The Wild and Scenic Rio Grande
The Rio Grande Wild and Scenic Recreation Area lies atop the Taos Plateau, close to the base of the Sangre de Cristo Range. Strung along the rim of the Rio Grande Gorge is a number of campsites, supplied with water, from which various trails lead down to the river itself. The very last campground is La Junta-there begins a one and a quarter mile trail that descends to the canyon bottom, follows the river past two springs and winds back up to the top, from which point you must walk back to where you started, a round trip total of about seven miles.
The la Junta Trail traverses a steep canyon wall, the base resting at the confluence of the Rio Grande and the Red River. A series of gradual switchbacks takes you through lichen-covered volcanic boulders, interspersed with junipers gnarled by centuries of winter and spring winds. The views are impressive. From the east the Red River cuts its own canyon through a course lined with big Ponderosa pine that softens the water to turquoise, until it reaches the Rio in a roaring white torrent. Due west, on the opposite rim of the gorge, is Cerro Montoso, an extinct shields volcano.
Up here the feeling is spacious and sunny, the sound of the river like some enchanting siren drawing you deeper and deeper into the depths of another world. With a casual pace I reached the bottom in twenty minutes. The flora is familiar to SouthwesternersPpinon pine, juniper, sagebrush and yucca, interspersed with native grasses and flowers. I met a small group of hikers, from New Jersey yet, who asked if the trail was difficult. “Only if you’re going up!” I replied, somewhat smugly.
I lunched under one of the campground shelters just above the river. Below several fishermen were casting into the water. One had already caught a twelve-inch rainbow trout. Across the Red River a small group of rafters was contemplating the unusual condition of the river-very low water. The normal flow in early June is 2000 feet per second. The light winter had reduced that figure to 500 cubic feet, which means that rafters bounce instead of float.
Impressive as it looks, the Red River comes in second in the amount of water it adds to the Rio Grande. The various springs contribute more in total volume, and it is these toward which our hike irresistibly leads.
The trail stays close to the river, and many tempting meadows and beaches line the shore in this low water time. Bird life is abundant-the ubiquitous turkey vulture shares the sky with red tail hawks and an occasional golden eagle. Canyon wrens warble that oft heard descending trill, and in every pine I passed the bossy black and white Clark’s nutcracker gave a low guttural “No Trespassing!” call.
Little Arsenic Springs Campground makes a pleasant and shady rest stop, perched a particularly verdant stretch of river. Chipmunks and lizards regarded me and my camera warily. Little Arsenic Springs is actually just past the camp to the right of the trail-you can’t miss it, honest. Pure, cold, perfectly drinkable water gushes out of two pipes. Fresh watercress provided a piquant addition to my sandwich. Be careful not to confuse the watercress with poison ivy, which was also flourishing beside the spring, though not in the water. Lest you shudder from taking a drink from a spring called Arsenic, let me explain: Back in the forties and fifties, a wizened old hermit lived an isolated existence down in the gorge, gardening the fertile alluvial soil and selling the produce in nearby villages. In hopes of preserving his little wonderland from outside invasion he spread the word that the springs were filled with arsenic. The name stuck.
The trail continues along the river. Prickly Pear, Apache Plume and an occasional Douglas Fir contribute to the plant community. Then the trail cuts upward and around a massive boulder field. The view upriver is dominated by great numbers of black, river-smooth boulders that are normally under white water. After a few switchbacks and a stroll across a large meadow I reach a junction- one trail goes up to the rim and the other heads down to Big Arsenic Spring, only a quarter of a mile further.
Now this is a spring! The cascading water forms a lovely pool under the shade of abundant junipers and even more watercress. I was quite alone-if you don’t count the hundred or so Nutcrackers in the surrounding trees.. After a snack and that refreshing spring water it was time to listen to the river.
On a large rock that jutted out into the gentle current I removed my boots and socks and let my feet dangle in the chilly water. There is always a reward at the end of the trail-view, ruin, martini-and this was mine. Some of the shiny black boulders, polished to a high gloss by the rushing water, are sculpted into perfect little seats. The river sang its song, and all that soothing gurgling bubbling was therapy of the purest kind.
Seventy million years ago a great geologic uplift began to create the surrounding mountains. Millions of thunderstorms, blizzards and spring snow melts enough of these mountains tp form a vast alluvial deposit, the Taos Plain. Three to four million years ago a short but intense period of volcanic activity caused lava flows to cover the plain, alternating with quiet periods when erosional processes continued. We see the story today, written in the exposed walls of the gorge-alternating layers of dark volcanic basalt and sand and gravel.
High above the rim a buzzard soars on a thermal. If we could join him, we would look down on a remarkably straight gash, because the ancient Rio Grande sensibly followed a major fault zone to form its course, rather than meandering all over the place.
I rejoin the present. In the end, there is nothing to say-only look, feel, listen. Upriver lies a rock upon which someone was inspired to carve his or her homage to the river -an afterthought, maybe, to the sublime experience of simply being stroked by the flowing waters, the soft canyon wind.
To return to civilization, just turn around and walk up. If there is a strenuous part to this walk, it’s this, the conclusion. The rim is only three quarters of a mile from the river, but the switchbacks are gradual, and there are numerous excuses to stop-to read the nature trail markers or to gaze back down on the shining river below.
The water’s lullaby will follow you all the way back to the top.
