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Enjoy Hiking, Biking, and More Outdoor Adventures in Carlsbad, New Mexico

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6 months ago

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THE HILLS AND CANYONS that tumble eastward from the Guadalupe Mountains down to the town of Carlsbad are scraggly with prickly pears and ocotillo, littered with slabs and placards of limestone, and, to the untrained eye, not good for much of anything.

“When most people think of Carlsbad, they think underground,” says Michelle Perry, who spearheads the Cavern City Trail Keepers with her husband, Curtis. She’s referring to the world-famous caverns, but this is oil field country too, with petroleum and natural gas deposits buried by the same forces that etched out the caves some 250 million years ago. “But we’ve found plenty to do on top,” she adds. “You just have to look.”

The not-for-profit Cavern City Trail Keepers has built a little-known hiking and mountain-biking sanctuary on 2,200 acres of Bureau of Land Management property just a few minutes southwest of downtown Carlsbad. Fifteen miles of official trails carve into the stony hills of La Cueva, though the Perrys say you’ll find at least double that if you poke around. Some of these trails have been here for decades, burned in during the mid-1990s by mountain-biking pioneers, including the Perrys. But development in Carlsbad, New Mexico’s 10th largest city, has breathed new life into the system.


Hike the Sitting Bull Falls Loop, near Last Chance Canyon.

When a new truck highway bypass opened in 2023 to alleviate rising vehicle pressure in the city, it slashed through the old trailhead. Undaunted, the Trail Keepers solicited support from the local BLM office to make sure the system wasn’t lost. The result is an even better network than before.

When I drove into the hills to check out La Cueva one overcast dawn in late fall, the only signs of life were a few creaky pumpjacks, an open-flame gas flare, and a three-quarter-ton pickup patrolling the gray twilight. Then two mule deer bucks scampered across the gravel road like an omen, and I arrived at an expansive trailhead complete with bathrooms and shade pavilions. It felt like infrastructure robust enough for Santa Fe—or Moab.

Off I went on desert singletrack, with signage at intersections and shade structures every few miles or so. The first few miles followed a lush arroyo, the understory hiding a series of wood ramps, bridges, jumps, and wall rides. The rest of the marked trails traversed gravelly arroyos and sweeping hills and took about two more hours, though plenty of unmarked intersections and threads of singletrack wended away into the desert as the Perrys had promised. The trails were reminiscent of systems I’ve ridden in Las Vegas, Nevada, and Phoenix.


Some of the new development at La Cueva Trails includes a series of ramps, ladders, and bridges.

“Carlsbad isn’t a big outdoors destination, but we’re gaining a reputation as a good place to come in winter,” Michelle says. “We’re a small community, but we’re growing.”

In addition to the trails at La Cueva, the Perrys describe at least 10 miles of singletrack at Avalon Reservoir, 15 minutes north of town, that are tailor-made for beginner and intermediate riders, hikers, and runners. And the Trail Keepers are in the process of constructing the La Cueva Ridge Trail, using grant funding from the New Mexico Outdoor Recreation Division and trail-building support from the New Mexico Youth Conservation Corps. Within a year, the 23-mile track will connect La Cueva to Whites City, where it will link up with the 100-mile-long Guadalupe Ridge Trail to traverse both Guadalupe Mountains and Carlsbad Caverns national parks.

At La Cueva, I see the start of the new trail winding away into the desert. I pedal westward to see what I can find.


Find a refreshing oasis at Sitting Bull Falls.

THE SOUTHEAST CORNER OF NEW MEXICO around Carlsbad has come to life over the past few years. The population of Eddy County, where the two largest cities are Carlsbad (32,000) and Artesia (12,000), was the fastest growing in New Mexico, up 15.8 percent over a decade, according to the last census.

“The oil and gas boom has really changed the narrative here,” says Kat Davis, executive director of Carlsbad MainStreet, a nonprofit promoting economic growth and redevelopment. “Not only has it meant an expanding workforce and community, but the economic development is driving new businesses and tourism.”

In the downtown area, which for years was characterized by boarded-up doors and papered-over facades, new boutiques are setting up shop and colorful murals are sprucing up once-dingy plaster walls. I stop by Zia Bike & Board Shop, a street-style store with everything from BMX to high-end carbon mountain bikes, where manager Priscilla Sweet doesn’t seem at all surprised to hear I’ve come for the riding. “We’re getting more and more people from out of town,” she says. “The word is getting out.” She shows me maps of the local trail systems but also tells me not to miss the beach.


Camp lakeside at Brantley Lake State Park.

A scenic shoreline might not be the most obvious attraction for a prickly town on the high plains outside the West Texas Hill Country, but that’s exactly what I find a few blocks north of downtown. Originally constructed by the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s, the 125-acre park on the banks of the Pecos River was redeveloped over the last few years with a sandy beachfront; a string of boat launches; more than four miles of paved, lighted waterfront; and a waterpark with colorful slides and a wading pool.

It’s Saturday in late fall, so only a few intrepid stand-up paddleboarders in wetsuits are on the water. But Sweet tells me that the river is a hive for outdoors people in summer, the waters roiling with kayakers, jet skiers, tubers, and swimmers all day long. “It’s definitely Carlsbad’s biggest outdoor destination in summer,” she says. “It’s usually crazy with people.” Just then, a teenager on a trick bike hurtles past me on the waterfront path and launches himself, bike and all, into the Pecos.

Parched from the walk in the sun, I head for one of Carlsbad’s hottest downtown businesses, Milton’s Brewing. Opened eight years ago east of town by the railroad, the brewpub has seen exponential growth since moving into the historic Independent Order of the Oddfellows building on Main Street.


Hang at Milton’s Brewing.

“There wasn’t anything ‘craft’ about this town before we opened,” says owner Lucas Middleton, who was born and raised here. He says Carlsbad has long been a Coors and Miller town, but that’s changing with new blood and demand from the Sandia Labs, the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant site, and more out-of-towners than ever. “I think the rise of craft beer kind of shows the direction that the town is headed.”

The Red Stapler, an American-style amber heavy on the malt, slakes my thirst, but I’m peckish from my ride. Across the street at YellowBrix Restaurant, where the leafy patio is as shady and relaxing as any park in the city, owner Barbara Rempel plies me with a Brix Mexican Burger (complete with green chile, naturally) and talks about the changes she’s seen since they opened more than a decade ago.

Just this year, the restaurant undertook a major expansion and added breakfast to keep up with demand. “Carlsbad has always been a little oasis in the high desert. Now people are starting to discover us,” Rempel says. “It’s the national parks, sure, but not just the caverns. So many people are coming for the outdoors and the hiking. Have you seen all the trails in the Guadalupes?”


Try YellowBrix Restaurant’s Brix Mexican Burger.

THE GUADALUPE MOUNTAINS, SWEEPING WAVES of stone speckled with army green lollipops of piñon trees and the golden lightning rods of mesquite plants in bloom, are only an hour’s drive from Carlsbad, but they feel a world away. To get there, I decide to take the less-traveled southern route through Dark Canyon, a rubbly defile that snakes upward to the west, so I can make another stop along the way.

At the Black River Recreation Area, I find a riparian corridor the BLM has painstakingly rehabilitated for wildlife viewing. It’s another little hidden gem, where golden cottonwoods and chest-high sacaton grass jump up from an otherwise bleak landscape to cast long shadows over spring-fed pools.

A low-pressure system strafing the landscape with 50-mile-per-hour winds means there’s not much bird-watching. But I glimpse a roadrunner as it dashes into the tall grass, then spy the black mohawks of a pair of ring-necked ducks on the water before the gale casts them like flotsam upstream and out of sight. It’s a peaceful spot. And like La Cueva, the infrastructure is impressive, including a brand-new viewing platform, information kiosks, and cheery picnic pavilions.


Look for javelina at Living Desert Zoo and Gardens State Park.

“It’s a great thing about all the oil and gas investment,” Michelle Perry told me earlier. “There are plenty of industry partners the BLM can enlist to help build these places up.”

The Guadalupes are the opposite: big vistas, forgotten trails, and wild landscapes to explore, but very little information or infrastructure. The 100-mile backcountry Guadalupe Ridge Trail (GRT) is barely known or used compared to other regional through-hikes such as the Arizona and Colorado trails.

I head for the swath of Lincoln National Forest between the two parks to camp and explore the Sitting Bull Falls Loop, an offshoot of the GRT. I hike from stony hilltops down through deep, dry limestone gorges and then up again.

I traversed Arizona’s Grand Canyon a few months earlier, and this landscape feels similar—almost as grandiose, just more compact. But where the Grand Canyon was full of manicured trails and thousands of people, the hike here is wild and unkempt. Except for a few javelina that scatter into the catclaw bottoms as I approach, I don’t see another soul all day.


Search for bird life at the Black River Recreation Area.

After a long, hot hillside traverse late in the afternoon, I’m stunned to come upon a series of aquamarine pools carved from limestone. It feels like a mirage. This is the top of Sitting Bull Falls, a spring-fed trickle of crystalline water that percolates through this dry landscape year-round. Another time, it would be packed with visitors, but on this autumn afternoon, I’m alone. I strip off my sweaty clothes and plunge into clear waters.

At YellowBrix, Rempel called Carlsbad an oasis on the brink of discovery. That feels about right. This place sits at that tantalizing cusp between rugged adventure and polished development. The town is growing up—the trail networks, the information and infrastructure, the beaches and craft beer. But just beyond, there are rough mountains to explore, empty forest campsites, and trails and roads that see far more wildlife than people. You just have to look.

After a silent night camping under a spray of bright stars in the Guadalupes, I set out to survey the surrounding country. I’ve seen vague references on cycling message boards to smooth forest roads and secret singletrack.

Eventually, I land on a bone-white, gravel hill climb that the map says leads to Five Points Vista. That’s an undersell. As I climb from scrubby juniper onto a broad, high ridge, sign after sign beckons: Buck Vista, Skunk Vista, Coyote Vista, Indian Vista, Bobcat Vista, Elk Vista. That’s six vistas before I reach Five Points. Each vantage is better than the last: a vast, crescent valley dropping a thousand feet below me, the Brokeoff Mountains—dry, denuded, prehistoric—jutting up the other side.

I feel like I should be on the set of a car commercial or in a cycling magazine, but there’s not a vehicle for miles, and I doubt anyone has ever pedaled up this road before me. Even if that’s not true, the magic of the place is that it makes you feel that way.

Read more: Well before the caverns became a tourist attraction, people were drawn to this special place.

DIGGING UP THE GOOD STUFF

Eat. Started as a coffee shop 13 years ago because Carlsbad needed a stopover point, YellowBrix Restaurant is now the de facto best refuel spot in town. Breakfast burritos, Cobb salad, burgers—there’s green chile on them all, just as we like it, plus the best patio in town. Lucky Bull Grill, in the former city hall, has gained a reputation for the house-smoked barbecue (don’t miss the pulled-pork Notorious PIG), panko onion rings with jalapeño ranch, and shrimp and grits with green chile and creole sauce. For the finest table in town, stop by the Trinity Hotel & Restaurant for perfectly cooked rib eyes or filets and a goat cheese appetizer with a blackberry and habanero sauce, topped with local pecans, that will make you wish you’d come in sooner. Milton’s Brewing, with a wall-size Zia symbol and brews better than anywhere in the bottom right quarter of the state, is the hang for craft beer and live music.

Stay. Built in 1892 as the First National Bank downtown, the fully renovated Trinity Hotel is home to both the most history and finest rooms in town. If you’re coming for the outdoors, there’s also great camping at Brantley Lake State Park, where you can choose from full hookups, tent sites, or, best of all, a bonfire-fueled night on the beach, yards from the lake that feeds the Pecos River. In the Lincoln National Forest, west of town, there’s plenty of free sites (no services) off the myriad forest roads around the village of Queen.

Play. On the Pecos, the River Hut rents gear for getting on the water; games and equipment for the volleyball and pickleball courts; and provisions, food, and drink for all the famished, hard-playing river rats. If you don’t have the time to explore the Guadalupe Mountains, stop by Living Desert Zoo and Gardens State Park, where you can take in all the local flora and fauna, from spiny Chihuahuan desert agave to javelina and even Rocky Mountain elk, which run the hills west of town.



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The Street’s a Little Kinder When You’re Home…

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3 hours ago

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July 20, 2025

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And just like that, it’s already July. Half of 2025 is over! It’s not like the construction of time has been something I’ve thought of in ages. At this point, I feel like you could’ve told me any amount of time had passed, and all I could say would be… “ok, and?”

I slept… alright? I’ve become spoiled a bit with the bevy of hotel stays that I’ve had in the past month. I actually did a count, and I spent more nights in a real bed than on trail. Oops! I think I needed it though. The Mid-Atlantic took a bigger toll on my mental health, and physical health, than I could’ve expected. While the election was smooth, the terrain, bugs, rain, and heat wave were anything but. I’m glad to be making more progress North than East now.

When I woke up, the hostel felt like a ghost town. I assumed that was cause everyone else was asleep, but if I’m up first, that’d just be… shocking. I made a trip over to Sweet William’s Coffee Shop and Bakery for an Americano and croissant, before taking one last dip into LaBonne’s Market for a sandwich. Of course I’m going to pack out town food when I can! Plus, I’m pretty sure there are trash cans today.

The walk out of Salisbury and back into the woods was pleasant enough, into fields and a relatively calm ascent. At least, that’s what the elevation ma promised. In reality, my brain was still kind of out of it today. I don’t know what’s up, but I’m still not feeling that strong while hiking! It’s crazy how 1500 miles in, I still haven’t been able to dial in my footwear. In retrospect, going to a gait analysis before the trail would’ve been my best bet. Or at Mountain Crossings. Or at Outdoor 76. There were so many opportunities. But I was too worried about what was on my back to focus on my feet. Good to give as advice, though.

Eventually, I came upon the ascent to the highest point in Connecticut, CT’s very own… Bear Mountain? Yeah, turns out for some reason, CT also has a Bear Mountain. The ascent was nice, but the descent was quite tricky. Another mini boot camp in preparation for the Whites. At the top, I enjoyed the sandwich I packed out, and drank in the views. Though, it was terribly warm again. My speed’s dipped, and I can finally with confidence say that the correlation is all with humidity. If there’s any, I just can’t perform well.

During my descent, I ran into Trash Panda and Velcro, maybe for the last time. Both are getting off trail for a few days, just to take a break. But at this point, I got one way to go. Forward. And into Massachusetts! My home state! I’ve actually never been on this side of the state really — I had a car camping trip planned last year that included a day hike of Mt. Greylock, but that got canned due to some pretty intense rain. As a musician, I’d also always wanted to make the trip over here for Tanglewood. But never did.

As much as I’d like to espouse how great Massachusetts is, it starts with the beautiful Sages Ravine. Except… Sages Ravine has one very major flaw. It’s basically a swamp. Not basically, it is a swamp. Which means my enemy’s back out… infinite bugs. Even though I’d DEETed up to start the day, and DEETed up at Bear Mountain, and sprayed my clothes with Permethrin, they were relentless, going for my uncovered hands and legs constantly. I quickly picked my way through and before I knew it I was on the intense climbs up Mt. Race and Mt. Everett.

In the heat and humidity, my heart rate was constantly spiking. So, I constantly had to take breaks just to let the heart calm back down. I was constantly breaking into upper Zone 2/lower Zone 3 heart rates on these hard days, and while Zone 2 is technically fine, I don’t want to break into it too much during longer days.

At the top of Mt. Race, there was some beautiful ridgeline hiking, even with the sun beating down. I expected more of the same on Mt. Everett, but that’s when the weather finally decided to turn. As the crackling sounds of thunder grew nearer and nearer, I started trying to get down as fast as I could. But with the rocks getting slicker, it was all I could do to not fall! And I did a few times. Luckily, always on my butt. But at some point, I just accepted my fate, and started butt scooching down the mountain instead. I quickly passed by the Hemlock Shelters, and saw a few hikers ducking out the rain, before continuing on my path.

The last four miles of my day should’ve been the easiest. It was nothing but flat fields, flat dirt, and flat woods. But, for some reason, my feet are still absolutely on fire. I don’t get it! I was trying the Superfeet Green setup that seemed to have worked before the Shenandoahs. Maybe I should’ve never changed out, my body seems to have to get used to this stuff again. Ouch ouch ouch ouch.

After a few miles of plodding along, I finally got to US Route 7, and stuck out my thumb in hopes of a hitch into town. And voila! Almost instantly a truck pulled over, and he drove me to the Travelodge where I had booked the night. Yes, another hotel, again. But I wanted to explore a bit of Great Barrington! It seems like such a lovely town. We’ll be back in nature tomorrow.

At the Travelodge, it was all I could do to not immediately crash out for the night. I went over to an East Asian fusion restaurant, where I ordered some… mediocre food. At least the sushi was good. I got an Oreo McFlurry from McDonalds, and then called my mom after showering. My parents are visiting soon, and it’s time to really get the logistics in tow! Which feels unreal. I originally thought I’d be further than this. I was a bit snappy, since it was late and I wanted to go to bed, but we got a plan together. So yay.

(title lyrics from: When You’re Home, Mmandy Gonzalez, Christopher Jackson)

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Day 119, Glam Girl and Hunger Pain are officially AT NOBO 2025 thru-hikers | February 28-June 26, 2025

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July 20, 2025

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Thursday, June 26. Our much anticipated summit day. The weather was nice with no precipitation in the forecast. We had a pleasant morning at our campsite at the Birches campsite. We felt blessed to have Ryan and Ellie with us to continue our journey to the summit. We were joined today by five other close friends and family, Celine, Jackson, Becca, Craig, and Cait. My mom and Leo hung back at the camp with Patti and Mike. The hike up was wonderful and went by very quickly and next thing you know we were at the summit. The summit was very surreal, emotional, and such a special time completing this epic journey. We were the only thru-hikers to summit that day so others were quite patient with our pictures as we took lots of pictures with friends and family. The hike down was also special as we knew we were now completing our journey and about to return to our normal life. We had a couple of cars parked at Katahdin Stream Campground brought in by the friends/family that joined us today. We made our way to Millinocket to stay on a beautiful lake at Patti and Mike Daigle’s camp which had a view of Katahdin. Another wonderful cookout and beautiful weather and we got to relax and enjoy our final evening in this part of Maine with friends and family. The best part of today was that we didn’t have to do any thru-hiker chores! That felt great.

All of the below photos were taken by the one and only Cait Bourgault (photocait)!!🤍

Ryan’s and Craig
Becca being the bad ass mama she is and pumping!
Cait and I🤍
Celine and I🤍
Becca and I🤍
Ryan and I🤍
Ellie and I🤍
Jackson, Dada, and I🤍
Leo🤍
Patti and Mike’s camp!
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Into the High Sierra – Thunderstorms, Snowfields & Mt. Whitney Prep

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July 20, 2025

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The Sierra is showing her true face – with marmots, thunderstorms, snowy climbs, and mosquito swarms. We’re officially in the high country now. Our group is back together, we’ve had our first real alpine lake swim, and we’re camping above 3,000 meters. With wet boots, sore legs, and full bear cans, we’re ready to tackle our biggest challenge yet: Mt. Whitney.

Day 55 – Marmots, Mosquitos & Mountain Views

Last night was warm enough to sleep with just the sleeping bag draped over us. Morning was a bit of a scramble to dig out our hand sanitizer and wet wipes from the bear can, but we made it work. Packing still takes a while – we’re getting used to fitting all our food into the can – but we eventually hit the trail. A long climb awaits, and we’re happy to have gotten a head start on the rest of the group.

The landscape is fully transformed. No more desert – we’re walking through cool, shady forest, sometimes even crunching over old snow patches. Instead of snakes, we spot a marmot. Yep, we’re in the mountains now. We stop for breakfast at a gorgeous overlook and still haven’t been caught by our crew. Weird.

Veary finally catches up during snack break. The trail drops down to lunch. Turns out Timo and Lea got delayed – they forgot to collect water and even had to set up their tent at breakfast to escape the mosquito apocalypse. Apparently, the season has begun. We got lucky with a breezy, bug-free breakfast spot, but the Swiss were swarmed. And to make matters worse, a mouse chewed a hole in Lea’s sock.

We eat lunch by a creek but don’t linger – dark clouds are forming. The forecast had warned of storms. We still have to climb a ridge, so we push on. Thankfully, the clouds move the other way. The views are spectacular – even the dried-up lakebeds look dramatic.

We hike further than planned. The original camp is too early and the weather holds, so we go for it. Our new camp is beautiful, but the water source is a bit of a hike downhill. By 5 p.m., we have tents up, stretched our legs, and counted the 70 steps to dinner rock. That’s where the bear cans and anything smelly go for the night.

We’re camping at 3,144 meters. We’ll see how sleep goes – apparently, the mosquitos have no issue with elevation.

Day 56 – Storms, Snowfields & a Glacial Lake Dip

Rain during the night! Not everyone was ready. Some scrambled to throw on their tent fly, Patrik climbed out to grab his backpack from a tree, and a few of us slept through the whole three-minute shower like champs.

Out of camp by 6 a.m. The trail is beautiful – forest, meadows, and increasingly frequent snow. Our shoes are starting to get damp. Clouds start gathering late morning, and by the time we reach our lunch spot at Chicken Lake, the thunder is rolling.

On the way, we lose the trail while navigating a snow patch and have to bushwhack a bit to find it again. Luckily, we spot Lea and follow her to the lake.

The sun is still out, so we seize the moment – glacial lake swim! Absolutely freezing, but refreshing and wonderful.

The Swiss are planning to wait out the storm here – they’ve already set up their tent. We eat quickly and hit the trail again in jackets. The climb is steep and the rain eventually starts, but we’re well prepared. No lightning near our ice axes, thankfully.

After filtering water for the night (no source at camp), we come across a massive snow wall – that’s the trail. We climb it, feeling tiny in the landscape. Just before camp, we stop for a snack – no eating at camp in bear country.

Camp comes early today, which is nice. We stretch, build the tent, and relax. The Swiss arrive much later – they got caught in the rain after packing up.

Dinner is 70 steps away again, and the evening is spent making a plan for tomorrow’s Mt. Whitney summit attempt. We’re sleeping at 3,362 meters. It’s getting cold – time to tuck in.

Day 57 – River Crossings & Ready for Whitney

No alarm this morning – we’re taking it easy. Today is just 11 miles to the base of Mt. Whitney. We plan to arrive early and rest up before tomorrow’s big climb.

I try packing the bear can inside my backpack for once. Not great. First, we have to cross a river to get to breakfast. It’s a proper river, but luckily there’s a fallen tree across it. We use that to get over.

Breakfast by the water. I’m still fiddling with my pack – the can is hard and presses uncomfortably into my back. Eventually, Lea arrives… but no Timo. After a while with no sign of him, we ping him on Garmin. Turns out there was a miscommunication, and she hikes back to find him. Eventually, we’re all together again and ready to move.

What a climb. Steep, relentless. We huff and puff our way up and are rewarded with an epic view – and storm clouds building once again.

The descent feels more like a retreat from the weather. We cross another river – this time no log, so in we go, boots and socks soaked.

Thankfully, camp is just around the corner. We pitch tents fast and stash the ice axes far away, just in case. We wait in the tent, hoping for a break in the rain so we can eat.

The sky clears just in time for a late lunch. We meet up with the group, then head back for a nap.

Later, the sun comes out – we hang up our soggy shoes and socks to dry before nightfall. Nap until six, then it’s dinner time.

We sit in a cozy hiker circle with our little trail family – and a surprise guest. A coyote trots casually past our camp!

Doug starts a new tradition: a dinner conversation topic. Today’s is books. Yes, please.We prep our snacks for tomorrow’s climb, stash everything in the bear can, and crawl into our bags. It’s time. Whitney tomorrow.

 





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