Oregon Badlands Wilderness: Badlands Rock

Old Juniper on the Badlands Rock Trail

The Oregon Badlands Wilderness is quickly becoming my "go to" spot for hiking and exploration. Access is less than 30 minutes from town, yet the crowds are nonexistent. My original plan for this day was to check out Tumalo Falls, but when I arrived vehicles lined the road leading to the trailhead and people poured from them with snowshoes and nordic skis. It was so crowded that I immediately turned around and headed for the Badlands. Solitude is a big part of why I like the outdoors, and nothing outside turns me off faster than crowds.

An hour later I'm in the Badlands. The hike was usual Badlands fare; flat terrain, Junipers aplenty and all the solitude a man could want. Unlike my first foray into this wilderness, Badlands Rock Trail occasionally opens up to views of the surrounding hills. The Junipers here are more sparse. The country just feels more open. I'm struck by the sheer number of birds I see and hear in this wilderness. I'm accompanied by birdsong everywhere I go. 

From atop Badlands Rock

I was surprised by the size of Badlands Rock when it finally came into view near the 2.5 mile mark. I wasn't expecting it to be so big, and was overcome with the urge to climb it. The scramble was a bit tricky due to ice and snow, but the view from the top has to be the best in the entire Oregon Badlands. 

Unnamed hiker on top of Badlands Rock

More views.

From Badlands Rock, one has two options for longer loop hikes. I went west on Castle Trail which had not been used since the most recent snowfall. Breaking trail was slow going. By the time I reached The Castle (halfway between Badlands Rock and The Flatiron) I felt like I was on a race against time to beat the setting sun, so I retraced my steps back to the trailhead and made it just in time. This area definitely deserves so more exploration. I like the idea of backpacking here, but being a relatively new wilderness, and playing second fiddle to the cascades, I have not seen nor heard of any backcountry campsites... Until next time.

Breaking trail

Oregon Badlands Wilderness: Larry Chitwood Trail

Do you know what I love about Bend the most? I can drive 20 minutes out of town in nearly any direction, and be in the woods. Today I forsook the mighty Cascades and went east. East toward the desert, into the Badlands. The Oregon Badlands got mixed reviews from my coworkers at REI. Descriptions ranged from "beautiful" to "boring".  Being a self-proclaimed "desert rat" I had to check it out. 

Historical artifacts?

The Larry Chitwood Trail offers the closest access to any trail in the Badlands Wilderness, and my Silverado was the only vehicle at the trailhead. After hitting the trail, I was immediately impressed. The old Juniper scrubland baked in a golden glow from the rising sun really reminded me of the Mazaztal Wilderness in Arizona, and it was absolutely awesome. The only problem? Piles of rusted cans and broken glass. Apparently, Bureau of Land Management considers the trash some type of historical artifact. Some of it may even be remnants of The Oregon Trail (as in, "Go west young man"). 

High desert Juniper scrub lands.

Looking at the map, the Larry Chitwood Trail is kind of a lollypop figure-eight loop, and that's exactly how I intended to hike it. I started with the west loop. I was surprised almost immediately by the amount of deer tracks I saw. In fact, I spent about 5 hours jacking around in that little stretch of wilderness, and I saw more deer sign than I've ever seen in one place in my life. The ground is really soft sand, so literally everything leaves a print. Deer, coyote, cat, I saw it all. I realized pretty quickly that the Oregon Badlands Wilderness is crawling with critters. 

The west loop was kind of a bust. Most of its length it skirts private property, and at times the trail just inched a little too close for my taste. In fact, at one point a mangy old farm dog howled at me as I strolled by. It wasn't the dog that worried me. It was its owner. Luckily I was out of sight before anyone popped out of the doublewide gung-ho with a double-barrel.

The east loop was more my style. Deeper into the wilderness. Away from roads and farms and loud-ass power tools. All I heard was birds. A concerto of birds in fact. Celebrating an unseasonably warm November no doubt. The deer tracks became more frequent. I started to see scat. I even saw bear scat, which if the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife is to be believed, bears are ... "absent from arid regions of central and southeastern Oregon." I've seen a lot of bear poop in my day, and I'm pretty sure this is it (see below).

Bear poo?

Overall it was a fun trip. I didn't see a single person other than myself. Just a lot of birds and animal tracks. If you're looking for solitude, the Oregon Badlands Wilderness is the ticket. If you're looking for views, go elsewhere (west young man). I will return for sure, but probably in the winter months when it's a bit colder. Maybe a backpacking trip is in the cards for me as well. The Badlands has no water that I know of, which surely assists in keeping the masses away, but coming from Phoenix that's something I'm used to.

A final note. There are dozens of unmarked trails in this area that aren't on the BLM map. Route finding can be challenging, especially if you take a wrong turn. It's best if you study the area from above beforehand to get an idea of the layout (google earth), and don't forget your map and compass!

Three Sisters Wilderness: Green Lakes

Fall Creek

 Oregon. That is where I now reside. I've traded in saguaros and century plants for pine and spruce and fur. I'll miss the desert, but Oregon is a homecoming for me of sorts. If you've followed my blog long enough, you know that Spokane, Washington was where I began this journey. Now, I'm in Bend. The final destination... Hopefully. 

The boundary for Three Sisters Wilderness is literally a 20 minute drive from Bend, and the road is paved. With such easy access you can guess that Three Sisters is one busy wilderness. Green Lakes is supposed to be a primo locale in the wilderness, and late June is supposed to be the best time to go... Before the snow melts and the hiking hordes arrive. We were on the trail by 9 am, and the humongous parking lot was mostly empty. I had been warned about the crowds, but it didn't look too bad. 

Green Lakes is roughly a ten mile round trip hike over nicely maintained trail. Early in the year however, the trail is easy to lose in the snow. It's been awhile since I've hiked over hard packed snow, and almost immediately I wished I would have brought some microspikes. As a result, I was slipping and sliding all over the place, but at least I wasn't postholing. Shade from the trees, and the constant sound of running water from Fall Creek were a welcome change from the desert. Another key item I didn't bring was a pair of sunglasses. I remember walking out the door thinking, "I don't need my sunglasses, I'm not in the desert anymore," Boy was that a mistake. Walking over snowfields on the approach, my eyes ached from the glare of the sun off the snow. My eyes hurt so bad that I was worried about going snowblind. To eliminate the glare I had to walk with my hands cupped around my eyes, which drastically reduced my peripheral vision and caused me to constantly lose my footing. I felt like a complete rookie up there.

South Sister

 We found the lakes still frozen over, but the mountain view was awesome. Craggy "Broken Top" and the solitary "South Sister" overlook Green Lake from the right and left. I thought that Green Lake would be an excellent basecamp if I ever felt the need to climb either of them. I had brought fishing gear, but the lake was still frozen over. 

Broken Top

 We didn't see barely anyone on the hike in, but the hike back we passed probably 50 people. One group of backpackers had lost the trail under the snow, and didn't seem to know where they were. Another group of mountaineers were heading for Green Lake to make a basecamp for a summit bid on South Sister the next morning. Most were day hikers like us.

Return trip along Fall Creek

 The giant parking lot was completely full when we returned to the trailhead. I was beginning to realize just how popular this area was. Since the trip I've learned that Three Sisters Wilderness is the most visited wilderness in Oregon, and Green Lakes is its most popular trail. I think I'll skip that trail for the rest of the summer and find something a little more out of the way.

Creek crossing with the puppies.

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.

Reavis Ranch

Introduction

My trip to Reavis Ranch in the Superstition Wilderness got off to a rough start. Having received the Osprey Xenith pack during the week, I was really looking forward to testing it on the trail, but it wasn't meant to be. After I filled the pack with gear, I found that I could not get a comfortable fit. I paced around the house for an hour making adjustments and feeling it out, but to no avail. I think the torso size may be off, even though it's a medium just like my regular pack. Needless to say, at the last minute I switched packs, not wanting to risk hiking 20 miles in a pack that is causing me pain in the "try on" phase.

My other problem didn't really present itself until I was on the trail. Last Tuesday on a day-hike, one of the insoles in my Merrell Moab's ripped somehow. Procrastinating during the week, I didn't buy a replacement pair of insoles until the last minute. Consequently, within a quarter mile on day one, I got a blister. Considering I have never had a blister in this pair of shoes, I recognized immediately that it was being caused by the new insoles, that may or may not have needed a break-in period. At first, I opted to just cover my heels in mole-skin and keep the insoles, thinking that as I walked the insoles would form to my foot better... Big mistake. By the half-mile mark I was limping from the pain on my heels. I finally took out the insoles, but it was too late, I already had a nickle-sized blister on my right heel. But my feet felt much better without the insoles, so I covered the blister in fresh mole skin and pressed on.

The Hike

Reavis Ranch Trail

Reavis Ranch Trail 109 heads south from a beautiful trail-head overlooking Apache Lake. The hike starts out in typical desert fashion with plenty of sand, rock, and cacti, but quickly changes. This area of the Superstitions is so unlike the Superstitions I'm used too. Its less rocky, less rugged, and filled with plant life I would normally associate with being further north. The gentle grade slowly climbs over grass covered hillsides that offer excellent views of the Superstition mountains and beyond. In fact, I would say the first 3/4 of the 10 mile hike into Reavis Ranch is basically one long ridge walk. There wasn't much shade up there, but the wind did a great job of making the hot day bearable. 

Engelmann's Hedgehog

Although not as dramatic as my Cave Creek trip, everywhere I looked wildflowers were blooming. I saw poppies, scarlet gilia, cactus flowers and many more. And the insect life was busy too. I saw butterflies, caterpillars, beetles, and a ton of ants. In fact I haven't seen so many ants before. I swear there were at least 20 colonies on that stretch of trail.

The Superstitions

 We reached a pass about halfway in, and on the other side, the mountains were covered in trees! I almost felt like I was back in Washington, especially when we reached Reavis Ranch, where I actually pitched my tent among some pines. It wasn't just pine trees either. There was an entire apple orchard down there, and the trees were all in bloom. It was very beautiful.

Apple Blossom

 We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the breeze and exploring Reavis Ranch. Elisha Reavis was a pioneer who built a ranch down here in the late 1800's, where he grew vegetables and fruit. He apparently lived a solitary life, spending his days gardening and hunting. All that's left now is the ruins of his ranch and his apple orchard that still produces fruit. Researching for this blog I found an old obituary. It just illustrates what I love about Arizona... The history! Here is an excerpt.

Elisha M. Reavis 1827-1896 "Hermit of Superstition Mountains" Found dead

from the Star by the Arizon Sentinal, Yuma, Az. May 16, 1896

"Old Man Reavis, the Hermit of the Superstitions" is dead. His body, Half eaten by coyotes, was found last Thursday near his hut in the superstition Mountains, twelve miles north of the Silver King Mine. Whether death was natural or violent is only a matter of conjecture; also the time when it might have occurred, for the hunger of the wolves had not left enough evidence upon which to base an opinion. Of all men as widely known, there was none in Arizona whom so little was known as "Old Man Reavis". Much has been written about him by the few who have visited in his mountain home but it was generally produced by the imagination of the writers. It is said that the old recluse was driven into exile by a disappointment in love, but he never said so and nobody else has been found who could have known the facts..."

That night we saw lots of mule deer in the grass near our camp. I took some photos, but they were just too far away to come out any good. We did spot a short-horned lizard on the way out Sunday. It's actually the second one I've seen since moving to Arizona, and like the first one, it didn't move a muscle, thinking it was camouflaged. They are the neatest little lizards, covered in spines along its back like a dinosaur, but totally calm and relaxed and seemingly pretty docile.

Short-horned lizard

It was a great trip. Other than my feet (which actually took quite a pounding on the rocky trail without insoles), I felt like I could go another 20 miles when we reached the car on Sunday. I'm just chomping at the bit to do a longer trip. I've been looking into The Highline Trail below the Mogollon Rim, and I think its something I'm going to try to accomplish sometime this year... possibly June? The trail is about 53 miles long end-to-end and I would like to thru-hike it in one shot. Anyway, I'll let you know once I'm in the planning stages. Thanks for reading.

The Superstitions

* Reference for the Elisha Reavis obit: http://www.angelfire.com/fl3/reavisrevis/ElishaMarcusReavis.html

Cave Creek Colors

I have decided Spring time must be the best time for desert hiking. I've hiked along Cave Creek between Seven Springs and Spur Cross before, and frankly there isn't much color to see; just a dead sea of drab. But in the Spring everything is different... Everything is growing... The flowers are blooming. The sea of drab is now a variety of browns and greens, and the California Poppy has painted the hillsides gold. It is a beautiful sight indeed.

Climbing into the Cave Creek trail system.

We started on the Skunk Tank trail with a little climbing. A slight breeze kept the scorching sun at bay. Not that we have reached summer temps yet, but just hiking under direct sunlight minus any shade can be tough (at least for a north-man like myself). But the wind was nice, and we made short work of the climbs. My new friend Dave Creech (aka Wilderness Dave) came along for the trip, and I had a fun time picking his brain. The talk was mostly about blogging and photography, and It made for some really cool conversation.

Enter the poppies

Things turned serious really quick when we hit the poppy fields. The wildflowers were everywhere, and they turned the hills gold. It made for some excellent photo opportunities.

Covered in poppies 

Golden hills near Cave Creek

Eventually, after a little backtracking, we found a camp for the night. It was a pretty grass-covered spot on the banks of Cave Creek. The water was clear and blue and delicious, and it was surrounded by gold-painted poppy-covered hills. It was all very beautiful. 

Cave Creek camp

Opposite direction view of Cave Creek near our camp.

It was an excellent, but short trip. I am always grateful to get out backpacking, even if its only an overnighter. The wildflowers really add a whole new dimension to desert hiking, and I encourage everyone to get out right now and enjoy them while they are in full bloom. They truly are a beautiful sight, and my photos don't really do the scene justice.

I tried out the Sawyer squeeze filter for the first time. It worked as advertised, but I haven't developed an overall opinion yet, so keep an eye out for the review sometime down the road.

Also used the Solo Stove again. Worked awesome. I'll have a review for it later this week.

 One last note, I did manage to slip on a rock and fall in the creek during one of our many crossings on the way out Sunday. I kept my feet underneath me, so I only got wet up to the knees, but it could have been disastrous, as I had my Nikon on my hip, in the camera bag, with the lid ajar for easy access.

Among The Wildflowers 2

I guess this is the month of sequels. Everyone seemed to like the first go-round of Among The Wildflowers. These flowers were all found in Idaho except the Daisies, which I found in Arizona. If you think I've given the wrong name to any of these, please feel free to correct me. Enjoy.

Rocky Mountain Butterweed
 My favorite thing about this shot is that you can see Glidden Lake in the background.

Shrubby Penstemon

I think these are Daisies, yeah?

I couldn't put my finger on this one. I think it may be a knotweed. Any takers?

Javelina Hoedown: Fossil Creek Overnighter

*Note: The title for this blog sounds cooler if you know that Javelina is pronounced with an "H", and sounds like Havelina.

Top of the canyon

Ever since I moved to Arizona, Sarah has been talking about Fossil Creek. She would talk about the splendor of it's falls, and the beauty of it's banks. She would tell me how perfect the water was for swimming. Unfortunately we never had a chance to go because the Forest Service closed it, on account of all the trash and overcrowding. You see, although the Fossil Creek area is a designated "Wilderness" and the creek itself is a designated "Wild and Scenic River" there are roads leading down to the creek at the canyon bottom. This makes it easy for people to access the creek with minimal effort. As a result the area has seen an epidemic of litter, trampled vegetation, and general misuse. They finally opened it back up in September, and since we had a free weekend, Sarah and I decided to hike in for an overnighter, and we brought her dog Rocco.

The hike got off to a bad start before we even made it to the trailhead. Driving through Payson I suddenly had this sinking feeling that I forgot my hiking shoes. I pulled over and searched the car. Sure enough, my Merrell's were nowhere to be found. For the first time in my life I actually forgot my damn boots! I couldn't believe it. Sarah suggested we swing by Walmart and pick up a pair of cheap shoes, which is what I did. Fifteen dollars later I was the proud owner of a pair of Starter tennis shoes that were a half-size too big. They looked like they were made from plastic, and the tread on the soles were non-existent. I wasn't looking forward to hiking in them.

The trail was all down hill. We passed several signs warning hikers to be prepared. Apparently every year people hike down to the canyon with flip-flops and no water. I read online that Fossil Creek can draw up to 4,000 people on the weekends. The evidence of overuse was plain to see. We saw beer cans, water bottles, toilet paper, food cans, clothing, and just a lot of garbage on and near the trail. It was pretty pathetic. The worst I've ever seen. The trail itself was a gradual descent, dropping 1500 feet over 4 miles. The parts of the trail made of soft red sand was really comfortable. The parts that were rocky and boulder strewn - not so much - but my new shoes held up, and we made it to the bottom relatively easy. We found a perfect little campsite near the water and set up shop, and from what I could tell we had the entire place to ourselves. We didn't see anyone down at the creek that first day. 

Fossil Creek

That afternoon Sarah and I were lounging around on some big boulders down the trail from our camp. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and when I looked up I saw a huge javelina coming down the hill. For those of you unfamiliar with a javelina (also called a peccary) they look like a big wild pig, except they aren't pigs, they're peccaries. They are shaped like a pig, covered in hair, and (this is the fun part) have huge sharp canines that stick out on top and bottom. So here I am watching this javelina gallivant down the hill and it looks like a big boy to me. I guessed it was at least 100 pounds. It looked that big. Definitely the alpha male of it's peccary pack. Sarah and I are watching this javelina (who is oblivious to us) and I see that it's headed in the same direction I saw Rocco go just a couple minutes before. Then I see Rocco walking up the trail toward us, near the javelina. At this point I blew my cover (I was sneaking around trying to get a clear shot with the camera) and called out to Rocco because I didn't want him to attract the javelina's attention and get gored. I swear they passed within 20 feet of each other and neither of them even knew it. I guess the rushing water sound of the creek drowned out the noise. 

Boiling water for dinner that night I noticed a white powder in my water, that resembled salt. It worried me because earlier in the month biologists poisoned the creek to kill non-native bass. Even though the Ranger had told me the water was safe, I was still a little bit apprehensive. Sarah thought the sediment was just a mineral in the water, and she was right. After researching for this blog, I found that Fossil Creek is "super saturated with calcium carbonate", which explains the milky water. The interesting thing is that the water in the creek is crystal clear, and doesn't become milky until heated. 

Collared Peccary (Not my pic)

The full moon lit up the valley so well that I could see clearly in the dark. We were camped with the rainfly off and the moon was directly above us. It was pretty awesome. Rocco was sleeping outside the tent at our heads. Sarah was sound asleep too. All was quiet. Then I heard squealing. Pig squealing. Peccary squealing. Loud squealing, like screaming. It was coming from the spot near our camp where we saw the javelina earlier. It sounded like some javelina hoedown or peccary pit fight. It went on for 5 to 10 minutes, and then just as sudden as it began, it stopped. Rocco was freaked. He started whimpering and pacing around the camp. I was freaked too. I kept thinking of an episode of Survivorman that I watched last week. Les was in the Sonoran Desert, and he mentioned several times how aggressive and dangerous javelinas could be... Sarah slept through the whole thing.

About an hour later, I was still awake. I heard screaming in the dark. I thought the javelinas came back. I sat up in the tent and listened, and then I heard voices. In a couple minutes a large group of teenagers came walking through our camp. About 10 in all, being loud and obnoxious. Two were even carrying a cooler. How they carried a cooler all the way down from the trailhead, in the dark, I don't know. I suspect they knew of another way in. I thought I heard the sound of car doors shutting. It was weird. They set up camp in the spot next to us, where I had heard the javelinas. Then they proceeded to party all night. It was pretty lame. I wasn't very happy. In fact I spent the next hour laying in the tent thinking about the letter I would write the forest service. Personally, if they want to keep Fossil Creek clean and pristine, they are going to need to make the hard decisions. Like closing all roads leading to it for starters. Make people hike to it. It will weed out the undesirables, like those who would fill the place with garbage. 

I was awoke by voices the next morning. Apparently the portion of the creek we had camped by was a popular swimming hole. There was a large group of people in there swimming at 7:30 am. We spent the day hiking and swimming ourselves. Saw some beautiful scenery, and an awesome waterfall. Found some interesting litter, like a pair of shoes, a couple sleeping bags, and a tent, among other things. 

The hike out was tough in the blazing sun. Rocco needed lots of brakes. By the time we made it to the car I had a blister the size of a dime on my left big toe. All things considered, an excellent trip. The truth is, that even with all the people and all the trash, Fossil Creek is a beautiful place, and very much worth a weekend backpacking trip.

Waterfall

Trail Days

Sarah & Jimbo - Mt Baldy Wilderness,  Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest - AZ

Jesse, Luke, & Steve - Glacier National Park, MT

Deb - Nez Perce National Forest, ID

Seven Devils - Hell's Canyon Wilderness, Wallowa-Whitman National Forest, ID

Redemption Trail: Mount Baldy Loop

When most people think of Arizona, they picture sand, and cacti, and rattlesnakes. They picture desert. I was the same way. When I was told of lush pine forests in Arizona, much like the Pacific Northwest, I didn't believe it. Looking around Phoenix, it's hard to believe. Yet it is true. The White Mountains in eastern Arizona is such a place.

After my last Arizona backpacking experience (see “Hell and Back”) I was understandably leery. To say things didn't go as planned is an understatement. It seemed that I still hadn't learned a very important lesson: Before backpacking, call the Forest Ranger and ask about the conditions (road and trail conditions, availability of water, etc.). One simple phone call could have saved me a ton of misery last time out. Well this time I called, and the very helpful Ranger on the phone told me exactly what I wanted to hear. “The East and West fork of the Little Colorado River running strong.” Music to my ears, since we would be following this river (which is really more like a stream) for almost the entire length of our 15 (or so) mile loop. Another thing I did differently is I bought myself a can of bear spray. Now, up north I only carry bear spray in Grizzly country. I'm usually not too worried about their smaller, less aggressive cousins, the black bear. But down here in Arizona, there have been 3 black bear attacks on humans this summer alone, one of which resulted in a fatality, and I don't want to be caught with my pants down, if you catch my meaning. It's better to be safe than sorry (as the old saying goes) especially when I have a girlfriend to protect. Not that Sarah can't protect herself. She is a very capable woman. But I figured that in case a bear ever attacked I would be the one to fight it off, since she is a nurse and can treat my wounds if I get mauled. Besides, I am a man, and that's my job.

It wouldn't be just me and Sarah this time either. James and Maggie were coming too. Now, I love introducing people to backpacking because I love it so much, and want to share my passion with others. It's awesome to have friends that are interested in it. Back home in Spokane, I could barely get any of my friends to go. Mostly they just flat-out aren't interested in the outdoors unless it involves car camping or boating, because let's face it, backpacking takes work. But James, he's like the best friend I never had. Totally up for exploring the outdoors beyond packed campgrounds and speedboats. In fact, they both are.

My favorite thing about this hike in the Mount Baldy Wilderness was the meadows. We started at the West Fork trailhead and almost immediately the trail wound through some of the most scenic meadows I've ever seen. I can just imagine what they might look like in Spring, when everything is in bloom and fresh and new. In one of these meadows, where we stopped to take our first break, we ran into a flock of turkeys. Of course by the time I got my camera out they escaped into the treeline, but it was still really cool seeing them. That is how the first day mostly went. Climbing up hills in deep pine forest and dropping into huge flower covered meadows. A lot of up-and-downs. It was all very picturesque, and I captured some really cool shots with my camera.

By the time we made our connecting trail at the East fork of the river, all of us were ready to set up camp. James had a brand new pack and was carrying a heavy load, and he was feeling it. Sarah shoulders were killing her. My shoulders were hurting too. I was using a cheap pack because I lent Maggie my good one, and I could not keep the damn things on my hips. As a result most of the weight rested on my shoulders, and the shoulder straps were digging in hard. Poor Maggie was using my pack, which I could tell by looking at her didn't fit at all. Of course it didn't help that she is 5 months pregnant either, but she was trooper and didn't complain.

Turkey Vulture 

We had planned on camping on the east fork of the Little Colorado on the first night, but I couldn't find any established spots where I thought they should be based off my research. Then we ran into a fork in the trail that wasn't marked on the map, and that I couldn't recall reading about in the guidebook. My instincts told me to go “right” at the fork, but just to be sure I dropped my pack and scouted ahead on the left while everyone waited. I crested a hill and saw a huge bird flying overhead that I initially thought was a hawk. I watched him circle overhead a couple times, and then perch in a tree by the trail. When I got closer I saw it wasn't a hawk but a Turkey Vulture. In fact there were about 20 of them perched in several dead trees near the trail. Now, I don't know how many of you have ever seen a turkey vulture, but let me tall you, they are huge ugly-ass birds. They are covered in black feathers, and have a red featherless head, like the Skeksis in “The Dark Crystal”. They can have a wingspan up to 6 feet. I've never been scared of birds (even though I was attacked by a chicken as a small child) but let me tell you, it was unsettling being surrounded by those big ass birds, with their beady little eyes on me, waiting for me to drop from exhaustion so they can peck out my eyes, and tear out my entrails. Of course, I had left my camera back with my pack, and didn't get a photo.

Eventually after a bit of backtracking we found a good campsite in a grove of trees near the water, nestled at the edge of a large meadow. That night we sat around the fire watching the Perseid meteor shower. It was pretty amazing. Out there in the wilderness, away from city lights and traffic and tv. Enjoying a warm fire, good food, and good company. For thousands of years people have entertained themselves that way. That's one of the coolest things about backpacking. It takes you back to a simpler time...

The next morning saw the separation of our party. Poor Maggie was having some feet issues. Apparently they can grow when you're pregnant, and in this case her feet outgrew her boots, and they weren't very happy. I'm actually surprised she made it as far as she did. She's never backpacked in her life, she was carrying 30 pounds in an oversized pack, and she is 5 months pregnant. Most people wouldn't even have attempted it, especially considering we were at high altitude the entire time. The woman's got moxy for sure.

The second day was an uphill slog to Mount Baldy, which is the highest peak in the White's at 11,400 feet. The first day we stayed around 9500 feet, and even then you could feel the difference in altitude. I'm used to eastern Washington and norther Idaho where even the highest mountains barely reach 7000 feet. The White Mountains in Arizona lie on the Colorado Plateau, so it's not that the mountains are bigger, they just sit at a much higher elevation. You could really feel it on the uphills too, when your heart is pounding, and your breathing like you just sprinted a mile. Even in camp the night before, just standing up from a squatting position caused dizziness.

One of the craziest things we saw on that second day was huge swaths of dead trees. We were standing on a rock formation probably somewhere around 11,000 feet, looking out over a huge area of some of the prettiest country you can imagine, and there were large portions of standing dead trees, especially on the eastern flank of Baldy. There was an older couple standing there with us, and they told us that they hike the Mount Baldy loop every year, and every year there are more and more dead trees. They also told us that the cause of all the dead trees is a bark beetle. Apparently these beetles can attack and kill mature pine trees, and their handy work is very apparent in the Mount Baldy Wilderness. We had to hike through a large chunk of wilderness full of dead trees. It was like a graveyard. Even more so than hiking through burn areas. There were dead-falls everywhere, and the trees still standing croaked and groaned in the wind like they would topple over any minute. It was actually quite eerie.

See the dead trees in the background?

That night we found one of best campsites I've ever seen. It was in a grove of trees in the middle of a big meadow, and the river ran right through it. It was so calm and peaceful and relaxing. We were both so tired we skipped the meteor show, and were in bed at 9 o'clock. Except the sound of running water the night was quiet, and we both slept as good as can be expected. It's funny how difficult it is to sleep in the backcountry. Statistically it's very safe, but you always have some worry in the back of your mind that prevents you from getting a good nights sleep. I expect it has something to do with being alone in the middle of the woods, in the black of night. Knowing that If something did happen you couldn't jump in your car or pick up your cell phone. In the backcountry you truly are on your own. I think that's why I like it so much.

I woke up at dawn, and jumped out of my tent with my camera hoping to catch some elk in the meadow. We had seen scat during our walk in, and I knew this area was popular for elk hunting so I thought I could get lucky, but it wasn't to be. Instead I saw two coyotes sniffing around. I guess the river drowned out my footfalls because they didn't notice me, and I was able to photograph them for about 15 minutes before they disappeared in the timber line. Unfortunately I just don't have the right lens to capture good photos at a distance, so they didn't turn out that great, but it was still a really cool experience sitting in the grass watching them.

 Off at 9am we had about a 4.5 mile hike out over level ground, which we did in about an hour-and-a-half. It's always nice on the last day because your food is mostly gone, and your pack is lighter. Sarah's feet were killing her so she made the entire hike in flip-flops. I called her “crazy” but apparently it was rather comfortable, and now she is looking at wearing sandals permanently on future backpacking trips. I was pleasantly surprised how beautiful the White Mountains are, and I can't wait to go back. The only problem is that it's a 4 hour drive, through bad traffic, because so many people escape to there from Phoenix in the summer time, on account of it being 20 degrees cooler. A far cry from the days when I could just drive 20 minutes east from Spokane, and be in the same type of lush green environment as the Whites. Mostly I was happy that the hike turned out so well since the first time I took Sarah was nearly a disaster. I definitely felt redeemed from the first fiasco.