I sleep deeply at my sky island peninsula, the wind dies down and my breath condensates to ice on the alicoop.
It’s cold and the water is chunky in my bottles. I pack quickly to take advantage of the cool air, staying in my fleece and puffy for the first pull. Almost right away I meet a hiker, cowboy camping above me. He says it was a bit too cold for it then apologizes if he woke me walking past. ‘Danimal’ shows a courtesy I do appreciate though I never heard him pass.
The trail winds up into a canyon, steep going up and a sheer drop to my right. It feels like I’m flying above the desert. I move well and decide to have a meal at the first reliable water source: Bathtub Spring. I’m carrying way too much with still 2 1/2 liters but i dare not dump any as I climb to 9100 feet, 3000 from the Mexican border.
I’m really feeling it, breathing heavy and my heart pounding hard. It’s not SVT, just s reaction to going up steeply on switchbacks in thin air. I make sure to drink a lot and go very slowly, step by step on slippery loose rock, in and out of shade from Ponderosa Pine and Juniper.
At Lutz canyon, there’s garbage tucked into rocks and near signs. It’s really sad. I grab s few pieces but wonder why anyone would leave behind plastic packaging. It makes no sense.
I stop to catch my breath and gulp down more water. Everyone ‘packs their fears’ and mine is getting stuck up here without any. It’s shady and cool, but I huff and puff up this steep pull, just when I think it’s Miller, the trail goes around a false summit and reveals an even higher mountain.
I only spy a bit of snow, but know i’ll have to contend with some in an exposed stretch. Just as I crest the peak, there it is. A clear path digs through, dirty and filled with pine needles. I step carefully and seem to grip well without traction.
The first bit dives into the forest with one blowdown I need to crawl under. The snow is solid ice, but chunky enough to hold. Still, it would be a long way straight down if I slip.
I don’t look down.
Instead I concentrate on each step. I’m sidling the mountain, but it’s steeply down. I dig my sticks in, but not too much to jam them and force me stop and release them. It’s nerve wracking and I give myself a pep talk the entire way down – hundreds of feet of ice on an exposed slope.
When I’m through, I feel exhausted. The altitude is nauseating me and I’m out of breath even heading down. Bathtub Spring is aptly named – a pipe pouring water that might simply seep into the ground into an old tub. I wonder who brought it here.
The wind is blocked and I sit in the sun eating a meal. I let Richard know this is slow going before packing up and pressing on. I am on the ‘Crest Trail’ but i have a few steep pulls before heading down. I drink plenty of water mixed with electrolytes and feel one notch stronger – still breathing heavy, but not sick.
The forest is thick with oak and ponderosa pine, a juniper reveals bark in a series of squares. I head down steeply on switchbacks to Bear Saddle where another spring gurgles off trail. I would rather carry all I need and forgo that slog.
Then it’s up and up on rocky trail, in and out of forest with views across the Sonoran desert to distant mountain ranges. The plants here are mainly grasses plus succulents like yucca, their spine a deep blue at the end of shapely leaves. Oak leaves like miniature brown hands crunch under my feet.
It’s up and down to a junction at Sunnyside Canyon and now a long, steep downhill. I’m not out of breath, but my legs get worked on seemingly endless switchbacks. I can see them below me as I wind around, losing altitude fast.
It’s gorgeous in here. Pines with thick trunks give way to maple, then oak with tiny leaves. I come to a river that’s mostly a dry riverbed and cross it over and over. I can’t get lost following the piles of horse poop.
In several places the water appears, running through deep, clear pools. The grass is tall and a hay color. A black pipe follows the path delivering water somewhere. I pass campsites tucked under shady oaks and fall in love with this unusual place.
A concrete cistern is completely dry, but ahead is a windmill with s large storage tank. I actually collect my water just before it in s crystal clear pool. I drink a shake and set my dinner to soak for the final miles.
I have no idea where I’ll camp, but decide to begin looking at 5:30 with a 6:00 cut off, since it’s dark by 7:00. I remind myself that my days are short, but are getting longer as I hike. The landscape changes to hilly grassland dotted with green and gnarled trees. It reminds me of California. Two white tail deer pause to watch me pass.
At a dirt road, trail angels leave jugs of water. I’m full up, so pass by high above Parker Lake. It’s man-made with the primary purpose to provide water for forest fires. It’s a deep blue and perfectly nestled in this stunning place.
In the distance are high mountains, the sun preparing to set behind them. In the foreground are the Cenello Hills which I’ll climb up and down tomorrow. It will be a challenge, but not nearly the height of Miller Peak.
I pass a cleared patch, but it still feels early and I want to look straight at the sunset. On and on I go, exhausted but strong. Just as the trail begins a sharp descent, I see a patch of ground that could work for a cowgirl camp. There’s even a sitting rock next to it.
The sun sinks behind the range and I set up in the orange light, a ground cloth picked out of a hiker box held down by rocks, then my mattress, pillow and bag. I eat the cold-soaked pasta with mayonnaise, then brush my teeth and put everything away.
The moon is a waxing crescent nearly half full and stars are brilliant as my ceiling, Orien right at eye level. It’s cold again tonight with no wind, but not nearly as cold as last night’s perch.
Hopefully too cold for the snakes.
