March 21st

After finishing the Appalachian Trail last summer, I'd thought that it would be a number of years before I'd attempt another long trail.  However, now I was standing at the border marker that served as the Arizona Trail's southern terminus.  How did I get here and why the change of heart?  Well, as has happened to many other hikers before me, the lure of the trail was too strong to ignore.  With a few months of recovery under my belt, I found myself already dreaming of getting back out there.  Two of the nation's long trails, the PCT and AT, were behind me and the idea of doing the Continental Divide Trail to complete the triple crown of hiking began to occupy my mind.  After all, at the age of forty-four I wasn't getting any younger.  Yogi put it something like this with regard to the long trails.  "You can do one or you can do three.  Nobody does just two."

Prior to stepping onto the Appalachian Trail at Springer, Georgia, I had walked the length of the Florida Trail as a warm up.  Was there any trail out there that would serve as a good forerunner to the CDT?  A quick search of the internet and I had my answer--- the AZT.  I figured the desert terrain would prepare me well for the types of issues I'd have to deal with in New Mexico and the Great Divide Basin, such as scarcity of water and blazing heat.  The mountains, though not as high, would build up my climbing legs for Colorado and, depending on conditions, might even provide me with a bit of snow experience which I'd been lacking since traversing the slopes of the North Cascades as a southbounder on the Pacific Crest.  Timing couldn't have been better because March and April were the best months in the spring hiking season in Arizona and late April to early May was the window for northbounders on the CDT.  In addition, I'd be one of the first hikers to enjoy the benefits of a finished trail, the last few miles of tread having been formed by dedicated trail crews just a few short months ago.

Two days before my departure from San Diego, a cold front passed over the region bringing thunder, lightning, wind gusts and torrents of rain before heading east.  Checking on the conditions in Arizona, I discovered to my dismay that a severe storm warning had been issued by the National Weather Service for many parts of the state.  The violent storm that had raged outside my brother's house in South Bay would soon be bearing down on the desert southwest.  How was this going to affect the beginning of my hike?  I wasn't really sure, but knew I'd soon find out.

It was a quick flight into Tucson.  No sooner had the plane reached it's cruising altitude than it started it's descent or so it seemed.  The driver from Sunset Tours greeted me after I'd retrieved my backpack from the baggage claim and led me out to the van.  On the way south he popped in a DVD that explained a lot of the history of the area, from the early Spanish exploration under Coronado to the exploits of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday in Tombstone, from the boom and bust of gold mining to the recent discovery of a new cavern system at the turn of the century.  When we approached the military area of Fort Huachuca, my focus shifted to the snow dusted slopes of the mountains to my right.  I knew Miller Peak was one of the high points, yet exactly which one I couldn't tell.  Neither could I determine exactly how far down the snow level had reached, although I was fairly certain that at some point I'd have to deal with the white stuff. 

I was dropped off at the Coronado National Memorial at around 10 o'clock in the morning.  A chill wind blew as I made a final inspection of my gear to ensure I hadn't forgotten anything.  Determining I was good to go, I set off on Joe's Canyon Trail, which after an early, rigorous climb, levelled out and hooked up with the Yaqui Trail taking me down to the border marker. Besides the marker, a sagging barbed-wire fence along a thin strip of land was all there was to indicate that here lay the international boundary between the United States and Mexico.  Looking out over the desolate landscape, I could see the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Madre to the south, but from those white slopes to where I was standing, there was really just miles and miles of nothing.

Turning around, I took my first steps northward on the Arizona Trail.  My trek had officially begun.  The sun was bright overhead, the temperature rising as the day grew longer.  The blue sky stretched to the horizon with not a trace of clouds.  Where the trail reaches Montezuma Pass, I met a few day hikers who were headed up Coronado Peak unaware that the stranger who had just passed them was attempting to hike the length of the state.  On the far side of the car park, across the road, was the path that led to Miller Peak.  A strenuous uphill climb had me sucking wind and my heartbeat was throbbing in the back of my head like a bass drum.  As I rounded a bend, I could hardly believe my eyes.  Snow!!  And at a much lower level than I had anticipated.  Fortunately, it was only an inch or two with well-established footprints marking the way.  The bad thing was that when I took my first break, I found it difficult to eat or drink because I felt so nauseous.  I didn't think it was altitude sickness, but I knew something wasn't quite right.  The snow deepened the higher up I got, mostly ankle deep, though a few spots were above my calves.  I followed the footprints to the junction at Bathtub Spring, then I was on my own.

Previous trail experience really helped me here since the path was completely covered in white.  Following a barely perceptible indentation running between trees and foilage, I picked my way over the high terrain.  Ideally, I would have liked to have reached a campsite in Sunnyside Canyon, but I had to give up because I was too exhausted by this point, feeling like I was going to hurl.  At the first relatively flat, snow-free spot on the trail, I laid down my ground cover and set up a cowboy camp.  Still couldn't eat or drink much.  Thankfully, however, the throbbing in my head began to fade.  As darkness fell, I gazed up into a clear, cold night full of stars. 

 

Photo 1:  Border Marker

Photo 2:  At the Southern Terminus

Photo 3:  Montezuma Pass

Photo 4:  The Snow Begins

Photo 5:  Bathtub Spring

 

Distance hiked:  9 Miles on the AZT

                           2.5 Miles on Joe's Canyon Trail from Coronado 

                           National Memorial                                                          



March 22nd

I arose shortly after sunrise and proceeded along the trail, which was mostly snow-covered, as it switchbacked all the way down to the upper reaches of Sunnyside Canyon.  A thin, mountain stream fed by the melting snow was running through strips of dense green grass, occasionally forming small, clear pools as it widened.  A great place to have a break and stock up on water.  There were no animal sightings despite the deer tracks and set of bear prints I saw in the snow.  The birdlife was a different story.  Walking in the lower part of the canyon, hawks and crows glided above me, doves sat in the branches as other avian forest dwellers darted from tree to tree, and quail scurried across the tread in front of me then dashed into the undergrowth.  While I was enjoying the company of these feathered friends, the first people I'd actually met on the AZT appeared.  It was a group of senior citizens who had started their day hike at the mouth of Sunnyside Canyon, hoping to partake of its delights.  A few Hellos and How are Yous were exchanged before they passed.

The landscape changed dramatically as I entered Canelo Hills East.  The forested slopes of Miller Peak and the shade of the canyon were replaced by scattered trees offering shady patches in Scotia Canyon, which has a nice camp on the opposite side of the creek.  Further on, tree cover is much more sparse, a combination of juniper, mesquite brush and scrub dotting the hills.  Water management was an issue, especially since I was still unable to drink as much as I should have.  As a consequence, I became slightly dehydrated as the heat of midday grew more intense.  Some of the back country trail was on hard dirt roads that punished my tender feet.  Trying to make it to Flower Tank so I could camp near water, I conked out on a high point, not taking another step.  A flat place under a larger than average juniper was very inviting.  I'd come to the realization that the Arizona Trail was proving to be much tougher than I had expected.  Dealing with the solitude and mental/physical challenges was wearing on me already.  I'd been under the false assumption that I'd just jump back into trail life and start pounding out thirty-mile days when that simply was not the case.  I'm still not eating much either.  Where's my appetite?

 

 

Photo1:  Agave Drifts

Photo 2:  Toward Sunnyside Canyon

Photo 3:  Scotia Canyon Creek

Photo 4:  Canelo Hills East

 

Distance Hiked:  25.2 Miles             

 



March 23rd

Up and on trail while the east was still a golden glow.  A necessity really given the afternoon hours when the daytime temperatures soar.  It was rather cold, but a welcome relief compared to yesterday's heat.  Besides, once I started hiking I was soon warm.
Jostling along through hills of yellow grass, brambles and the occasional cholla, it wasn't long before I saw the water at Down Under Tank.  Because cows hadn't been stirring up the water far less crapping in it, the water was surprisingly clean.  Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I used my gravity filter to purify it.  Thanks to the storm earlier in the week, all the water sources were available in this section though with varying quality.  I needed all the water I could get since it seemed as if the closer I got to Patagonia, the more the sun beat down on my head and the less shade I could find.  This was especially true for the last 2.5-mile paved roadwalk into town.  By the time I arrived, I was feeling weak and light-headed.  In addition, my lower legs and nose were sunburnt.  First thing I did was swing by the General Store, grab a Powerade, gulp it down, then slump down in front of the establishment in the shade near the ice box.  No doubt about it, I was feeling low.  While questioning my own desire to continue, a woman walked up and said it was unusually hot for March.  I guess southern Arizona has been going through a mini-heat wave the last few days, hitting the low 90s by mid-afternoon.  After the comment she asked what I was doing and we started to chat about the hike as she was curious about such an extended journey.  When the conversation was finished, she insisted on buying me another Powerade and when she handed it to me, wished me well on the days to come.  What can I say?!  I'm continually amazed along the trails I've walked by the small acts of kindness given to me by complete strangers.  How sweet it was to have a pick me up when I was feeling down.  Lounging in the shade for a few moments more, it was not only my electrolytes that were replenished, but my spirit as well.
At the post office, I picked up my resupply box and sent a small box of excess gear home in order to lighten my pack.  Hoping to jump start my appetite, I wandered over to the pizzeria and ordered a calzone.  To my delight, it turned out to be hiker size.  Very much needed seeing as how I haven't been able to eat a lot over the past couple of days.  All in all, I spent over two hours in Patagonia.  In at 1:40, back out at 4:00.
Headed out of town on First Avenue, which started out as pavement, but at some point turned into gravel and dirt.  Weaving up into the hills as the heat of the day slowly subsided, it finally led me to the Temporal Gulch Trailhead.  I walked another half mile and cowboy camped under the overarching branches of a large sycamore.  Water was had from a pool in an intermittent stream near the base of a rock outcropping.  Since it wasn't actually flowing and I found a dead cow nearby, filtering the water was called for.  Only had half a Pop Tart for dinner because the calzone I'd had back in town had done a good job of filling me up.  Quite peaceful here at dusk.


Photo 1:  Canelo Hills West
Photo 2:  Filtering at Down Under Tank
Photo 3:  Near Red Bank Tank
Photo 4:  A Bright Splash of Yellow

Distance Hiked:  26.1 Miles   
    


March 24th

Although chilly early on, it didn't last long because as soon as the sun rises the temperature starts to soar.  Mercifully, much of the first half of the day was in the shadow of the hills or under tree cover.  The saddle before Casa Blanca Canyon would make a fine camp since a large log has been set up as a bench.  It's also the high point in this area, so I took a breather and had a snack.
The path angling downward along the ridgeline made for smooth sailing all the way to Bear Spring, which was accessed by a side trail.  A sizable, wooden, moss-covered tub with a small flow of clear water dropping into it from a pipe is surrounded by shady trees that create a cool oasis.  Taking the opportunity to fill up on agua and have a refreshing scrub down, I suppose I lingered a little too long because twittering birds seemed to be asking me to move on so that they could have their turn.
The big storm a week ago is in evidence as Gardner Canyon Creek had good flow and there's still snow on the northern slopes of Mt. Josephine and the rest of the Santa Rita.  Since it's Saturday today, I met a few bikers and hikers taking advantage of the weekend.  The trail they'd come down was the trail I was on, which led to Kentucky Camp.  From time to time there were interesting information plaques which explained the remnants/ruins from the mining that had gone on here.  Some of the most astounding to me were the ones that showed how they moved water uphill against the force of gravity.  Ingenious!  Shade was at a premium on the grass and scrubland that surrounded the camp so when I dragged in at two in the afternoon, I was pleased to see the covered porch that surrounded the huge, ranch-style house.  With water from a faucet around back and an excellent pit toilet, I was only too happy/weary to kick back in a chair and let the hours pass until four.  The only other people around were a few weekenders down by the guest houses.
Fortunately, by the time I set out again, the first clouds I've seen since the start of my trek had appeared in the sky.  They were so thin and windblown that you could see blue on the other side, yet still thick enough to take the edge off the sun.  Most of the walking out of camp was on dirt roads winding gradually back up into the hills.  Cowboy camping was again under the low branches of a juniper, a crescent moon highlighting a star-lit heaven.


Photo 1:  Bear Spring
Photo 2:  Gardner Canyon
Photo 3:  Looking Back at Mt. Josephine and the Santa Rita
Photo 4:  Kentucky Camp

Distance Hiked:  25.6 Miles       


March 25th

Stopped at the stock tank in the first photo in the morning because I didn't have enough water left after Kentucky Camp to make it to Twin Tanks comfortably.  A layer of algal scum sat on the surface but the water underneath was cool and clean and I was glad to have it. 
The trail ran through hills and in and out of washes, which meant a lot of ups and downs and arounds.  However, none were too strenuous.  The ground was all hard clay and rock, a tough combination on feet that were already sore.  At one point, I ran into my first rattler lying on the trail.  I tossed a few small rocks to get it moving off the path, but it just lay there with no movement at all.  It was so inanimate that I began to think it might be dead.  One more rock toss and I was dispelled of that notion, as it awoke with a loud hiss, rattles shaking at a fever pitch.  The unexpected motion startled me badly.  
During the two hours of walking before reaching Twin Tanks, there was no shade at all as beavertail and barrel cacti, ocotillo and desert grasses dominate the harsh terrain.  There were some moments of color when I came across random patches of desert bloom.  The yellow, pink, purple or orange flowers brightened up what would otherwise have been a fairly drab landscape.  Overcast skies were a relief from the blazing sun, but a constant wind had changed from morning cool to midday warm.  Twin Tanks had a small stand of cottonwood trees among which I took my afternoon break.  Nice to get out of the elements and relax for a bit.  The remaining water in the earthen tanks, though not the best, was filterable.  My plan was to rest there until four and then camp  that night near Highway 83, but it didn't work out as I had intended.
I headed out on time, walking quickly on the good tread winding through the contours of the hills and across the desert plain.  Before I knew it, Highway 83 was in sight.  The problem was I couldn't find Duck Tank.  It was supposed to be near a dirt road towards the northeast, but I wasn't sure which one.  After looking around a bit and not discovering a water source, I decided to press on because I felt real good---in the hiking zone.
I pushed on a little past dark, which was of no concern whatsoever because I was guided by the lights of the traffic on I-10.  Laying out my groundcloth on some accumulated sand at the far side of the passage running beneath the freeway, I set up camp for the night.  The sound of the approaching vehicles growing louder, passing overhead and then disappating into nothing lulled me into the deepest sleep of the entire hike.  Hypnotic!


Photo 1:  Cattle Tank
Photo 2:  Las Colinas
Photo 3:  A Splash of Color
Photo 4:  Arizona Diamondback
Photo 5:  Harsh Terrain
Photo 6:  Desert Flora

Distance Hiked:  28 Miles           

March 26th

After a short walk along the edge of a deep wash, I came to Gabe Zimmerman Trailhead just as the sun was rising over the hills to the east.  The work done here was recent, dedicated to those killed and injured at Gabbie Gifford's gathering.  All this senseless violence is becoming a regular occurrence in the United States.  Perhaps we just have more nuts than other countries.  Whatever the reason, it's not a good reflection of american society.
From the trailhead, the path leads gradually down to the Cienegas Creek Riparian Area.  The sandy ground under a shady grove of giant cottonwoods which lined the banks of the flowing brook would have made a great place for cowboy camping had it been evening time.  Climbing out of the creek bed, I walked under the railroad trestle and was greeted by the mournful whistle of a passing locomotive that was pulling a mighty load.  I believe I counted more than sixty cars as it rumbled past.  It was also nearby that I saw my first saguaro--- O King of Cacti!!!  In this dry region they tower over pretty much everything else that is around, including AZT hikers.
Winding up and over a saddle, I was soon looking down upon La Posta Quemada Ranch with its buildings, corrals and stock.  I guess they offer food down there since a sign with a crossed knife and fork pointed down a side trail that led to the ranch house.  Wasn't sure if breakfast was on the menu, but even if it had been, I wouldn't have taken the quarter mile detour because I'd already eaten back at Cienegas Creek.  Sure is a picturesque spot though, surrounded as it is by the desert hills and dozens of saguaros standing like sentinels to protect it.  One small hill looks as if the rock is maroon, a color that really pops out when you see it.
Continuing the contour of the hills, I passed another riparian area, the bright green leaves of young cottonwoods in stark contrast to the waterless, rocky earth around.  A couple of information plaques about Colossal Cave were placed appropriately along the trail and from one I had a view up to the buildings that had been constructed by the CCC nearly 70 years ago.  A bit further on, I reached the La Sevilla Picnic Area, which, though not what I had pictured in my mind, was nonetheless inviting, especially the tables covered by a shady pavilion and encircled by a small wall of thick, cool rock.  Shangri-La!  With the idea of resting here until late afternoon, I had plenty of time on my hands.  First item of business was a camp shower.  Stripping down, I took water from the spigot, filled my tin cup, and poured it over my head.  I could feel the salt washing off of my sweaty body and (oh, happy day!!) as I looked near the base of the spigot, saw that someone had left a bar of soap.  I stood there for a good fifteen minutes, splashing water in my face, lathering up with soap and then rinsing off.  When finished, I was squeaky clean.
The greater portion of the time was spent sitting atop the picnic table as a birdwatcher.  I saw a falcon, wings spread, floating on air currents above the rocky escarpment to my left, hunting for food,  a woodpecker tapping out wooden notes as it drilled for grubs in the surrounding trees, a gorgeous, iridescent green and purple hummingbird thrumming its wings while paying repeated visits to my red-topped can of peanut butter, perhaps mistaking it for a cactus flower, and, my favorite, a brightly colored cardinal with its red feathers and yellow-orange bill hopping about, looking for seeds.  There were many others as well, but I couldn't identify them by sight or song.
Before I left, I had a couple of human visitors.  The first was the picnic caretaker, who, before noticing me, was carrying on quite a lengthy conversation with himself!  Lonely job or maybe just a lonely guy.  The second was a fellow thru-hiker who had just come up from Colossal Cave.  Phil Lund, a.k.a. Zigzagger, was an older gent from Florida.  A triple-crowner, who had done and will do many more trails than I, although I found it funny that he hadn't done the Florida Trail.  It helped to pass the time talking about his experiences before getting back out on trail at four.
The evening hike was mostly contouring on small hills, then out into a land of small cacti and brush, none of which was taller than myself.  During this time, I had my second snake sighting, another rattler, which was both more alert and more aggressive than the previous one.  I was warned of its presence well ahead of time by the shake of its rattle and saw that while its lower body was coiled up, its upper body was raised off the ground and held in a striking posture.  I also noticed that this snake was much lighter in shading and slightly smaller than the first rattlesnake I'd seen.  I stood for a time and waited until it slithered noisily off the path.
As the evening shadows grew longer, I saw lots of rabbits scattered around, big ones and smaller ones.  Little cottontail babies think they're safe if they simply hunker down and don't move.  There's a chance that works, but in some cases, I'm sure it just makes for easy pickings.  A few rabbits in the mouth of a coyote certainly wouldn't put a dent in the population. 
Rincon Creek was a surprise because it was dry as a bone.  I had expected there to be water since other creeks were flowing or had pools.  However, those creeks were near bedrock, whereas the bed of Rincon Creek was all sand, which must have sucked all the water up and taken it underground.  While I was futilely checking for pools, Zigzagger caught up.  We talked a bit more, especially about the CDT when I mentioned I was headed there after finishing the AZT.  At the Saguaro National Park boundary, we parted ways, me going on to Hope Camp and a little closer to the next water source, Phil going back to the comfy sands of Rincon Creek.


Photo 1:  Gabe Zimmerman Trailhead
Photo 2:  Railroad Trestle and Passing Locomotive
Photo 3:  Pair of Saguaros
Photo 4:  Cacti Country
Photo 5:  La Sevilla Picnic Area
Photo 6:  Second Snake Sighting

Distance Hiked: 15.8 Miles      

March 27th

What little water I had had was used up before the morning came, so I was up pre-dawn headed toward Grass Shack on the lookout for more.  I didn't have to wait long before finding pools that had formed among the rocks of a side drainage, the water chilled by the nighttime temps.  The trail itself led up through a forest of towering saguaro, which eventually gave way to juniper and grasses.  The sun didn't break over the ridge for some time, so most of the morning I was walking in shadow or under shade of trees.  The first flowing water was heard when I entered Grass Shack Campground, where a nice creek passed beneath the branches of cottonwood and oak.  A few well-situated campsites, a hitching post, a pit toilet, a fire ring and a nice location overlooking the plain below--- all in all, a better deal than the more commercial Manning Camp up top, with its corral and ranger station, at least in my opinion.
I knew I was getting high when the soil changed to dark, brown dirt and my nose filled with the heady scent of pine.  Sweet!  At the peak, the ranger station was closed up tight and there wasn't a soul around.  I set up shop at a nearby picnic table for the next hour, relaxing and slowly eating lunch. At nearly 8,000 feet, there were still remnants of snow on the ground from last week's powerful storm.
Starting up again, I navigated through a series of confusing trail junctions and came out in the right place at the end after visiting Spud Rock and Mica Mountain.  The north side of this "Sky Island" has been heavily damaged by fire, which must have also affected the watershed because Italian Spring wasn't springing forth with water.  Instead, it was a small, algae-covered pool, with black diving beetles popping up for air before reversing course into their slimy, green kingdom.  To my good fortune, clean water was rushing out of a few side canyons that crossed the trail during my rapid descent.  In addition, there were some wonderful views to the north where I am heading.  Big boulders in Tanque Verde Canyon looked like they came out of a western film and I could imagine some Apache brave standing out there scouring the land for game, hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun.
At the bottom of the descent where things started to flatten out, the trail passed over a creek.  Taking the opportunity to soak my feet, I hurriedly removed my shoes and socks, then dunked my tootsies in the cool water.  Ah!  After the refreshing break, the grass and brush that I was hiking through resembled that of the Canelo Hills.  With daylight fading, I settled into a small wash past Reddington Road, cows lowing as I drifted off to sleep.  Cattle country indeed.


Photo 1:  Pool of Water in the Desert
Photo 2:  Saguaro National Park
Photo 3:  View to the South
Photo 4:  Creek at Grass Shack
Photo 5:  Manning Camp
Photo 6:  Fire Damage and Snow
Photo 7:  Azure Sky and Pine
Photo 8:  View from "Sky Island"
Photo 9:  A Look Back at the Heights

Distance Hiked:  25.3 Miles   

March 28th

Rolling up into the high country this morning, it appeared that this area sees a little more water than the Canelo Hills since things were noticeably greener.  The creek was flowing in Agua Caliente Drainage, pools were seen in other places along the trail, and West Spring Cistern also had a fair amount of water.  Deer must have been attracted by the plentiful grasses because I saw ten of them:  three shortly after setting out from camp, one bounding away up a hillside, and six while I was walking up to the cistern.  After a short break there, as I continued up some switchbacks towards the saddle, I saw a Gila Monster crawling on the path.  Yippee!  I didn't know if I would come across one, but I certainly wanted to, and did!!  It hissed at me and stuck out its tongue as it attempted to scamper away.  Realizing this may be my last chance, I followed it into the vegetation off trail and managed to snap a few more pictures.  I felt extremely lucky to witness the lizard in its natural habitat for I know it's never a given to see such things.  Plenty of people have hiked the AZT and not been so fortunate.
At the saddle there were nice views of Molina Basin, the Catalina Highway, and the campground tucked into a sweeping curve of the road.  Steep switchbacks down the back side made for a fast descent to the shaded picnic tables, where I took off my pack for a bit and went in search of water.  I found a water trailer there.  However, the camp host informed me that the water inside wasn't potable, so he gave me three liters from his own supply.  How kind!  Back at the picnic table, I saw a number of cyclists that passed, some in groups and others solo, legs pumping away as they climbed up the asphalt on what must be a very popular circuit from Tucson.
After an hour had passed, I left the comfort of the shade and got back on the trail, which basically ran along the contour of the hills above the campground, paralleling the Catalina Highway, until it reached Gordon Hirabayashi Trailhead.  From the saddle beyond the trailhead, I had a view into another canyon that would lead to Sycamore Reservoir.
Descending a mile, I entered an area of tall trees and was overcome by a truly horrid smell.  Wrinkling up my nose in disgust, I tried to determine where such a foul odor was coming from.  Arriving at the walled construction of a dam, I looked down and discovered the source of the noxious fumes--- the water at its concrete base.  Covered in a sickly orange slime, nobody was getting any drinkable water out of that stuff no matter how many times they might filter.  Phooey!  Curiosity satisfied, I hurried off in search of fresh air.
Believe it or not, the water just a mile further down trail in Sycamore Canyon was fine.  No sign of whatever had been growing on it at the reservoir and hence nothing malodorous.  The canyon had at one time been accurately named.  However, in its present condition, Fire-Scarred Sycamore Canyon suited it better.  Most of the big trees had been burned, although there were just enough small sycamores around to lend hope that perhaps in the future, it will proudly live up to its original name.
Having climbed up to another saddle, I descended once again into a much more scenic and steeper canyon, wending my way along trail 24A until it linked up with trail 24, which took me into Sabino Canyon.  Half an hour later, I crossed a stream and was keeping an eye out for the side trail to Hutch's Pool.  I ran into a day hiker and asked him if he knew where the pool was.  He replied that he didn't know the exact location, but he was positive that it was close.  Sure enough, a hundred yards further, a faint trail led off to the creek on the right.  A lovely campsite with places to pitch three tents was nestled beneath oaks, sycamores, cottonwoods and a dying pine with Hutch's Pool about ten yards off and ten feet below.  On the other side was an orange, rock cliff that had a few barrel and saguaro cacti growing out of it.  I quickly set up my cowboy camp in the most secluded tent site and then went down to wash off/swim in the refreshing water of the pool.  It was a marvellous soaking and since it was only late afternoon I could leisurely enjoy the benefits of this beautiful camp.


Photo 1:  Toward West Spring Cistern
Photo 2:  Scampering Lizard
Photo 3:  Gila Monster
Photo 4:  Gordon Hirabayashi Trailhead
Photo 5:  Water in Sabino Canyon
Photo 6:  Hutch's Pool

Distance Hiked:  19 Miles                    

March 29th

I climbed up and away from the creek before the trail came back into the ravine and eventually snaked through the cover of oak tree groves.  It was really pleasant under their limbs.  Three good camps could be had here, especially near Cathedral Rock Junction.  Unfortunately, at this time of year, all of them were dry as no water was flowing in the rocky stream beds and no pools could be found.
The switchbacks up to Romero Pass were very steep, but the views from the top were worth the effort.  I could look down the length of two canyons and up to the heights of Mt. Lemon.  A sign indicated that this was a desert bighorn sheep environmental protection area.  I wish I had been able to see one of them, but have heard that they blend into the rock exceedingly well.  Perhaps even more, I wished I was able to climb as well as they can.  I was standing there severely winded and my legs were noodley with fatigue.  Perfect time to take a break, rehydrate and re-energize.
After a well-earned rest, I felt ready to tackle some more trail. What a lovely stroll it was through the Wilderness of Rocks, a jumble of huge boulders, some sitting in piles and others stacked two or three high.  With an easy trail running between the rock formations, Lemon Creek gurgling away, pristine pools of water held in stone basins , patches of welcoming shade and the scent of pine in the air, this was my favorite area on the AZT so far.
 Bumped into a large group of day hikers in the middle of the wilderness who asked me what my trail name was.  When I told them I didn't have one, they seemed slightly disappointed.  Don't much feel I need one on the Arizona Trail because I've been out for over a week and have yet to meet another thru-hiker or section hiker for that matter.
I actually crossed tiny bits of leftover snow on the descent into Marshall Gulch, the overhanging branches providing a shield of green to block the direct rays of the sun, thus slowing down the rate of melt.  The trail comes to its end on a paved forest road, where I hung a left and hiked into town.  Summerhaven, as the name would indicate, is a lovely mountain town in the final stages of rebuilding after a devastating wildfire swept through in 2003, burning many buildings down to their foundations.  When I passed through, I saw a significant amount of construction, most noteworthy were the final touches being put on the restaurant next to the post office, which was set to reopen the following day.  My only stop was to retrieve my box at the P.O., then I was headed back out of town.
The trail on Oracle Ridge was in stark contrast to the stroll through Wilderness of Rocks.  I should have been walking under pine and oak.  Instead, I was surrounded by the grey and black trunks of fire-scarred trees, some still standing while others lay strewn about on the ground.  The burned out hulks of hundred-year-old oaks left me wanting to cry.  Oh the shame of having such beauty lost!  Even though there was a good deal of snow on the flanks of Mt. Lemon, the creeks weren't running.  The blackened land, devoid of plant life, simply absorbs any water or allows it to evaporate quickly.  Tough going at times on the steep descent because loose, unconsolidated soil made for treacherous footing.  Small rocks I categorized as rollers, twisters or sliders provided hard tests for knees and ankles in an attempt to maintain balance.  Plenty of thrills and thankfully no spills.  Winding ever lower to the north, I churned out the miles, at times on broken trail and at times on dirt roads.  Arriving at Cody Junction, I decided to complete the Oracle Ridge Trail, which led into town.  Eventually I was spit out onto a paved road that I followed into the heart of Oracle.  At the market I asked about lodging.  The shop assistant said there were some A-frame cabins out by the Circle K, so I continued walking until I reached the convenience store.  Went on in and asked the person at the register where the cabins were.  He told me they were another mile and a half down the road near the second Circle K.  No!!!!!  This was not the news I needed because it was already dark, I'd already put in 30 miles and my feet were killing me.
Well, as so often happens, the trail provides.  The customer behind me offered me a ride for which I was most grateful.  The cabin was very cozy and had all I could want.  Snack run to the Family Dollar across the road, followed by a hot shower and then a foot soak in a trash can filled with cold water.  Sleeping on a bed tonight!  ZZzzzzzz.  Drool.


Photo 1:  View from Romero Pass
Photo 2:  Wilderness of Rocks
Photo 3:  Stacks and Piles
Photo 4:  A Pleasant Stroll near Summerhaven

Distance Hiked:  26.9 Miles        

March 30th