Fall-ing into Arizona
Sept. 16, 2015

Our final day of a week in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, felt exactly as if the season had turned a corner and fall was upon us.  Fairly solid storm cloud cover with various and sundry gully washers kept temps low, accentuated by blustery winds.

We planned our activities around the storm front that had been forecast.  One very necessary task - writing up our handouts for the RV class we are going to teach at Yavapai College - had happened only in our brains thus far, so we opted to spend a part of the unpleasantly wet and cool day translating our thoughts and discussions onto paper.  In the end, Chris probably put too much detail into the ones he did and I likely skimped a bit on mine.  Minor editing will remedy that and not a moment too soon: the class begins in a week.

Our plan was to depart Pagosa at a relatively early hour and to drive to Holbrook in northern Arizona for our last night out.  There we intended to clean and winterize the trailer so that when we are home, we need only to unpack and put the RV into storage.  As plans are wont to do, that one went a bit awry.  It seemed there might be an issue with the locking lever on the trailer hitch, so after pulling up to the top of the hill out of the RV park, we stopped and worked away on it, finally deciding to turn around and head back whence we came.  More fiddling there: although we were not exactly sure things were as they had been, it appeared that we were travel-worthy - a late start, but a start nevertheless.  In the meantime, one final week . . .

Pagosa Riverside, dipper . . .

The Pagosa Riverside is our favorite RV park there, although the others are fine, too, just not quite as convenient and not as nice San Juan River access.  The staff and work campers are the best!

Our site was the last one available for the week, thus not on the riverbank but at pondside instead.  We had a view of the mountainside across the San Juan, where I watched a small herd of deer leisurely munching across the brush-dotted slope of a morning.

On a stroll over to the riverbank, I spotted an American dipper doing his antics in the fast-flowing water - they are so fascinating to watch.  We later saw another dipper performing aquabatics in the Piedra, a river I came to love on this trip.

Oddly, our campsite yielded a very different avian attendance at our feeders than what we have seen in previous trips at other areas of the park.  We attracted a steady stream of hummers, but not large flocks of them as in the past; the seed feeder was only late discovered by a scrub jay that distributed seeds onto the ground to be eaten mostly by red-wing blackbirds and Brewer’s blackbirds.

The San Juan where it flows by the Pagosa Riverside.  They have done a lot of work clearing riverbank access, which allowed us to get into the the willow thicket to do some birding.  New trip birds we got there included northern flicker, yellow warbler, Wilson's warbler and red-naped sapsucker.

Stormy weather came in on our last day.  Low clouds and fog obscured the mountainside where I watched deer browsing morning times.

Can never resist a shot of the goats that are corralled by Pagosa Riverside and it seems they can never resist putting on a show.

Craziest thing ever!  Pulling out of the RV park, we saw this dog carrying a hard-sided six-pack cooler across a large pasture to deliver it to the next house.  A woman there came out and retrieved it???  Guess that makes her a retriever and him a most accommodating canine.

The Piedra . . .

The Piedra River has not figured much into our activities during previous stays at Pagosa, an omission we remedied this time.  We had hiked into the river’s incredible gorge, but no farther.  Back into the gorge we went, marvelling at how the steep deep sides have been carved out into fabulous alcoves, and stepping quickly and lightly through the sections that jut out far overhead with gigantic slabs of rock that slough off sections onto the trail.

The way is often through thickets of wild roses, ripe with red hips . . .

. . . other times, poison ivy in its dramatic autumn coloration lurks by the wayside.  I thought it was Virginia creeper and would have trooped right on through it were it not for the warnings from the señor..

The steep-sided gorge is perhaps a half-mile long, with the trail at times waterside, and others climbing further up the cliff.  Within that chasm and out of it, the Piedra has many moods.

We saw some bear sign and I was a little nervous about meeting bruin where visibility was very short.  I told Chris we were supposed to make lots of noise in order not to startle a bear, so he began singing “99 bottles of beer on the wall.”  It really should have been me singing; that would have scared them off for sure.  In the end, we sighted no bears, but we did meet a few other hikers who were most pleasant to chat with, and far less furry.

Meeting a bear on this this trail does not offer a lot of passing options, or any at all, for that matter.

Mountain lion or bear?  Whichever did this scratching was not on my list to encounter on the trail.

Perhaps the tree scratcher resides in this den.  I did not knock to inquire.

The cut made by the river opens up as it flows to the west and becomes a deep wide-bottomed canyon, trees lining the river bank with shoulder-high grass through much of it. 

My pard thinks this is wild Timothy (whoever he is).  It was one of a large variety of grasses growing along our Piedra River walk.

Same guy tells me this is burdock, a relative of rhubarb, which I thought it was.  See, he's handy to have along - could use a smart phone instead (if there was service in there), but it would not sing to scare off the bears.

A furry critter I don't mind meeting on the trail.  He didn't let my presence deter him from eating.

Our trek took us a little more than three miles on the 11-mile trail, and truthfully, was one of the most beautiful hikes I’ve ever done.  Every step opened to awesome sights, making it near to impossible to turn around even when the sky threatened to open up on us.  Drizzling for part of the way caused us to put on our ponchos and take off them off again numerous times.

New explores, Williams Reservoir . . .

Heading out from town in a northwesterly direction pointed us toward Pagosa Peak and lots of country we had not yet explored.  A short hike up to Piedra Falls was fun, although as usual with waterfalls, my photos fell flat.

In fact, most of my pics from a couple of days in that region were relegated to the circular file; I was using a different setting on the camera that I thought would be superior to what I had been utilizing, but I was very disappointed in the results, more so because the sights to be seen were spectacular.

On other days, though, the photography results revealed at least a bit of the stunning sights that are everywhere one looks.  The mountains in the Pagosa region average about 2,000 feet less in elevation than those around Buena Vista, where there are many fourteeners, so there is much less area above tree line.

Debs School - students attended only in the summer months.  Winter conditions were too harsh for them to make the trek.

Fall works . . .

Two cowboys we spotted several times over a few days span were gathering cows and I got some interesting shots of them.  To me, they almost look more like paintings than photographs.  Keep in mind that to get these, I was teetering on my tiptoes in the open truck door hanging on by my armpit - sorry, that was probably more information than necessary.

Williams Reservoir, grasslands . . .

After talking to a fisherman about the Kokanee salmon he was after in Williams Reservoir, we decided to get one-day licenses and try our hands.  As it turns out, we fished but did not catch, not even trout; however, we loved kayaking on that no-wake lake.  The setting is delightful: forested peaks all around and trees right down to waterline with a grassy meadow at the top end.

Evidently, the fishing is fine for the eagles - we saw three balds there. 

Pooches like paddling, too, as long as their human does the work.

There is some prime ranchland up that way: picture-perfect valleys, wide bottomed with river or creek snaking its way, doubling back on itself, lush grass - scenes sweet enough to make your heart ache - absolutely idyllic.

The Springs . . .

In between forays off into the forest, we idled away time in the hot springs - there is no doubt that Pagosa does it better than anyone - and met lots of interesting folks.  Following common tradition and good sense, many Texans climb up to Colorado’s cooler climes of a summer; we chatted with various ones from that state.  One couple we especially enjoyed were from San Angelo, a place we love, but she was born in Iraan, Texas, a town with a very small population.  That would not be so odd except that our RV neighbor was also from Iraan - a coindy dink for sure.

 

 

 

Not all who came to these high mountains remained.  The Colorado countryside abounds with abodes of old.

Another of the many mountain passes we climbed - ha, ha - see how it sounds as if Chris and I actually climbed them!

It was fun to return to one of my favorite markets.

 

 

In addition to admiring stunning craftsmanship on many items and fine high country produce, I met this woman at the market - she is a volunteer for a group that educates about composting and makes compost for gardeners on a donation basis: a worthy cause, and besides I like the ski backdrop.

Sad news - the tundra swan pair that we have seen hatch a couple of young every year are no more.  Now only a solitary swan keeps vigil on its island that somehow has been reduced to nearly nothing.  We even saw it mingling with geese in its loneliness.

In our various forays on streams, ponds, lakes and other habitats, we also added to the birding trip list: brown-headed cowbird, great-tailed grackle, pied-billed grebe, yellow-rumped warbler, American widgeon, lesser scaup, ruddy duck, Townsend's warbler, American kestrel and Eurasian collared dove.  The last mentioned one I had expected to see in other parts of the country, but never did.  We knew we were back in the Southwest when it showed up.

Anybody?

Can you say "yard work".  Looks as if we have some catching up to do.  I can tell I am home: bright blue sky, crisp fluffy clouds, and I had to stop on 89 and honk to get a roadrunner out of the way.