I stepped out of my car and thinking of the day before me, I took one last morning stretch. It was early. I was still working the grog out of my eyes as I strolled across the compound that would keep me captive the rest of the day. Security hassled me with a set of inspections that would make any TSA worker jealous. As I waited for permission to pass, the early morning light seeped into my eyes and I admired the landscape that was before me. Snapped back to attention, the security guard motioned me through. Another day I thought.
Walking slowly, one hand clutching my coffee and the other my work bag, I found myself again focused on the horizon. Taking a large gulp of the crisp morning air, I realized it did more to wake me up than my latte ever could. The air was clear and brisk and the land that sat under it was a typical high plains desert, with exception to the north east. This is where my gaze was fixed, the Sandia Mountains. I want to go there. I need to go there I thought, but how? When?
Lunch
I peddled through my lunch conversation, trying to understand and hold the attention of my new coworkers. The food was amazing as I again wondered how many more dishes I’d find that were served with green chilies. The meal was enormous, even by Midwestern, American standards. I suffered through though, my taste buds winning the battle over the protests of my stomach telling me I’m already well past “full”. I knew I’d need the calories later though, and I was right.
A Plan
It was almost 4:30 pm and the work day was swinging to a close. The day was extremely productive and I quickly made my way to the car to pursue what had quickly turned into a passion. I zipped back to my hotel room and devoured a cold, leftover pizza I had stored in my hotel refrigerator. Within minutes, I was back on the road again to the mecca of every good outdoor enthusiast – REI.
The plan was to go to REI and buy some bare essentials for the hike I had already committed to in my mind. I'd buy what I needed, drive to the mountain, hike and then ride the tram back to the base. Within an hour, I had spent $150 on a t-shirt, a long sleeve shirt, hiking pants and a head-lamp. All of these would prove invaluable later that night. Although I hesitated purchasing the lamp, I decided it would be wise to get it just in case.
6:05 pm…A little less than twelve hours after committing to my trek, I was at the trailhead of the La Luz. I quickly packed my clothes and two liters of water into my courier pack. Everything fit just right, except for the head-lamp. Again, wondering if I actually needed it, I contemplated leaving it behind. Thankfully I didn’t. I hurried out of the car and made my way to the trailhead, pausing and looking back one more time at the car and at the sun, which was by now, quickly making its way towards the horizon. With one last equipment check, I was off and as I took my first few steps, a deep smile and an intense satisfaction of my decision quickly set in.
A Quick StartI walked the first few hundred yards and then remembered that the La Luz is home to the 12th most difficult trail race in the world. I thought, hey, if others can run this, so can you. So, I did. Running like a madman for the first mile and a half, I jumped and dodged rocks and cacti as I made my way across the mountainside. The elevation was mostly steady, for every fifteen or twenty feet I climbed, I quickly descended a couple hundred yards later. I eventually slowed my pace, happy with the progress I had made and began taking some pictures of the natural beauty that was around me.
Hikers
About three miles in, I began to walk by other hikers coming down the mountain. We’d smile and pass each other and as they went by, I’d strain to listen to their hushed conversation. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about me and how unwise it was of me to be hiking up the trail so close to sunset. Taking a few more pictures, I put my camera away along with the imaginary conversations I was playing out in my mind with my family, conversations that revolved around turning back to the car. This is when my stubbornness set in again and I hastened my pace and pushed on.
Sunset
By all estimates, I was about five miles in when the sunset finally found me. I paused, finishing my first liter of water, and took a few pictures of what I could. The light was rapidly diminishing and so was my smile that I had started with. Suddenly the reality of being alone on an increasingly scary trail in a wilderness area was setting in. Every scary movie I had ever seen in my life started to creep forward in my mind. I thought of past conversations I had with friends. I thought of bob cats, mountain lions, bears and snakes. It was too late though. The quickest and shortest way out was up. Consequently, I reaffirmed my decision that up would remain the only way out. No turning back now.
Do Your Homework
It had been dark for about an hour now. I had already given up on the moon providing any light. My head-lamp, the one I had almost left behind twice, was my only source of light. Even though the night was clear, the high alpine trees blocked out every bit of light that tried to reach the ground. The moon was no where to be found and darkness was all around me, with exception to a well lit swath before me thanks to my lamp and Albuquerque, which sat sleepily in the valley below.
I started to spook myself out thinking about wild animals so I called my older brother. Although I was on the trail alone, thanks to things like cell phones, I was talking to him in no time. I told him what I was doing and after the obligatory teasing on his part, he started doing some research on the La Luz trail for me.
Before I had left, I gathered just enough information to be aware of the trail and what turns and forks I need to watch out for. I thought it was a mere five miles and about two thousand feet of vertical climb. Boy was I wrong. My brother told me over the phone, much to my dread, that the trail was actually eight miles long and the vertical rise was nearly to four thousand feet. Add to that the tram that I was planning on taking down the mountain closed at 8:00 pm. I looked at my watch and the hands screamed out: 8:30, 8:30 you moron. Oups. Walk faster I thought. Maybe there will still be a chance.
19 Switchbacks
Soon after, I reached a sign: “Danger, path is impassible in fall, winter and spring due to snowy and icy conditions.” Wonderful I thought. Thankfully, I didn’t have to deal with that in early September. As I started up on the trail again, I thought to myself a better sign would be, “Danger, 19 switchbacks from hell lie before you.” I trudged up each and every one, each step growing harder than the last. Thankfully, there would be something that would startle me every now and then and give me a new vigor to keep pushing up the mountain. I can’t tell you the number of times I heart almost jumped out of my chest due to the sound of something wild nearby.
The Crux
After a grueling time on the narrow, steep and rocky switchbacks, I reached what was to become known to me as the crux. Borrowing lessons I learned from rock climbing, I knew that the hardest part was over. Before me stood a sign: “Arial Tramway, 1.2 Miles”. I let out an enthusiastic shout of victory and started down a welcome down-facing slope to the tram.
The Finish
I walked and walked and it seemed to be way farther than a mile and some change, but I eventually reached the Tram. I ran up to the restaurant that was perched on top of the mountain and saw people were still there. I grabbed someone working there and asked if the Tram was still going. I was relieved to hear a confident “Yes”. I was saved! I bolted to the tram and bought a return ticket, enthusiastically recounting my trip to the tram operator. He asked when I had started and when I told him, he shook his head and smiled. I quickly realized that I had made it to the top in three hours, twenty two minuets. That was just one hour longer than the record! Needless to say, I was pleased.
