Typically, on the Fourth of July, John
does demos. Last year, John jumped in Tucson's Foothills Mall with the Groundrush Skydivers and played hero for the day; then, he was ground crew for
the demo in downtown Phoenix. This year, however, he decided to skip the demo
so that we could do our second three-day backpacking trip - our last trip
before the wedding.
But where to go? That was the big question. At first, we thought about doing
the Chiricahuas, because we had heard that the area is spectacular. However,
reports from the Coronado National Forest stated that there wasn't any water
to be found. If we wanted to stay out in the wilderness more than two days, we
would have to have a water source from which to filter water. Even a few deep
puddles would work!
Next I suggested that we do West Clear Creek, via the
Maxwell Trail. We knew
that West Clear Creek would have plenty of water, and we were familiar with
the area. But that was the problem: we had already been there, several times.
We wanted to do something new.
After much research, John suggested that we do the
Blue Range Primitive Area,
in the White Mountains, near Hannegan Meadows. Not only would we have water
(in Grant Creek), but we would also be able to explore a new wilderness area
-- a primitive area, actually. In addition, there were miles and miles of
trails for us to hike, enough for several weeks of adventures, because the
Blue Range area is huge, spanning over a 174,000 acre area. And to sweeten the
deal, John told me that most of the area would be found in Greenlee County,
which had not yet been "christened" by us (that would be county number 12).
I didn't need anymore convincing; I said, "Let's do it!"
So on Saturday morning, July 3, John and I crawled out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to
begin our adventure. After loading our backpacks into the car, we embarked on
our six-hour journey to the White Mountains, stopping briefly in Payson for
breakfast and then again in Alpine so that John could buy another pair of
sunglasses. Along the way, we also played with our new toy -- our GPS unit,
which we received as a wedding gift from John's parents. We used it to plot
our course not only on the highway but on the trail as well.
Just as we parked the car, at 9:30 a.m., the first raindrops fell on us. "This
can't be good," I thought as I put on my backpack. We had never backpacked in
rain before. Would we be prepared to face a downpour, or would we be forced to
turn back and retreat to the car?
Around 10:00 a.m., our backpacking adventure began as we stepped into the Blue
Range Primitive Area (and shared a new wilderness kiss) and began hiking the
Steeple Trail #75, which, for the first 1.5 miles, winds through a beautiful
forest of pine, fir, and aspen trees. At the junction with the Upper Grant
Creek Trail #65, the forest opens up to a huge, green meadow that is covered
with tall, yellow flowers and bluebells. A sign marks the junction, but that
is the only indication that there is a trail there as it becomes very
indistinct. It is here that we first found Upper Grant Creek, which was, for
the most part, dry -- another bad sign, because if we didn't find water on
this trip, we were going to have to make this a short trip!
As we continued on the Upper Grant Creek Trail, which was a four-mile long
trail that would take us to Moonshine Park (where we planned to camp), we
finally found pools of water deep enough for us to filter water -- finally a
positive sign! A bit further downstream, the creek was flowing with ankle deep
water -- that meant that finding a reliable source was not going to be a
problem. I was glad, because I didn't want to cut our trip into this beautiful
wilderness area short.
Words cannot do this area justice. Like Aravaipa Canyon, the Blue Range
Primitive Area is one that must be experienced because it is so wonderfully
pretty, because it appeals to every sense. Everywhere, everything is green and
covered with dew, and bright flowers in every shade of the rainbow are in
bloom. Since it was drizzling lightly, the rain made the air smell fresh and
clean. Raindrops clung to the leaves until we walked by and brushed them away;
then, a shower of cold raindrops would fall on us. And all around us, a chorus
of birds and squirrels arose high up in the trees, accompanied by a symphony
of wind blowing through the trees and the rumbling of distant thunder.
About three miles into the trail, we came across the ruins of an old log cabin
and a corral, next to which we found a "totem" pole, on which someone had
carved. John and I paused to take pictures of it, and John joked that I was
the same height as the pole! (I was taller, but John loves to crack jokes
about the fact that I'm short.)
It took us three hours to reach Moonshine Park, a ten-acre meadow that is
completely surrounded by pine trees. That would be our base camp during this
expedition. After selecting a campsite at the edge of the meadow, we dropped
our gear and prepared to set up camp. Up to that point, it had only been
drizzling, but just as we tried to set up the tent, the skies opened up, and
it began to pour. We got the tent set up with only a minimal amount of water
inside of it. Then, we covered our backpacks with trashbags to protect the
rest of our gear from water damage. Finally, we pulled out our rain gear and
covered ourselves up -- though, by this time we were already soaked! It
continued to rain for a while, so John and I decided to crawl into the tent
and wait out the storm. We ate lunch and fooled around, and when the skies
finally cleared, we emerged from the tent and went exploring.
Though it looked as though it would rain again, John and I decided to hike
part of the Paradise Park Trail, a two-mile long trail that lead from Grant
Creek to Paradise Park. The junction for this trail was a half a mile from our
campsite, and it began across the creek. From the junction, the trail climbs
very gently for about a mile. Along the way, however, there are obstacles
(blow-down from last winter's snow) that made travel difficult at times. There
was one tree trunk blocking our path, about a quarter of a mile from the trail
junction, that was at least three feet in diameter, which made scrambling over
it a challenge, and there was no way to go around it because we were on a
ridge line.
After the first mile, the trail started to level out, however, we decided at
that point to head back to camp because the skies were beginning to look
ominous and threatening. Thunder was rumbling all around us, and I saw some
bolts of lightning strike in the distance. If we had hiked any further, we
would have risked being struck by lightning or being stuck in the approaching
storm, so we high-tailed it back to our campsite. About a quarter of a mile
from Moonshine Park, the first few drops of rain began to fall. By the time we
made it back to camp, the rain was pouring down on us. We sought refuge in our
tent and cooked our dinner in the vestibule, under the protection of the rain
fly. (It was then that we decided that we needed to start bringing either a
tube tent or a tarp to provide us with a larger shelter from the elements.)
It eventually stopped raining that evening -- monsoon storms typically don't
last very long -- so John and I emerged from the tent and started a campfire.
Keep in mind that most of the wood we had to burn was all wet, but we were
fortunate enough to find a pile of dry stuff nearby that we used for kindling.
Once we had a roaring fire, we sat down and relaxed for the rest of the
evening.
The next morning, we awoke to clear skies and what appeared to be a lovely
day. After eating a healthy breakfast, John and I planned our day: we would
once again try to hike the Paradise Park Trail. From there, we would hike the
Grant Creek Trail as far as we could go -- maybe even to the Blue River --
then turn around and hike back to camp in time for dinner. Donning our day
packs, John and I hit the trail at 7:30 a.m. in search of the day's adventure.
Along the way, we hid our water containers and filter by Grant Creek so that
we could stop on the way back to filter water. We marked the site on the GPS
unit so that we could find it again. Then we continued along the trail.
It took us about an hour to hike to Paradise Park, where we found the junction
for the Grant Creek Trail. In the distance, partially hidden by trees, I could
see what appeared to be people wearing white T-shirts moving very quickly --
perhaps on bicycles, which weren't allowed in the wilderness area. "Those
aren't people!" John pointed out. "Silly girl, those are deer!" Sure enough,
my eyes had been deceived; the "white T-shirts" were actually the white tails
of several deer as they dashed through the trees of the forest. I was a bit
chagrined by the mistake -- especially since it only proved that my eyesight
is really getting bad -- so John had to add insult to injury by giving me a
hard time about it. Now, whenever we see people on bicycles, John points and
says to me, "Look, honey, deer!"
From Paradise Park, we began hiking east on the Grant Creek Trail, which was
very flat at first as it stretched through the forest. Then, it began to
descend very gently as we approached the spur trail to White Oak Springs.
During this easy part of the hike, John had another close encounter with a
rattlesnake. We had just scrambled over a fallen log, and John put his foot
down just ten inches from the head of a baby rattlesnake! He jumped backwards,
calling out, "SNAKE!" but the rattlesnake didn't move, nor did he seem to have
a clue that some human had almost stepped on him. The only time he rattled was
when I took a picture of him. He then slithered under the log, and John and I
left him alone.
Just before we reached the junction with White Oak Springs, we came across a
flock of wild turkeys as well as bear scat. As we continued on past the spur
trail, we found more scat -- fresh bear scat -- as well as paw prints left
behind in the mud by the bear. Though we were clearly in bear country, we
never saw the bear, but at least we knew what signs to look for so that we
could be aware -- good practice for our trip to Glacier National Park!
After White Oak Springs, the trail begins to descend steeply towards Lower
Grant Creek -- and as we all know, what goes down must eventually go back
uphill again! By the time we reached Grant Creek, at about 10:30 a.m., we
decided that it was time to turn around and head back to our campsite because
it was going to take us twice as long to climb out of the canyon. Not only was
it steep, but it was very hot and humid, which made it even more difficult for
us to hike out of there. Slowly, we trudged up the hill, the heat draining us
of energy. It took us an hour and a half to finally reach the spur trail to
White Oak Springs again. It was noon, meaning that it was lunch time, so John
and I sat down under the shade of a giant pine tree, and we ate summer sausage
and cheese wrapped in tortillas while we rested our tired feet.
On the way back to camp, we passed by a group of girl scouts taking a break on
the side of the trail. That reminded us that it was Fourth of July weekend,
but instead of being surrounded by a million other people, we were in the
middle of the wilderness with only a handful of other people. (Ask us again
why we like backpacking -- that's why!) Had we gone car camping, we wouldn't
have had any privacy because there would have been hundred other people
crammed into the same camping area. In the backcountry, we saw maybe twenty
other people. We only had one group of neighbors; they were camped about three
hundred yards away, and they didn't bother us at all.
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when we returned to our cache next
to Grant Creek. We stopped and filtered water for about an hour -- enough to
fill both camelbacks and both bottles. We took turns working the filter. While
John pumped water, I bathed. Then, I took over so that he could bathe. While
we were there, we noticed that there were lots of fish in the creek. We also
found a water snake, on the hunt for his next meal. He caught the tail fin of
a fish, and a struggle ensued. The fish tried to swim away to no avail. He
just couldn't escape the jaws of the water snake, but he certainly put up
quite the fight. By the time John and I left, the fish and the snake were
still struggling with each other.
When we arrived at camp, around three o'clock in the afternoon, we were
utterly exhausted from our hike, so we crawled into the tent to take a nap.
During that time, the weather moved in on us again. Just before dinner, the
skies opened up and dumped rain on us, forcing us to cook our meal in the
vestibule again. After dinner, the storm ended, so we emerged from the tent
and built a small campfire, just big enough to take away the chill before it
was time to go to bed. Bedtime came early that night, too, because just before
dark, it started raining again, extinguishing our campfire and sending us back
into the shelter of our tent.
The next morning, John and I dropped our camp and packed everything up, for it
was time to go home. Since it had only taken us three hours to hike to
Moonshine Park, John figured that it would take us about the same amount of
time to hike back to the trailhead. It would be all uphill, at a gentle, easy
grade, or so we thought. He stressed the importance of taking our time, that
we weren't in any hurry to be anywhere. I reminded him that it was Fourth of
July weekend and that we were going to be stuck in traffic for a long time, so
the sooner we left the trail, the better.
It took us about four hours to hike out of the Blue Range Primitive Area. This
was largely due to the fact that it was all uphill -- sometimes steeply,
sometimes at a gentle, easy grade -- through the thick humidity. Then, on top
of that, it began to rain again. It drizzled on us all the way back to the
car. Once again, we reminded ourselves that backpacking in the rain would be
good practice for our trip to Montana, where the weather was very
unpredictable.
It was still raining when we arrived at the car, and it continued to rain all
the way home. In fact, we drove home in the first monsoon storm of the season!
After passing through Show Low -- at which time I took over the driving duties
-- it began to pour on us. Driving through the Salt River Canyon proved to be
a lot of "fun" as I tried to maneuver through the twists and turns through the
storm. At one point along the route, the rain fell so heavily that I couldn't
drive more than thirty miles an hour through it because my visibility was only
about a hundred feet at best.
We made it home in one piece, though - we had survived another adventure
together, our last one as single people. By the time we embarked on our next
adventure -- in Glacier National Park -- we would be married. |
