The day after our Flagstaff adventure,
John and I woke early in the morning to be at the Deer Creek Trailhead (in
Rye) by seven o'clock. It was going to be a rough fourteen-mile day that would
take a toll on my body.
The trails we would be hiking were the
Deer Creek Trail #45 and the
South Fork
Trail #46 to complete a fourteen-mile loop from the Deer Creek to the Mount Peeley Trailheads and back. We would hike through the Mazatzal Wilderness. At
first, we would be in the high desert. Then, as we approached Deer Creek, we
would be in a lush riparian area. Finally, we would end up in a pine forest at
the end of Trail #45, and it would be just the opposite as we returned to the
Deer Creek Trailhead.
 We began hiking at seven in the morning. The sun was still rising, casting its
bright orange rays on the mountains of the wilderness, but down in the desert,
we were walking through cold shadows. Close to a mile later, we entered the
riparian area surrounding Deer Creek. All of the foliage on the trees had
turned colors, ranging from bright red to pale green, and the trail was
covered with dead leaves that crunched under foot. Next to the creek was a
fence, a property line for one of the farms in that area. We saw an old
windmill and several rusted pieces of farm equipment, which had been neglected
for many years. Seeing all of this all at once, I found it hard to believe
that I was in Arizona. It looked like something I would find in New England,
and I found it very peaceful.
Before entering the wilderness area, John and I found the grave of Davey Gowan,
who had lived in the area. One of the trails (#48) had been named for him. His
grave had recently been tended to; it was surrounded by a fence made of
sycamore logs that had been tied together to try to protect his grave from
vandals.
We entered the Mazatzal Wilderness after an hour and a half on the trail.
Sometime later, my leg began to cramp up. If I kept walking on it, it was
okay, but every time I stopped, it tightened up, making it difficult for me to
continue. Whenever John stopped to take notes about the trail, I kept going in
hopes that doing so would keep my leg muscles stretched. John asked me if we
should turn back. It was still early enough that we could do so. I said no
because I knew that hiking that trail was very important to him, because he
was going to do a story about it for a web site.
Later on I realized that I should have turned back when I had the chance.
Towards the end of the trail, the cramp in my leg had tightened up so much
that I had trouble walking. We were eight miles from the van, but I knew that
I wouldn't make it if we tried to hike back to the Deer Creek Trailhead. My
only hope was to sit at the Mount Peeley Trailhead and wait for John to bring
the van back to me. That meant two things: 1) I would be left
alone on the
mountain again, and 2) I might be there after dark. I was scared to death, but
I had no choice but to do so.
Once we finished the Deer Creek Trail, John tried to hitch a ride back to the
van, but no one would help us. He told me that he would have to hike the South
Fork Trail to return to the van. I would have to wait on Mount Peeley for at
least four hours, if not more. He also insisted that, if I could, I should
begin hiking down the road after about two hours so that it wouldn't take him
very long to find me. With a kiss, he promised to be back as soon as possible.
Then he dashed down the road towards the South Fork Trail.
What I didn't know is that he didn't make it all the way to the trail.
Instead, he managed to hitch a ride all the way back down to Highway 87. From
there, he hitched another ride all the way to the Deer Creek Trailhead at Rye.
Once he was back at the van, he drove like mad to return to Mount Peeley. By
that time, I had already begun walking, having waited only an hour instead of
two. I figured that if I kept moving, despite the pain in my leg, I was less
likely to be in danger. Two hours after he left me, while stopping to rest at
the Gowan Trailhead, I saw the van coming to rescue me!
Another frightening adventure was over, and I believe that this one was the
worst to date. After it was all over, John and I stopped at the bar in Rye to
eat dinner and have a couple of beers before heading home. |
