Hiking in the Superstition Mountains, part 2

Back to where I left off, then: to the base of the final ascent to the 'Basin', on the way to 'Flatiron'. This was indeed a scary proposition for me: not only was it steep, but we also needed to traverse some slip rock, a wall of sheer rock with little foothold. Following the example of the hikers before us, slowly zig-zagging up, I found it not as bad as I had feared, but I was glad when we reached the top.

Did I really want to continue in this manner for another one and three-quarter miles? The way up, I felt, would be okay – but what about the way down? I didn't even want to think of the short piece of way we had just come up; how could I face the same thing, just much longer? Johann tried to reassure me; he wanted to continue, and for him the fear of heights – so paralyzing for me - is no problem. He didn't want to go on his own, however, and we had almost decided to take the path branching off to the right leading to a rock outcropping called 'Elephant's Hump', easier to traverse, not as spectacular, but supposedly very rewarding as well.

We were still sitting, undecided, overlooking the basin, when a father and daughter team arrived, the daughter in her mid twenties, the father about my age. They, too, had the same discussion: she wanted to press on, he felt he was not in good enough shape to attempt it. Here was the perfect solution to our dilemma: Johann and Rachelle, the daughter, would climb up to Flatiron, while Dan, the dad, and I would wait for their return. We both felt that we'd likely regret not coming along, but were equally unable to overcome our fear.

We watched our braver hiking partners dip down into the basin and slowly make their way up the narrow draw until their progress became too hard to follow. One group of hikers after the other came by, and with many we exchanged a few words, telling them what we had found out about the trail, to keep right instead of left, etc. 

Finally, realizing how long we would likely have to sit and wait, we decided to hike up to the Elephant Hump - there would be enough time to get back before Johann and Rachelle arrived at our meeting place again. 

For the first ten minutes or so the path was a bit difficult to follow, too, but then it became much easier. This hillside seemed to get more water than the one we had traversed earlier, which showed in the lusher vegetation. I was happy to recognize the different types of cacti I had seen at the short interpretive walk close to the registration office the day before. Saguaros were not as plentiful as further down, but I found the long arms of the buckhorn cholla; the fruits of the 'jumping cholla' strung together in long chain links, their dense spines glowing in the sun; and, of course, my favourites, the elongated bulbs of the fishhook cacti, perched on rocks, protruding from crevices. Yucca, too, were plentiful; their long dried flower stalks looked like lantern posts from a distance. 

 
We reached the first outcropping of rock after only about half an hour, and decided to climb a bit higher to another one, where we were rewarded with a great view of the plains below. In the distance, the highrises of Phoenix, reduced to small blocks, shimmered in the sun. 

Flatiron

From here, we could see the rock massif of Flatiron towering high above, and could make out the tiny shapes of hikers who had not been deterred by the difficulty.    
Not so long after our return to the meeting place we spied Johann and Rachelle in the narrow channel across from us. It took a while yet before they reached us, their descent down the rocky slope slow. They were both exhausted, but very pleased that they had persevered. 

'It was not so bad', they both agreed. 'You could have done it, too.' Well, of course that was hindsight; nobody could have told us that for sure. The short, but steep climb down from the mouth of the basin that awaited all of us next was, according to Johann and Rachelle, more difficult than any part of what they had done. It didn't matter: I had enjoyed a beautiful day, a very satisfying hike, and all was well the way it was. 

On the way back, the hillsides glowed in orange-gold here and there: little clusters of poppies, their petals now open to the sun, the arid desert erupting in bloom.

 
 Weary, but happy we arrived at our campsite, ready for another hike in these mountains the next day.