Bandelier

We weren't going to start work until late in the day, so we decided to take in a little bit of New Mexico. Our B&B hostess pointed us to Bandelier, a National Monument and Park. We drove about an hour in the early morning cold, enjoying the beauty around us. Once at Bandelier, you have about a gazillion trails that you can choose from. But let me backtrack: the Bandelier area was once inhabited by the Ancestral Pueblo People. We chose to not check out the Cavate areas (caves that were excavated by the Ancestral Pueblo People) were they had more than 400 rooms built. Instead we chose one of the trails - a moderate one that would take about three hours and that would take us from the top of the mountain down to the Rio Grande: Falls Trail.

The hike began easily enough, specially since it's on the way down. Although the trail had sharp edges and you had to make sure you stayed on the path, the path was pretty big and even, with very few sharp drops between steps. You could hear the Frijoles River singing a good 60 or 70 feet down from the trail, next to us - we essentially walked around this huge crater, in search of some falls, and in search of the river.

On the way down, enjoying the fresh air and the beautiful sights, we crossed paths with a family of four (parents and two boys) who were already coming back from the hike. We all said hi to each other as we passed, and I quickly decided that I will have a hiking family. I want my children to love nature and to feel comfortable with walking around a tiny tiny piece of earth that allows you to see awesomeness around you. Plus it just sounds cool. We also later on ran into a family of three (parents and a boy) that were also on the way down, but had stopped a bit to enjoy one of the falls.

The little boy was very cute, and fearless, climbing to the very edges of the path to look down. He also informed me that the entire thing had once been a volcano that was bigger than... something. I drowned him out, because little know-it-alls are hella cute, but also hella annoying. I decided that my future children would love hiking and would be fearless, but would not be know-it-alls. And if they end up being know-it-alls, they'll be the cute only kind.

We quickly surpassed the family and kept making our way down. That's when the trail got a little steeper, but it was okay - we jumped the Frijoles river a couple of times (back and forth and back and forth) until we finally hit the valley. The most amazing part about the trail was that there was all kinds of foliage on our way down - it went from looking like we were walking down a mountain to areas that could've been somewhere in the Northeast, to the Valley, that was mostly dry and did have tumble weeds, but was caught in between all of these mountains and the most impossibly blue sky you could think of. The Rio Grande totally snuck up on me - the little sucker was huge, and very muddy, but incredibly quiet. You could tell that the current within it was strong, but the surface did not show it at all.

After relaxing by the Rio Grande for a bit and a couple of swigs of water, we headed back. It was high noon and the sun was squarely upon us. I wished that I had brought a hat with me.
Soon though, it became obvious that the way out was not going to be as easy as the way in - of course not. We had walked down into a crater, now we were hiking out of it. Holy Shit. I made it a good 25 minutes before I had to stop. By the time that we hit the second Falls and we stopped to let my heart slow down I had decided that a hiking family is for idiots that don't know how good Central and Prospect Park are, and if my future kids can't get enough nature out of that, they can rent a documentary. We then ran into an older man, he must've been 65 to 70 something, that was also on his way up. He decided to join us and began walking between Matt and I.

I don't know if to be thankful for his presence or not. He kept Matt busy, talking about New Mexico and giving us details about the places we passed; everything from they just fixed this wooden bridge to the type of rock we walked by. He informed us it was tarantula season. I quietly wheezed my way up behind the two of them, while the old man, in his hat and his sweater, walked ahead cool as a cucumber. He reminded me of Roger Gulley and I was torn between finding him adorable and wanting to smack him over the head so that he would stop talking and I could concentrate on my wheezing. I need to get in shape y'all. For reals.