August 31-September 2, 2002

"The End of Summer"

With the end of the summer in sight, John and Mary and I decided to spend Labor Day weekend camping on the Mogollon Rim, in what would be our first camping trip since May 18 (yes, before Memorial Day weekend). We wanted so much to be able to camp out under the stars, have a nice campfire, hike a few trails, explore a few four-wheel drive roads… …and it almost didn't happen! Our plan for this camping trip was to leave Friday evening, right after work, and drive up to the Mogollon Rim, where we would camp off of FR 95. That way, when we woke up Saturday morning, we wouldn't have far to go when we wanted to go hiking - we could get an early start on the trail. Then, on Monday morning, after a full weekend of hiking and camping, we would return to Phoenix bright and early, in hopes of beating the Labor Day traffic. We spent most of the week preparing for our trip. John packed the Jeep on both Tuesday and Wednesday nights, so that he could spend Thursday evening changing the oil in the Jeep before we left on Friday. He had everything neatly packed in the back of the Jeep, with just enough room for the two ice chests and the food box on the seat next to Mary's car seat. While he did that, I packed the food box and drew up a checklist for the ice chests, so that John could pack them on Friday before I got home from work. (He would be home earlier than me, because I would be picking Mary up from day care.) I also packed a duffel bag with enough clothes, toiletries and diapers for three days of camping. Everything was going very well… The trouble began on Thursday night, when John came home from work. It was his night to cook dinner, so he threw two frozen chicken thighs into the microwave and went outside to open the hood to the Jeep, so that it could cool down while we were eating. Upon opening the carport door, he suddenly heard a gushing noise, like the sound of water splashing onto concrete…and it was coming from underneath the Jeep! "Crap!" he shouted. "The Jeep is overheating!" He knew immediately that the water pump was broken and needed to be replaced. After dinner, while I kept Mary entertained, John took my car to Auto Zone and bought a new water pump for the Jeep. Then, after fiddling with the tools for a bit, he went out again to try to borrow a tool to take the old water pump off of the Jeep. Unfortunately, no one - not even his father - had the right tool to use to remove the old water pump! Using the tools that he had - and a few that he borrowed from his father - John worked all evening and well into the night to pull that water pump out. Finally, at 11:00 p.m., he succeeded, but by that time, he was so tired from the struggle that he went to bed. The next morning, after getting some sleep, John returned to his task of replacing the water pump. When I left for work, he was just getting ready to install the new part, so I wished him luck as I drove away. At 7:45 - twenty minutes after I had arrived at work - John called me to say, "Do you want the good news or the bad?" Oh, no! I thought. What's wrong now? "Give me the bad news first, so we can end on a positive note," I replied. "The bad news is, I put a hole in the radiator," he grumbled, "but the good news is that I got the water pump in!" Our hopes of going camping were starting to diminish, but John tried to be optimistic. He said that he was going to call around to a few radiator shops in the neighborhood to see if any of them would be able to repair the damage the same day, without doing too much damage to his wallet. "I'll call you when I know more," he said, and then he hung up. At 10:00 a.m., he called me on his cell phone to inform me that he was just leaving the radiator shop! John had managed to find a place on Cave Creek Road where there was no wait for service, and the charge for the repair was only $75. Elated, John paid the mechanic and drove away towards the Home Depot down the street, where he needed to buy two tarps for our camping trip. He was also going to buy a fan clutch at the Auto Zone in the same plaza and install that himself when he got home. While I was talking to him, I could suddenly hear a horn honking in the background. In the very next second, John reported that he had just been hit, and he hung up on me! I was completely frantic for the next ten minutes, after which time I finally called him back to ask if he was okay. "I'm fine," he said, and he proceeded to tell me what had happened. He had pulled into the parking lot of the Home Depot, and while he was looking for a parking space, he stopped to allow a big pick-up truck to pull out of his space. Suddenly, he realized that the driver of the truck did not see him and was going to hit him, so he honked his horn, hoping to get the guy's attention. Unfortunately, the guy had his stereo up full blast and did not hear the horn, and as a result, he back right into the front end of the Jeep. The accident didn't leave a scratch on the pick-up truck, but it did break the turn signal and cut the front bumper of the Jeep. The two exchanged insurance information, and by the end of the day, the claim had been processed, with the other driver's insurance company accepting full liability. John went about his business after the accident, and soon he was home again. He changed the oil on the Jeep and called his boss to explain why he didn't make it to work that day. ("And you're still going camping?" she asked in surprise. "You're like one of them punching clowns, John. You take your punches and get right back up again.") He also finished packing the Jeep for our trip, so when I got home, at 4:00 p.m. that evening, we were ready to go. As it was the beginning of Labor Day weekend, getting out of town took us much longer than we expected. Not only did we have to fight rush hour traffic on Shea Blvd., but the Beeline Highway was almost bumper to bumper, with every everyone going seventy miles an hour or slower. It was like that until we reached Payson, where we hit the traffic jam at the first traffic light (in front of the Mazatzal Casino). Fortunately for us, the majority of the traffic turned right onto Highway 260, leaving us with only a little bit of traffic for the rest of our road trip. After a brief stop at the Circle K in Payson, we continued north on Highway 87, past the towns of Pine and Strawberry and on into the Coconino National Forest, on top of the Mogollon Rim. Up to that point, I had worked very hard to keep Mary entertained and happy during the long car ride, but by the time we reached the forest, she was ready to get out of her car seat. Hearing her complaints, John quickly decided that we were going to have to camp somewhere else than we had originally planned. He chose FR 142 (the road that goes to Clover Creek) because it was convenient…and it was open! (The roads on the right hand side of the highway were closed, due to the Pack Rat fire that was burning near Washington Park. The roads on the left were still open.) After spending a few minutes driving up and down side roads, we finally found a campsite on FR 611, off of FR 142. With the last few minutes of sunlight, John and Mary and I set up our campsite. Then, with our campfire burning, we pulled our chairs up next to the fire ring and settled in for the night. At 8:00 p.m. that evening, Mary fell asleep in her own little sleeping bag - a three foot long Slumberjack that John had bought for her earlier that month. We followed soon thereafter. It was very cold in the forest that night, and neither John nor me slept very well because of it. During the coldest part of the morning, the temperatures dipped down to forty-five degrees, according to the temperature gauge in the Jeep. Nonetheless, we had successfully spent the night in the forest, for the first time in three months. That was truly an accomplishment. We awoke that morning at 5:30 to the call of nature, which we had refused to answer any earlier because it was too cold outside. After John got the fire going, Mary and I emerged from our warm sleeping bags to eat breakfast and wait for the sun to come up, for once we had sunshine, it would be warm enough to begin moving about. The plan for the day was to hike the Houston Brothers Trail #18, which begins at the Fred Haught Trailhead, near the junction of Forest Roads 95 and 139A. The Houston Brothers Trail - along with the Barbershop Trail, the Fred Haught Trail, and the U-Bar Trail - are all part of the Cabin Loop Trail System, in which hikers can find three old forest cabins that were once used by the forest service to house fire personnel during periods of high fire danger. The Houston Brothers Trail is named for ranchers who used that trail to move their livestock. Getting to the Fred Haught Trailhead was easy enough; however, we decided to make it a little more scenic, since it was still early enough for a little adventure prior to our hike. Instead of going all the way to FR 95 and turning right, we turned instead on FR 751, which goes to Blue Ridge Reservoir. Then, we turned left onto FR 751B, which would take us to the Moqui Lookout Tower and finally deposit us onto FR 95, near the Kinder Crossing Trailhead. According to the Forest Service map of the Coconino National Forest, FR 751B was an all-weather road for the first two miles; after that, it was a primitive road all the way to the lookout tower. From the tower to FR 95, the road was once again an all-weather road. As we had expected, the first two miles of FR 751B were a piece of cake. The road took us through some very pretty forest, in which we found a bunch of nice campsites, nestled underneath the tall lodgepole pine trees. As we approached the end of the all-weather road, we came to a Doppler weather station, with a gigantic green orb pointing towards the sky. At that point, the road became very rocky and was not suitable for low-clearance vehicles. But it was okay, because we had a Jeep! We slowly drove the Jeep along the rocky, rutted road, looking for the turn-off to the Moqui Lookout Tower. After many long minutes of slow travel, we finally came to a fork in the road and could not decide which way to go. John briefly consulted the map and decided that we should take the right fork, so we did so… …and eventually came to a dead end. However, it wasn't all for nothing, because we did have some beautiful views of East Clear Creek Canyon through the morning mist. We soon returned to the fork in the road and discovered that there was indeed a sign there, but it had been knocked over. John picked it up and put it against a tree so that he could get a better look at it. Although it was in pieces, he was able to determine that we should have taken the left fork after all. After a few more minutes of rough travel, we finally came to the lookout tower. A sign at the bottom indicated that the tower was open for visitors; normally, we would have accepted the invitation and spent some time talking to the forest ranger who worked there, but this time, we decided to skip it and proceed to our destination. The last mile of FR 751B, from the lookout tower to FR 95, was "super-slab", which made for a smooth finish to our scenic route. Within minutes, we finally came to FR 95, near the Kinder Crossing Trailhead, where we turned right and continued towards the Fred Haught Trailhead. The Fred Haught Trailhead is located on FR 139A, just a tenth of a mile from FR 95. The trailhead is well-marked, even though the signs conflict with each other. One sign - a brown metal Forest Service sign - indicates that it is the Fred Haught Trail #141, but the older, wooden sign says that it is trail #22. It really didn't matter to us, though, because we knew that we were in the right place. We parked the Jeep in the parking area at the trailhead, and just after 9:00 a.m., after packing our lunch and snacks for the day, we were ready to begin our hiking adventure. The Fred Haught Trail began on an old Jeep road that had been closed by the Forest Service to prevent vehicles from entering the area. They had intentionally build berms and other obstacles to keep even the hardiest driver from driving on that road. For hikers, though, it was okay. The first quarter of a mile was a downhill descent, over rocky terrain, towards Houston Draw. The road then leveled out as it bordered the green, grassy draw, eventually bringing us to a wide open meadow, in which we found Pinchot Cabin. Pinchot Cabin was built by Gifford Pinchot, who is the father of the US Forest Service during the early part of the 20th century. It has been preserved by the Forest Service and is one of the historical focal points of the Cabin Loop Trail. Visitors can enter the cabin and get a sense of the history of the area, while at the same time enjoying the beauty of Houston Draw. It is also one of the key trailheads for a number of the trails in the Cabin Loop system, including the trail that we were going to hike that day: the Houston Brothers Trail #18. After spending some time admiring the cabin and taking pictures of it, the three of us began hiking on the Houston Brothers Trail: a mostly-flat, seven mile-long trail that meanders through Houston Draw and eventually meets up with the Barbershop Trail. We were probably not going to make it that far, but we were going to see how far we could get that day. Our plan was to hike until 12:00 p.m. - lunchtime - then turn around and return to Pinchot Cabin. We left Pinchot Cabin at 9:45 a.m. and began to hike at a rather good clip along the narrow, flat trail. Despite her initial protests, Mary was riding quite contentedly on John's back, providing us with her unintelligible commentary about the hike (or so we think). Eventually, she fell fast asleep in the backpack, giving us a chance to enjoy a nice, quiet hike. The trail took us through Houston Draw, where we found a spring and a little creek with pools of water. There were also a good number of beautiful campsites, situated all along the draw, overlooking the creek. "This would be a great place for a luxury backpack," I said to John. "Plenty of water, easy to get to, and very pretty!" John agreed with me; in fact, he was considering taking Mary there, instead of Horton Creek, for his Daddy-Daughter Weekend. It was much less popular than Horton Creek, and the hiking would be much easier for Mary. "I think I'm going to come here instead," he finally said, in a decisive voice. "Yes, I'm going to take Mary here instead." A half of a mile later, we came to a hay barn and corral, as well as Aspen Spring, next to which there was an old, gigantic fireplace. We also found people there - the only people we would see that day. They had driven to the hay barn in their pick-up truck. John was curious how they had managed to do so; we could see the road that they had used, but we didn't know which road it was. We took a short break at Aspen Spring so that I could take pictures of the scenery; then, with Mary still asleep in the backpack, we continued on our way down the trail. It wasn't long before Mary received a very rude awakening…and John's bad luck took one more stab at him. We were hiking along at a very good pace, admiring the lovely scenery surrounding Houston Draw. The trail had entered the forest of pines again then soon re-emerged onto the draw, at a place that was marked by red and white flags. There, the trail seemed to disappear into the grass of the meadow. John kept hiking, scanning the meadow for any sign of the trail, and as he did so, he didn't pay attention to the log that was immediately in his path… …and all of the sudden, down he went, taking Mary with him. He landed on his side, which kept Mary from coming to harm in the fall. She was frightened and began to wail loudly, but fortunately, she was not hurt at all. John, on the other hand, received the worst of it. Blood was dripping from a cut on his hand. We took him over to a shaded area under a grove of small pine trees, where we cleaned up the blood and tried to dress the wound. That was when we discovered that our first aid kit did not have any gauze bandages! "We must have used them up on your mother, when she hurt her knee," I said to John. All we had to dress his wound were several Band Aids and some duct tape. They worked in a pinch, but it would have helped to have real first aid supplies at our disposal. After John's hand was bandaged, we lingered a bit to rest, for John was a bit tired following his fall. We ate some high-energy snacks (carrots, Pria bars, and goldfish crackers) and rested under the shade of the pine trees. Then, once John was ready to go, he suggested that we keep moving. When we tried to put Mary back into the carrier, she loudly protested and insisted that she wanted to walk. Since it was such an easy trail, we allowed her to do so. Holding onto John with one hand and onto her baggy of goldfish crackers in the other, we led her across the meadow, to the point where we eventually found the trail again. (We found axe blazes on a small grove of pine trees in the very center of the meadow; that was how we managed to find our way.) Once we were back on the trail, I took the lead and cleared away the logs and large rocks that were in the path, and Mary followed, with John behind her to make sure that she didn't wander off. She hiked a half of a mile before we had to carry her again. After passing through the wide-open meadow, we soon came to an enclosure. A large section of the meadow had been fenced off, using barbed wire. The trail continued along to the right of the fence line, under the shade of the surrounding trees. A few minutes later, the barbed wire fence ended and was replaced by an electric fence! How odd - why would someone put up an electric fence around such a beautiful meadow? Our questions were answered when we finally came to the signage, a few minutes later. Houston Draw was part of an experiment to test the impact of wildlife on the meadows. The electric fence keeps out all large wildlife, where as the barbed wire fence only keeps out the large animals who can't jump over the fence. The large, open meadow that was marked with red and white flags was the control for the experiment. Without fencing to keep them out, all of the animals were free to roam there. Each section of meadow was almost exactly the same size; during our return trip, John figured out that it took us exactly six minutes to pass by each section of the experiment. Once we were past the experiment, we left Houston Draw and entered into the forest. We let Mary hike again, because the trail there was flat and easy for her little feet…and the electric fence danger was long gone. We hiked about a half of a mile through this cool, shaded area before deciding that we should stop for lunch - it was almost noon, and we were all starting to get a bit hungry. We ate lunch on an old fallen log next to the trail. Then, once we were done, we started hiking back to the trailhead. Mary fell asleep almost immediately after we began hiking, which gave us a bit of quiet time. We were also able to hike at a much quicker pace, which was a good thing because the skies were beginning to threaten rain…or so we thought… Upon arriving at the hay barn, we were convinced that it was going to rain on us. Gray, wispy clouds were hanging among the treetops, and the skies were completely covered. Fortunately, we were only about forty-five minutes from the trailhead, so we probably weren't in any immediate danger of getting wet. "Let's take a short break here," John said as we came to a stop on a grassy shelf opposite the hay barn. "Then, we'll quickly head back to the car." John removed the baby backpack, with Mary still asleep in it, and set it down on the ground without waking her up. The two of us sat down next to her and rested, and now that we were stopped, we had a chance to really look at the skies above us. The more we studied the gray wisps in the treetops, the more we were convinced that they were not clouds but smoke. On top of that, there was the distinct smell of burning pine in the air. Now, we knew that we weren't in any immediate danger, but nonetheless, we knew that it would be a good idea to get out of there, before the forest service began closing the roads. Mary woke up during our break and played around on the grass for a little bit. Then, when it was time to go, John and I let her hike a little bit on her own before John scooped her up onto his shoulders and carried her the rest of the way. We arrived at the trailhead around 1:30 p.m., having just completed a full seven miles - one of the longest, most enjoyable hikes that we had done in months. What a good feeling it was to be out hiking again! As we drove away from the trailhead and merged onto FR 95, we discovered that the road had been closed with green tape at the junction with FR 139A. That convinced us that the clouds we had seen during our hike were not clouds at all but smoke from a forest fire. When we stopped in Clint's Well for supplies, we learned that the smoke that we had seen was due to back-burning that was being done on the Pack Rat fire, which was burning in the Washington Park area of the Mogollon Rim. As a result, many of the forest roads on the east side of Highway 87 were closed due to the smoke in the air. After leaving Clint's Well, we decided to head back to camp. On the way there, we listened to a Diamondbacks baseball game on the radio while Mary took a nap in her car seat - all of that hiking had worn her out, I guess! She was still asleep when we pulled into camp, so we let her continue to sleep while we listened to the game. Later that afternoon, once Mary was awake and the baseball game was over, we decided to do a little bit of exploring in the Jeep. It was just like old times again; John would say, "Look, honey, a road," and we would follow it to see where it went. (It had been so long since we had done something like that that I had forgotten how fun it was!) We chose to explore FR 611, to see if we could find an overlook into Clover Creek - John was also curious to see if he would find the same "grass highway" that he had discovered in May 1999, during our "luxury backpack" in Clover Creek. Although we didn't find it, we did have a lot of fun exploring. Upon returning to camp, John and I decided to stay put for the evening. We sat down and relaxed while Mary played with her dolls and read her books on the blue tarp that we had laid out for her. When she got bored of that, we got her to collect pine cones and twigs and put them in a pile near John's chair. A bit later, she helped John gather firewood by carrying little sticks back to the fire ring and throwing them into a pile to be used for kindling. She was so pleased with herself that she was squealing with joy. That night, after dinner, the three of us gathered around the campfire and spent quality time together as a family. We also tried to figure out what to do the next day. We didn't want to return to the Houston Draw area because of the smoke and fire danger, so John suggested a number of alternatives, one of which was a hike into Tom's Creek. "We've always tried to get to Tom's Creek by hiking into Clover Creek, but we have never been able to get that far," he said. "What if we tried to do the opposite and hike into Tom's Creek until we get to West Clear Creek?" "Yeah, let's do that," I said, because it sounded like a fun idea. So, having decided what we were going to do, we turned in for the evening. The next morning, we all awoke at 6:00 a.m., just as the first light of the day was stretching across the treetops. It wasn't nearly as cold as Saturday morning had been - the low temperature was a balmy fifty degrees - so it didn't take us nearly as long to get moving. We left our campsite at 8:00 that morning and began what would normally have been a short drive to Tom's Creek (located on FR 616) - however, John decided to take the scenic route instead. While driving along FR 616, John found a side road and decided to take it to see where it would come out. After a while, the road forked; we went left and discovered a bunch of nice campsites. Soon thereafter, the road deposited us back on FR 142! Eventually, we made our way back to FR 616 and soon arrived in Tom's Creek, where the Pivot Rock Canyon Trail ends. We parked the Jeep next to the dry creek and prepared our gear for what we hoped would be a full day of hiking. We packed a full lunch including sandwiches, fruit, Goldfish crackers, and Pria bars and loaded everything into the diaper bag. Finally, just before 9:00 a.m., we loaded Mary into the baby backpack and set off to explore Tom's Creek. The hike into the dry creek started out as a very easy one as we followed the ATC tracks into the creek bed. Along the way, we found a narrow game trail that crossed over the banks of the creek, into some very nice meadows, where there were campfire rings. They would have been great places to camp for a luxury backpack, if only there wasn't a primitive campground nearby, from which we could hear all of the noise of the rabble camped there. Continuing on, we passed through a broken gate on a fence-line that we thought may have been the wilderness boundary, but we weren't sure because we didn't have a topo map with us. The ATC tracks continued on the other side of the fence, so we followed them as far as they went, deeper and deeper into the canyon. About forty-five minutes into our hike, we came to a very narrow section of the canyon, in which we found ourselves beginning to bushwhack our way through the tall reeds as we ducked under and climbed over fallen logs. It was becoming too much like work - and less like recreation - so John suggested that we turn back. So, after having gone about a mile to a mile and a half, we turned around and started hiking back towards the Jeep. We stopped for two breaks on the way back to FR 616, so that Mary could get out of the backpack and run around. We took one break in the canyon, surrounded by the tall sandstone walls. Then, we took a longer, more relaxed break in a grassy meadow, where Mary could run around without tripping over river rocks. We arrived back at the Jeep around 11:30 that morning - much earlier than we expected, but now we had time to explore some more of the backroads in the area. During lunch, which we had decided to eat in the Jeep, John drove around and searched for more roads, just to see where they went. Since we were in the Pivot Rock Canyon area, John suggested that we revisit some of the old jeep roads that we had once tried to explore in the Oldsmobile, many years ago - roads that didn't seem so bad to us anymore, now that we had a Jeep. We also found ourselves on a very long, windy, twisty ATC road that had been cut through a thick section of the forest. The road was so narrow that the Jeep kept getting scratched by the tree branches and debris along the side of the road. It eventually deposited us back onto FR 616, not far from the Pivot Rock Canyon campground. Once we were finished with FR 616, we returned to FR 142, where we found a nice road to explore. As we continued along, however, we began to notice that things were looking all too familiar. A couple of miles later, the road forked at a Y-intersection…and we realized that we were on the same road that we had explored that morning, only we had come in the opposite way! Another road that we explored was the side road that leads to the Clover Creek Trailhead. Last year, the road had been closed and rerouted, so that hikers could no longer drive along the drainage to get to the trailhead. Instead, they would have to turn onto FR 142 and take the side road that was just off to the right, on the other side of the hill. As we came to the Clover Creek Trailhead, we found that the meadow and the drainage was now surrounded by an electric fence. Having seen the same thing in Houston Draw only the day before, we understood the need for the electric fence: the forest service was trying to regrow parts of the meadow that had been damaged by overuse of the area. Once we were tired of exploring the backroads, we decided to take a trip to Clint's Well for ice and supplies. After that, we were beginning to feel quite lazy, so we opted to return to camp, where we spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the shade and playing with our very dirty child (that is what happens to a child after three days of camping!). We also watched the slurry bombers pass overhead on their way to battle the Pack Rat fire. That evening, for dinner, John made pork chops, served with a generous dollop of habanero salsa, which he had purchased in Clint's Well earlier that day. It certainly added a lot of flavor to our dinner; in fact, it was so hot that we had to scrape most of it off of our food! But it certainly was delicious. After dinner, Mary once again helped John gather firewood so that he could get the campfire started. As the sun went down on another nice day, the three of us sat around the fire ring and read Dr. Seuss stories until Mary's bedtime. (We also tried to listen to the baseball game, but the reception was so bad that we gave up.) Soon after Mary fell asleep, John and I retired, too. The next morning, we awoke at first light to another cool morning - our last morning in the forest. Since it was Labor Day, we had already decided not to do any hiking that day; instead, we would pack up our campsite early and drive home before noon, to avoid the crowds that would be on the road later that day. We didn't waste much time tearing down camp and packing up the Jeep; at 8:00, we were ready to go, so we bid the Coconino National Forest farewell and began our long drive back to Phoenix. And as we left the forest, we were very happy that we had been able to get back to the outdoors again, to do all of the things that we love best. It may have been the end of the summer, but now that the forests were open again, it was just the beginning of a whole new set of adventures...

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