Santa Rita

Passage Five: Mile 75.1 Gardner Canyon Road to Mile 88.6 Oak Tree Canyon

Day 10 con't: As I reach the trailhead to Passage 5, the angry mama cow veers off my path and towards her babies. I relaxed a little at the sign and studied the map of the passage to come. The cow in distress is still moaning, but as I leave the area, the sound gets fainter. 

The trail immediately goes uphill for a short distance and I could see where I've traveled in the Santa Rita Mountains behind me. I took it in and felt accomplished to have finished yet another strenuous passage. It's high noon now and I feel close to the sun. 

For a while, the trail zigs and zags alongside an old aqueduct that miners built to transport water from far off places like Tunnel and Bear Springs behind me through eight miles of pipe to Kentucky Camp - the main mining operation - ahead of me. 

My anticipation to experience Kentucky Camp builds as I hit a long, straight dirt road. I commend the US Forest Service here. They did a great job in setting up the history of the area and I enjoyed learning something more than how much pain or discomfort I could withstand. I recognize they're both important lessons as a little history grows my intellect and world view but a fair amount of miserable, that grows my resolve. These are good, important things to cultivate. 

It's midday and I'm frying. No one should do anything midday in Arizona; there's not enough sunscreen in the world. I'd sit under the shade of a nice big tree if there were any around...I opened up my little pink umbrella and it gave me some respite from sunbeams so intense they could fry an egg. I stop frequently, I drink liters of water. 

The view is expansive on the road. I can see far off mountains that hint to passages to come. Nearby, it's more desert grassland, land made for cattle. I melt ever closer towards Kentucky Camp and am paying close attention to my water supply. I'll make it for sure, but I'll definitely need to fill up at the rate I'm going. 

The trail does a bit of a U-turn as I get to Boston Gulch, where placer gold was found. Soon, I reach the gate of Kentucky Camp at mile 78.8 and sign the trail register. I'm not officially sure of how the place got its name, but it could very well be because it looks like a country house down somewhere in the south, like  old Kentuck. Tall trees offer amble shade and their leaves gracefully wave in the wind. It's serene among the tall grass and I think of iced tea and creaky rocking chairs.  

Approaching the caretaker's RV near the main house, I realize that this is much more than a historic building, it's an old-timey mining compound. There's an assay office, a main building and a couple of other miscellaneous cabins. The main building is by far the most impressive with is wonderful, wrap-around porch. 

There are large wooden chairs on the porch for lazing about and visitors are welcome to go inside and look around. 

The floorboards bend under my weight as I enter the office and they make a slow crrrrrreeeeaaak as I investigate the living room. With its tall ceilings, sparse decor and tendency to spookily echo, I'm sure this place would be an excellent setting for a Nancy Drew mystery. I dig it. 

I wanted to stay longer, but I figured I should keep on trekking. Thus is the life a thru-hiker...you see a little bit of everything. I fill up my water vessels and eat a quick snack before I depart. 

The camp is currently being restored by volunteers. I'll come back with my nerdy friends in a few years and we'll rent out an old-timey cabin, eat old-timey Ranch Style Beans and talk like old-timey ornery prospectors... Well, that is at least what I hope as I make my way up the hill to the road. More dirt road walking. Gradually headed uphill. It's still very hot and I miss the blissful shade of that delightful porch.

I make it up the first hill and then it's back down to start another climb.

The grass, remarkably, gets even taller. I appreciate how it looks in the late afternoon light and enjoy more expansive views.

I get to the high point for the passage and not far after I find a nice flat place to camp. I set up my tent and enjoy the mellow sunset while eating dinner. It's been a decent day and I fall asleep happy. 

Day 11: It's 8am but the sun and the heat make it feel like noon. I'm sweating in my sleeping bag. I kick off the covers and immediately take off all my layers. It's so hot, I was going to melt into a puddle of goo right there. 

I layer on the sunscreen, eat breakfast and get slowly moving. The biggest climb for the passage is over and now it's many many little ups and downs in the foothills of the Santa Rita Mountains. 

It's pretty, but I'm getting sick of cows and grass. This isn't really what I had in mind for my trip in Arizona. I guess I (like most of the country I assume) pictured Arizona as half Sagauro National Park and half Grand Canyon. I wasn't expecting so much cow shit. I keep moving, hoping for a little change in scenery. Maybe, I was a little grumps on account of the heat.  

The best part of the morning was when I saw a large red truck next to a baby red truck. I don't know why, but I thought it was funny and cute.

It's about noon when I get to the metal cattle trough water source at mile 88.1. There's a spigot there that works splendidly and I fill up 6L worth because I haven't filled up since Kentucky Camp and the next water source sounded kind of iffy. 

I appreciate the spigot in the middle of nowhere. It is always nice to have the spigot because it's much easier and faster than scooping water out from the edge of a cattle pond. Ah, it's amazing the things you begin to appreciate after you spend some time as trail trash...

All filled up, thirst quenched and ready for anything, I motor on down the trail.  I blaze through Oak Tree Canyon and because there is no sign, I don't even realize when I've finished the passage. (To be continued...)

Temporal Gulch

Passage Four: Mile 53 Patagonia, AZ to mile 75.1 Gardner Canyon Road

Day 8: The dogs of Patagonia cheered for me as I made my way down 1st Avenue. Hopping and barking feverishly, they were telling me how proud they were because I showered and almost ate an entire 16" pizza by myself last night. People were waving goodbye to me like I'm sure they've done to countless other nameless and wayward strangers who pass through. Thumbs up are exchanged frequently and I begin to like this little Main Street of a town.

I felt good, refreshed even. It was about noon by the time I was really serious about leaving. I had spent the morning at the post office getting my resupply box, signing a trail register, and repacking my bag. I did spend a fair chunk of time sitting outside the Gathering Ground coffee shop, eating a delcious pecan bar and enjoying the freshest lemonade I've ever tasted. I'm not sure there's much better than ice cold lemonade on a hot, sunny day so I know it was time well spent. Support your local lemonade stand!

The trail departs Patagonia at 1st Avenue, which turns into dirt road that you follow for 7 miles through what is called Gringo Gulch. It's pretty monotonous, road walking...and this passage is full of it. I start to think about little bits from my favorite Walt Whitman poem, the Song of the Open Road. "Afoot and lighthearted, I took to the open road..." and then, "the long brown path before me" became less joyful and more of an annoyance.

I start to think about the Beatles and how this is indeed a long and winding road. Then, I start to sing the Beatles because I'm a crazy person. Anything to pass the time. 

I'm 4 miles down the road - warbling like a bird that butchers Beatles tunes - when I'm startled by the storm alarm on my watch. It only goes off if there's a big drop in air pressure in a short amount of time. Usually, it's pretty spot on and goes off when I already know something fairly gnarly is a'coming. Well, I look to the sky in the west, towards Mt Wrightson, and I see some wickedly wispy mare's tails. The W. And before I could even think Ah man, seriously? cannon blasts of wind come raging down the road and there I am in the thick of it. 

Bummer. I keep on trucking, head down like a sled dog once again and make my way down to the trailhead. The wind dies down by the time I get there so I still don't really know what that was all about. A microburst, I suppose. Perhaps, my singing summoned the wrath of the wind gods. I doubt it.

7 miles and I'm at the trailhead, ready to get some trail walking in. Well, not today me lass,'tis more road walking for you. The trail now follows a 4WD road into Temporal Gulch. Rocky and rutted, I imagine it's a Jeeper's dream. 

I march forth and notice that this passage is far different from the others. In this passage, there is no shortage of water. There's puddles of it and the road crosses mini streams of it and everything seems so, so alive. There's large trees and leaves and organic matter everywhere. It feels like a jungle in comparison to the other sections. It feels...wonderful. 

I lazily meander - as best as anyone with a giant pack on can - through the gulch, taking it all in. I notice to the swoosh of the blades as I pass a windmill, I watch some baby cows romp, I delight in the little insects swimming in the ponds, and I investigate a cave opening, sauntering along until I find a campsite. In total, I've hiked a mere 9 miles for the day and I call it a quits. I'm in no hurry, I'm on vacation. 

I set up my tent as the sun sets and eat dinner. The last two peices of pizza are on the menu, but they have become a big ball of cheese and dough since I didn't have anything to wrap then in so I used the free shower cap from my hotel room. Mushed backpack pizza tastes fine to me. 

Laying in the dark, I start to feel like I've accomplished nothing all day. I don't know when hiking 9 miles started to feel like nothing, but I guess that's where I am in life now. Perhaps, it was the road or because this was the first day of hiking that didn't have a whole lot miserable in it. Or, perhaps, I just didn't really do much at all. Alas, I fall asleep fat and happy in my little orange tent.

Day 9: Morning. It seems that I have parked my tent in the middle of an insect intersection. Light is shining through the tent and I lay there, listening to the morning commute of countless pollinators. The flies are in an incredible hurry as the dart and dash around me in surround sound. I hear bees bumbling, spilling their coffee as their minivan pulls into the school parking lot to unload the wee ones. There are small, high pitched racecar bugs that fly by so fast I can almost feel the breeze in their wake. There's the low buzz of a large semi-truck of an insect and I can see its shadow on the tent wall. Everyone off to work, getting the day started.

I take note and pack up my belongings, ready for hopefully a more productive day. I've just hefted my pack up and was securing the hip strap when I hear a vehicle. I look back and it's a red Jeep, followed by five more Jeeps, all a different color. Jeeps on parade! 

The ring leader has his window down, and says as he passes, "You're a long way from home."

I smile, and with a laugh, reply "You have no idea."

The Jeep rainbow passes and I see that all the drivers are men over at least 65, but I'm thinking they're well into their 70s. Gray haired, gun toting war vets in Costco pants, they all give me the what the hell are you doing way out here, girl? look but in a friendly way. I like them. They remind me a lot of my grandpa. I follow them up toward Anaconda Spring and almost could keep up because the road is so rocky they had to go slow. Not far down the trail, they've stopped at an old mine and try to pass group, in an effort not to disturb their wilderness experience. 

One of the grandpas comes walking down the hill, his hip holstered revolver shining in the sun, and asks, "You hiking the trail?"

"Yep." (No, I just carry this pack around for fun all them time)

"Where to?"

"Hopefully, Utah."

"What! No way."

Smiling, "Way."

"What have you got for protection?"

"Just this." I say as I thumb my large buck knife attached to my hip belt. "It's a big knife."

"Huh. Well that is a big knife."

-This is a weird conversation. I don't really want to talk about weapons. Change of topic to the trail, where I'm from, my profession, etc...

"Alaska? Why you ARE a long way from home. Say, do you know [insert the name of his daughter's friend who works in Big Bend but has been to Alaska once]? 

"Nope." We talk more about the trail and the rest of group comes down.  Somehow I'm standing in the center and I almost feel like I should be giving and interpretive talk about the Arizona Trail. A round of rapid fire questions and one request for a picture later, I remark about how I should be heading up the trail for water. They offer me a ride, they're going 5 miles up the way to the end of the road. I say, "Thank you, but I think that would be cheating." They laugh and we depart.

Well, that was intense. I peel off the road at the spring to grab water. Sip sip, cool and clear. I eat a Pop Tart and head uphill. It's 5 miles of up, steep and strenuous. It is so hot. The sun bakes my everything. Exhausted and only half way up, I wish I would have accepted the ride. Who am I to be so prideful? 

The road continues to weave it's way up the mountain. I'm 3/4 of the way up when the Jeeps return. They remark that I'm making good progress and depart with waves and thumbs up. I'm back to my lonesome, and I'm going to get to the top of this mountain if it kills me. 

Hike hike hike. Upward and upward. The road finally ends and then it's back to a singletrack of just one more mile up, through the trees. I'm a little grumpy on account of the heat and just going through the motions. 

The way down is rocky and forested. It's easy to get lost in thought, which I do. Miles go by and I barely notice until I get to Bear Spring. (This is the 2nd Bear Spring on the trail so far.) I'm rattled out of my mindlessness by the beauty of the river. It is the first water source on the trail that I would call an actual, real river by northern, non-desert standards. I fill up. 

The trail continues, following the river corridor for awhile and offers some nice views. Once I got to mile 72 at Tunnel Spring, there were actually interpretive panels talking about the mining in the area. That was an unexpected bonus for this nerd! It was around there when I decided to set up camp, next to the soothing sounds of a river...a novel concept on this trail.

Mac and cheese for dinner. Trail planning. Evening ablutions. Sleep.

Day 10: 3:35am. Darkness. The sounds of two large animals getting into a fight. Moaning. (Possibly cat?) Injured animal sounds like it's coming nearer, splashing. I grab my headlamp and knife and wait. The sound of footfalls get fainter, like it's moving away. I relax. Eventually, I fall back asleep.

Morning. Birds are having lively conversations as I open my eyes. 

"Chickadedidaleodee. Do you think she'll ever wake up?"

"Todoodeladeedidleo. No, it doesn't look like it!"

[ceaseless bird laughter]

Pop tart for breakfast, pack up the bag, and I make way to leave the land of plenty. There's too much life here, I've decided. Scoop some water from the river and I will miss the grab-n-go lifestyle. It's a short walk from where I was camping to Cave Creek, which is nearly the end of the passage. 

As I'm crossing the creek, I hear a terrible moaning moo from a nearby cow. This is a horrific one, really. I don't know what this cow is going through...Is it giving birth? Did it get caught in a barbed fence? I obviously know nothing about cows in distress, but I do know to leave 1000 pound animals alone. 

I cross the creek and make it to Gardner Canyon Road. There are more cows there, and they're looking at me as I'm coming from the same direction as the sound of the cow in distress. "Hey, I didn't do anything to your friend! I swear."

I follow the trail and make my way towards the end of the passage. One last gauntlet of cows. There's a group of 4 calves sitting in the shade by a tree. They see me and bolt. Mama is on the other side of me and she sees them running. I've never known cows to charge, but I get a little nervous as mama moo starts walking towards me. (To be continued...)