The light at Conchas lake at dawn with the full moon setting has the pearly salmon opalescence of the inside of a conch shell.
Though I have a map printed from the state park website, on my first morning I struggle a bit to find a place to launch the kayak in disorientating predawn twilight. Initially I find that I have navigated to an old, now closed boat launch way above the waterline. I am distracted all the while by magnificent vistas of moonset over water and a desert landscape sunrise.
One doesn’t really want to wander off trail in this environment. The local flora, while beautiful, can be somewhat hostile, especially toward bare skin. Then too it’s rattlesnake country. I am in my usual paddle uniform: flip flops and swimming shorts.
When I finally find a boat launch which ends in water, the sun is already putting the moon’s morning opalescence to route.
I have to wait while a couple launch their motor boat with a great deal of discussion as to who has or hasn’t done what. Traveling solo has its advantages.
Conchas Lake dates from the Army Corps of Engineers civil infrastructure initiatives of the 1930s. Like most of the lakes I paddle in New Mexico, it is a man-made reservoir damming the Canadian River.
My opinion on the big picture environmental impact of damming rivers aside, this lake attracts me as a paddle site because, even in low water times, such as now at the end of irrigation season, there are more than 25 miles of meandering lake/river to explore and local fauna and flora to admire.
I found ample campsites set amongst wildflowers, juniper and piñon. Midweek, mid September there are very few other campers or boaters.
I do meet a group of young local lads playing in the nonexistent traffic, ignoring road signs, and quite unperturbed by my presence.
Like all New Mexico State parks, the bathroom facilities are superb: clean with abundant hot water in the showers.
If the first dawn at Conchas for the bathtub toy and myself was cloudless and dominated by full moon set, the second features the most amazing display of clouds.
Though I can feel the heart of the river in the current pulling to the south, it is a calm paddle with all the drama taking place in the sky above.
What magnificence! It’s not called Land of Enchantment for nothing.
I almost forget to look for the petroglyphs rumored to be found on the rocks around some of the bays and inlets of this lake.
Spoiler alert: I don’t find any petroglyphs.
I suspect I was on the wrong side of the river and would need to cross the channel.
Petroglyphs tend to be on the south facing cliffs.
All that means is that I will be back.
On this morning this lake, this water, this sky, this enchanted luminosity swallows me wholly. Albeit briefly.
Why do anything other than seek water to paddle in the liminal light of dawn?
Because petroglyphs. They are there, accessible only by water, and I left without finding them.
Gorgeous place captured beautifully