; and the New Mexico State Land Office (505) 827-5033. The New Mexico State Highway and Transportation Department maintains the parking pullout areas.
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