April 9, 2018.

Photos.

There are very few maintained trails in the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, which I found fascinating. However, there were route descriptions on the official park service website. They were preceded with stern warnings regarding lack of cell phone reception, the need to carry water and other such things people should know, but they made an effort to put some routes out there for adventurous travelers. Thanks!

After a quick breakfast at our hotel we drove towards the visitor’s center at the dam to pick up maps and information. But we were too early, so we did a warm-up hike to kill time before the doors opened.

Hanging Garden Trail

1.6 mi | !40′ ele. gain | 45 min.

Luckily we stumbled across the Hanging Garden Trail just up the street from the dam. It was a 1-mile round trip path to a “hanging garden,” a wall of vegetation fed by a water seep. It was a hot and sunny morning and the trail was totally exposed. The landscape was utterly beautiful. There were a few blooming cacti in sight. Lizards darted around on the rocky ground. And in the distance we could barely make out the sparkling blue water of Lake Powell.

We arrived at the garden quickly and it was okay. I mean, it was interesting in that there was a wall of ferns in the desert. But to me, the best part of the trail was the landscape it traveled through. On the way in we saw a double line of rocks veering off trail and leading, seemingly, up to a high point. We walked that path on our return hike. Sure enough, it did lead to a highpoint and the views were more of the same: incredible.

This was a lovely diversion and a highly recommended stop.

Wiregrass Canyon

11.6 mi | 800′ ele. gain | 7 hr.

We picked up a map at the visitor’s center shop and took off. The trail head to Wiregrass Canyon wasn’t too far away but we did have to drive across a running creek to get there. A jeep sat alone in the parking lot. We’d never see its owner, or anyone else for that matter, all day.

My research for this canyon stated that this would be a 7.4 mile hike in a canyon to a turnaround point. Cool, we could do that. We loaded up with plenty of water and took off. In the back of my mind, though, i thought we could run it out to the lake. I mean, it was right there…

We dropped down into the shallow canyon by following a sandy trail that took us to the bottom. From there, the directions were pretty simple: follow the canyon floor. Well, with one exception: shortly into the hike we’d reach an impassible slot that we’d bypass. That’s what the Internet consensus was, anyways.

When we arrived at the slot we took a spur trail to a high point to take in the view, then followed rock cairns around the steep drops. From there all we had to do was follow the winding canyon as long as we wanted.

The canyon’s rock walls seemed to change every minute. There were endless varieties of color and texture as we turned each corner. I was not sure where the alleged turn-around point was (it seemed so specific, half of 7.4 miles?) since the canyon just kept going. So we kept going, too.

The sun was fiercely hot and I was grateful for the shade provided by the walls of the canyon. We hiked from shade patch to shade patch, taking extended snack and water breaks along the way.

I was firmly set on making it all the way to the lake. I had visions of sitting on a remote lakeshore, dipping my feet in the water and relaxing to the sounds of nature. But I was ripped out of this daydream by the sound of boot-sucking mud. Yes, the hardpan dirt under my feet suddenly turned into a thick, pasty mud. We clambered up the banks of the canyon to higher ground and kept walking. But that’s where all the brush was…

For what felt like a hundred miles we bushwhacked through the thick brush, occasionally crossing the mud slick when the upper benches dead-ended in vertical walls. By now I had taken my shoes off but Aaron stubbornly left his on. One misstep got him over ankle-deep in the mud and he got grumpy.

This was not an Aaron mood that I was familiar with.

“But we’re so close!” I said, and tried my best to lighten the mood. Many, many twists and turns later we saw it: water. We’d made it to the lake!

There was no beach or any way to get to the water because it was protected by potentially thigh-deep muck. I wasn’t going to step in to it without a foot and both hands on shore. I thought I’d never get back out. So we sat on a rock and let our feet and shoes dry out as we ate lunch.

While we didn’t have the epic beach experience I’d hoped for, we enjoyed watching the birds and hearing the splashes of fish jumping out of the water. There was no sign of humans anywhere.

On the way back, we reinforced our mud crossings with branches, debris and anything else that would provide a bit more flotation over the slime. Once we got past the worst of it we settled into a nice pace.

It was hotter now, though, so we took more shade breaks. We also decided to zig where we zagged on the way in: there were a couple of side passages that offered something of a loop option. There were also a few slots that we had to investigate. Some were dead-ends, but others we could link back to the main canyon. It felt good to have options for exploration on an out-and-back type of hike.

Our final obstacle was the slot canyon we avoided on the way in. “Let’s just take a look,” I said. I wanted to see if we could find a safe passageway.

We did, although it involved a handful of vertical climbing moves to get up some short, steep sections. It was fun and an adventurous way to wrap up a long day.

When we arrived at the car I went right to the cooler for a cold drink. I selected the root beer milk that I picked up the other day for novelty’s sake. And it was REALLY GOOD. Like, dangerously good. It tasted like a melted root beer float. A refreshing treat after a day in the sun!

We did make one more stop today at Paria Toadstools. But it felt like a total circus, so we left almost as soon as we arrived at the toadstools. People everywhere, posing for pictures. It was so gross, especially after being alone all day. I’ll take my balancing rocks that aren’t perched conveniently close to the road!

April 8, 2018.

10 mi. | 3200′ ele. gain | 7:15 hr. | Photos

We woke up at 5 am to hit this mountain early in the day. I’d done plenty of research regarding the route and what to expect, but after spending several days in the sun-baked desert I felt fairly unprepared and bewildered that we’d be in the snow today.

I opted to pack light: Yaxtrax, down jacket, rain jacket, normal layers, hat and sunglasses. I wore my Altra trail shoes and Dirty Girl Gaiters. I forgot to pack gloves for the entire Southwest road trip so I borrowed a couple of pairs from Aaron (he packed 4 pairs!). Just enough food and water, small backpack, hiking poles. It felt pretty minimal but I figured it wouldn’t be that bad.

By 6:30 am we were ready to start walking. I was confused as to which parking lot was the one the ranger had told us to leave the car. The ski area was not well-labeled for climbers. We found a spot in a mostly empty lot and made our way to the trail. A snow groomer was loudly and carefully going over a tiny patch of snow that just happened to be right in our path. That was just the first obstacle of the day.

The trail was a mix of bare ground and icy snow patches. It was chilly at this time of the day and the snow was still well frozen. We went as long as we could without Yaxtrax but eventually decided to put them on. We mostly followed the trail, but as we approached treeline we lost the track. Just a little futzing around got us back on route and soon we had gained the ridge.

We’d heard the wind for most of the day but the closer we got to those stunted, alpine trees the more we were at the mercy of the icy blasts. I put all of my layers on and zipped everything up tight. Even under all those layers it felt really cold. Aaron’s hands were freezing. That NEVER happens. He was being very gentleman-like, and donated his warmest gloves to me. Since my hands were comfy warm in there, we switched gloves on our way to the summit.

The wind took my breath away. Every step felt like what I imagined a step on Everest would be. So dramatic! But the rime ice coating the trees, the rocky ridgeline and the panoramic views kept a big smile on my face. It was so beautiful up there. Near the top, we saw one couple on their way down: the first people we saw all day. “Almost there!” they said.

I was anticipating a quick photo op on the summit before descending back down out of the wind. But due to some kind of miracle, there was a spot on top sheltered from the wind. We plopped our packs down, took shelter and ate a nice big snack from the top of Arizona. What a great day!

Before taking off we posed for pictures with the sign and then hurried down the ridge. By now, some other people were heading up. In shorts. With miniature dogs. Oh, it was time for the circus to begin.

Back below treeline we re-adjusted our layers and settled in to an easy downhill pace. Through the trees I heard, “Where’s the fucking trail?” And then there were two hapless hikers floundering through the now soft snow, searching for the route. “Right here,” we replied, and waited for them to get to where we were. For the next few minutes we listened to one of the guys bitch about how poorly marked the trail was and how hard it was to wallow through the snow with a 45-lb pack on. He was training for something, he said. I found it hard not to laugh. Training for…mountaineering? Right? So this is kind of perfect training. Routefinding, poor snow conditions, heavy pack. Feeling confused and suffering? That’s mountaineering 101 my friend.

After we left those characters behind, we encountered many more. People who got a pretty late start, with no snow gear, wearing jeans, no concept of the route. That’s what you get for climbing a state highpoint, I suppose. I wondered what drives these people to do this? People who aren’t hikers, who have no mountain experience and who don’t know what they don’t know…

It took us longer than I planned to get down. That threw off the rest of the day a bit, but no worries. I was excited to have gotten this one done. It was a challenging and fun hike with just enough of an alpine experience to make it feel like a real mountain. But I don’t think I’ll be working on the state highpoints list any time soon. Humphrey’s Peak brings me to #4 out of 50. I’ve done Mt. Hood (OR), Mt. Washington (NH) and Katahdin (ME).

We finished the day with a long drive, a fruitless search to find a campsite for the evening and more unrelenting wind. Aaron made the call to find a motel and crash for the night. It was probably the best decision of the trip.

April 7, 2018.

Photo album

Sunset Crater Volcano

After a lazy morning in camp we packed up and headed up the road to Sunset Crater National Monument. This stop came highly recommended from a friend, and it was on our way to Wupatki National Monument anyways.

We arrived at the Visitor’s Center before it opened and we would have waited around, but…there was a bus full of Asian tourists unloading as we drove by. NOPE. That meant keep going. There were way too many people in one place for my liking.

As we sped off to the next stop on the road, I wondered. Why Asian tourists? Why aren’t there busloads of African, South American or Australian tourists? Is visiting national parks more of an Asian hobby? And which Asian country’s populations are most likely to fly to the US to sit on a bus day after day? It’s an interesting phenomenon. I didn’t have much time to ponder because we pulled in to the A’a trailhead.

Having limited information about this park, since we missed the visitor’s center, we looked out at what appeared to be a very short loop and got out of the car. As it turned out, it was a short loop and soon we hopped back in to drive to the next pull-out.

The Lava Flow Trail was a partly paved and partly natural surface loop that traveled about a mile through the flow near Sunset Crater. Whoop-dee-doo, I thought. We could see this at home.

Besides, it was kind of overcast and windy. The bus had arrived while we were finishing up the loop. We had to dodge tourists who were walking off trail and posing for photos near anything vaguely interesting. It felt a bit like Disneyland. Let’s get outta here.

Wupatki

We continued on to Wupatki. This National Parks site preserved Native American ruins and artifacts. Not my usual thing, but I figured since we were out there we’d take a look. And boy was I glad we did!

The first stop was Wukoki Pueblo. It was already very hot outside, despite the layer of clouds overhead. We grabbed our water bottles and cameras and walked out to the ruin.

The structure and the views were breathtaking. I imagined what it would be like to build, maintain and live in such a place. It must have been such a harsh way of life. As the wind blew all around us, we stepped inside for a respite. It was quite nice as a wind block. It was cool that we were allowed to walk inside, outside and atop the ruin. It felt more real that way, as it wasn’t behind a fence or otherwise out of reach. We could touch the rock, see all the little cracks and pebbles. I couldn’t always tell what was original and what was reconstructed, but that didn’t really matter. It was thought-provoking.

Next we stopped at the Visitor’s Center, where I enjoyed reading through the exhibits and learning more about the area. The Park Service actually took on some tough topics, including the human history of the land and how they came to acquire the park, basically kicking people out who had been living here for generations. Again I wasn’t sure how I felt about all of it but I was glad to have the opportunity to learn and reflect. So much in life is complicated and I appreciated being presented with multiple perspectives and nuance.

From there we headed out the back door, where a clever sign reminded us to carry some water, and off towards the big pueblo. This structure had many distinct rooms. It was something to behold. We had an interpretive guidebook that we borrowed from the ranger, so I stopped and read the information aloud at each numbered sign (one of my favorite things to do on interpretive trails!).

We finished that loop trail, returned the book to the Visitor’s Center and paused for a moment to enjoy the air conditioning. It was now really freaking hot and I was beginning to break down a little bit.

We had four more pueblos to see though, and we were going to see them all.

First, Nalakihu, then the Citadel. This was located in a particularly scenic spot and the clouds were putting on quite a dramatic show. The ruins were starting to look the same, and there were people everywhere. I was getting cranky, and it had nothing to do with dehydration.

Finally we took the Lomaki Trail to view the last two sets of ruins. The Box Canyon Ruins were sitting up on a pretty perch. Perhaps water used to run through the shallow canyon, providing life-sustaining liquid to its former residents. I strolled around in a bit of a daze, waiting for Aaron to take all the pictures he wanted so we could leave.

Worst camping

On our way out, we found a shaded picnic area along the road where we stopped and ate lunch. My next hike of the day turned out to be too far of a drive to be worthwhile, so we headed towards tomorrow’s trailhead. The ranger had recommended camping at the Friedline Prairie Dispersed Camping area, which SUCKED. There was trash everywhere, the sites were ugly, it was windy as hell and there was no privacy. But at that point we were exhausted, grumpy and just needed a place to sleep so we could get up early to climb Humphrey’s Peak. This would have to do. Tomorrow would be better.

April 6, 2018.

Photo album

We had a tasty breakfast at Indian Gardens Cafe in Oak Creek Canyon before driving to the Flagstaff Ranger Station. At the ranger station, we chatted a bit about conditions and picked up our permits to climb Humphrey’s Peak. They’ve got the mountain a little more locked down in the winter due to snow conditions. It was free, they made sure we had the appropriate information and we went on our way.

Mt. Elden stands prominently behind the ranger station. Its south and east sides are made out of impressive slabs of rock. A trail zigzags steeply up the east flank in the forest. But we weren’t interested in that.

My research had pointed me towards an off-trail excursion on the rocks. I had a rough description of the route and so we headed that way. The hike began on a nice dirt trail, with cactus and scrubby brush all around. Alligator juniper provided some shade and made it difficult to find the start of our route.

After some back and forth, we found a way up on to the big rocks and started up. The jumble of large boulders was somewhat difficult to navigate. There were giant chasms beneath some of the boulders. Spiny cactus grew in between the smaller crevasses, meaning we had to watch each hand and foot placement carefully. After some creative routefinding we made it to a huge, continuous section of slabs that we’d follow almost all the way to the summit.

Aaron was a bit sketched out by the scrambling we’d done so far. We stopped to take a break and catch our breath on a ledge. The city of Flagstaff sprawled across the landscape below us. A cool breeze swept across the rock as the sun beamed down on our faces. It was at once cool and hot. Once the adrenaline had settled down, the real fun began.

Above us, over a thousand vertical feet of rock scrambling stretched off into the distance. We hiked up and up and up, our calves screaming the whole way. Along the route we came across two other hikers who said they’d never seen anyone up here. It was a brilliant route, hidden in plain sight. They quickly passed us and we were again alone on the mountain.

As we climbed higher, the winds really started to pick up. We negotiated our way up the rock, weaving between occasional stalks of agave and clusters of little cacti. I admired the cracks, eroded pits and other features on the rock surface. It was wild, rugged and quiet. A perfect place to take a hike.

The slabs ended abruptly in a stand of trees and grasses. It took a little more thought to find a beaten path through the upper portion of the mountain. Powerlines, cables and other development associated with the summit lookout tower provided obstacles for us to avoid on our way. This wasn’t the prettiest part of the hike, so we tried to make our way through as quickly as possible.

At the summit we could barely hear each other talking, it was so windy. We took a summit selfie and then barreled down the trail to get to some shelter. Taking the lookout trail back would save us from having to downclimb the slabs, not a fun proposition.

On our way down we passed LOTS of people heading up. We refueled once and then high-tailed it back to the car. It was a great hike with lots of outstanding views, and I was glad to have poked around a bit to find this particular pathway that avoided the dog route to the summit.

There was plenty of time left in the day to run some errands in town, take a quick tour of Walnut Canyon and do the Flagstaff Art Walk. Well after sunset we drove east to find camping near tomorrow’s destinations.

April 3 – 5, 2018.

Photo album

After a delightfully quiet night of camping near Williams, Arizona, we headed east towards Flagstaff for a quick resupply. Then it was south to Oak Creek Canyon.

We’d been warned. A friend who went to school in Northern Arizona told us that it would be crowded, even mid-week. She was right. We pulled into Manzanita Campground mid-morning, hoping to secure a campsite before playing for the day. Fortunately, someone had just left and there was one spot open. We took it.

Oak Creek Canyon

I’d heard that the West Fork hike was really popular, but I had it on the back burner as a possibility since it was supposed to be super cool. But our drive to camp took us right past the massive, yet still overflowing, parking lot. And that stifled any idea about heading to that trailhead. Instead we ventured into a little-known wash that I’d read about in a hiking book. There was no official trailhead and no official trail. We parked off the side of the road at a pullout and fumbled our way until we found what we were looking for. There were many surprises to come…

The wash was broad and brushy. We scrambled along the boulders, admiring the tall, sandstone walls on either side of us. Before long we started to notice bolts in the cliffs. Climbing. The sandstone looked pretty fragile, and we found a few holes where bolts had pulled out of the walls. Not somewhere I’d climb, but I guess it’s a sweet little place to get outside if you live in the area. Certainly not a destination.

We continued on, following the wash as it turned right, left, and right again. Around each corner the character changed. The vegetation, the rocks, the shapes, the smells, the textures… it was like many different hikes packed into one. We stopped for a snack break on a rock ledge above the canyon bottom. Above us, trees clung to the cliff edges, vying for soil and sunlight.

A short while later we heard voices up ahead. When we caught up to them, it was a couple of guys from Pennsylvania who had reached an impasse. The wash came to a sudden dead end at a short rock wall. The rock was smooth, with no good hand holds, and you couldn’t see what it was like on the other side. They decided to turn around. We decided to get creative.

To our right, the boulders led up to a steep hillside that looked scramble-able. It was totally fine. At the top of the scramble, we found a “beach” where the fragile sandstone had eroded away to form a bench of soft, yellow sand. Incredible! We crossed the beach, dropped back down and discovered pools of water behind the rock wall.

We shouted down to the two men that we were okay and continued on our private canyon hike.

The next couple miles revealed more treasures: a slot canyon, pools of ice, walls hundreds of feet high and a beaver marsh. And the best part was that we had it all to ourselves.

The beaver marsh was truly impenetrable so we made that our turn-around spot. The whole walk back we could hardly believe what a special place we had found. And I was happy that the crowds were content being in a crowd. This was perfection.

Wilson Mountain

We camped like sardines at Manzanita Campground and quickly broke down our things the next morning. Next up: Wilson Mountain.

I was glad we pulled up early to the small parking area near Midgely Bridge. Our book called this a 6-mile hike, but the map seemed to tell another story. Oh well, how bad could it be, I wondered. We were about to find out.

We struck out in a forest of manzanita, pinyon pine, yucca, cactus and agave. What a cool environment! I was so enamored with the desert. All these spiny plants and interesting flowers. Wait…that’s a toilet paper rose. Damn. There was so much TP littering this trail it was really kind of crazy. And a pile of human poop right next to the trail! I was flabbergasted. I tried to refocus my attention on the massive, dried up agave stalks and postcard views of the Sedona Red Rocks.

We walked up and up and up. The trail was steep but well switchbacked. There were lots of great views along the way and hardly a soul out there.

At a trail juction at the First Bench of Wilson Mountain we sought shade under an alligator juniper tree. Another couple was there, looking at their map and getting ready for the final bit of uphill to the top.

That last stretch had a bit of an open range feel to it. There were sparse juniper trees, low cactus and the occasional agave. Then we walked into a fairly recently burned forest. The next junction gave us two options: Sedona Overlook or Canyon Overlook.

We chose Sedona. The trail went up and then down again to a nice viewpoint. Cool, but no summit. We backtracked to the junction and headed toward Canyon Overlook. My guess was that it would head to the summit or thereabouts, which was right in front of us. Instead, it meandered further and further away, with no end in sight. We were already behind schedule because the hike was closer to 9 miles instead of the 6 we had planned for. And I wanted my summit. So we decided to split up: Aaron would find the viewpoint and I’d tag the summit.

I raced back up the trail and scrambled over and around the fallen trees en route to the highpoint. I learned why there was no trail there; it was made of crumbly rock. Not a great place to send the masses. I took in the views and then bombed downhill to the junction where I agreed to meet Aaron.

In the time it took me to eat an apple and take a little rest, Aaron came into sight. He never made it to the viewpoint. It just kept going…

Our return trip was slow, hot and taxing. Aaron had worn some lightweight shoes for this hike, which turned out to be totally insufficient. He was hurting. The desert sun didn’t help. At least we knew there was an AirBnB waiting for us at the end of today!

Secret Canyon

Our lovely AirBnB host showed us several options for hiking the next day. “How to avoid these insane crowds?” we asked. He offered a variety of suggestions, and we chose Secret Canyon. “The 4×4 road keeps more people away,” he said, “but you should be able to get there in your Subaru.”

It was a grueling and stressful mile and a half down the aforementioned 4×4 road where we decided to call it quits. Aaron found a place to park on the side of the road and we hoofed it the rest of the way to the trailhead. There it was surprisingly shaded. Madrone trees and tall shrubs protected us from the already boiling hot desert sun.

Soon, however, the trail emerged from the shade and gave us our picture-perfect views. Towering red rock sculptures rose up on all sides. The trail hovered above the canyon bottom and eventually took us down into the forest.

Yes, the forest. So much for another epic canyon hike. At least there was shade, and no people. We walked and walked. And walked. It wasn’t terribly exciting in there. Everything was bone dry. The leaves were mostly brown, there was hardly a flower around, and the vegetation blocked our rocky views. This is not what we came here for.

We each came to a similar conclusion several miles in. Do we have to do this? So, we turned around and made good time getting back to those pretty views. We had to decide what to do next. There were several hiking options and plenty of time, but we instead decided to call it a day. We’d spent the last few days hitting it hard and it would be nice to have some down time.

Sedona was a mob scene of people and traffic and oblivion. It is not a place I would choose to visit again. I was longing for the quiet of the ponderosa pine forest. I was needing some natural beauty without humans.