Features

Fields of Gold

By Jason Stevenson.
The silence of the Valles Caldera is remarkable, even compared to the familiar solitude of northern New Mexico. It strikes me when I first step out of my car at the overlook on N.M. 4 west of Los Alamos to gaze across the three-mile wide Valle Grande, the national preserve’s largest valley. A steady breeze pushes through this grassy bowl from the west, hinting that this must be a severe place in the winter. But the cold has yet to set in, and today, hundreds of mountain bluebirds hover like miniature kites above the dun-colored plain, their indigo wings flashing brilliantly, while dozens of cattle graze contentedly in fields still thick with grass, and a handful of horses rest nearby.

     Most people know the 89,000-acre preserve from this roadside vista. High in the saddle of the Jemez Mountains, the state highway winds through a heavily forested flank of the mountains and then, suddenly, a wide curve brings you into the open along the lip of this giant rolling grassland that looks as if it was transplanted from the East African savannah. There are no Rvs, no campgrounds, no gaggle of tourists in sight; in fact, it is rare to spot another person or vehicle anywhere, especially once you leave the main road and travel into the heart of this geographic wonder formed when this dormant volcano blew its top some 1.2 million years ago. Yet despite the seeming emptiness, there is plenty to behold. Old growth ponderosa groves cling stubbornly to steep hillsides, slow-flowing trout streams meander for miles, and, for those lucky enough to spot them, immense herds of elk roam beneath an enormous curving sky—all of them sharing this boundless space.

     “We call route 4 the Ohmygod view,” explains Jim Burns, a recreational specialist at the Valles Caldera who meets me at the welcome cabin, a small building down a two-mile dirt road from main entrance at mile marker 39.2. There, I’m introduced to several preserve employees who handle the caldera’s recreational, scientific, and ranching programs, including Randy McKee, the one responsible for hundreds of cattle that graze the valley floors during the summer. Reared in rural New Mexico, McKee is a reserved man with bright, piercing eyes who dresses like his work—cowboy boots that peek out beneath heavy jeans, a faded flannel shirt, and a wide-brimmed rancher’s hat. He couldn’t be more different than his colleague Jim Burns, a gregarious Wisconsin native who sports trail shoes, belongs to the Sierra Club, and is an avid cross country skier.

     Though Burns and McKee come from different sides of the wilderness world, their presence at Valles Caldera personifies its complex mission: to provide low-impact recreation while also supporting grazing, logging, and hunting, and, to be profitable doing so by 2015. The arrangement has not been without tension, culminating this September with the resignation of the preserve’s director. But these disagreements have not detracted from the exceptional wilderness that no place in northern New Mexico can match.

     “We’re trying to do something very different from national forests or national parks,” Burns explains as he takes me in his Chevy Tahoe up a rough track on Cerros del Abrigo (Shelter Hills). Higher up on this central dome is the preserve’s most popular hiking trail, a seven mile loop that circles the 10,332-foot summit and gives visitors 360-degree views, along with a good history lesson. Decades ago, the area was heavily logged, creating muddy washouts and terrible erosion. Now, bands of fir and spruce trees stand like sentinels on the steep terrain, thinning only where the slopes flatten and the grasslands begin. Hikers circumnavigate the peak on old logging roads, and immense valleys sweep in from all sides with faraway cattle and elk visible as dark pinpricks on the open grass.

     From its past to the present, the Valles Caldera has been in a class by itself. Purchased by Congress in 2000 for $101 million, the preserve was also given a nine-member board of trustees to govern it. Seven of its members were appointed by President Clinton, while the other two members come from nearby: the superintendent of Bandelier National Monument and the forest supervisor of the Santa Fe National Forest round out the board. All management decisions are made in public meetings.

     The change in governance is a far cry from the area’s history of private ownership that dates back 150 years, during which this former sheep and cattle ranch has been in the hands of several prominent southwest families, including the Bacas, who received the original holding as a federal land grant in 1860. The ranch’s last owners, the Dunigan family of Abilene, Texas, were conservative stewards, selectively logging and grazing the property, which minimized the human and agricultural intrusion prevalent in most other areas. Hundreds of obsidian flakes still litter the lower slopes of Cerro del Medio, evidence of prehistoric tool-makers who used the caldera as a gathering spot. “Much of the human imprint on this land is very old,” Burns says as he handles one of the shiny black shards before tossing it back to the ground. “This valley has received much fewer visitors over the past decades than a national forest.” In fact, many assume the site is still closed to the public, fenced off as it was during its ranch days. “People tell us that they’ve been looking over that fence for years and have always wanted to come in,” he says. “Well, now we really want them to.”

     Attracting people has been a challenge. Recreational interest has been minimal, primarily due to lack of information and self-imposed restrictions on the number and impact of visitors. Yet the preserve has created an impressive lineup of activities over the past four years. Summer offers outstanding mountain biking, horseback riding, and hiking; fall brings elk hunting and fly fishing; while winter allows cross-country skiing and snow-shoeing routes that outclass the Santa Fe National Forest’s Norski trail. There’s also a smattering of specialty events: star gazing nights; artist workshops; expert-taught hunting, fishing; and tracking clinics; even overnight bird-watching, and photography excursions.

     But visiting Valles Caldera is not as easy as throwing your hiking boots in the back of your car and driving to a trailhead. Most activities require advance reservations plus a $10 daily fee; clinics and overnight excursions cost more. Visitors must park at the welcome cabin and be shuttled to staging areas in vans. Hiking and riding trails are limited to former logging roads, and many areas are off-limits due to un-surveyed archeological artifacts and sacred Indians sites.

     While some visitors deride the preserve’s bureaucracy, the advance reservation system and the absence of vehicle traffic does much to protect the quiet sanctuary that is the caldera’s main attraction. Anglers on the San Antonio Creek are given exclusive access to a full mile of stream to fish, while photographers and bird-watchers can be assured of undisturbed meadows.

      Winter activities offer the most access, with deep snow allowing skiers and snowshoers unrestricted play because drifts cover sensitive archeological sites. You can track over to the frontier house that served as the main homestead for Tommy Lee Jones and Cate Blanchett in The Missing, which volunteers keep stocked with hot chocolate and warm cider, or explore Hidden Valley, a north-facing xx that receives ample snow even when other spots are bare. Glide through History Grove’s centuries-old ponderosa pines and Douglas firs or go for a challenging aerobic workout on Powerline Trail. For backcountry aficionados, miles and miles of off-trail areas are available for gliding under New Mexico’s winter sun. “Everything is more primitive and open here, making it a much more wild place” says Burns, himself an avid cross-country skier. The majority of the trails are rated “more difficult” simply because of their length and exposed conditions, however, skiers of all endurance levels can find an experience just right for them, just because there is so much from which to choose. (For more information, see page QQ.)

     This winter, the caldera will implement several changes making it easier for visitors to take advantage of the area. Ski New Mexico will post weather and snow conditions on their website, www.skinewmexico.com, and a six-mile, overnight yurt trip will be debuted. The Abrigo yurt, in the isolated north-central region, sleeps six and is reached by a trail that cuts through steep-sided mountain passes and crosses frozen streams. Skiers are chosen by lottery. “The chance to ski into the wilds of the caldera and spent the night will be just awe-inspiring,” Burns says. Next year, he expects to open a second yurt along the preserve’s northern border, creating a three-day, two-night excursion. Not all of the winter activities require your own propulsion. Horse-drawn sleighs will take visitors on a tour of the Valle Grande once the snow-pack is sufficient.

      For those who want unfettered freedom, the preserve allows volunteers to assist scientists and staff researchers working in areas of the caldera that are normally closed to the public. Santa Fe resident Marty Peale helps with the grasslands monitoring program, a twice-yearly survey of 40 sites that measure the impact of cattle and elk grazing. “You can go to places that you otherwise can’t normally go, using GPS to navigate, and sleeping out under the stars,” says Peale, who also serves as the coordinator of the Valles Caldera Coalition. The group was founded in 1997 to lobby for greater recreational access, including a rim trail and more overnight camping.

      Fulfilling the mission to operate as a ranch, a recreational haven, and a wildlife preserve hasn’t been an easy task, but a visit to Valles Caldera National Preserve is the perfect reminder that wilderness is still full of surprises. Every season offers an exceptional recreational arena; cross country skiing when winter snow covers the great valleys, horseback riding as spring breaks out, mountain biking along forested ridgelines in the summer, and fly fishing on a lonely stream in the fall.

    The tension between commercial interests and recreation, a common theme in the West, will not disappear soon from the preserve; but the experiment is worth it. “Here in Valles Caldera,” Burns explains as he follows a road that cuts between cattle herds and future ski trails, “all those conflicting interests must actually sit down and work things out.” He then adds one of his favorite refrains: “I like to tell people that we’re still learning out here.” Maybe because the Valles Caldera requires more effort to visit, it has remained such an alluring place. Those who find their way here will not be disappointed by what wilderness can still do.