[Day 20] Grants

I didn’t sleep too great in the hostel. I had an upper bunk which was excessively warm, and my bunk buddy below talked of some celebration in his dream along with his snoring. Surprisingly, I was not groggy at my 8am wake up despite a 2am bedtime. I got to my final tasks in town: another shower, more calories, and resupply.

I headed a half mile down the street to a breakfast joint, only to find it closed. There was a high-portions Chinese place that opened for early lunch, so I decided to wait it out with a gas station breakfast of two Blue Bunny ice cream sandwiches and a yogurt parfait. I also grabbed my resupply, which was high in Cheezits, Snickers, and Skittles. I am such a child with my diet.

The Chinese place did not disappoint. For fifteen bucks, they gave me a portion of orange chicken that might have been a whole chicken and a bowl of hot and sour soup fitting for four people. I didn’t finish either.

After lunch, I did my final charging of devices at the hostel and let my food settle for an hour. I departed town around 2pm, making one last grocery store stop to replace my fouling Smart Water bottles. I sipped on a Yerba Mate as a walked the five miles of highway out of town.

Leaving town, I passed the Western New Mexico Correctional Facility. The dichotomy of position and place between myself and the orange jumped-suited men behind the layers of wire fence could not be more pronounced. Here I was, hiking western New Mexico as a free man with the power of choice, enjoying the emptiness and beauty of this remote state. Over the wall, these men were in vacant western New Mexico by force, serving time for abuse of their freedom and the ways they engaged themselves in the world.

I continued the highway and was flagged down by a familiar face. Jingle, a mom supporting her daughter who was finishing up her CDT hike from last year, flagged me down in her camper-kitted Tacoma. I had met her in the pie shop in Pie Town. She offered me an orange soda and a rice crispy treat. I gladly accepted. She introduced me to her daughter, Casper, who was slack packing through New Mexico. We all briefly talked the trail as I sipped soda. It’s always great to meet people who have a love for the American backcountry — you’d be surprised how many hikers you meet do not care too much about the terrain they are hiking.

I finally got to the trailhead and walked some leisure miles with a full belly. After about a thousand feet to the top of the mesa north of Grants, grassy fields with pines transitioned to more dense forest as I hiked myself towards Mt. Taylor — an 11,300 foot peak. There is an alternate route that summits Mt. Taylor, then reconnects with the CDT adding about additional two miles of travel. I set myself up for a summit tomorrow. Should I get up early enough and the conditions be cold enough for the hard snow that inevitably sits on the north side of the mountain, I’ll take a go at hiking the alternate.

I’m cowboy camped under some pines near a piped water source. I’ve seen some very bright, long-streaking shooting stars tonight. I’ve merely left town, yet I feel a hundred miles away from the nearest soul.

Signing off,

Zeppelin