May 18, 2012
The wild ponies put on a show for us again. They visit the lake in the morning and evening. They kept coming, with three colts among them until we counted 17 horses.
This frisky little guy would run circles around his mother, each circle ranging farther away until he’d get tired and drop down for a minute’s rest. Then, he’d start over again. When it got dark, the mother, stallion and colt came right up behind our motor home and started grazing in the campground.
We decided to hike the park and see what there is to see. It covers three thousand acres but has no suggested hiking trails. Our first stop, at the marina, we noticed this sign. We’d heard grumbles at the VFW in Grants that the muskie have killed the trout and are now an unwanted predator fish. The Fly Anglers Website does not support that claim. The park’s website doesn’t even mention the muskie. The elevation is such that people can fish through the ice on Blue Lake during winter months.
We kept taking pictures of the lake, but as we climbed higher and higher, the lake kept spreading out before us. It takes a huge bend, and we found the biggest leg of the lake.
The park sits between a 685 foot deep canyon and the lake. It is loose limestone and shale and the only way down is over the edge. The little creek was low, as is the lake this year. We decided not to chance it.
At the highest point in the park, we could see down into this dam, basically empty. The website shows this dam half full?
Not only were we at the highest point, but Jim decided he had to be even higher. I thought the wind was going to blow him over the edge.
We got great views of the lake.
We speculated that the ruins, with two wind powered light posts, must have been the dam tender’s house at one time. The propellers have been removed from the lights.
Nearby, at the base of a twisted old pinon pine, a cross suggested that someone had gone over the edge and died on this rugged point.
Tramping around the wide sweep of the point, discovering wild flowers, horse tracks, the gorgeous views; even the cooling wind was a welcome element.
Daisy like, the flowers are actually the diameter of a pencil eraser.
Past their prime and even smaller, this little blue cluster was difficult to spot.
A rare exception. Rocks here don’t have much color.
We discovered an old dump site that put us in mind of our stop at Petroglyphs National Monument where an expert told us these old style cans were from the 1860′s. Part of discovery is wondering who passed this way before you. We will never know. We spent the rest of the day playing cribbage, reading and I took a short spin on my bike.