Rio Grande Valley State Park – Albuquerque, NM

There is something about a river. She is not the calm soul of the pond with her springy cattails and lily pads, nor the vast moodiness of an ocean, tossing and turning with each subsequent moonrise and shift in wind stream. The river has her own determination, inner strength, a rawness which perseveres – even when we do our damnedest to strip her of it.

Heading north from Caballo, New Mexico the Rio Grande flanks me to the east. She is easy to spot with her fringe of deep green, a color pop amongst monochrome vistas and rolling prairies.

My route reeks of familiar names. Westward exits for the Gila and Apache National forests. Pie Town, Datil, Magdalena where I stopped at a small Navajo store on my way to Valle Tio Vinces. To some extent, this has become a trip of memories and Albuquerque is my first real pause since leaving Texas.

Over the Saddle | Rio Grande @ Albuquerque, NM

Albuquerque, a city of color, of vibrance, of invisible box winds and striped airships. A city older than its home state and today, a place where concrete has devoured the river’s bloom, or almost - there is a park. The city protects what is left of riparian lands and cottonwood forests with open space - 4,300 acres of open space to be exact - as if Albuquerque itself knows and holds tight to some remembrance of what birthed it in the first place.

By the time we reach Almeda Street on the north end of Rio Grande Valley State Park, the river is almost dry but the noise is ample. Something I am no longer accustomed to after living in desert solitude these four and a half years.

I park, whether in the right spot I cannot confirm (I think not) but regardless, saddle and make my way down to a speckling of water and a view of the Sandia Mountains to the east, still clouded from the morning sunrise.

To my south begins the Paseo del Bosque – a 16-mile riverside hike, bike, inline skating and horseback trail accessible to us (given my faulty parking location) by an under-bridge crossing, traffic flowing non-stop above like an open artery. The perfect combination of chaos and anxiety for my backcountry pony, more cars and sounds than he’s ever seen in his life. I envy him in this, among other things, but I digress.

We turn and head north, off map, into the bosque.

And there is a trail here, although not technically of the park but a trail, nonetheless. The horse strides forward eagerly, desperate to replace the rough and tumbled sounds of mechanization with the rain of cottonwoods. Once immersed, breathing comes easier and our shoulders drop simultaneously.

Further in and around a bend, a stately old cottonwood, or alamo depending on your heritage, marks a pull-off, one which has stood the test of time. I halt the horse and dismount to examine the broad trunk, the etched bark, to sway in the windchime of heart-shaped leaves.

This forest is a world dominated by the mature, the deep-rooted and stubborn - our efforts to reduce floodwater, to save ourselves, our livelihood, our commerce, have changed the natural growth patterns of many species and there are few saplings here. I’m sure the cottonwood is not the only one.

I don't recall how I found this place, less sure even why I wanted to ride the Rio through Albuquerque. It has become my way to avoid cities, freeways, any general populated area really and now, it feels more a check the box sort of exercise. But we did and I am glad for it.

The horse is fresh and alert, but surprisingly eager to return to the trailer. I too, suffer from the overstimulation that is Albuquerque and am just as eager to retreat into the mountains where nature, as both my hiding place and shield, will prevail.

And so, we do.

View of Albuquerque from the Sandia Mountains

For information on riding the Rio Grande through Albuquerque: https://www.cabq.gov/parksandrecreation/open-space/lands/rio-grande-valley-state-park

Note: Dex and I did not ride the Paseo del Bosque but instead chose to stay on the fringes. Given more time, planning, acclimation on the horse’s part to city life, and perhaps re-acclimation on mine, I’m sure our experience would have been more pleasurable. I have been spoiled by the remote, I admit it.

I did enjoy shopping at Whole Foods, however.