Just over ten years ago, John and I hiked to the summit of Picacho Peak.  It was an incredible feat, but one that we didn't duplicate for a very long time.  Not that we didn't want to do it again; we just didn't have a good opportunity to do it. 

And then, one day, the opportunity presented itself to us.  We had a beautiful, cool Sunday afternoon with nothing to do, so we decided to return to Picacho Peak, to conquer it once again.

This time...with the kid...

"Are you sure about this?" I asked John, remembering how difficult the hike was.  Climbing to the top of Picacho Peak involved some Class 3 climbing, using cables to scale some steep, rocky sections.  Then I realized that we had been raising a mountain goat who loved to rock climb; she was going to be fine.

With our day-hiking gear packed, John and Mary and I left for Picacho Peak around 7:00 a.m. on Sunday morning.  To get there, we took I-10 south towards Tucson and exited at Picacho.  After paying our entry fee for Picacho Peak State Park, we proceeded past the Visitor's Center (which was under construction) then turned left onto the Barrett Loop, at the end of which was the trailhead for the Hunter Trail.

There were already several cars parked at the trailhead when we arrived, so we knew that we were in for a busy day on the trail.  As popular as this trail was - and as beautiful as the day was going to be - there was going to be no solitude for us.  While it is true that we normally like to hike where we can have peace and quiet, sometimes we just have to grin and bear the crowds.

We started hiking around 8:30 a.m., on what started out to be a cool, crisp morning.  We stepped onto the trail at the same time as four other hikers - two men and two women, all in their 50's - who all smiled to see our little hiker.  They were impressed that we were going to take her all the way to the top.

And that was when we saw the sign: "Trail beyond upper saddle is primitive, not recommended for children under 10, inexperienced hikers, or dogs."  What???

At that point, it was a judgment call on our part as to whether we should continue or not.  We knew that there were portions of the trail that were treacherous; however, we knew that our eight year-old was way more experienced that most hikers and could conquer that trail with minimal problem.

So, onwards we hiked.  Onwards and upwards.

The Hunter Trail began with a steep climb up the bajada that flanked Picacho Peak.  Except for the fact that it is a groaner, this part of the trail is the easiest.  True, there are some cables to help out on some of the steeper sections, but they really aren't necessary. 

We stopped for a break next to a very large boulder a half of a mile in.  Mary, of course, decided to climb to the top of it; John stood by on the lower ledge to help her up.  As they both stood there, I suddenly recognized that giant rock as being the same one where I had snapped John's picture over ten years earlier.  He was even standing in the exact same spot!  I took another picture so that I could compare the two when we got home; sure enough, he was even in the exact same pose, and the lighting was exactly the same, too. The only difference was the presence of the child atop the boulder.

While breaking at the boulder, we were passed by a group of about twenty boy scouts.  A couple of them stopped where we were to catch their breath...and one of them started vomiting, about twenty feet from us.  He was very pale and was sweating profusely - probably dehydrated.  Fortunately, one of the boys went ahead and flagged down the scout leader to let him know that the boy was ill; the leader hiked back down to him to tend to him.  I thought for sure that he was done hiking; amazingly, he recovered and was able to go on, all the way to the summit.

Fully rested, we pushed on, climbing higher and higher, until we finally reached the saddle, around 9:30 a.m. We took another break there, to prepare ourselves for the fun that laid ahead of us, for once we crossed over the saddle, we would get a taste of some Class 3 technical climbing.

As we started down the other side of the saddle, we encountered a pair of female skydivers - both in their early twenties.  Even though John didn't know them, he knew that they were skydivers because one of them was wearing the 2008 Skydiving Nationals shirt that advertised "Eloy's Homegrown" - all of the Arizona teams who participated in Nationals.  It was created by John's friend "Trunk".  "Ah," he said to the girl, "you have a 'Trunk' original!"  They spent thirty seconds talking about skydiving; then, we all went our merry ways.

From the saddle, the trail began to descend.  This is the first place where the cables are necessary, because the rocks here are slick from erosion and the grade is steep.  At that point, we put on our gloves and kept them on for the remainder of the hike, so as not to get blisters on our hands.

At the bottom of the descent from the saddle, the trail curved around to the backside of the mountain and steadily began to climb again.  This section of the trail wasn't particularly difficult and there weren't a lot of cables to guide us.  At one point, we ended up losing the trail, when John wandered off-trail to look for a geocache.  Mary and I waited for him until he called for us; we looked up to discover that he was ahead of us, on the trail.  We scrambled to get to him but lost the trail in the process; fortunately, it didn't take us long to figure it out.

Soon, we came to the real Class 3 technical climbing, where we had to use the steel cables and foot-holes to hoist ourselves up the mountain.  We took each section slowly and methodically, so that John could help Mary climb.  Not that she needed much help; sadly, she made the climb look easy.  She always knew exactly where to put her feet and her hands.  She only got scared a couple of times and needed to have John guide her along; for the most part, though, she climbed like a pro.

As for John and me, there was only one section of the climb that proved to be very difficult for us.  Just below the final jaunt to the summit, there is a nearly-vertical wall that we had to climb.  Ten years ago, maneuvering up the wall between the cables was not that difficult. Now, ten years of weather and use had bent the cables in such a way that it was impossible for an adult to pass between them.  John and I had to pass underneath the right cable and climb up the face of the rock to get to the top of the wall.

After the wall, there was only one small Class 3 climb to go, and part of that climb involved walking on a metal grate.  Once past the grate, we were back on a hiking path and less than a quarter of a mile from the summit!  It was a groaner of a hike, but compared to the climb we had just done, it was a cake-walk!

At long last, after two solid hours of hiking, we made it to the summit of Picacho Peak - second time ever for John and me, first time ever for Mary!

Now...how to get down from there...

We spent about thirty minutes or so on top of the peak - resting, eating lunch, and chatting with the other people who had reached the summit with us.  We got to talking with one man who had been hiking alone; he was so impressed with how well Mary had done that he had to stop and talk to us about her.  He also asked us to take a picture of him using his camera; he returned the favor for us.  And when it was time to go, he followed.

The man's name was Doug, and we came to find out that he was a full-time RV-er visiting Arizona.  He and his companion - his dog, Bailey - were camped nearby in Casa Grande; Bailey, of course, was back at the RV, because this was just not a suitable hike for a canine.  Doug was originally from New Hampshire and was a retired postal worker; now, he was enjoying his retirement by traveling from place to place and making friends along the way.  It was a pleasure having him hike with us all the way down the mountain; though we normally don't hike with others often, we really enjoyed Doug's company that day.

As we started down Picacho Peak, we noticed that the trail was starting to get busy.  There were long lines of people waiting for us to come down, so that they could make their way up.  And we weren't in any hurry to get down either; we took our descent slow, so as not to slip and fall.  It didn't matter how long people had to wait; safety was our number one priority.

We made it down the Class 3 technical climb in one piece and soon found ourselves back on the hiking path.  Now that we were done with the difficult part for a while, we were able to enjoy a nice conversation with our new friend.  We gave him some hiking ideas (and, of course, referred him to our website) and shared some of our more interesting adventures with him.  When we reached the junction with the Sunset Vista Trail, we told him that we had taken that trail the last time we had hiked there but that it was a long, hot hike through the desert.  He, too, had done that hike only last month and agreed that it was not nearly as fun as the Hunter Trail.

The trail soon curved around the mountain, putting us at the bottom of that long, steep climb to the saddle.  Hiking down that part of the trail was hard enough; now, we had to hike back up again.  This was the only part of the hike that sent Mary into tears; after all of that climbing she had done, she was already exhausted...and now she had to climb another hill?

Nonetheless, with our encouragement, she did make it to the saddle; and there, we rested for about fifteen minutes.  Mary sat down on the bench and put her head in my lap while she caught her breath and dried her tears.  By the time we left, her attitude had improved, and we didn't have anymore tears for the rest of the hike.

Of course, the rest of the hike, compared to what we had just done, was easy.  It took us about thirty or forty minutes to hike down the bajada towards the trailhead.  All the while, we continued to chat with Doug, sharing more of our adventures and listening to his travel stories.  We also talked with other hikers along the way. Several of them asked Mary if she had made it to the top of the mountain; she said to them, "Yes I did, and I'm only eight years old!"  Not that she was bragging or anything...

Naturally, we did have to stop and take her picture next to that warning sign...

As we reached the trailhead that afternoon, we wished Doug safe and happy travels; we also gave him our e-mail address so that he could send us the pictures that he had taken of us.  (We, in turn, sent him the pictures that we had taken, after hearing from him.)  With that, we bid Doug farewell and left the trailhead, to go home...

Return to Naked in the Woods.