Valley blues

Thirty one years in this particular valley and it finally happened. We have been discovered. For three decades human presence has been relegated to the few people who live in my valley and an occasional horse trailer or two on the weekends down by the mailboxes.

Since the pandemic we have been inundated with hikers, bikers, joggers, horseback riders, fishermen and walkers. The Wildlands group who administer the river put signs up; No parking, no hiking. People didn't care, they went in anyway. Parked in front of the sign and walked right past them.

I just drove home, after six o'clock. About twelve cars at the trailhead and more all the way down the road. I hate it. We live here in your new amusement park.

After heavy policing by the Wildlands Conservancy they suddenly disappeared a few weeks ago. I caught up with one of their rangers the other day, asked him what was up? I guess traffic is so bad on the other end of the trail at Sandia Creek that they had to put all their people there, says my valley ain't nothin' compared.

I guess the Orange County folks among others have put the word out on social media that it was a great place to hike and hang. We have been put on the map. The Wildlands people have tried to go online to various sites and ask people not to come but it is no use. People decide which rules they will obey these days rather selectively and have no little or no respect for public or private property.

I sure hope that it is just a passing fancy and that they forget about the place but it may be hopeless and too far gone. Word is out. I guess I should be glad I got thirty one good years in. Still I wish they would just go home. Infect some other place.