Woman Alone, in the Wilderness, Mountain Biking in Snow!

Desired location – San Antonio Hot Springs

Month – January

Distance from Highway 126 – 5.2 Miles

Issues – Forest Road 376 Closed for Winter

Solution – Bicycle

It’s January in New Mexico and I have a wild hair; which happens frequently. Anyways, I decide that now is as a good a time as any to visit the reportedly beautiful San Antonio Hot Springs. So I talk to some people, do the internet research and realize that Forest Road 376 is definitely closed in the winter. Now I am not intimidated by a 10.4 mile (round-trip) hike, in a day absolutely no problem. I have done 25 miles in day, 16 in the rain – hiking doesn’t bother me. Boredom does! So I think to myself why don’t I bike it. Now I am from Arizona, where I have spent most of my winters and snow...it’s not really an issue for us. Here New Mexico we have had a number of winter storms, but the last one was weeks ago, before Christmas, and in Albuquerque there isn't anything resembling snow. So biking seems easily feasible. I pack extra clothes, lunch, sneakers, hiking boots and gaiters, and head for the mountains.

Oh sh*#! I forgot to tell someone where I was going. Now here is where I am going to convince you that biking, hiking and swimming, my primary activities, are absolutely do-able as a single female. The contradiction - guys go into the woods by themselves on a relatively regular basis and nobody questions them. But if a competent “young lady" wants to go out and get her kicks by herself she will encounter opposition and questioning all along the way.  Now I am not exactly a typical female. And I will admit that before seeing 127 Hours I may have ventured far into dangerous places without telling a soul, but I learned from Ralston’s mistake (BTW I have immense respect for Mr. Ralston. If I had been in his shoes the headlines would have been a lot more ordinary - "The search for Ms. Fabry-Wood ended today when they found her body. Her arm having been pinned by a boulder to a wall in Southeastern Utah"). Today I sent out 2 text messages; each of which resulted in panic and a variation of these three questions:

Who are you going with? 

Why are you going alone? 

What if something happens?

I am not going to comment on my answers they will come with time. What I will comment on is the fact that as a woman traveling alone in Africa I encountered these same questions. And yes, in my travels I landed myself in situations which I would not wish upon anyone, but I got myself out by using resources which were available to me, by keeping my head, and by never giving up. I apply these same principles to situations I encounter ‘out there’ as well. The truth is I have never been truly scared in the wilderness; I am currently knocking vigorously on wood. Not to say that I have never been truly scared, just to say that those many moments when I have been paralyzed by fear always, always happen in civilized settings. So when I enter the woods, the wilderness, when I go outside – I do so calmly, with great excitement, expecting nothing but wonder. And these things I have always found there. Plus what's out there that would pose more danger to a woman than to a man? Bears? Hypothermia? Being lost? Rocks pinning you to a wall?  All of these things are unbiased, if you let them they will take you, woman or man. Creeps on the other hand tend to prey upon the weaker sex, but a woman is just as likely to run into those in the city as she is in the woods. But you say "Wait! There will be people around to help her." Good argument, but a fallacy if you assume good Samaritans abound.

The drive from Albuquerque to the Jemez mountains is minimal, taking about 1 ½ hours. The scenery filled with mountains, sunrises and increasingly more snow. I venture on undeterred and spellbound by the rocks and trees. I arrive at the parking lot for Forest Road 376. There is close to two feet of snow on the ground. I park the car, stare at the snow, let down the window and decide that neither hiking nor biking are my thing; right at this moment at least. I drive 20 miles east to Valles Caldera; formed by a massive volcanic eruption which collapsed in on itself. As I come round a curve the forested slopes give way to a massive bowl, surrounded on all sides by mountains. The volcanic crater, 12 miles wide, is perfectly white and breathtaking. The forested slopes above the crater evergreen and the sky above them cloudless and blue.  The sun continues westward and with it the temperature rises. I think again of San Antonio Hot Springs and decide to give it another go.

After parking and looking at the road I notice that some earlier traveler has been considerate enough to pack it down for me, using skis and/or snow shoes. I decide to ride. I wear sneakers, because boots on a bike are too bulky and I will more than likely be walking part of the time. I attach and zip-up my gaiters. I pack water, a towel and extra under garments (in case there are people). I put on my woolen cap, my gloves and my helmet. I start riding.

During the first 500 feet of uphill I begin to understand why people don’t ride in snow. Even with the intense traction of fat tires the rear wheel will not bite, it skids all over the place. But I make it to the top of the hill and am excited to see a long downhill stretch. Heading down I aim for patches of frozen mud and avoid deeper snow, much like driving a car. Then directly after a long patch of dirt I hit the ice -frozen solid with an unfriendly just slightly melted surface. The bike losses it, I disengage myself from the bike and skid 5 feet on my stomach. Yeeehaa! I jump back on the back on, look at the ice so I know what to avoid in the future and ride on. The road has a generally even grade, with slight uphills and significantly more downhill grades for the entire 5.2 miles. It takes all of my concentration and lots of balance, but I stay up most of way. Having learned quickly to avoid ice, to stay in the ruts, go steadily on, undeterred and happy.

I get to these isolated hot springs and find 8 people submerged in the steaming pool. There is more snow and the view is absolutely pristine.  After settling into the water I strike up a conversation, which of course began with familiar questions:

“Where’s is the rest of your group?”

“It’s just me?”

“You came alone?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“No.”

They look shocked and doubtful.

I continue “Oh, I have a lot of experience out here.”

“Really? You’ve been here before?”

“No, not here. What I meant was I have a lot of experience in the outdoors. I learned to walk at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.”

Their eyebrows go up. Perhaps they think I am lying, or at the very least exaggerating. I am not and tell them this with my eyes.

“But it’s still dangerous.”

“Yes, but I find that if you head into it unafraid then things usually go your way.”

In this moment I understand, perhaps for the first time, why I often fail so miserably in social settings - I enter them with fear. But out here...alone...I am free, as free as it's possible to be.

The ride up is great too, easier in fact. The tires get great traction on the compacted snow and riding is easy as long as I avoid the icy patches. Overall a worthwhile trip. I was in the right place at the right time and everything worked out. That's life in general, it's all about timing.

Please comment and check out more photos here: https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/114436305155907830473/albums/5698457267392641345