Even on a Friday evening it was much
more relaxed to drive through Phoenix than Salt Lake City, even if
the massive road system is similar. The setting sun lit up traffic
signs and filled the rear-view mirror with its golden glow, and we
arrived at our friends' place in Mesa right after it had set. We sat
outside, a gas heater supplementing heat on this not-so-warm evening,
watching the swirl of reds, purples, pinks and apricot in the western
sky, palm trees silhouetted against it. From the other side of the
yard the sweet scent of orange blossoms drifted over, and the
constant hum of nearby I-10 seemed to fade. How nice to be here
again!
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| The source of the sweet smell: the orange tree, covered in blossoms |
Our friends, who stay here for a good
part of the winter, generously opened their home to us once again,
and we could look forward to a couple of hikes in the Superstition
Mountains, no more than half an hour's drive away.
After the backpacking trip and drive we
decided to take it a bit easy on Saturday. Aaron suggested the
Peralta trail, but on the way east traffic came almost to a
standstill: it was the last weekend of the Renaissance festival, and
cars were crawling along miles before our turnoff. We quickly decided
that it was not worth spending a beautiful day on the road instead of
on the trail and changed plans, heading for the Lost Dutchman state
park instead. Not knowing any hikes apart from the Flatiron, which
was the plan for the next day, and the trail to the 'Praying Hands'
branching off that one we just went for the first option we found:
Massacre Grounds (and falls). A short drive along a bumpy dirt road
brought us to the Crosscut parking lot, the trailhead for this hike.
It took us a bit longer than expected
to get to the top, and several groups of people returned reporting
they had given up, but the hike alone was well worth it. It's not a
difficult hike, and the trail leads gently but steadily uphill
through meadows filled with blooming wildflowers right now.
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| Fairy Duster |
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| Hen-and-Chicks |
At first
it seemed as if the poppies weren't quite ready yet, but the higher
the sun climbed the more patches of yolk-golden poppies appeared,
sharing space with purple lupins and pale-lilac verbenas. Many
different types of cacti were scattered on the hillsides, from
Prickly Pear to hedgehog, different chollas, and my favourites, the
globe cacti. Saguaros with their outstretched arms kept watch,
offering perches for birds small and big. The delicate pink blossoms
of the Fairy Duster – so perfectly named – delighted me as much
as the big salmon and yellow blossoms of the hen-and-chicks further
up the trail.
At one point little irregular shaped beds of plants
were set into a rocky area, more perfect than any human landscape
architect could have planned it.
Finally we could see the waterfall,
still a bit further along the trail. We met a few people on their way
back who had been content with seeing them, but to come this far and
not go all the way – that wasn't an option. A steep rock wall
awaited us, the waterfall a thin string dancing off the top, every
once in awhile picked up by the wind and tossed about so that the
spray was golden in the sunlight. It was shady and cool along the
wall, a nice respite after the hike on mostly exposed trails.
We sat
by the little pool at the bottom of the waterfall and had a snack
before heading back. A family with a boy of maybe eleven had arrived
just when we left, and when we looked back after a few minutes we saw
the boy and his mother stand on a ledge behind the little waterfall.
That looked neat! There was nothing for it, we had to go back and try
that, too. Cooled down even more we finally were on our way back soon
after,the sun a bit lower, shadows longer.
We concluded the evening with
'beergeritas' in front of the house, the night warmer than the one
before, looking forward to Sunday's hike up to Flatiron, considered a
hard one. I hadn't made it to the top last time in 2013. Would I this
time?
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