Part Eighty Eight

     January 12th - 13th                   Lordsburg, NM                                (Go to Pt 1)

The next morning was miserable; grey, sunless, cold, windy, and missing only a nice, rain/snow mix that looked certain to come.  About four miles beyond my camp, the road crested a rise where it crossed over the Continental Divide and I stopped to gaze south, certain I was looking off into Mexico.  Immediately, my mind raced straight to the border and I had to quickly rein-it back, because from the high ground I could also see Lordsburg and it was still the rest of the day away.  I had to remind myself, Lordsburg before Mexico.

The endless miles of dead straight pavement were utterly mind numbing, particularly since I was trying to keep my idle mind from wallowing in daydreams of standing triumphantly at the Mexican border which, of course, was impossible.  Nonetheless, I tried to keep my eyes down, repeating the mantra of the day, ‘Lordsburg before Mexico’.

Under abysmal skies, I finally reached the outskirts of town late in the afternoon and, by then, I was convinced that being lost in the desert with no water was preferable to walking paved roads.  It had been a demoralizing two days, watching cars zip by to cover in 20 minutes what would take me all day to walk.  Plus, the boredom on paved roads was bottomless, much worse than on backcountry roads or trails.  Getting from Silver City to Lordsburg was a forgettable experience of empty miles.
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In Lordsburg, I got a motel room; I suppose I could have camped in a barren field behind the motel, but I chose to sleep inside the motel, instead.  The next morning I woke-up early to sun breaking through and the prospect of favorable weather.  This was it: Countdown to Mexico, and I was ready to roll.

I walked south out of Lordsburg on a beat-up and potholed, dirt road that seemed a sure bet for the road shown on my map.  Cruising along at a decent pace, I followed this dirt road for maybe 4 or 5 miles when the driver of a truck, coming in opposite direction, slowed to a stop and a weathered-old, white geezer asked “Where’re ya goin’?  You lost?”

Mmm… maybe, I wasn’t sure, “Does this road go to Animas?” I asked, then stood there as he looked me up and down before finally responding, “This here road don’t go to Animas, this goes up to a mine.  The road to Animas is west of here ‘bout 3 miles.”  I looked around at the foothills I’d hiked up into and asked, “What’s the quickest way for me to get over there?”  Pointing to back behind his truck he said, “The fastest way would be that gully up there and down the other side.  You’ll see the road over there.”   “Thanks.” I replied, then started up the hill.

Click on the map for a larger image

To get back on track, I had to go cross-country up a sandy wash, over the foothill, and down a draw to the other side.  At the bottom of the draw I ran across a pretty sketchy dirt road but it was heading south, so I figured it must be the road I was looking for until several miles later when it flamed-out in the brush.

Oh, for crying out loud!  How hard could this be?  I was in an open valley with nothing to obstruct my view, so where the fuck was that road?  I didn’t need the road to make things easier, water was my problem; the only chance I had of finding water out here would be off that road in the way of holding tanks, so I was going to have to wander around until I found the damn thing.

Before long, I spied a wood, utility pole off in the distance and from there I was able to find my way out to the last road in America leading into the boot-heel of New Mexico.  When I finally did step out onto the road, I could hardly believe it; this was no two-track in the sand, this road saw traffic.  I just stood there, totally perplexed as to how I had missed the only road out of Lordsburg going to Animas, and when a truck drove by at, I don’t know, maybe 40mph, I was downright embarrassed for myself.

As for my actual boot heels, there was friction going on in my boots that afternoon, god only knows why, and not long after hitting the road I could feel hot spots on my heels starting to rub up into blisters.  Blisters?  Seriously?  At this stage of the game?  I had thought I’d grown out of blisters by now.  Plus, it made no sense, I’d been in these boots since Chama, so what gives?
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Who knows, I didn’t make it to a laundromat in Silver City, so the last time my socks had been washed was in the Gila River, and before that, Grants.  Whatever, I obviously knew I should stop and deal with the blisters before they got bad, but did I?  No.

Nope, impatience ruled and I just went ahead and let the last several miles of the day rip those blisters wide open, making sure they would be ripe and tender by the time I got into camp.
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I ended the day near a windmill with a holding tank, a little disheartened by having lost the sunny, morning skies of Lordsburg to an overcast glumness by late afternoon.  

After getting the tent pitched, I pulled off my socks to inspect the damage and could hardly believe I was sitting there, only three days from Mexico, with fucking blisters.  They weren’t as bad as some I’d endured but they definitely needed some doctoring and were going to make for tender feet in the morning.   

I fixed my usual tinned meat and starch for supper then sat outside the tent, just staring south toward Mexico.  My mind was no longer leaping straight to the border, as it had been since leaving Silver City, but was actually stalled, not wanting to proceed any further than where I was now camped.

Knowing the end was imminent gave me a weird feeling and all of the sudden I wasn’t sure if I really did want the trip to end.  Once I crossed that border, my life would go back to ‘normal’, and that was a strange thing to think about – work, school, and everyday life still felt a million miles away, except they weren’t.

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Go to Part 89

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The CDTC was founded in 2012 by volunteers and recreationists hoping to provide a unified voice for the CDT. Working hand-in-hand with the U.S. Forest Service and other federal land management agencies, the CDTC is a non-profit partner supporting stewardship of the CDT. The mission of the CDTC is to complete, promote and protect the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a world-class national resource. For more information, please visit continentaldividetrail.org.

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