The day off in Silver City was rejuvenating. Vegetables were consumed, real coffee was drunk in unreasonable quantities, and I managed to take in a Minnesota Loons soccer match of TV. All signs of a quality rest day.
There were a dozen, or so, hikers at the hostel and as my Casio watch alarm beeped, I hoped I wasn’t waking up too many of them. In typical fashion, 5am had arrived like an unwanted party guest; too early and without any ice cream. I downed a quick breakfast and some watery coffee while I packed my bag then set off to meetup with the Gila river 29 trail-miles north.
Instead of following the official CDT north of Silver City, I decided to hike an alternate route along the Gila River. When I heard there were natural hot springs on the alternate, the choice was easy.
After a dry week in the New Mexico bootheel, laying eyes on the Gila River felt like a religious experience. I caught up with a hiker named Red Stripe at the river and we guzzled water while swapping tales from our hikes on the Appalachian Trail. The long climb from town and steep descent to the river took a toll on my feet and back. Crawling into my tent, grazing cows mooing in the distance, I fell asleep instantly.
Over the next three days I crossed the Gila River many dozens of times. Majestic canyon walls, an endless supply of fresh water, and lush vegetation made for pleasant walking. The countless crossings kept my feet soggy and my shoes full of so much sand, I could have started manufacturing hourglasses.
On the second day of the section I stopped at Doc Campbell’s Outpost for resupply. Wanting to get a few more miles after loading my pack with ramen noodles and instant potatoes, I set off north with a 34 year old environmental policy researcher named Peaches.
From Doc Campbell’s, Peaches and I hiked 125 miles over the course of 4.5 days. The hot springs did not disappoint and did wonders for the aches of a body adjusting to a new normal. We climbed out of the river valley and back into arid pine forrests and dusty grasslands, leaving behind the security blanket of constant access to hydration. At an afternoon stop near a cattle pond, as a lunch of ramen noodles cooked in my pot, I dropped my nearly clogged filter into the murky green soup. The unfortunate clumsiness and stark contrast to the cold clear waters of the Gila nearly set me to tears. Fortunately, I had enough water, and would be able to wash my filter at a potable source a few miles north.
The push into Pie Town started with a 5am alarm and ended at 10:45 after 14 miles. After a quick stop at the famed Toaster House, where hikers and cyclists can take refuge for a donation, Peaches and I made out way to the 1 restaurant in town. We proceeded to stuff our faces and even managed to snag a slice of pie.
