Cibola in New Mexico Pt. II

To Georgia and Back Series: Part 2
Cibola Part I is here:
Day #2
The clouds are moving fast, through a turquoise palette this pleasant morning. I am watching a large white dragon fly across the sky. I pull out a camera, but my effort is not quick enough. By the time I’m ready, it has become a simple fat horny toad and then disappears.
We had been awakened early to the sound of the neighbor’s generator and a pounding hammer, before the first light of day. I barely slept by pulling covers over my head and ears. When I next poked my head out, I was surprised and pleased to find those neighbors gone.
Last night, I commented on the smell of their pot, but it is still here. Apparently, it is the mountains.  As I sniff around, the pine and wild plants place that aroma on the wind. It’s curiously everywhere.
With their disappearance, we are slightly more capable of casual nudity, but across the road, there is still a view of a trailer, as I sit at the provided cement picnic table.
We take off up the road walking to find the illusive trailhead. Up the road a piece, there is not an official trailhead, but a definite road off of this maintained one.  It is a spur and a very rough one. It would require a 4×4, quad, or mountain bike, to traverse just the first 100 feet. This will be our hike today.

It is a Thursday and those fellow campers are still parked in their campers and RV’s around our spot. In this remote area, I’d expect fewer people here.  There are two around the bend, one is behind a large bush-like tree. There is that mammoth truck. Across the road back in there, I see a trailer and awning. Even as we walk up the road there is a camper in the lone turnoff.
After returning to camp, another big rig pulls in. There is now no campsite nudity. We’re in kilt and sundress, itching to get into the hills, but it is time for breakfast.
While DF is prepping the meal, I check on the cement bunker of a toilet. It has thick concrete walls and a steel door. In a natural disaster, this is where to run and hide. It will be the last thing standing. The inside is clean and feels empty and only functional, but  I quickly discover a charm in here. The construction leaves a shower stall’s sound effect. It all echoes and resonates.   With the sound trapped inside these walls, I breathe a long OM, then, “Om Gum.” Then for some compulsive reason, like, “It’s New Mexico,” the silliness of “Oh Fair New Mexico” the state song, is belted out. The echo of my best deep opera voice thunders back at me.
I figure this will give DF a smirk, but those thick walls keep my secret! I continue to snap photos in the morning light.
As we sit in our folding chairs eating breakfast out of bowls and imbibing nature, a rather rotund guy in a camo painted four person quad pulls up after his visit to the restrooms. We have to wonder what he wants. I double check my kilt, “nope.”
He has decided to greet us. The population mystery is solved when he tells us that it is deer hunting season. He has a couple of bows on his rig. He is hunting for information and clues as to where the deer are. Well, they certainly aren’t around here. It becomes evident that they are not anywhere for miles. There are multiple loud trucks and quads cruising by. Too many for us and so then, too many for the wildlife.
They are out in groups, probably in teams working with the same game permit. A truck with four soldier looking guys in camo uniforms drives by. They look like military. Their four arms rise in unison to wave.
Three, or four other military style rigs cruise by, each with three of four hunters. They are all friendly and waving. They seem to be just cruising up and down the dirt road, looking to shoot some animal without standing up.
Eventually, I see that we are surrounded by hunters. These people wouldn’t be here except for that common interest. Subtract that and the normal is quite quiet in these hills and this camping area. I had it figured correct, just the wrong day.
We leave walking, just before noon. This is a rest day with a hike and there is no hurry. The temp is in the 70F’s. We call it great! I just take a kilt to get away by the other camps and DF a sundress. We take off briskly, but soon must stop to gather flowers in our lenses.
Before the turnoff …

Read further at The Free Range Naturist

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