Sunday dawned bright and warm, and we
got up early: the hike to the Flatiron is hard enough, and it's made
harder the hotter it is. An early start would assure that we'd be in the shade for at
least for part of the climb.
When we arrived at the Lost Dutchman
state park parking lot we found quite a few cars parked there
already. With an elevation gain of 834m over five kilometres Flatiron, at 1458m, is one of the hardest, but also one of the most
popular hiking destinations in the area, and on a weekend it would be
busier yet. Making sure one last time that we had enough water, our
sunscreen and hats we were on our way at 8:30.
The massive rocks of the Superstition
Mountains lay before us, including the horseshoe-shaped Flatiron,
jutting out like a gigantic nose. It looked incredibly high, and very
far away. But – one step at a time: we had the whole day to do
this, could rest as often as we liked, and the only thing that we
truly had to heed was the sunset, which would hardly be an issue.
For the first while the trail climbed
slowly. Poppies, lupines and the salmon-coloured globe mallow were
plentiful, already more than the day before. We reached the first
landmark, a huge rock that sticks up like a thumb, after about 45
minutes, right in line with what our friend Aaron remembered from his
hike two weeks prior. It was about here that we encountered the first
hikers returning already. Some had left when it was still dark, one
had spent the night in a tent up on Flatiron. Many more, however,
were on their way up, some fast, some in a more measured pace.
Climbing, we got ever closer to the big
rock wall we'd have to scale to make it to the top. The sun didn't
quite reach here yet, which kept it nice and cool, much
appreciated the steeper it got. So far it was a good challenge but
nothing to be afraid of, not even for me.
After about an hour and a
half we had reached the slip rock wall I remembered so well from last
time, six years ago. It is a very nice place to take a break, sitting
in the amphitheatre formed by the massive rocks, a trickle of water
slipping down the slick surface.
But this break could not last forever, of
course, much as I was apprehensive of what was to come next. The slip
rock was no big deal, as I had found out at the last hike here
already; it provided a firm footing, and in spite of the slanted
surface walking up was quite easy. It was the last few metres before
the ridge at its top that were worrisome, steep and slippery with
scree. Carefully I picked my way across it, the familiar feeling of
panic sitting on my shoulders, just waiting to burst out. The section
was too short to give that a chance, however, and I managed to not
let it show. We continued on.
Now I was in totally new territory: six
years ago I had walked the trail to the right to reach the Elephant
Hump because I was too afraid I might not make the last part of the
climb, or rather the descent. This time, assured that the following
section was no worse than what I had just traversed, I was determined
to make it to the top. Now, it turned out how valuable Aaron's advice
to take gloves along really was. We now moved up the mountain
vertically, scrambling over big rocks, using our hands to pull us up
where feet had little surface to push off from. The gloves made that
so much easier! Often we had to check closely for the best way, the
path not clearly visible, but the advice to stay left was definitely
good. At times there were chalk marks or little piles of rocks to
mark the right way, too. All the while Flatiron loomed ever larger
above us, more and more in reach. Finally, with only a few minutes
left, came the obstacle I had been most worried about: a vertical
rock face maybe four metres high. Most of the people we watched used
the roots, trunk and branches of a tree that grew right beside the
wall, and Johann and Aaron had done so on their previous hikes as
well. Aaron went up first, and Johann was to come after me to help me
should I need it. It was easier than I thought, and soon I had only a
few more metres ahead to the top. Maybe Mike's encouragement from a
couple of days ago still had an effect on my confidence, maybe the
fact that I had mastered the last climb had something to do with it.
 |
| At the very top |
The rest was easy: the top of the Flatiron, a sizeable expanse, is
flat, as the name suggests. We walked across it and ate our lunch,
with a beautiful view.
It was a bit hazy, so Phoenix was not as
clearly visible as it could have been, but the mountains of the
Superstition range stretched out far into the distance. It was a
wonderful feeling to be up here, having mastered the difficult hike
up, and I was very happy to have persevered. Swallows were darting
by, a couple of ravens talked to us from the tops of dried yucca
flower stalks, and even up here wildflowers were abundant. We took
our time enjoying it all, spending probably an hour up there.
The way back was another challenge, of
course: how to best climb down over those big rocks? Johann believes
in doing it backwards, facing the mountain, but Aaron and I felt we
didn't have enough control then because we couldn't see what was
ahead: we climbed down facing forward and often simply slid on our
bums. Here again the gloves helped a lot.
It was elating to look up at the
massive rock above and know that we had been up there, unbelievable
as it might have seemed only a few hours before. The descent was slow
and tedious, and not for a moment could I take my eyes off the trail;
it required my full attention. All went well, however.
As expected
the section right above the smooth rock was the most difficult; my
apprehension hadn't been without reason. With patience (and a heart
doing a very long drum roll) I overcame this last difficulty, too.
From then on it was just a regular hike, which felt much longer than
it should have now that we were tired.
 |
| Globe mallow |
It was nearly five pm when we reached
the truck again, dusty and very satisfied with the day. On the way
back I thought about the chance of doing this again. Would I? I'm not
sure. I now know that it's completely doable, but it took a lot of stamina and
talking to myself, and I might just leave it at this, knowing that I
could. There are so many other hikes, so many other views to take in,
things to experience. But who knows? I'm pretty sure we will be back
in this area again: it's just so beautiful at this time of year.
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