I’m pretty spoiled hanging out at Gila Hot Springs. I get my package, so all is well, and I make a new friend who offers me a couple of delicious burritos, a dram of single malt scotch and the couch.
Wouldn’t you know it, the wind dies in the night and I’m pretty warm, but happy to have be spoiled inside. Clay fetches his mule taking his time cinching on the saddle to keep her relaxed. He’ll ride out to meet a trail maintenance crew.
But first, he takes me up to the Gila Cliff Dwellings. Junior hops in and squishes in beside me. What a super dog he is, chiseled and bold and nary a bark. When I finish my stretches with a squat, he comes right in for kisses since I’m now at his height.
I’m so glad I met these two.
We hug goodbye and I head up to the entrance. I’m hoping to buy a drink at the store so I can replace the cap I lost two nights ago. But they don’t sell any food, hoping to discourage scraps on the dwellings.
It’s clear and gorgeous this morning, a bit threatening when I first awoke, but beautiful now. I leave my backpack, and walk up and around the ancient volcanic cliffs.
It’s many stairs up through a riparian area, then desert where signs explain the Mogollon people were able to get all they needed. The caves are far up on the cliffs and facing the sun. They must have been accessed by rope or timber ladders.
I am the first one here and feel a presence of ancient people. They lived here 700 years ago, but were driven out by severe drought that lasted decades. Adobe buildings are nestled inside the caves with individual rooms. Timbers still remain that held roofs.
It’s truly a wonder to behold and I’m so glad I took the one mile walk up and through here. I buy a second chapstick since I already lost one of mine, then fill one water bottle and see if someone might drive me the mile down the highway to the trailhead.
A man with a van and hundreds of cool stickers offers a ride. He’s a muralist and decorating the privies. “This road sucks!” he declares and I’m happy to save my feet for the trail.
It’s a lovely walk through straw-colored grass and pinyon, views for miles of mountains and the cliffs of the Mogollon.
I choose this Upper Gila Alternate because I’m warned that the lower section is filled with beaver dams and is tough work to get through. Years of very little rain mean flooding is non-existent and the beavers proliferate.
Instead, my hike is a gentle climb, so I practice my speech and memorize another section before I meet my next turn into Little Bear Canyon.
At first, I’m just working my way down, but soon the walls get higher and tighter and I’m in a marvelous slot canyon. The rock is a lovely gray with pointy ramparts above.
The water starts spilling out of the ground about halfway down, filled with watercress. Mighty ponderosa find this tight space to their liking and birds chatter out of sight.
I reach the Gila and notice several tents. A woman is eating lunch and I say hi. “You must have started just after me! Wasn’t that canyon amazing?”
I have to admit, it’s good to see another hiker. I was feeling a little nervous heading in here all alone. She tells me she’s called “Mayflower” and is hiking a loop, so we’ll likely meet along the way.
I’m not ready for a break but instead push on to find Jordan Hot Springs and take a soak.
This part of the Gila is absolutely breathtaking. Massive cliffs tower above sporting hoodoos like towers on a rampart. The rock is red and is a striking contrast to the sky.
The river is very curvy here and each time I step in the water, a new photograph-worthy view opens up. I’m surprised how easy the trail is, flat on the floodplain. It’s sandy sometimes, so I sink in, then rocky, and I have to pick my way. I’m never walking very fast.
I’ll skip ahead and tell you now that I cross the Gila 65 times today. It’s never very deep or fast moving, even when I meet a few beaver dams – they just frustrate because I’m not sure which way to go. I love stepping into the water, avoiding the slippery rocks and seeing the stupendous cliffs mirrored in the clear water.
Big brown fish swim slowly against the current as if in an infinity pool, then let go and fly downstream with the current. A Canyon Wren sings its loopy downward descending song and a gigantic tadpole with his froggy spots camouflages in an eddy.
Jay who gave me the sleeping bag liner and shirt told me that I will know when I’ve reached the hot springs because I’ll walk through its outflow. Ah yes! This is very warm.
I climb up maybe two stories, and there is a beautifully crafted pool, held back by rocks with two steps of outflow. A waterfall fills it and two hikers are enjoying it just now.
They are the ones who set their tents back at Little Bear Canyon where I met Mayflower. They are just finishing up and take a few pictures of me before taking their leave, warning me not to put my head under due to dangerous microscopic creatures.
The temperature is just right, a bathtub warmth with sun streaming in. I soak it in, the sound, the smell, the skull of a small animal set atop rocks, the massive tree trunk bisecting the pool, then decide I want to push on.
I had originally thought to camp near here, but the day is still young and I want to keep enjoying this marvelous place. There’s an odor of the Sierra in here – pine needles mostly, and the dry, clean air.
But the Gila is its own world, a burbling river, constant in a dry, dusty desert. I make more crossings and take more pictures and breathe in the air, just as Mayflower catches up.
She didn’t go in the hot springs afraid of getting chilled. Then warns me the temperature could drop to 17 tonight. I saw upper twenties in my forecast and happy to believe that’s how low we’ll go.
We talk about our other hikes and our homes and I ask if by some wild chance she might have an extra water bottle cap. Glory Halleluia! She does and gives it to me. I won’t need to carry water in this canyon, but big carries are in my future.
I stop for a very late lunch and she heads on, planning to camp soon. When I catch her, she’s set up on a beautiful flat spot with a view of the whimsical cliffs. Sadly, the sun is already behind them, so it feels cold even at 4:00.
I give her my number as she plans to hike the Superior Hiking Trail this summer and I can possibly help. Then I’m off for a few more miles and a few more crossings.
Tents are set up already where I’d hoped to camp, so I scope out a flat spot just beyond. Perfect! I’m close enough to water to fill up and hear its lovely song through the night. I have a private cliff and an angling sun turning it orange.
One Response
Hiked a hundred miles in the Gila last year with a girlfriend and your words and images bring it all back. We didn’t have clear water though or shallow crossings. It’s an amazing place that I hope to revisit.