heading out

twenty feet and there's the dirt road, twisting through the cactus, duck under a juniper, and there you are, the open road. you climb a gradual slope and then come to the top of the hill, and you've got a choice to make, straight ahead leads you out into the desert, turn right and it's along the top of the canyon, a two mile circuit, but if you feel strong and want more you bushwhack across the up and down countryside, sliding and slipping on the stone and rock, find a little used trail and keep heading southeast towards the Lamy train station, past a ranch that heads down into a canyon, barking dogs come out to greet you, they're friendly, but what a ruckus, yelping away a quiet hike, no wonder the indians kept dogs around ,there's no way to get within a half a mile of them, no matter, the rancher lets us cut through his property, his ranch in a clearing surrounded on one side by cliffs, with some interesting rock formations. we climb up, skidding on the sandstone, small caves, erosion cuts into the cliffs adding to the strangeness of the place. we call them indian caves but they're not, maybe some animals could live in the small holes, still it gives us great delight to sit on top of the cliffs and imagine we were an indian, and being alone here, it adds to the wonder and magic of the place. we sit for awhile taking it all in, it's the same as it was a hundred years ago, i pick up a stone, has another hand picked it up, noticed the curve? certainly other eyes have seen the same hills, stood up here, headed down the draw for an evening walk, or a hunt for rabbits. i'm not foolish enough to think i'm the only one who's been here. continue down the draw and you come to the train tracks and you've got another decision to make, you can forge on in to Lamy itself and to the train station and into the town, or you can shorten your trip by turning back and bushwhacking the way you came , climb and scramble up hill and head home that way, or follow the tracks up to the highway and head over the pass until you come to our road, Old Road South, and turn off the main road, highway 285. If you choose to head to Lamy, a typical northern new mexican town, the required church, the mix of decent adobes and semi falling ones, with 10 cars, 2 of which work, the rest modern sculpture, and a horse, or burro, dogs and assorted junk which adds pure flavor, and then make it to the station itself and stand on the tracks alone, you're transported to another time. stand on the tracks amigo, take off your hat and look north and south, it could be any western you've ever seen. high noon, 310 to yuma. i love train stations, that feeling of going somelace, the romance of leaving and returning, coming home, but don't tarry too long, you've got a long hike out of town, past that closed church in disrepair, past the old saloon, the Legal Tender, it's shut down too, and hike two miles down the long narrow road out of town, another vision right there to be chewed on, its not just a road, it's the road of life and you'll have time to think about it because you'll battle a head wind all the way home, up the pass and you better be in shape, or the pass will suck the life out of your lungs, eight miles round trip or thereabouts and then home to sit on the back porch with a beer or margarita, and you take stock of where you've been. it's right out the back door amigo, and think of all the characters you've just become, an indian, a cowboy, a traveler on a train, a searcher, a climber, a spiritual wanderer, a lonesome hero walking into the sunset down a long road and the views you've seen, blue sky meeting your hat, boots on the grey road, rust colored earth, veridian trees, the soft clay cliffs leaving scars of your climb, the shiny miles of tracks, a listing church, the saloon, shutters falling off, oh those honky tonk nights, with that little missy from Lamy, a long kiss under the full moon, your old red truck, waiting like a steed, hank williams on the radio and heading home. damn the next nice day i'm heading out, twenty steps and i'm on the road. i'm gone. jgk