Sharman Apt Russell lives with her husband and two children in Silver City, New Mexico. Her books include When the Land was Young: Reflections on American Archaeology (Addison-Wesley, 1996) , The Humpbacked Fluteplayer (Knopf Books for Young Readers, 1994), Kill the Cowboy: A Battle of Mythology in the New West (Addison-Wesley, 1993,) and Songs of the Fluteplayer: Seasons of Life in the Southwest (Addison-Wesley, 1991.) Her work has won the Mountain and Plains Regional Award, the Zia Award and a Pushcart Prize Award, among others. Her essays and stories appear in a number of anthologies and magazines, including Walking the Twilight (Northland Press, 1994), The Stories that Shape Us (Norton, 1995,) The Threepenny Reviw, The Massachusetts Review, The Missouri Review, and The North American Review.
Sharman's recent books include a collection of essays on botany, Anatomy of a Rose: Exploring the Secret Life of Flowers (Perseus Books, 2001) and The Last Matriarch (University of New Mexico Press, 2000), a novel on paleolithic life in southern New Mexico, as well as When the Land was Young (reissued by University of Nebraska Press, 2001) and Kill the Cowboy: A Battle of Mythology in the New West (re-issued by University of Nebraska Press, 2001).
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This is a world mysteriously hidden and exquisitely scaled: a world of rock and water and intense, shifting patches of light and shadow. Here, adventurers can start their "canyoneering" a new term for the wading, swimming, leaping, and bouldering involved in squeezing through a narrow canyon. Here, fishermen and fisherwomen can cast into deep pools that mask the subterranean movements of trout. Here, plain and simple dayhikers can feel gratified: the Frisco Box is worth the hike.
To find the Frisco Box, you must first find the town of Luna in Catron County, New Mexico. Near the Arizona border, Luna is on Highway 180, about one hundred miles east of Socorro and two hundred miles south of Gallup. The small town is prettily surrounded by the ponderosa pine and juniper woodland of the Apache National Forest. Your first stop here should be the Luna Ranger District where you can check for local fire and river conditions. In the monsoon months of July, August, and September, for example, you do not want to be scaling the walls of the Box - with a flash flood raging beneath.
From the Ranger Station, you'll turn right at the church and drive four miles down Forest Service Road 19, left on Forest Road 210, and another 8.4 miles. This area is part of a private ranch, and you will stop twice to open and close gates. You might, if you are that kind of traveler, pretend to be a rancher yourself, for the meadows here are broad and beautiful against a background of wooded hills unfolding below blue-grey cliffs and lavender mountains. Cattle lie peacefully under the shade of cottonwoods, and a white horse grazes at the field's edge.
Up to now, the dirt road is smooth enough for any car. The last mile or so, however, has more of what you have been expecting: sudden bumps, dips, and angry-looking rocks placed directly in front of your tire. Just before the San Francisco River is a steep and rocky hill. You'll want to park at the top or in the open area before.
A trail starts at the bottom of the hill and follows the river eastward. In about one-half mile, the Frisco Divide Trail intersects and heads up south. You'll continue along the river banks, crossing here and there and possibly getting your feet wet as the water bends and curves in a shallow valley of grass and shrubbery. In another mile, you'll see signs of trickling springs along the west bank. Fifty feet up is a natural hot spring with a concrete pool and wooden bench. Sometimes a sign announces the spring. Sometimes not. But you are sure to find it if you keep on the right side and remember that the spring is above the river.
After an hour's walk from your car--about 3 miles--the trail enters the Box itself. The approach is oblique. One moment you are in the bright sunshine. Then you are poised before the dark and deliciously cool entrance. From the cliffs a yucca shoots up its flowering stalk, and the scarlet flash of claret cup peeks from a ledge. The sandy bank nearby is a good place to sit down, rest, eat lunch, and think about things.
More likely than not, the rest of the hike will involve some swimming or thigh-deep wading. How deep or how many pools there are depends on the stream's flow and on the canyon itself as it narrows and widens. Birds flicker overhead. Lizards and frogs jump from your footsteps. The sound of water will grow suddenly harsh as the river speeds down an incline over pebbles and stone; then the music will soften to indicate depth. Yellow flowers bloom in the cracks along the cliff, and long grasses brush against your bare legs.
Perhaps a half-mile down the Frisco Box is a great jumble of rocks, as though part of the wall had tumbled down. One boulder is the size of a small cottage, and the passage here requires some minimal mountaineering. This is where many visitors stop, perch, and stare over the primal scene below: the cacophony of rock and the play of a river in the dry Southwest.
The true canyoneering begins here, as the Frisco Box continues for about a mile and a half. In places its walls rise a thousand feet, and the sky shuts down to a narrow swatch of blue. Those who plan ahead can have a car waiting at the end of the Box, where it opens onto Forest Service Road 41 near Reserve. Be sure and check the condition of that road with the ranger district.
Other walkers will be content to retrace their steps, 3 miles back along the river. If you have time, stop at the hot springs, plug in the cement pool, and take a warm bath. On the way out, the odds are good that you'll see a few ducks or a great blue heron, its strong wings flapping, its posture serene even in flight.