Responding to a long-held urge, I decided that this year I would make every effort to hike and pack into some of the various wilderness areas in our state. Since my backpacking equipment was old, worn, and obsolete, I shelled out for some quality gear, and, smartly outfitted, embarked on a series of pack trips into the mountains around Santa Fe. I’d like to share some of my experiences; I’ve concluded that not all is well in our high country, and overgrazing is the cause.

"I’d like to share some of my experiences; I’ve concluded that not all is well in our high country, and overgrazing is the cause..."

Unfortunately, it was here that I first encountered the cow problem: the trail and meadows were fouled with cow waste, as were the various stream crossings. Horsethief Meadow itself was only slightly fouled; I managed to find a campsite that was relatively clean. I relocated a few cowpies and set up camp in the tall trees beside ice-cold Horsethief Creek. I took my revenge by eating a great steak dinner!

In the second week of June, I hiked from Jack’s Creek campground to Beatty’s, 8 miles one-way, with an elevation gain of 1800 feet. The trail parallels the Pecos River, on the west side of the upper Pecos Canyon. The route clings to the sides of Round Mountain, with spectacular views of Hamilton Mesa to the east. In the 1800’s, a fellow named Beatty had a remote ranch near the confluence of the Pecos and Rito Sebadillosos. Today, the ranch site is a park-like clearing in the heart of the Pecos wilderness, and a popular destination for hikers and trail riders. Many trails arrive at Beatty’s from all directions, making it a busy little spot. While there, I saw several other groups and some horse riders. I camped along the Pecos just north of the old ranch.

The damage from cows along this trail was extensive. Long sections of trail were covered in foul crud. Damage at stream crossings was intense: large muck zones of vile green crap were churned up with black mud at every stream section, the result of herds of cows loitering near water. I encountered the villains themselves at several water crossings, standing in the streams, dropping excrement directly into the cold water, which only hours before was pristine frozen snowpack. The camp I chose needed a good cleaning as well. Resigned to the situation, I ate my beef stew in camp that night with a certain vindictiveness.

"The meadows, carpeted with wildflowers of every color, lead off in every direction..."

Sadly, the damage to this mountain paradise from grazing was out of hand. From trailhead to camp, the route was carpeted with manure. In the rain, the trail became a small creek of vile green liquid. My boots and gaiters were covered with crud; it was impossible to walk ten feet in a straight line without plowing through waste. Every stream crossing was a mud and crud bog; I was unable to find a single water source that wasn’t a mess. My water purifier was clogged with green scum both times I used it. I boiled my cooking water for safe measure. I would have to say that San Pedro Parks is an eco-disaster, tragically degraded and ruined. I fell in love with this place, and left there mad about the situation.

In early June I hiked eight miles up the west fork of the Rio Santa Barbara. This trail leaves the campground in the mountains east of Penasco, headed due south. Passing through a steep walled, forested canyon, the trail rises 2500 feet to the No Fish Lakes, and is a primary route for sturdy hikers who want to climb over the Truchas massif into the southern Pecos wilderness. Easy going for the first five miles, the trail suddenly jumps out of the canyon on the western side; the Forest Service has built a series of steep switchbacks here that rise 1500 feet in two miles to the lakes. This hike is not for the faint of heart, and I was exhausted when I hit camp at the lakes. I was rewarded for my efforts with one of the most beautiful and scenic camps in our state with great views from camp of Truchas Peak, Middle Truchas and North Truchas.

Cow damage along the first five miles of this trail was as I have previously described: cowpies, fouled water, stream-side erosion. Though not nearly as bad as the conditions in San Pedro Parks, it was just another bad scene. However, the steep switchbacks must deter livestock, so that the forest beyond mile 5 is much cleaner and more pristine than any area I have yet encountered. The feel of this high alpine area is of a healthy and ancient ecosystem that is shielded from the worst ravages of grazing. What a relief to find a clean camp that didn’t need to be rid of waste.

I belong to no particular environmental group (yet!) and consider myself a reasonable, middle-of-the-road person, as far as environmental politics is concerned. I write this not to attack the livestock industry or anyone involved with grazing. I don’t feel compelled to accept the whole environmentalist agenda, and have heretofore resisted aligning myself with any side in the debate over the environmental issues concerning our national forests. The facts I have related are simply what I’ve seen, and are undeniable: grazing of livestock in the high country of New Mexico damages and pollutes the headwaters of everyone’s streams and rivers. Natural ecosystems at high altitude are easily damaged by, and take longer to recover from, livestock grazing. Using the high country of New Mexico for grazing is a terrible misuse of precious wilderness. In a state with such vast acreage devoted to rangeland, withdrawing the wilderness areas of our state from grazing would have a tiny impact on the livestock industry as a whole, yet would have a major impact on forest health, restore natural ecosystems to the balance that existed before the arrival of Europeans, and would remove a pollution source that currently impacts water quality to the detriment of all of us. If you doubt the veracity of what I’ve said, grab your boots and hike up into the national forest nearest you, and see for yourself. Watch where you step!

— Dave Larson, MountainZone.com Pubster