Camp Potosi - Part Two

After my break, I continue along road 582 C. The higher up I get, the more I can see that the road runs right along my route, pretty much. Going this way was a good choice. There are more signs of man. A car and a truck. I don't know enough about cars to say what make and models, but these are old. 50's era old. Completely rusted out. Both littered with bullet holes. Big piles of trash: recreation for social misfits. I am even more eager for the solitude of the high mountains.

Along this road are also lots of signs of wild burros: fresh droppings along my route. I can't see the pack anywhere ahead of me. I am far from being an Indian tracker, but I would guess by the drying that I am only an hour or so behind them.

The road takes me right to the mouth of a box canyon. Looking up the face of the moutain here, I see Potosi mine. And I see the thing I want to see least. Sign of man. Present man.

There's a green pickup truck parked off the road under the mine. Apparently, someone has parked here and climbed up the steep slope to the mine. I do not hear or see anyone anywhere, so they are most likely inside the mine. I've been up there. Lots of white supremecist graffiti, and bullet shells. Not people I want to run into while I'm out all alone. I decide to pick up my pace a bit, and put some distance between me and them.

When I reach the crest of the hill here, the road curves back out into the valley, and I get a good view of the valley below. I can see the entire road. It goes way out into the valley, and if I follow it the entire way, I will be going far out of the way and will be wasting a lot of time. I have been looking for a landmark lone mountain with a sharp peak that is just past the mine area. From down here, either I am not recognizing it from the different point of view, or it's something I cannot see from here. Not being able to find that, and looking at how far out the road goes, knowing that this is my chosen route makes me a bit uncomfortable. I am thinking that this 4 mile trek might be longer than I want. I know it takes about an hour and a half to climb up the mountain from the front, and based on how long I've travelled so far, I calculate that I can make camp by 3:30 if I turn back and go up the front side of the mountain. I think a while about turning back, but decide to continue on. At this point, the better way to go is humping it through the raw desert again. I love this.

The going through the brush and cacti is slow. I could move swiftly, but I have no desire to spend my evening playing amateur surgeon, and yanking cactus needles out of my flesh. I soon find an animal trail, and this helps. It's narrow but clear, and I can move quicker. There are more fresh burro droppings and fresh hoof prints in the soft dusty dirt. Apparently, I am following the pack.

The trail leads me almost exactly where I want to go. There are several branches to the trail, and I split off the trail occassionally to rough it out through raw desert, when the trail doesn't head exactly where I want to be going, but I seem to keep meeting up the trail where the burros are headed. It's starting to feel a little weird that we are on the same path, even though my own route is so chaotic. The trail leads up a big hill that I think is the last hill that I am supposed to be going around on the road. If my memory isn't too faulty, I should be able to see the valley that I am supposed to travel through to the backside of the mountain, and my chosen route to the campsite. Once I get to the top of the hill, I am rewarded with views of Potosi Peak. I know pretty much exactly where I am, and my instincts have been perfect. It's a good time to stop for lunch.


1:35 PM

Lunch is handfuls of the Cheerios and water. I pull out the book of maps and my compass. They are more for recreation, than for navigation. I know where I am. I can see the radio towers on Mount Potosi. I can see the road. There's no way I could get lost. But I love the idea of the maps and compass, so I fill my lunch time with pretending to be scoping out things. I do take some time to study the point where I am to leave the road and start up the ridgeline to the camp. That will be my only real task, since I've not been there before and it will not be visually familiar. But by the look of the map, it will be easy going the whole way. I still can't find my landmark peak, but I suspect the rise to my immediate left. I think it just looks different from the ground than it does up at 6,000 feet. I finish lunch with an anti-biotic pill I need for my still-lingering tooth infection, and an aspirin to thin my blood a bit and help the oxygen flow. I felt the effects of the altitude when we were driving up, and I can remember the altitude sickness I experienced not too long ago. Preventative measures.

I solve the problem with the sleeping bag. Educated by another frame pack I found while "shopping" for things I don't need (but still love to look at) that has straps for holding a sleeping bag, I use the straps designed to keep the top flap down to strap the bag to the pack. It's out of balance, but it's much easier than lugging it by hand. And space on the frame is still available for the tent. So now the only thing I have to carry in my hands is the machete. Much, much better.

There is a slight change in the temperature. Clouds are moving in from the northwest, and when they block the sun, even just a little, it gets cold. Quick. I find use fro the ski gloves already.

Now fed and watered, I move on.