Camping, Fires, and A Garden Surprise

Great Sand Dunes National Park

Camping 

I've been busy and away from my computer.  For my birthday on May 31, we went on a brief camping trip in southern Colorado.  We visited the Great Sand Dunes National Park, which are the tallest dunes in North America, located hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean.  The dunes are  composed of sand that blew across the San Luis Valley toward the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, and sand that blew down and toward the Valley from the mountains.  Researchers estimate that the dunes started forming around 440,000 years ago (http://www.nps.gov/grsa/naturescience/sanddunes.htm).

Mike taking a picture of me, taking a picture of him at the Dunes.

The National Campground at the Dunes was full so we drove to nearby San Luis State Park, the site of San Luis Lake to check out the campground there.  According to the park's website, "Campsites have a panoramic view of San Luis Lake, the surrounding Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range and the Great Sand Dunes" and "San Luis has been a water sports haven in the San Luis Valley since the 1920s"(http://www.parks.state.co.us/parks/sanluis/Pages/SanLuisLakes.aspx).  However, where the lake used to be is now a very dry and very empty lake bed, due to ongoing drought conditions in the Southwest.  It was a pretty bleak and depressing site:  next to the parking lot was a row of metal shelters with picnic benches, perched on the edge of the dry lake. 

We ended up in a commercial camp ground for the night.  It wasn't bad, it actually had some sizable Pinons that provided us with some shade, and there were awesome views out over the San Luis Valley, where we watched the sun set, and the light and shadows play over the Dunes off to our north.

Sunset over the San Luis Valley

The next day, upon the recommendation of our waitress where we ate breakfast, we headed to nearby Zapata Falls. It was a short, half-mile uphill hike to a beautiful stream that came tumbling down out of a cleft between enormous boulders.  I felt a deep appreciation of the cool air created by the flowing water, but after a quick gander we headed out: the small area by the Falls was packed with fellow sightseers and dogs. 

We were ambivalent about what to do at that point: try to find a campsite somewhere with trees and flowing water, or just go home and appreciate our own neighborhood.  We decided to drive down through the mountains through Abiquiu and Chama, and just see how things went.  After about an hour of driving first across the San Luis Valley and then through some stunning mountain landscape along several rivers,  we passed a sign for a public campground. We drove down into the campground and found a loop of sites right on the river, and with only one other group of campers.  We instantly decided to stay.  After the hot, open, and blinding light of the Valley from the first part of our drive, the dried up lake, and the crowded campgrounds and tourist spots, the lush, green and quiet (except for the burbling river) campground was an awesome reprieve.  We pitched our tent right next to the river.  The next day we drove home.

Firefires

Our camping trip was a pleasant reprieve from the smoky conditions that had spread into our neighborhood from two forest fires burning in the middle of New Mexico.  One is in the Santa Fe National Forest, east of Santa Fe and to our southeast, and the other in the Jemez Mountains, off to our southwest.  Before we left, I'd had a sore throat, runny sore nose, and horrible burning eyes for a few days.  It took me awhile to realize that these things were the effects of the smoke.  The smoke wasn't visible from our house before our trip, but it was very visible when we drove in for groceries in Espanola, about a half hour to our south.

When we arrived at the San Luis Valley, the smoke was still visible as a layer of haze up against the mountains to the west of the Valley.  It stretched the entire length of the Valley. When we got home yesterday, in the late afternoon, there were crazy clouds in tones of pink, red, and blue coming up over the mesa and spreading out all along the mountains to our east. This morning, the air was clear, but now, by mid-afternoon, the air is hot and smoky. 

Smoke from the fires off to our south

Surprise in the Garden

The garden and potted plants made it through fine while I was away camping, thanks to the watering skills of my mom, who spent most of her adult life working in greenhouses and caring for gardens.  This morning, before it got too hot to do much outside, I puttered around doing a few things:  watering, removing the screening from some of the squashes (they're now big enough to hold their own against marauding birds or rabbits), and making a few new beds right outside the garden.  I  removed some extra rocks from the area and tossed them into the garden, under one of the trees, and I scooped out some of the compost for the newly created beds.  I spotted a really nice rock under the tree that I wanted to incorporate into one of the bed walls, and I was about to step forward to grab it, when I looked off to the side about two feet, right where I was about to step.  There, curled up in the leaves and straw, was a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake.  It was almost completely invisible; its patches were perfectly camouflaged by the dappled patterns of light and shade under the tree, and it was curled up flush in a little nook created in the straw between two garden beds.  I didn't see it move at all--its rattle was underneath it and it didn't flicker its tongue.  I had a camera handy, just a few feet feet away, and I was able to get a few pictures.

I called M. and our neighbor Ralf, thinking they'd want to take some pictures and could help relocate it.  The snake was still in the same spot by the time they arrived with a long handle with a hook on the end. M. scooped the snake up and put it into a trashcan and closed the lid.  We drove it to a deserted area a few miles away.  It took a few minutes for it to get up its gumption to come out of the can, then it slithered slowly away for a few feet, and then quickly disappeared down a hole.

I was sorry to disturb it, it would have been a welcome addition to the garden--it could help keep down the population of rodents who feed on my young plants and the compost.  But given how well it was able to camouflage itself, I could easily see myself or Siris stepping on it, and getting bitten.

The only negative thing from the experience, beyond the regret I feel at having to move the snake to a new environment:  My mom is terrified of snakes.  I'm worried that now she won't go in the garden ever again.  I'll be much more careful of where I put my hands and feet in the future:  I'd been on the look-out for snakes because I know they're around, but I did not realize until today how well they can blend into their surroundings. 

It was a crazy-beautiful creature.

Beautiful Western Diamondback Rattlesnake

Well-camouflaged