A quick note from Chambers, AZ.

 I'm almost caught up, only yesterday's drive from Globe and a visit to Petrified Forest NP remaining. I might be able to post something tonight. 

After spending the night right beside very busy I-40 in Chambers (though there is no apparent town near and far, just this Day's Inn and a gas station) we'll head north on Hwy. 191 and will visit Canyon de Chelly today. I very much look forward to it! 

Catching up, 4: The Boyce-Thompson Arboretum

 March 23, 2022

We said goodbye to Aaron and Evelyn Tuesday morning and were at Dave and Jan's in Apache Junction overnight. The visit at the Boyce-Thompson Arboretum near Superior yesterday was another highlight. There is not much to say, especially since I wrote about it before, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. 

Catching up, 3: Flatiron hike, Superstition Mountains

 

March 21, 2022

It is ten minutes to seven, and we have just arrived at the parking lot at the foot of the Superstition Mountains. On the short drive from Mesa the temperature dropped from 11 to 7 degrees Celsius, and the trail leading up to the Superstition Wilderness lies in the shade. That's what we had hoped for, and the reason why we started out so early. This hike will be hard enough without having to deal with the heat that will invariably arrive later. Yet the sun has been up for not quite half an hour, and whatever it touches is glowing in a green-golden light. It is a beautiful morning!

After not being able to travel for the past couple of years we are back here for the first time since 2019, and I well remember how difficult it was for me then. I have my doubts that I will make it, but Johann and Aaron are determined, and I will go as far as I can and turn around if necessary. I'd love to stand up on the jutting rock of the Flatiron again, though: I also remember the feeling of accomplishment. This is my second time, Johann's third, and Aaron's fourth time to tackle this trail.

Aaron has looked at the photos from last time and tells us that we were at the 'thumb', a jutting rock we can see from here, at 9 am last time. That will be our first stop where we have a bite to eat. It is easy walking for this first part, the trail climbing slowly, the surface rocky but relatively smooth, and the clean, fresh air makes it a pleasure to walk. Birds are singing everywhere in the shrubbery around us; it is still amazing how many live here, and how varied their songs are. The hillsides are starting to turn yellow from the brittlebush coming into flower. We arrive at the thumb after 40 minutes, at 7:40. Great!

Few hikers are up and about, only a handful besides us, but we meet two people with dogs coming back from a hike already, though certainly not from the top yet.

Bit by bit the trail gets steeper and rockier, and we're putting on the gloves we brought: they will prove invaluable when the really steep and rocky section starts. We take another short break at the foot of the smooth, pretty steep sliprock wall that is one of the amazing features of this hike, and then walk up quite easily. Here, I am not afraid since the footing is firm and the grade is not so steep that I feel I'm not in control. I do remember the next section, though, slippery with gritty dirt and steep; in my memory it was the scariest part of the whole hike. I try the alternate route which Johann took and discouraged me to do because he thought the slippery section was easier, and he was right: I don't think I can safely gain the ridge this way and turn around. Finally I'm up, heart beating, still scared to turn around to see where I just came from, but safe.

We have come about two-thirds of the way at this point, distance-wise at least. Time-wise we are maybe halfway up since the most cumbersome part is yet to come. From here on there are only rocks we have to climb over, and it is steep up the 'Siphon Draw'. Looking for footholds, pulling yourself up and over, looking for the best way up becomes the only focus here. We are still in the shade, and shrubs are growing here in this narrow channel, but cacti as well: one more thing to look out for. Every once in awhile there are even small trees, and here and there their branches or exposed roots are worn smooth from the many hands gripping them for support.

We meet a couple of people coming back from a very early climb. One man tells us that this is his 377^th time 'doing the Flatiron', that he comes two to three times a week. A group passes us (I am slow and stop often to catch my breath), and one of the hikers tells us that we should come on Christmas Eve: then, a father and his sons serve pancakes up on the Flatiron. They bring grills and griddles and batter and even eggs up, and it has become a Christmas Eve tradition for many hikers in the area to come up for a pancake breakfast.

Finally we have arrived at the so-called 'Wall', likely the most difficult part of the hike (though to me no more challenging than the slippery section I traversed earlier). An experienced hiker coming down tells us that there are three ways to climb up, and to her the left side is the easiest (all the way up the recommendation is usually to stay to the left), the right the hardest, done by seasoned hikers, the middle part likely the most used. Here, a tree offers its roots for support. We opt for the middle. Johann goes first, and Aaron comes behind me, and with their advice from above and below I manage to find the right places for feet and hands and am up and over without too much trouble.

Now, it's only a very short while until we reach the top of the draw and climb up onto relatively even ground. How wonderful to have made it! We turn right and walk along the trail to the Flatiron itself and sit on the smooth rocks in the sun, enjoying a snack and the great view. Chipmunks (at least I think that's what they are, cute striped little rodents) check us out, hoping for a morsel, no doubt. They have no problem jumping from rock to rock even close to the edge. A small lizard is stretched out on a boulder, chin resting on the rock, eyes half closed, blinking only rarely: it looks totally relaxed.

We are ready to climb down after this rest, or rather I am, and likely Aaron would be, too. Johann, however, heard the '377 time' man talk about 'the absolute peak, called 'the 5025' on this, the west side of the Superstition Mountains, 'just a bit higher, with a 360˚ view', and knowing about this he cannot just leave. He and Aaron go up, but I stay at the mouth of the draw, sit on a boulder, watch the ravens doing their breakneck flying acrobatics, talk to the odd hiker emerging from the draw or ready to descend.

One woman hiking alone tells me that this is her second hike, and while she thought she'd never do it again she needed to to deal with trauma left from her first hike. Then, she watched a woman fall 80' on her way down the wall. Her foot had got stuck, and a heavy backpack pulled her backwards when she tried to pull it out. 'She bounced two or three times, and if it hadn't been for the backpack she'd likely have broken her back,' she remembers. 'I stayed with her for three hours until the helicopter came.'

The day before friends we visited in an RV park told us that a hiker had fallen 700' to his death when he tried to take a photo. We think we are careful, but accidents still happen. It shows again that you have to remain attentive all the time.

Johann and Aaron return after more than an hour, happy to have been 'at the very top'. They had some trouble finding the trail at one point but made it in the end, and they claim it is indeed the culmination of the hike.

It is nearly one o'clock, and it's time to start the climb down. If we thought we'd be faster on the way back we were mistaken: it takes just as long to pick our way down over the boulders as it did coming up. This time we choose the option to the left (now the right, of course) to come down the Wall, and when we arrive at the part I dread most, the slippery section right above the sliprock wall, we find that there is an easier way around the right here, too, as somebody further up the trail told us. This time my knees aren't shaking when I've reached the sliprock.

To our surprise we find that we've been gone 9 1/2 hours when we reach the car: it is 4:30 pm. Our knees ache, and we don't know yet what else will hurt tomorrow. We so look forward to a 'Beergaritha' and a shower! But what a wonderful experience it has been once again! Asking ourselves now if we'll do this again next year we decide to postpone this question for another week or two.

Catching up, 2: A lake in the desert? Hiking the Butcher Jones trail at Saguaro Lake

 

March 20, 2022

Soon after leaving the campground we were once again able to see what water can do even in the desert: lush fields of alfalfa, possible because of irrigation, surrounded one of several enormous dairy farms we passed on the way to Mesa. Every one must have thousands of cows, in this climate without the need for a barn, except for milking, only shelters to provide shade in the heat. They'll never see a blade of grass in their lives, I'm sure.

The highway led through the town of Gila Bend, with one chain restaurant and box store beside the other, and we were quite happy to continue on the scenic John Wayne parkway leading to Maricopa – another town we didn't feel called to visit. Late yesterday afternoon we arrived at our friends' Aaron and Evelyn's place in Mesa, which, by now, feels like coming home: this is at least our fourth visit here.

Aaron was looking forward to accompany us on hikes, but we decided to leave the Flatiron for the second day. A random choice from '60 Hikes in 60 Miles – hikes in the Phoenix area' led us to today's venture, the 'Butcher Jones Trail' on Saguaro Lake.

It was a beautiful drive out from Mesa, up the hill past Usury Park into the Tonto National Forest. Saguaro Lake is one of four man-made lakes along the Salt River; the other three are Canyon Lake, Apache Lake and Roosevelt Lake. They all act as reservoirs for the Salt River which provides much of the water supply for Greater Phoenix.

The parking lot was fairly busy on this Sunday morning, some people ready to enjoy the lake boating, some to sit on the beach, and we encountered quite a few people on the first part of the trail. Butcher Jones trail is named after a 19^th century rancher, miner and entrepreneur from the area who, supposedly, also performed surgeries, maybe without much success, judging by the nickname.

For the most time the trail hugs the shoreline of Saguaro Lake, following its contours, with some up and down through the hills lined with all kinds of cacti. It's strange how a landscape dominated by them can seem almost lush. Beautiful vistas along the way let us enjoy the lake with its amazingly clear waters from above; it emitted a sense of freshness and cool even on this warm day. Many people were out boating, some with kayaks and canoes, others with motorboats or a bit larger pleasure boats. Some were brave enough to swim, even though the water is still fairly cool.

We stopped for a bit at the end point of the trail, 'Burro Cove' to eat our picnic lunch and take in the great view before heading back the way we came. With only maybe twenty minutes left to go we suddenly heard a slight hissing sound. 'Rattlesnake?' I wondered. 'No, it's a pop can somebody threw away,' was Johann's reply (sadly, there is a fair amount of garbage along the trail). 'No, look!' Aaron exclaimed, 'it IS a rattler!' And indeed, there it was, half hidden in the shrubbery right beside the trail, a small rattlesnake, its rattle moving rapidly. Aaron, who was closest, took a photo and video, careful not to get any closer, and we warned several hikers approaching from either side, some of them with dogs, to be careful where they stepped.

This was the first rattlesnake we ever heard and saw, and since it is still not really hot I'm surprised we found it, and not even in a warm, exposed, rocky area but pretty much in the shade.

We finished the rest of the hike without further surprise encounters and found the parking lot even fuller than when we started out: this obviously is a favourite spot for the people from the Phoenix area, and I can well understand why.

Catching up, 1: Painted Rock campground: tenting in the desert

 

March 18, 2022

We left Yuma late yesterday morning, not altogether sad to turn our backs on this city, yet glad that we had included it in this year's trip to find out what draws people there. It didn't make it hard for us to leave: we had delayed breakfast so that I could write my blog and, crossing the street to the Mexican restaurant that promised breakfast from Friday to Sunday from 7 to 11 am shortly before 11 we found out that they had already switched to their regular menu. At the iHop a few metres further on, where we had breakfast the day before, a long lineup of people promised a waiting time we were not willing to put in. No breakfast, then, at least not now. We headed east on Hwy. 8 toward Phoenix, traffic soon thinning out, the road smooth and nice to drive, decided against stopping in Wellton for another attempt at breakfast when we saw that this was again a sizeable town that would likely have the usual restaurant chains we were trying to avoid.

The turnoff to Atca, which looked like just a tiny dot on the map, showed a plate with fork and knife – we'd try our luck here. And luck it was, the unassuming 'Jac's Whistle Stop Cafe' right by the tracks open – and even still offering breakfast (why did it have to be breakfast? I don't know. Probably because that's my favourite meal, and Johann doesn't really care that much. Also, it mostly is the only meal we have eaten at a restaurant, a good solid breakfast getting us through the day so that we can get by on a slice of bread with cheese and ham, a tomato salad prepared by Johann or a few crackers and nuts. Oh, and of course a beer and/or wine). It was a good breakfast, the server very friendly, and we could even sit outside, with a prime view of the very tracks that gave the name to this restaurant, and we were fortified now to continue the drive to Painted Rock campground.

                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is hot, hot, HOT here in southern Arizona, so hot that it zaps my energy and makes me lethargic. It's nearly noon, the sky slightly overcast, with only a hint of a breeze. Who can exist in a climate like this, thrive, even? Yet here at Painted Rock campground not far from Gila Bend there is ample proof that at least the former is possible. The O'odokam people have lived here for thousands of years; a large group of settlers moved to 'Alta California' from Sinaloa and Sonora, a trek of over 1000 miles, and passed through, men, women, children and a large herd of livestock under the leadership of Captain Juan Bautista d'Anza; the 'Mormon Battalion' also travelled through this area on their way to aid the United States in their fight for California in the Spanish war of 1846, and, last not least, the route of the Butterfield Express, the mail coaches, went by here. Where did they find water, where feed for their animals?

Having hiked in the hills around the campground I really appreciate the survival skills of all these people. Of course, there are the washes where in times of rain water must push through with great force. Here, palo verde and mesquite trees, creosote bushes and other small shrubs subside. Small desert flowers are in bloom, though I don't see a single California poppy yet.

The area is strewn with black boulders, leftovers from volcanic eruptions. Last night we watched the sun set from a low ridge behind the campground, carefully picking our way between those rocks and the chollas and thorny shrubs eager to hook us. Saguaros are part of this landscape as well, ranging in size from 'babies' in their nursery of shrubs that offer some protection until they have grown a bit, to big old fellows that are starting to decay, black spine showing.

We put up the tent in one of the bare campsites: no shade available here except where I am now, in one of the three shelters we appreciate very much in this noon heat. Most people here have campers, canopies lowered, windows shaded. I had been looking forward to sleeping in the desert under the vast starry sky, and since it was so warm we didn't bother to put the rain cover on and slept without a roof. For quite a while we sat outside, watched the full moon rise over the scraggy hills in the east, observed Orion's and Taurus's progress on their nightly journey. The only thing we could hear were the quiet distant voices from other campers on this spacious campground, the occasional bark of a small dog from one of the motorhomes, from time to time the sound of a jet flying high above; otherwise it was blessedly silent. What a difference from our motel in Yuma the previous two nights!

It got surprisingly cool during the night so that I was happy to have my down sleeping bag to snuggle into.

Jumping cholla, a cactus out to get you :)

This cool stayed with us for a good part of our morning hike into the hills to the east of the campground. We started out at seven, the sun just peeking over the same hills where we had seen the moon rise at nightfall, and followed several washes, picked up faint signs of a trail here and there, though we couldn't determine who had made that trail; it didn't look like it had been humans. In the draws we saw multiple signs of deer, hoof prints as well as droppings, and bighorn sheep are supposed to live here as well. We didn't encounter any mammals; only a vulture seemed to follow our progress for a while. Was he hoping for a meal? 

To my delight I found a few cacti just getting ready to bloom, and a most amazing sight awaited us when we came down a hill as we circled back to the campground: something bright orange and shiny black was moving slowly sideways across the trail. It turned out to be two large beetles mating, about three centimetres long, their heads and front legs orange, the rest of their bodies black: the Master Blister Beetle is a common beetle here in the desert of the southwest. There was not only this one pair mating either; several were engaged in the same activity, and a few single beetles lingered nearby – losers in winning the favour of the females?

By now it is nearly one pm, and we'll pack up the tent and be on our way to Phoenix soon. We'll spend the next few days with friends in Mesa and Apache Junction and will enjoy the Superstition Mountains and the arboretum, some of our favourite places here.