Carl’s Meadow
“My meadow, my meadow. Meandering peace in horsetail grass” Carleton White Kithil
High above Santa Fe, in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, lies a small meadow tucked between beautiful groves of aspen trees and the spruce-fir forest. Wildflowers fill the grassy slopes in summer, sheets of white snow and blue shadows grace it in winter. In early autumn the aspen trees glow with golden light. Locals know this special place as Carl’s Meadow. Carl was a Santa Fe boy who loved hiking in our mountains, but who died far too young at age 22. He spent many hours in this sunny opening, with its solitude and splendid views, building snow shelters in winter and writing a poem to capture the spirit of its quiet beauty.
As befits a mountain sanctuary like this, the way up to Carl’s Meadow is hidden and somewhat challenging. The trail starts at an elevation of 10,000’ and climbs steadily for a mile, with few switchbacks and no signage. Local outdoor adventure companies like Santa Fe Mountain Adventures, Less Traveled Trails, or Outspire Hiking and Snowshoeing can arrange a guided hike to the meadow, and even higher up the forested trail if you have more time. Your guide will pace your hike as you climb nearly 500’ up the steep path. Your reward comes as the trail levels off into one of the most beautiful aspen groves in the Rockies. The meadow lies just beyond. And from the top of the clearing, you will enjoy views to the west, with Santa Fe nearly 3500’ below you.
Carl’s Meadow makes a classic snowshoe hiking destination. In some ways it is easier to make the ascent on snowshoes, which grip the snow better than hiking boots. In good winters a snow labyrinth, snow shelters and even igloos appear at the top of the meadow.
It is in late summer and early autumn, however, that the meadow truly shines with Carl’s spirit. This is a Rocky Mountain hike well worth making.
Bear markings on aspen trees at the edge of Carl’s Meadow
Carl’s Meadow
My Meadow, my meadow,
meandering peace in horsetail grass
buzzing bumblebee Who searches for remnants of pollen in July’s dried flowers.
The flora are gone and await a frost but aspens find strength in this season and regenerate their shapely canopy.
A fly could see this entire meadow in under two minutes,
yet he hangs around me because he’s happy there.
Covering ground isn’t important for him because the entire forest is his home and any tree his house.
A breeze carries my anxieties away,
the grasses shake their heads, denying my any worry.
I can’t ignore progress: an airplane above, a truck below
but in this context it’s all soothing sounds,
Maybe because I know I’m separated from it all only for a few hours.
A few religious hours exchanging song with nature.
— Carl Kithil