After a few satisfying days in the Wichitas we were excited to discover what the Southwest had in store for us. Our first stop was Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The last time I had been to Santa Fe, I was probably no older than 11 or 12 and on vacation with my parents. To this day, I still recall that trip in fond, youthful flashes: the deep earth tones of adobe and dusty hills, old Spanish-style churches, cobblestone streets and horseback rides through the mountains. I was eager to return as an adult and see how it compared to my dreamy childhood impressions.
We decided to set up camp a little outside of the city in the hills of Bandelier National Park. This location allowed us to pay homage to the Pueblo Cliff Dwellers, some old-school rock climbers in their own right. We were also able to take an off-day jaunt into Santa Fe, which was indeed as beautiful as I remembered (albeit a bit more touristy). Most importantly, our campsite location allowed us easy access to the local White Rock crags.
Our highlight for the area was probably the popular Overlook, arguably one of the better crags in the White Rock area and conveniently located—yep—right under an overlook. As a result, the area features a gorgeous vista, with views of white-capped Sangre de Cristo mountains in the distance and the Rio Grande just below on the Southeastern side. Gleaming black basalt rock completes the lovely scene.
Unfortunately, we were only able to check only a few other places before the weather started closing in on us. Early spring in the mountains of New Mexico means cold temperatures, apparently, and very shortly after we arrived it began dipping low into the 20s at night. When one morning we awoke to snow outside our tent, we decided it was time to head south to the warmer climes of the desert.
Our first destination in southern New Mexico was Box Canyon, just outside of Socorro. We had read there was free camping at the mouth of the canyon, and hoped to spend a night or two dirtballing and climbing on the cheap.
We arrived mid-day on a Saturday and were immediately met by a day camp of sorts, whose kids were crawling all over virtually every part of the main canyon. A little overwhelmed, we sheepishly set up camp up over a ridge and hung around waiting for them to clear out for the afternoon. (We didn’t yet realize that the better climbing was just further back, around the bend…) The field trip vibe that presided over the area did not help my already mediocre first impression of the Box. It was hot and dusty and garbage was tumbling from the overflowing dumpster and blowing all over the large parking lot.
We spent an uneasy afternoon half-heartedly working boulder problems and trying to find some shade. Eventually, the crowds went home, the sun sank a little deeper in the sky, and in the cool desert evening we found a little respite and some decent climbing. We built a fire, loosened up a bit and enjoyed our relative solitude beneath the giant night sky.
We were sharing the camping area with only one other person, Vicki, an older woman who obviously lived in her van, a big dented white thing stationed semi-permanently by the bathrooms. Vicki was alone save for her blind dog, and was pleased to have some companions at the canyon. She came over to ‘chat’ and did not stop even to breath for at least 25 minutes. It seemed like she had all of the information about every campground in a 100 mile radius hardwired—so and so has good clean water, free showers there, good produce stand here, nice camping there, and so on. She regurgitated the information to us unprompted, recognizing us as fellow travelers, I suppose.
Soon Vicki and I were bartering fruits and dried goods and she was giving me tips on how to stay clean without wasting precious water supplies. She also explained that she had devised a signal for us—3 long beeps of her horn—to alert us to trouble, should it ever arise. In the pleasant evening light, the warning call seemed like a silly gesture and we chuckled about it back by our campfire. Yet, that night a stream of cars came in and out of the dark parking lot until late into the night, driving too fast down the gravel and making sharp u-turns in the parking lot. At one point, someone even got out and searched through the seemingly empty darkness with a flashlight. My mind raced with possible murder plots, drug deal schemes, and cruel violent schemes, with our little campsite at the center of the drama. I laid awake late into the night, straining my ears for possible intruders in our makeshift camp, for the 3 long warning tones from Vicki. In the end, I heard nothing but the low barking of coyotes in the near distance.
The drama at Socorro seemed to mark a small string of bad luck for us, and for the next few days we dealt with minor set backs and car trouble. When we were finally back on the road we headed out to explore Enchanted Tower area. About an hour farther down the road from Socorro Box, the Enchanted Tower is tucked away on National Forest land, behind a private ranch property. The tower itself features a bunch of really steep, bolted routes that we did not even try to get on. But, we had tons of fun exploring the short, shady sport climbs that run behind the tower. From a few echoed shouts we gathered that there were other people around, but we never saw them and we felt like we had the whole enchanted place to ourselves. Apparently, access has been an ongoing issue here, so, if you head out to this beautiful spot, make sure to be respectful, drive slowly on the way in and sign the guest registry.
Our time at the Enchanted Tower served to balance out some of the bizarre experiences we’d had in New Mexico. Nevertheless, we were eager to get back on the highway and keep moving west to Arizona. Our first stop in this lovely state was Jack's Canyon. Jack's lies east of Flagstaff by about an hour, and features hundreds of well-protected sport routes on clean, white limestone. The canyon itself is ideal, since it doesn’t seem to get used by anyone but climbers and is fairly far off the main roads. Once you get down to the bottom, the trail winds past various walls with routes that range from the super steep to moderate, with everything in between. Another bonus, there are tons of free campsites right at the head of the trail into the canyon, which are secluded feeling thanks to scrubby tree growth throughout. After our experience at Socorro, we were thrilled to be camping with other seemingly normal climbing-type folks and excited to explore the area.
After our first day at Jacks we brought a couple of beers to the edge of the canyon and watched the sun sink below the opposite ridge. We no longer had to dodge snow or rain or crazy people or blown out tires, but rather could relax and look forward to a few full days of climbing. It was almost too good to be true…
Up next, Red Rock Canyon and our exciting conclusion! Stay tuned, friends!
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