Rocky Forest
Sunday, April 5th, 2026: Black Range, Hikes, North Star, Southwest New Mexico.
I usually start researching options for my Sunday hike later on Saturday, after finishing my chores. It was easy this time – there’s an area on the state line with ranch roads that might get me to a spectacular box canyon, and afterwards, the restaurant in the Mormon farm town.
But on Sunday morning I realized it was Easter, and the restaurant would be closed. It took me another hour and a half, squinting at maps and scratching my head, to come up with another option – in an area I seldom visit, in the opposite direction. It’s in the foothills of our eastern mountains, between the two big wilderness areas, and I’ve always thought of it as a long drive. But when I checked the drive time, it was actually less than that area on the state line.
It’s a trail I’d never considered, because when I’m in good shape it doesn’t offer a challenge, and I doubted that it would feature anything else of interest. It merely connects a reasonably spectacular trail, at higher elevation, to a spectacular canyon hike, at lower elevation. But it looked like the perfect distance and elevation gain to continue my knee and foot recovery.
I’d hoped to hike in Arizona, at lower elevation, because today was forecast to be cooler – in the mid-60s in town. This connector trail would be up to 3,000 feet higher, but the sky was mostly clear. From the backcountry highway in the long, narrow valley, the dirt road climbs to the mesa, runs mostly straight north, then deteriorates to one rocky lane while descending into a rugged, shaded canyon.
What appeared to be an extended family group had taken over the tiny campground beside the creek in the canyon bottom. The dirt road crosses the creek dozens of times and washes out in every good rain, so it has a high berm of boulders that are constantly bulldozed out of the way.
After about two-and-a-half miles the road leaves the canyon and climbs to the next mesa, where you immediately come upon the trailhead. I’ve never seen anyone else here, and today’s trail started out nearly invisible.
Like last Sunday, it was in the 60s when I hit the trail, but hiking would keep me plenty warm without a sweater. The trail varied between obvious and nonexistent, but as usual I had no trouble figuring out the route. It climbed steadily at an easy grade in and out of drainages on this east side of a high ridge, passing several modest rock outcrops. I studied every patch of dirt in the trail, and the only tracks I could identify were from javelina.
The ridge was completely forested, so views were rare. I was looking forward to the view west from the ridgetop, across 50 miles of wilderness. But when I finally reached it, I could only glimpse narrow slices of landscape through the tall pines and firs.
The trail followed the ridgetop for about a mile – a pleasant, mostly level stroll. I wasn’t sweating, but flies were starting to bounce around my face.
Finally the trail began descending the west slope of the ridge. Descending steadily, I was surprised to encounter pinyon–juniper-oak forest first, then ponderosa pine forest, then pinyon-juniper-oak again, then ponderosa again, over and over until I reached the trail junction at the bottom – breaking all the rules of habitat and elevation.
As soon as I started down that west-facing slope, the flies swarmed me so bad I had to dig out my head net. I couldn’t figure it out – I was barely sweating, there was no livestock anywhere near here, and the only surface water was in occasional pools in the canyon far below.
I’d planned to turn back at the trail junction, but I was so frustrated at never getting a view out of the forest, I continued on the trail into the canyon, hoping to get a view of its rock bluffs.
After about a quarter mile, I did get a view down-canyon, but this was only a tributary – not the main rocky canyon. It would have to do for today.
With its gentle grades, this seemed the perfect hike to work on both foot and knee. Yeah, it was frustrating not to be able to see out of the forest, but it was a very pretty forest.
As I’ve written elsewhere, this is part of the national trail from Mexico to Canada, so it was built well generations ago. But nobody uses it anymore – all the through hikers detour to the big river twenty miles west of here, because the official trail no longer has dependable water sources.
The drive is actually more spectacular than that trail.
