[Day 6] Burro Mountain

Camp was packed and I was hiking by 6:45am. The trail picked up from where it left off yesterday. I cruised the rolling desert hills through junipers and piñon pines to the base of the 3000-foot climb of the day — Burro Mountain.

The approach to the mountain offered expansive views to the Pyramid and Hatchet Mountains of my recent surroundings. The climb was flagrantly steep at times, but I didn’t mind. I was happy to finally be gaining some elevation.

Burro Mountain peaked out at slightly over 8,000 feet. The arid pine forests were reminiscent of Southern California’s San Bernadinos and San Gorgornios.

The trail quickly descended. This is where I struggle. Downhill hiking is a weakness. I can generally maintain above 3 mph up a climb, but downhill might be below 2 mph. I slip. I slide. I put too much into the controls. I eventually figured it out on the PCT, and I hope it comes back to me quickly out here.

After the previous plastic-leached fluids of the water caches and a couple of cow-shared sources, I reached the first natural water source. It was a small flow in a gulley, delivering some of the remaining reserves of New Mexico’s more considerable winter from the Burro Mountains. It was quite a refreshing spot.

The trail’s direction deterred a ways from the true divide. To avoid mining operations south of Silver City, the trail navigates quite west, where it will merge with interstate 180 and travel back east into Silver City.

The late-day trail mimicked how it began. I became quite lethargic as I walked to camp at the next water source. I took a quick nap on the rocks of a retired forest service road, staring at the unimpeded blue of the New Mexico sky and singing a long to Pearl Jam’s “Wishlist” in my head.

When it comes to entertainment on trail, I implemented a rule to walk 20 miles before I consume any music or other media. This keeps me present and engaged in the moment, whether it may be good or bad. I find it critical to fully engage for a considerable amount of day — whether it be enjoyable or not. There is always something to learn while actively conscious. Beyond 20 miles, I’ll let the serotonin of some audio guide me to mileage end.

By day’s closure, I was appreciating all the modern utilities of household American life: clean water, modern transportation, electrical and gas power, plumbing, fresh foods on demand. All such things are easily taken for granted by our wider population. A hundred years ago, immediate access to any of these items was an emerging technology and scant resource.

I don’t think of these items because I want them or I am miserable without them. Oddly, I enjoy digging cat holes, filtering (or being risky with) water sources, eating preserved foods, and traveling by the means of my own locomotion. But, I spend my entire day doing these things. With these resources at disposal, people can specialize and commit their time to unique pursuits beyond immediate needs. This is the miracle of the modern lifestyle. I fear, however, that people’s lack of appreciation for these privileged resources — among other things — allows for many to act as expectants. When things don’t work, people prefer to complain or blame rather than realize their fortunate position: they assume or expect access to such utilities at no toll. This is an observable and concerning — at least for myself — attitude of American culture that emanates beyond the simple facets previously mentioned. It can be easy to forget how much we have and how very little we are entitled to.

After pondering this for a while, I was beat. I trudged into camp, filtered the bugs from a sitting puddle in a creek bed, and fell asleep before I even made dinner.

Signing off,

Zeppelin