Todd Lake Winter Backpacking

Off the snowshoe route.

 It's strange, but once upon a time I considered winter the off season. No kidding. Back in the day when I was a Spokane local, the thought of backpacking in the snow never even occurred to me. In Arizona, the winter time was desert time. Down there I backpacked year round. Now that I'm in Bend backpacking year round would require a new set of gear and present a new set of challenges, which I would gladly take in lieu of an off season.

 Appropriately prepared with a winter kit, we set off for a local summer hot spot, Todd Lake. This lake, in summer, is always packed. Its parking lot choked with Subarus and Tacomas. A conveyor belt of hikers circling round and round the shoreline. Camping is not allowed in summer. However in winter, the lake is unreachable by automobile due to the closed mountain road. The hike is only a 3-mile jaunt through groomed snowshoe trails. It seemed like a logical first foray into the winter wilds of central Oregon.

Dutchman Flats

The trail-head at Dutchman Flats was near capacity when we arrived at eight on Saturday morning. An unfortunate consequence of being the only snow park in the region with snow. City of Bend, population 90,000. All vying for a parking spot at Dutchman Flats. We set out under a clear blue sky anticipating the sun's appearance over the mountains. The only detraction the constant drone of snow machines. But not a drone as much as a wail. A rising and falling of machine noise. Constant crooning and cranking of so many machines.... In the woods.

In the woods the motors were less noticeable as we left the flats behind. Or maybe we had become used to them by then. The trail lost, we veered off the path navigating by common sense. The lake is that way. We most go that way. The forest became a pitter-patter orchestra by then. The sun melting the snow off the legion of conifers. A conifer concerto if you will.

What is Nate looking at?

 Todd Lake was ice. A cloud hovered just over the surface giving it a dream like appearance. The kind of dream you wake up and try to remember, but only recall bits and pieces. We walked over the ice along the edge toward Broken Top mountain and a suitable camp spot. We nestled in the trees near some streams flowing into the lake from distant mountain tops. The weather was perfect. The scenery amazing. The kind you see on postcards. Some skiers and hikers looped the lake, but otherwise traffic was minimal. No one bothered us save the buzzing of snowmobiles in the distance, and the reek of gasoline. Our constant companion. A constant annoyance. 

The jays were worse. Swooping down from the tree tops to snatch any edible bit left unattended. I've seen people feeding birds from their hands here before. When I've scolded people for doing so I've always been treated like I'm making a big deal out of something small. But it isn't small. Birds stealing your food. Nibbling on your gear. Unafraid of people. It's a big deal because birds, like all animals, naturally have a fear of man. Birds, like other animals, have evolved to feed themselves. Very efficiently I might add or their line would have ended long ago. Feeding birds and other animals is, simply put, unnatural. Some unnatural things we just shouldn't tolerate. Snowmobiles we can live with, because men love machines (it makes them feel manly). But animals need to feed themselves. By feeding them you are harming both the animal and any humans it will encounter in the future

Frozen Todd Lake with Bachelor in the background.

 We lit a fire on the snow and spent the evening watching it slowly sink through the layers. The jays had long ago fled to deeper reaches of the forest after I convincingly won a snowball war I waged on them (to be fair, their offense wasn't much, but boy could they juke a snowball). We made a bench where we watched the sunset. We were warm and content. We slept well. Probably one of the best night's sleep I've ever had while backpacking.

Grey Jay

Fire making

Dinner

We awoke to the distant buzzing of snowmobiles at first light. We ignored their obnoxious overtures and began the morning routine. The hike back was much faster because we managed to stay on the trail. I think I'll go back. Not to Todd Lake, but further in, where hopefully I can leave the snow machines and spoiled birds behind. That said, I couldn't have asked for a better time.

Grand Canyon: Corridor Trails - Phantom Ranch to Cottonwood Camp & Ribbon Falls

Phantom Ranch is a funny place. In the middle of seemingly nowhere, at the bottom of an inconceivably huge canyon lies this little slice of civilization. There are a smattering of buildings; lodges for the ecotourist, cabins for park rangers and other staff, and of course, Phantom Ranch itself, which is more or less a cantina. We awoke on day two to the thunder of power tools and earth movers shattering that tranquil sound of the awakening desert. I wondered how the small bulldozer got there, since the only way in is by foot, boat or beast of burden. I supposed it could have came by boat, or maybe lowered by helicopter. I hung my soaked sleeping bag on a bear hang pole (see previous post) and took care of my camp. We watched the masses depart during breakfast, leaving Phantom for destination's unknown. It didn't really feel like backpacking in that place. Too many people. Too many amenities. 

Ellen in "The Box".

 After a late start we left Phantom enroute to Cottonwood Camp below the north rim. Soon after departure, we entered an area on the North Kaibab Trail called "The Box". The Box is a narrow canyon flanked by towering vertical cliffs. It is notorious for being an inferno in the summer months, although in winter it was chilly since the giant rock walls prevent the sun from reaching the bottom most of the day. To me it felt like a slot canyon. The danger of falling rocks weighed on my mind the entire way through. Especially after seeing rocks fall on the adjacent wall across the creek, and climbing over various rock piles that blocked the trail as we hiked through. 

On the North Kaibab Trail

 Eventually the Box opened up to sunshine and views of the snow-covered north rim. The experience was quite different than the day before because we barely saw anyone. I think we encountered only one other hiker in the Box. Between the Box and Cottonwood Camp we ran into a group of three researchers who were studying the health of native fish in Bright Angel Creek. They actually lived down there during the winter. What a sweet gig!

Climbing to Cottonwood Camp

 We made camp in a huge group site under some cottonwoods in an otherwise empty Cottonwood Camp. Luckily my sleeping bag was completely dry. Determined to stay dry and warm, I stuffed my pad inside the bivy, thinking that by sleeping on instead of in it, I could still benefit from the heat reflecting properties and not wake up drenched. I was soon lulled to sleep by the pleasing sound of the creek and a slight breeze.

Heading south on North Kaibab. 

 Day 3 began with the silence and solitude one would expect from a backcountry locale in an immense wilderness like the Grand Canyon. Our plan was to return to Phantom Ranch through the Box, with a detour at Ribbon Falls. Ribbon Falls reminded me a lot of Leona Falls in the Cascades, except that in the Cascades, I had Leona Falls to myself. There were probably 20 or more people milling about Ribbon Falls when we arrived, and more arriving by the minute. Again I marveled at the amount of people so deep in the backcountry. It's a sight I had never seen before. No doubt the mule trains from the south rim, and the guide services running the river bring people to this area that wouldn't normally be here. And it's cool. I'm not complaining. If I couldn't do it myself, I would probably ride a mule too. 

From behind Ribbon Falls

We reached Phantom Ranch in time to see a large herd of mule deer milling about Bright Angel Creek. The sun was setting and I just stood and watched them as long as I could. Watching animals in the wild is always such an amazing experience. It's like a window to a new world and new relationships that few people really get to see. I wondered: Where did they come from? Where are they going? Who is the leader? How many have died this year so far? Are any pregnant? Did they get cold at night? No matter how tough we humans think we are, we ain't shit compared to a wild animal, who every night sleeps in the dirt and the mud. Who has to find food and water. Who has to walk everywhere they go. Who has to constantly be on alert for other animals that want to take what they have. As it turns out, this would not be our only encounter with mule-deer on this trip... to be continued.

Back in the Woods

Enroute to a geocache.

Its been a long and brutal 6 months. If you follow my blog, you know that I have been dealing with a debilitating back injury since early this year. I couldn't hike or backpack. I could barely walk. Eventually I had to apply for short term disability at work. The ordeal was slow and painful. Most of all it was frustrating. I was sick of it. I AM sick of it. When all treatment methods failed, I finally opted for surgery. I am happy to report that I made the right decision. It has been nearly a month since my spinal discectomy and I feel better than ever. It still blows me away how great I feel. Now I just need to recover what I lost during my injury.

Raccoon tracks in the mud

 In the past few weeks I have been hiking a ton. I'm getting stronger everyday. I'm enjoying my time in nature more than I ever have. It can be depressing when you live for the woods, but are stuck in the house hurt... for weeks on end. Time slips away. I have been soaking up nature. Noticing everything. Appreciating all of it. In the desert I've seen lots of coyote tracks in my usual haunt. More than normal. I wonder why? After a rain last week I saw small birds snatching dragonflies out of mid-air. I've never seen that before. I saw two roadrunners in the Phoenix Mountains last week where I've never seen any before. In Oregon I saw a firenewt for the first time on a hike to Mirror Lake. In northern Arizona I saw raccoon tracks in the mud, and found fossils in some rocks. 

Halfdome 2

Not only do I feel great physically, I am also coming round mentally. It takes a toll on the mind being laid-up for so long. Luckily I have the most amazing woman on the planet by my side. I know that I could not have survived this summer without my Sarah. I appreciate her and everything she has done for me. I appreciate everyone who helped me: My brother-in-law Jim Ciomber for being the best friend a guy could ask for. My coworkers and managers at REI for their understanding and support.

 This winter in the desert I predict will be a great one. I can't wait to throw on my Crown VC and spend some nights in the backcountry. Physically, I'm not there yet... but I will be.

Pinnacle Peak

Pinnacle Peak Park

I love when I get the opportunity to check out some of the many Phoenix area hiking destinations. There are so many! Stand on any local mountain top, and you can see The Valley of the Sun is dotted with, and surrounded by mountains. I remember all those mountains coming as quite a surprise to me when I first came down here. My image of Phoenix previously was of flat desert, but it isn't that way at all.

Pinnacle Peak

One of those mountains is called Pinnacle Peak, located on the outskirts of Scottsdale. This park has a lot going for it. For starters, it boasts a wide variety of desert plants that grow in very close proximity to each other, making this a very green spot for a low desert locale. The dense foliage supports a myriad of desert wildlife including snakes and chuckwallas, who have plenty of places to hide in the rocky boulder strewn terrain.

Chuckwalla

What the park doesn't have going for it, is that its way too manicured, covered with signs and barricades to prevent off-trail travel, and dotted with benches and man-made lookouts. Its like the park service is trying to make it too friendly, and too easy. To me, it takes away some of the wildness of the place. I understand the need to attract visitors to the park, but shouldn't the beauty of the place be sufficient?

Anyway, my friend Jim and I still had a fun hike through some very interesting terrain. We saw a lot of chuckwallas sunning on the rocks which was really cool. I love seeing wildlife, its one of my favorite things about spending time in the woods. Even though we looked for snakes we didn't see any. I'm going on a year-and-a-half of desert living without seeing a single rattlesnake. Its crazy! I really want to see one of those big daddy Western Diamondbacks I've heard so much about... Better luck next time I guess.

Jimbo

Granite Mountain

Prescott National Forest is an area that I've never been too, so when I was invited for a hike up Granite Mountain in the Granite Mountain Wilderness, I jumped at the chance. Granite Mountain of course is the home of The Granite Mountain Hotshots, part of the Prescott Fire Department who tragically lost 19 members fighting the Yarnell Hill fire last summer.

A month before the Yarnell Hill fire, The Granite Mountain Hotshots fought a blaze closer to home. The Doce fire in Prescott National Forest burned 6,767 acres before it was contained, mostly in the Granite Mountain Wilderness. This hike would take us through the burn, and from the top of Granite Mountain give us a birds-eye view of the devastation. 

Burnt signpost at Blair Pass

This hike starts out in a classic juniper-pine woodland following a dry creek-bed from the trailhead near Granite Basin Lake. We followed the easy trail under the shadows of big Ponderosa Pines and huge Alligator Junipers. Peaceful, green and pretty, this area teemed with birds, squirrels, insects, and other wildlife. About a mile in signs of fire become visible on the hillsides, with burnt shrubs and melted prickly pear cactus. By the time we reached Blair Pass the terrain had become scorched and desolate. The ground plants were mostly gone, and the leafless black trees provided no relief from the hot sun. 

The ascent up Granite Mountain was hot without the shade producing trees, but we made do resting behind some of the many giant granite boulders that litter the mountain. Some of these rocks were the size of houses, and I couldn't help but wonder what geologic processes brought them there, since glaciation did not occur at these elevations, and it seemed too high for them to be carried by water... But I'm no geologist, so what do I know?

Eventually the trail wound around the northwest face of the mountain, revealing the charred remains of a large ponderosa pine grove. My hiking partner Dave mentioned that this area was previously lush and green, but now it just resembles a graveyard of towering black tombstones in a field of ash and dirt. In this area we had our only close encounter with some local wildlife, in the form of a Desert Tarantula. After my last encounter with a tarantula I read that they were very docile and easy to handle, so I decided to test the theory. I ran my pointer finger down its abdomen to pet it like I would one of my step-daughters rats. Well that's all it took to piss him off, and he immediately reared up its front legs and bared its fangs. So much for docile. He looked way too eager to sink his giant poisonous fangs into my hand if I handled him, so I figured the smart thing to do was just leave him alone.

Tarantula

Dave looking out over the burn zone

The top of Granite Mountain opens up into a large bowl-like depression surrounded by huge rock formations on all sides. In this depression stood the remains of another pine grove, but the fire damage here was not as bad, and the ground plants were well on the road to recovery. Eventually the trail brought us out to the south facing slope of the mountain. A little scrambling brought us as close to the summit as we dared, since the last 50 feet is a sheer wall of granite. I'm not too worried about peak-bagging, so I was content with how far we made it, and the beautiful view of Prescott and the surrounding mountains we had.

Looking out over the forest, I couldn't help but think about the firefighters who died, and those that still risk their lives to preserve what little remains of America's wild places. I read once that in the late 1800's, in the heyday of western settlement, some of those who would potentially gain monetarily from deforested land (ranchers, developers, etc), would often light forest fires on purpose. I cant help but think how ironic it is that we sacrifice so much now to preserve what was once taken for granted... How sad it is that we die to save what we once destroyed.

Me looking out over Granite Basin Lake and Prescott in the distance.

Horton Loop

View south from The Highline Trail.

Rim country can be such odd country below the rim. Something I notice every time I visit. Last weekend's overnighter was no different. We started in the shade of towering ponderosas and gnarly alligator junipers on the Derrick Trail heading North/East. The ground was dry and the vegetation sparse, like if you had to go off trail for any reason, it wouldn't be terribly hard to do. But the scenery changed, and by the time we reached The Highline Trail the forest looked quite a bit different. 

Alligator Lizard

Its like we entered some kind of transition zone. Now the forest was a mix of pines, junipers, and more of the plants you might associate with desert areas like manzanita and agave. In this area we came upon two Arizona Alligator Lizards duking it out in the middle of the trail. Amidst all the biting and squirming and teeth baring, I'm pretty sure it was just a male and a female making ready to get busy (if you know what I mean). I felt bad disturbing the festivities, but it was really awesome to see. It was the first time I had ever seen an Alligator Lizard in my life, and they are just gorgeous looking lizards. We ended up seeing quite a few lizards in this zone, including some really small Short-Horned Lizards that were about the size of a matchbox. They are very skittish at that size, which surprised me because the big ones I've seen are so calm.

Mogollon Rim

Eventually the Highline portion of this trip levels out a little bit, and some nice views of the rim and the mountains to the south open up. 

Ferns

As the trail drops toward Horton Spring the ecology changed again to one more of a purely coniferous nature. Ferns carpet the ground in spots, and lichens grow on the pine trees. I know I've mentioned this before in other blogs about my trips to the rim, but it really reminds me of the Cascades at times.

Descent to Horton Spring

As we neared Horton Spring I could hear the sound of running water and a giant smile spread across my face. Every time I'm hiking parallel to a creek, or nearing a crossing of one, it reminds of the northwest. I rarely ever hear moving water in the woods down here in Arizona, so when I do, I just really appreciate it. Like wind, water makes such a soothing sound, and I love to sleep near it if I can. In fact, that's exactly what we did Saturday night. We camped not far from the mouth of Horton Spring where fresh (and delicious) water gushed right from the side of the Mogollon Rim. 

Horton Spring

We followed Horton Creek all the way out the next morning. It made for a relaxing stroll, especially because the wind and the clouds kept the temps nice and cool. Overall, it was a great (albeit short) trip with some good company. This was my 3rd (I think) trip with the Arizona Backpacking Club, but everyone this time around was new to me. It didn't matter. It never does with backpackers. We all seem to get along pretty easily... Until next time.

John looking down at Horton Creek

Desert Walker

Teddy Bear Cholla

As the hiking season winds down in higher elevations, in the Sonoran Desert it's just beginning. I've managed to spend a significant amount of time wandering the desert in the last month or so, mainly in The Phoenix Mountain Preserve, but a little in South Mountain as well, and I thought I would just share some observations, and some of what I've learned.

Hiking in 100 degree heat with the sun beating beating down on you is hard, and the first thing I noticed early on was that everything you do in that heat is harder than normal. You have to be prepared for those extreme conditions, because something as routine as a steep climb can leave you feeling sick and spent. 

1) Acclimatize - The more you hike in the desert, the better you handle the heat. My first couple desert hikes left me feeling sick and slightly demoralized. If you plan on backpacking in the desert, I would recommend plenty of desert day hiking beforehand. Start small.

2) Temper Your Ambitions - Like I mentioned above, everything is harder in the heat. Expect routine distances and climbs to push your limits. What you can easily accomplish physically in milder climates will be a challenge in the desert. 

3) Bring More Water - Unless you've hiked in the desert in summer, it may be hard to imagine just how much you can sweat, and how thirsty you constantly feel. In the last month, routinely hiking in 100 degree heat, I've found that bringing double the water I normally bring is just enough. Last Saturday I finished 4 liters on a 7 mile hike. Trust me, you'll need to drink much more water than normal. Also keep in mind that water is really going to dictate where and how far you hike. If you bring 4 liters and notice that you've finished 2 already, then its time to turn around and head back to the car. 

4) Seek Shade - Heat stroke is a serious risk, and keeping your body from overheating is going to take effort on your part. If you come across shade, take your pack off and sit in it for a few minutes. Drink some water. Let your heart slow down. Let your body cool a little bit. I usually plan my breaks around shade instead of distances. I'll say to myself, "The next shade I come to, I'll take a short break". Trust me, it really helps taking a break in shade, versus taking a break in the sun, which can be totally miserable.

5) Bring Sun Protection - This one seems like a no-brainer. Keep sun screen in your pack. Wear a hat to keep the sun off your face. Wear a wide brimmed hat or drape a bandanna from the back of your hat to protect your neck. Wear polarized sunglasses. I have forgotten sun screen multiple times, and got burned for my stupidity. Now I keep a tube in my day pack at all times. 

6) Keep Track of the Forecast -. I like to use 100 degrees as a good mark of when to start and when to stop. If it's 100 in the morning when I plan to start then I stay home, because it will only get hotter. If it's 100 in late afternoon when I plan to start, then I'll go, because it will only get cooler. Hiking in 110-120 degree weather is dangerous, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but 100 is doable as long as its the peak temperature. You can beat the hottest times of the day by hiking near dusk and dawn.

So, those are just a few of the things I've learned in the last month. I'm not suggesting anybody run out to the desert and brave the heat, I'm just pointing out a few things I figured out, that really helped me. Desert hiking is a lot more doable in the winter months when the heat lingers in the 80's and water can be found in places dry during summer. I guess the smart thing to do is just wait for winter to hike in the desert, but living in Phoenix I basically have 3 options. Option 1: Don't hike. Option 2: Drive at least 2 hours north to escape the desert. Option 3: Hike in the desert. I have to take option 3 because I hike multiple times a week, and I cant make a 2 or 3 hour drive every time I want to hike. But hiking in the desert is doable. Just be smart and bring lots of water.

Sagebrush Lizard

Trail Life

Today's blog is a short photo collection of life spotted on the Reavis Ranch trail last weekend. 

Woolly Bear Caterpillar Moth climbing up a Desert Globe Mallow

Variable Checkerspot  Butterfly - Not sure of the flower

Short-horned Lizard

Bartlett Lake

I was able to get out camping again this week, and I had a really great time thanks to beautiful scenery and excellent company. We camped right on the beach in this little cove on Bartlett Lake, and for the most part we had the place to ourselves. The lake is ringed by some really cool green rock formations, and surrounded by brown mountains and giant saguaros. 

Water level was high. Notice the fire ring?

This trip was all about fishing. So far my Arizona fishing experience has resulted in zero catches, but this time I managed to reel in at least one bass. It was small, and I threw it back, but it was better than nothing that's for sure. It was really cool camping on the beach  because we could just fish from our camp. 

James trying to land a lunker.

 We did see plenty of wildlife. Lots of lizards and turkey vultures, a hawk, a great blue heron, and a couple roadrunners that boogied by our camp. Unfortunately most were too far away to get a good shot with my current lens.

Roadrunner

Hitchhiker

Overall it was a really fun trip, but I wished I could have stayed out a bit longer, and I wish I would have caught more fish, but its just being out there that is the most important thing for me. I'm already thinking about my next destination. 

Snow on the distant peaks.

A Bug's Life 3

White-lined Sphinx Moth Caterpillar 

White-lined Sphinx Moth Caterpillar

Monarch Butterfly

Spider at dusk.

Sea to Desert Wildlife

Sea Anemone
You'll have to venture out at low tide to find these colorful little guys.

Short Horned Lizard
He thought he was totally camouflaged. Funny thing is, the dog walked over it, and around it, and couldn't even see it.

Purple Shore Crab
Feisty little buggers.  He did not like my camera in his face.

Desert Tarantula
Found this guy on the trail last week. Took lots of photos. This is one of my favorites. It almost looks like an old man.

Southwestern Fence Lizard
The desert has canyons, and in some of the canyons exist lush green riparian areas full of wildlife.

Herring Gull (I think)
The Olympic coast is a bird watchers paradise.

Osprey
One of my favorite birds. You'll see the Osprey just about everywhere. I took this shot on the Mogollon Rim in Arizona.