Rollin' their own and other natural phenomena

We made a quick trip to Santa Fe last weekend to visit our architect – up on Thursday and home on Friday. The drive was grand with some wonderful scenery. These mental images come from that trip.


Desert mountains roll their own clouds.

I’ve noticed this phenomenon before. Drive across the desert and you likely will see clear skies. Except along the high ranges. There, you are likely to see clouds. These clouds are only along the peaks of the mountains with elevations of perhaps 8,000 and higher. On past trips, I’ve noticed these white puffs. They may not move; instead they may stay suspended above the lines and points of the mountains. Then again, the puffs may accumulate over the high ridges until the mountains huff them out over the desert plains and toward the opposing range or along the prevailing wind stream. If enough mountains are huffing their cumulus at each other, the possibility of rain takes shape. So on our drive up on Thursday, this was the face of the phenomenon.

Out of Santa Fe on Friday and driving toward Albuquerque, we noticed that the Sandia Mountains were rolling up a different cloud. From our initial perspective, it appeared that the mountain was smoking. To the west, the sky was clear, but there was a dark gray cloud emanating from the peak nearest us and trailing along the ridge toward the east. As we drove further down I25 toward Albuquerque and rounded the end of the range to run alongside, we could see that the dark, dense roll of cloud was clinging to the ridgeline the length of the Sandia range. As we traveled south, the threatening cloud receded in the rear view mirror along with the mountain range. Our attention captured, though, we watched to see whether the other ranges of note had rolled up similar dark bands of cloud. Sure enough, each range that we passed was similarly topped. And we noted that rain fell in isolation over mountains to the east. We had planned on driving back across the Black Range rather than take the longer, flatter but faster way, but began to worry that we’d get down to the point of decision and see that the Black Range was likewise clouded. Fortunately, by early afternoon, the desert sun had prevailed and the clouds had dissipated into a bit of cirrus.

That thing had horns!

On leaving Silver City on Thursday, we drove the longer, flatter but faster way, which takes us down toward Deming. From south of Hurley and the great Grant County Airport on down to Deming , the landscape is rangeland. Cruising along at 65 makes for difficult wildlife viewing. However, it is easy to tell a wild critter from a domestic one. And the wild critter we saw as we flashed by was no mule deer. But it wasn’t elk either. That thing was a pronghorn! No discussion about whether a pronghorn is an antelope (it’s not) or whether pronghorns are in the neighborhood (according to the internet research I did, they are). If only I’d seen, thought and reacted in time, I would have stopped to enjoy its presence.

More desert flowers

We crossed just south of the Cook range on Rt 26 and up toward Hatch. Unexpectedly, we found the desert floor and lower hills covered in yellow. Not with poppies, but with a low-growing ground-cover type of flower. Again, we found ourselves pointing out hillsides, crevices and ranges that appeared soaked with sunshine!

And finally, our trip back across the Black Range

I guess I’ve been here long enough now, driving these mountain roads often enough and acclimating my fear of heights adequately enough. When we drove the Black Range the one and only other time, crested at Emory Pass at about 8,200 feet, after snaking up on 10 mph curves, to snake down the other side on equally tight curves, I was in vertigo hell. The only reason that time my nails weren’t bitten to the cuticle was that I was driving. This time, the drive over was my idea, and again I was driving. But the experience was very different. I won’t tell you I took in the scenery. On those curves with no side rails and nothing but down, you don’t sightsee. But we pulled over a couple of times to take in the view, and what views there are from up there. When we got up to Emory Pass, we stopped, got the dog out and walked up to the Emory Pass view point. To tell you the truth, we stopped and walked the dog because, despite what would seem common sense and against the posted restrictions of 17 feet, we came up behind a double cab pickup hooked with an overlong 5th wheel and towing a car, and traveling tandem, another double cab pickup towing a flat bed with several atvs tied down. Way more than 17 feet. And anything more than about 17 feet cannot possibly stay in lane on the switchback curves. I didn’t relish following them down the other side; so we stopped. I was stunned to learn afterwards that mining trucks – double carriers – used to ply that road over the mountains on a regular basis.

A dog story

We took Nutmeg with us. I successfully found a halter that hooks to the seat belt, keeping her secure in the back seat, if somewhat disgusted and embarrassed at having to wear the darn thing. We stayed in a Comfort Inn. They put us on a lower level hallway next to the back door for easy escape for a puppy that needs to pee. Along with about 4 other dogs! The rule was that you aren’t supposed to leave the dog in the room alone. Apparently some of the other dogs’ people chose to ignore the rule. We were settling in when the other dogs began to bark. When it wasn’t the sheep dog across the hall, it was the little yapper two doors down. Or maybe the other yapper on the other side of the hall. Nutmeg, otherwise quietly hanging out by the bed, would jump, lunge at the door and reply in kind. It was obvious we might not get much sleep. So I decided the only thing to do was to sleep with her – or her with me – so that I could control her if she jumped up to bark. This is a dog that has never been allowed on the furniture – bed or otherwise. She didn’t even know how to get on the bed! If you can imagine, I had to walk her to the side of the bed, which made her nervous, not knowing what to expect. Then grab her around the chest – making her close to panicky. Lift her front quarters up onto the bed, causing her to try to back up between my knees. And then hoist her rear end up onto the bed. She stood stock still for a minute, trying to figure out her footing. That was long enough for me to slide under the covers. Which was her signal to sink down next to me and sigh heavily. And not move the rest of the night. Well, actually she did move – she jerked, she dreamed, she thumped and ran. But she didn’t bark once. That’s the last time, however, that she’s getting on the bed with me. She has terrible bed manners. She plopped her butt on the pillow next to me, with her head down by my knees. Morning came quickly, though. A quick bowl of food, and we packed up, coaxed her into her halter and were on our way.

Finally, white again

Today is April 22. A full month after the first day of spring. This afternoon, it snowed. Actually, it blizzarded. The cumulus that rolled up and out of the Gila today carried lightening, thunder, rain and snow. I looked out my office window at one point and couldn’t see the house on the other side of the arroyo, let alone the peaks behind. It snowed for an hour, enough to frost the junipers and leave a white coating on the ground between the pines on the mountainsides. At dusk, we still couldn’t see the tops of the ridges. Tomorrow morning, they’ll be white. At least until the sun warms them, melting snow and evaporating the moisture. Then the moisture will roll up the mountainsides again, to create more puffs to grow into new cumulus.