[Day 8] To the River

Sore feet from pounding pavement into Silver City convinced me to hang around for half a day. Around 7am, I checked out and meandered across town to a dive called the Grinder Mill. I scoffed down a breakfast burrito and an order of biscuits and gravy.

I walked to Gough Park and rested on a bench for a while. A group of local friends gathered slowly at a nearby table. You could tell they do this on a daily basis: gather at the park and talk the happenings of a small town. Before I knew it, I had a group of five local guys gathered around intermittently asking me questions as they talked the town talk. I must have an aura, because I seem to attract random engagement from strangers. David, Mickey, and the fellows passed around a cigarette as they discussed a bicycle show competition that David got second in. At one point, a fellow whose name I didn’t get — missing many of his teeth, wearing a sweat stained Sherwin-Williams hat, tinted sports sunglasses, a Real Tree camo shirt exposing just a hint of his bulging midriff, and some basketball shorts — met the mayor at the CDT days yesterday over the pancake breakfast. He said his hand stung have he shook the mayor’s hand and he had to wash it with bleach. Before leaving, this same fellow claimed to be allergic to water and to shower with lye soap and wire brushes.

I departed the local guys club when the talk died a bit and the radio came on. I went for an early lunch at Blake’s Lotaburger — a popular chain in New Mexico. The hatch green chile hamburger was good, but nothing too special. I returned to the park, charged my phone, then decided to grab a Dairy Queen Blizzard before I hit the trail. As you can tell, I maximize calorie consumption before I leave town.

The brownie Blizzard made the start of my 1pm road walking out of town a bit slow. Leaving Silver City, there are a two options — the official Black Range route or the Gila River Alternate. The Black Range lacks water and easy resupply, not to mention it burned last year. The obvious choice, for most hikers, is the stunning Gila River Alternate. I’ll let the coming days of journaling speak to why this alternate is something else.

After six miles of highway, I turned on a dirt road and continued on Little Walnut Road. A few miles in, I met a family doing some target practice with slingshots and BB guns shooting into the forest. The father engaged me in conversation as his two sons kept shooting. He told me he was impressed by my hiking speed. He proceeded to tell me to get back to San Diego. He claimed Silver City was a place to spend the remaining five years of your life before you die. Note, he’s admitting this deep discontentment right in front of his wife and kids, saying that Silver City is a terrible place for kids and it kills businesses. He said a well-to-do member of the community who makes racing rims tried to bring some sort of speedway to Silver City, but the city council wouldn’t allow it. I gave him his ten minutes of venting, told him to enjoy, and wished his family all the best.

There was much dirt road walking today, but it really wasn’t bad. It followed some very aggressive ATV trails, and I passed a couple large parties returning from the trail on Can-ams.

At mile 13, the trail dropped to Bear Creek, a stunning full-fledged creek coming out of the canyon. I watered up and knew I had to continue along.

The terrain became entrancing. I zig zagged over this creek for a while through a deep canyon. After a while, I climbed along a dry creek bed to a retired dirt road that was now the trail. The next five miles were some of the best sunset views I’ve hiked.

I am wildly excited to arrive to the Gila River tomorrow. There is no way back for me. Whether the Gila is high or not, this is terrain I must continue along. It is too captivating.

I am less than a day out of town, yet I feel so removed. Todays landscaped has been very separating. I came out here to forget the world and to let the world forget me for a time. I feel like the Gila will be ax blow that splits the wood. Obviously, I am not that away — I text, call, and blog in towns. But, despite this, I am confident this trail will create a much desired divide from the immediate world.

I’m cowboy camped on a flat rock table; strange animals are communicating repeatedly with segments of chattering duck quacks; I warm in my sleep bag as I eat rehydrated teriyaki chicken and rice. I could not ask more of life now.

Signing off,

Zeppelin