I recently found myself in need of a little getaway, preferably involving fresh air, a little exercise, and a low population density. I figured that a day in the Sandias was just what the doctor ordered. I drove 14 miles east from the Big I in Albuquerque to Exit 175 and joined NM 14 North, also known as the Turquoise Trail. Five or so miles later I turned left onto NM 536 to Sandia Crest. I first stopped in at Tinkertown, which you can read about by clicking here. After a pleasant visit, I left Tinkertown in a great mood.
NM 536
I wound my way up the extraordinarily curvy NM 536, also known as the Sandia Scenic Byway. It was a partly cloudy day with ever-changing light, the shadows drifting over the hills and trees. The 13.6 mile drive to Sandia Crest has numerous picnic areas and trail heads. A day use fee of $3 can be paid at any of the parking areas and you just put the permit in your window. One challenge presented by this drive is not being overly distracted by the scenery. Your focus wanders from the various vegetation and glimpses of wildlife, to the occasional parting of trees that offers a great view. However, the frequency of sharp turns, cyclists, and bounding deer necessitate a certain diligence while driving (cyclists make poor and hesitant hood ornaments). About six and a half miles from the bottom, you pass the Sandia Ski area, where it is possible in the summer months to take the ski lift to the Tram house on a leisurely ride over the ski slopes that in the summer are covered in grass and wildflowers. Or, at least you can in theory. I did this once when I was about 14 years old but have never managed to catch the lift open again. When I was 14 I rode halfway up the mountain on the lift hanging upside-down, much to the delight of several people on their way down. I don't know how I managed not to fall, or at least have my pockets empty their contents all over the eastern slope of the mountain. A popular summer activity at this spot is to take the lift up, accompanied by a mountain bike, and ride back down to the ski lodge. About a half mile beyond the ski area is another picnic area, Balsam Glade, and turnoff for NM 165, which I will get to later. From this point it is nearly 7 more miles up to "the Crest," as it is called. As the road begins to steepen, and curve even more sharply, the cyclists' faces become redder and more demented-looking, and you begin to weave back and forth between Bernalillo and Sandoval counties. Upon arriving at Sandia Crest, I parked and walked to the overlook. Many folks move more slowly than usual due to the altitude, and some actually become ill from altitude sickness. Sandia Crest has an altitude of 10,678 feet and offers views normally reserved for airplane passengers. As many times as I have seen this view, it never fails to take my breath away. Something about the combination of the considerable height and lack of oxygen to the brain lends the whole scene a slightly surreal, almost dreamlike quality.
Unfortunately Hazy View From Sandia Crest
The wind had been a bit of a factor all day and was now steadily increasing. A big downside to this was the amount of dust whisked up into the atmosphere, making it rather difficult to get decent photographs- which was more frustrating than usual because I had a new camera to play with. I went inside the gift shop and had a look around. The gift shop is a sizable affair with lots of stuffed animals, jewelry, and assorted gifts stamped with "Sandia Crest 10,678 feet." I visited the Forest Service desk, which was unmanned at the time, and looked over the available brochures, picking up one on the topic of plague. Plague can make you very sick but is treatable if diagnosed early. Symptoms include fever, chills, "feeling sick all over," and swelling of the lymph nodes in the neck, armpit, or groin area (sounds like a party to me!). Plague can be contracted by the bite of an infected flea, or by handling the infected tissue of sick or dead animals (sorry kids, no juggling of squirrels, dead or alive). Plague is fairly common in the Sandias but can easily be avoided by not groping the rodents. A snack bar attached to the gift shop affords the usual assortment of grilled cheese sandwiches, french fries, and the like. A balcony off the snack bar provides a nice place to eat while admiring views of the mountains, city, birds, squirrels, and chipmunks. A hastily chugged root beer can unleash a resounding belch down the mountainside- not that I, your humble narrator, would ever do such a thing (and then admit it).
Critters Spied From The Snack Bar Balcony
I decided that the wind was not going to subside as I had futilely hoped, and decided to hike to the Kiwanis rock house. It was a warm and windy day, but there were some nasty looking clouds to the south, and I know from experience how quickly the weather can change up here, so I was sure to throw a fleece jacket into my backpack before setting out. Less than 100 feet onto the trail I passed a wild-eyed lady who told me that the radio told her there was going to be a tornado on the crest in the next 8 minutes. I politely thanked her for the information, thought for a moment on the possibility of a tornado above 10,000 feet, figured it to be unlikely, if not altogether impossible, and continued along the rocky ridge. I later contacted KOB-TV meteorologist Ty Shesky, who informed me, "Frankly, once you get above 7,000 feet, there's usually not enough directional wind sheer to support an intense, rotating vortex." He also added, "I'd still give it a remote chance, but highly, highly unlikely." The Kiwanis cabin is a .8 mile hike from Sandia Crest along a trail that the Forest Service lists as difficult, although I would call it moderate. There was a time or two when I needed to stop for a moment to catch my breath, but I attribute that more to the altitude than the terrain.
View From The Trail
The trail starts out along the crest and then wanders into the woods for a while, before skirting the edge of Kiwanis Meadow and winds its way back towards the crest and to the Kiwanis rock house. In the 1920's the Kiwanis Club of Albuquerque built a log cabin on the site which was destroyed by fire a couple of years later. A second log cabin was destroyed by high winds. In the 1930's the Kiwanis Club asked the Civilian Conservation Corps to build them a new cabin, which they did in the summer of 1936. The CCC constructed the cabin out of local limestone, and in the style known as "Rustic Aesthetic." By the time I had reached the cabin 26 minutes later, the wind had increased to 45 to 50 MPH, and had become bitterly cold. I was extremely happy that I had the foresight to pack my jacket. I sat in the cabin awhile, resting, eating a snack, and occasionally shooting pictures out the window. For a very brief time the wind died down enough for me to get one or two decent shots. So poor were the conditions for photography that I have had to supplement this article with some photos I took here last year. I headed back towards the parking lot at Sandia Crest, happy to enter woods that were dense enough to shield me from most of the wind. I was a bit jumpy wandering through the dark woods on my own, since a mountain lion recently made off with a small boy right here in the Sandias. Every creak from a flexing tree bough and crack of a falling branch was met with a startled glance in the direction of the noise, and once or twice, a drop of urine. Even though I am well aware that if a stealthy mountain lion is stalking you, you're likely not going to notice until it is chewing on you, I felt it beneficial to keep a watchful eye on my surroundings. I made my way back the .8 mile trek to the parking lot without incident, and without encountering another soul. Upon arriving back at my truck I noticed I had gained a wind-whipped hairdo reminiscent of a madman or clumsy electrician. My original plan was to stick around until evening and get pictures of the sunset and city lights, but the windy weather and dusty atmosphere persuaded me to move on.
View From NM 165
I drove back down the mountain to the Balsam Glade picnic area and turned onto NM 165. NM 165 starts out as 7 miles of dirt road that makes its way down the north side of the Sandias, through Las Huertas Canyon, and comes out near Placitas where it turns to pavement and eventually leads to I-25. NM 165 is a bumpy, dusty, thoroughfare with scattered trail heads and picnic areas. Although it has its share of bumps and ruts, I have seen a number of small cars successfully make their way along the road. About 3 and a half miles down is Las Huertas picnic grounds, with restrooms, tables, meandering paths, and a pleasant stream running through it. Approximately 1.2 miles beyond Las Huertas is the unmarked, small dirt parking lot for the trail to the Sandia Man cave. The trail is a hair under half a mile, with an elevation change of 84 feet, and is rated as easy (I knew some girls in high school with that same rating). The trail starts in the trees but quickly puts you in the sun and ambles along the rising cliff edge. This was brighter and more open than the woods up at the crest trail, but I remained vigilant for giant cats with a taste for mediocre travel writers. A couple of concrete staircases lead to a narrow walkway and even narrower spiral staircase that rises up to the cave entrance. The cave is named for the discovery of Sandia Man by archaeologist and charismatic storyteller, Frank Hibben, who, as it turns out, was more storyteller than archaeologist. Many of the findings at Sandia cave were improperly documented, and some items were allegedly planted there by Hibben in an effort to make a name for himself to be revered by all. Fame and glory were his for a while but the sketchy and incomplete paperwork caught up with him, and the very mention of his name will bring the blood pressure of most serious archaeologists to near stroke-level. Even now, nearly 70 years after his "discovery," it remains a sore and touchy subject in academic and archaeological circles. Many refuse to discuss the topic at all.
The cave has a few areas. The first, open chamber is well lit, while the light becomes dim in the second. At the rear of the second chamber is a small, elevated hole that leads to a third chamber that has only the light you take with you. The transition from the second to the third is a little awkward, and a touch alarming when you lose your footing and slide backward down a slick 45 degree angle in total darkness for two of the longest seconds you've ever encountered- trust me. As I found out, once through the hole there is an immediate steep descent of 10 or 12 feet in length (it's difficult to tell in the faint light of a flashlight) and a small but longish room that leads to an area that must be navigated via belly crawl. I am far too claustrophobic to explore the crawling part of the tunnel, but I have heard that it goes for an estimated distance of 200 yards, but that length has not been confirmed. Aside from a light source, the next most important item to have with you while exploring the cave is something to keep the dust out of your nose and mouth. Sandia Man cave is full of powder-fine ochre dust that will yellow you from head to toe, as well as do unfavorable things to your lungs if you breathe it in. The interior looks different in person than it does in the photos because the two flashes I used light the areas all at once, unlike the feeble wavering beams of flashlights.
View Of The Second Chamber
After a little exploring, I hiked back down to the truck, about 16 minutes, and headed for a stream-side area where I like to park and have a bite to eat, which is what I did now. I sat on my tailgate, quietly eating my really late lunch, and taking in my surroundings of a running stream and the sound of wind in the trees, thankful that I live in such a remarkable state.
My Favorite Spot To Eat In The Sandias