March 11, 2022

• Start: Lemmon Creek (Mile 176)
• End: Stealth spot near High Jinks Ranch (193.4)
• Distance: 17.3 miles

I’d fallen asleep to the sound to tiny hail pelting my tent around 8 pm and woke up an hour later to discover a layer of snow covering my tent. I quickly knocked it off, just in case there was more snow coming. I didn’t want my rainfly to get too heavy during the night and force my tent to collapse. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

My coping mechanism was to completely ignore impending storm. I’d deal with however much – or little – snow fell in the morning, I told myself.  

Despite the cold weather forecasted (it was supposed to drop to 17°F overnight), I doubt it actually got that cold up on the side of Mt. Lemmon. Perhaps the low storm clouds allowed it to stay warmer than predicted. Or maybe it just didn’t get that windy.

As a result, I found that I actually slept warm last night in my double layer of shirts and 10°F quilt. My face was cold, but my body was nice and toasty inside the soft down layer enveloping me. I’d been careful to tighten the straps holding my quilt under my air mattress last night to minimize any cold gaps as I moved around in my sleep. It seemed to do the trick too because I was super comfy.

As the sun came up, I got up to pee, and I noted that we’d only gotten about an inch or two of snow last night. Nothing close to a blizzard. Waves of relief washed over me as I emerged from my tent. This was nothing like my drama in the Uintas. It was just a little bit of snow. Nothing to worry about at all!

Heck, my water bottles weren’t even frozen solid. I’d placed one bottle inside my tent and wrapped it in several layers, including my rain jacket and rain pants, and it was still mostly unfrozen. The bottles I’d left outside hadn’t fared quite as well. There was quite a bit of ice inside them, but they still weren’t as solid as they’d been on that cold night down near Kentucky Camp. 

What a wonderful surprise!

The creek was still flowing steadily to my north and I saw movement on the opposite bank. Someone else was set up over there. I hadn’t heard anyone come in last night, but was probably Cheez-it and/or Carlisle. They’d been right behind me last night, and the area around Lemmon Creek had more than enough flat space for a dozen hikers to camp here easily. 

SNOW

I made breakfast and lingered in my quilt longer than normal this morning. I was in no rush to get out of camp because it was still quite chilly out. And while the Mt. Lemmon post office would be open by 8:30, nothing else in town opened until 10:30 am.

My goal was to stop in town after picking up my partial resupply box and grab something warm to eat. It was only five miles to town from where I’d camped. So there was no reason to rush up the trail early, just to stand outside their doors waiting for them to open. 

At 8:20 am, I decided to hit the trail. I was wearing more layers than normal this morning because of the cold 20-something degree air temperature. I had my rain pant over my hiking pants. And my gloves on, plus my rain mitts to trap in the head. 

As I crossed over Lemmon Creek, I could see what appeared to be two sets of footprints in the snow, as well as the dry duff from where one tent had been set up overnight on the opposite bank. 

It was nice that the guys thought to give me a bit of privacy by setting up on this side of the creek, but honestly, I wouldn’t have minded the company at dinnertime. I’ve been hiking solo for 11 days now, which is about as long as I’ve ever gone without a hiking partner.

Sure, I’ve seen a handful of other hikers here and there – like when I stopped at TerraSol in Patagonia, and when I met Mad Max and Prov at the Canelo Hills trailhead. But for the most part, I’ve hiked alone and camped alone, and I’m ready to have some people to talk to! 

CAT TRACKS

Following the two sets of footprints in the snow made it so much easier to navigate the trail this morning. Much of the AZT was buried under the snow and completely invisible to the naked eye. The only thing confirming I was on the correct route were: (1) the footprints heading north; and (2) the occasional rock cairn marking the trail as it wove in and around giant boulders.

At times, the route went over icy rock slabs, and I had to be careful not to slip and fall as I slowly scrambled uphill. I certainly didn’t expect this when I was preparing for the AZT. But as long as I went slow, I stayed upright.

At one point, I had to chuckle to myself. I came to fork in the footprints. A giant X marked in the snow near the path to the right, and there were footprints (going out and back) several feet beyond the X. Meanwhile the left path had an arrow pointing to it, and only had footprints leading away from the junction.

Clearly, whoever was ahead of me realized the path leading to the right wasn’t the trail. So they did me the favor of using their trekking pole to mark it with and X and drawing an arrow to the actual trail, so I wouldn’t make the same mistake. Nice!

But the real treat this morning wasn’t the human tracks ahead of it me, it was a set of large cat prints in the fresh snow. I’m not skilled enough to know whether they were from a mountain lion or a bobcat, but they were almost definitely feline prints. there were three clues:

• When you look at dog tracks, their prints generally tend to be longer than they are wide. Meanwhile cat tracks have a more even height-to-width ratio, so the paw prints look more square.

• The pad on the bottom of the hind paw had three distinct ridges (indicating a cat) instead of the two ridges you typically see on a dog prints.

• And finally, these prints didn’t have visible claw marks. Dog and coyote prints tend to include their nail prints at the top of each toe. Whereas cat prints don’t show their claws.

So I’m pretty sure a mountain lion or bobcat, both of which live in the Santa Catalina Mountains, left these prints in the fresh snow. What a cool sighting!

 FALLING IN

As I climbed higher on the mountain, the snow got a bit deeper, even covering my shoes in places. The trail crossed back and forth over Lemmon Creek at least a half dozen times. And each time I precariously crossed, I did my best to focus on not slipping on the icy rocks and ending up with a foot in the frigid water.

After about 90 minutes of hiking, I started to hear some voices ahead. Were those noises from the people who’d slept near me last night? Was I catching up to them?

Nope. As it turns out, it was a group of day hikers coming south down the trail toward me. There had to be at least eight of college-aged kids walking and stomping on the trail in thick boots. They all seemed giddy and excited to be out playing in the snow, and were oblivious to the amount of noise they were making in the process.

As they approached, I realized their presence was a double-edge sword. On one hand, their stomping made the route up Mt. Lemmon much easier to spot. Yet, with so many people walking on the narrow path, it was also making the trail slick with melting snow and mud.  

Right after they passed me, I had to take a step down from boulder and it was so slick with mud that I slipped and fell forward, falling to my hand and knees. I jumped up as quick as possible, but my lower legs were now completely covered in cold mud. 

I felt a surge of anger and frustration that I’d fallen on the trail so damn easily after taking such care to stay dry on all the creek crossings. And now, my right shoe was soaked in cold, soupy mud. Even my sock was moist. I immediately tried my best to wipe the mud off my legs (mostly to hide the evidence of my klutzy fall), and was overly relieved to learn I hadn’t also ripped the knees on my rain pants during the fall.

About 10 minutes later, I found myself cresting the final bit of trail near Marshall Gulch picnic area before reaching the trailhead for Mt. Lemmon. The snow was much more patchy up here. And down below me, stood two backpackers warming themselves in the morning sunshine as they emptied their trash into a nearby public trashcans.

Woohoo. It was Cheez-it and Carlisle!! I’d caught up to them.

MT. LEMMON

The next 1.2 miles into the town Summerhaven (Mt. Lemon) required a roadwalk on a paved, but icy asphalt road. Every hiker knows that a bit of company makes the boring roadwalk go by more quickly. So the three of us decided to hike into town together.

As we walked, Cheez-it advised Carlisle and me that the next stretch of the AZT beyond Mt. Lemmon was pretty difficult. It was called Oracle Ridge, and it was one of the more mentally frustrating descents we’d experience. 

We all knew from the elevation profile that we’d just crested the high point when we got to Mt. Lemmon. So, naturally, your brain (and body) expected the upcoming section to be a smooth, easy downhill as you worked your way back down toward Oracle, 3,000’ below you. 

Unfortunately though, Oracle Ridge wasn’t a nice easy downhill. Cheez-it warned us that the trail was like a roller coaster, where you felt like you were often climbing uphill as much as you were descending. Well, that didn’t sound fun. 

As we slowly worked our way into town, being careful not to slip and fall on any black ice, we soon found ourselves standing in front of the Mt. Lemmon General Store. Both Cheez-it and Carlisle planned to resupply here, so the three of us went inside to see what was available. 

As I walked up and down the aisles ogling the chips and candy, I refused to buy anything. I knew I had a resupply package containing several dinner meals at the post office. And I’d bought a bunch more snacks down in Tanque Verde the day before yesterday to supplement that box. I was pretty sure I didn’t actually need anything, so I didn’t want to binge purchase anything until I had a chance to open up my resupply box and sort it out.

As the guys continued shopping, I bid them goodbye and told them I was heading to the post office and then over to the Sawmill Restaurant for an early lunch. I’d see them over there if they wanted to join me. 

FOOD & FRIENDS

In the end, I’m very glad I went off to pick up my resupply box without purchasing anything new. I’d mailed myself a lot of extra goodies in that little cache with my dinners. I had new hygiene items (baby wipes, toothpaste), three more ziplock bags, and enough snacks that I really didn’t need to buy a thing in town. I had more than enough for to get to my next town stop in Kearny.

As I took my box outside the post office lobby to sort my goodies and shove them into my pack, I decided to move warmer than shady post office porch. I spotted the Mt. Lemmon Visitors Center on the opposite side of the road, and their porch was in the direct sunshine. That was a much better option.

As I approached, I saw a bearded guy leaning up against a railing and talking on a cell phone, and he waved familiarly to me as if he knew me. I though he was just a local being friendly, and went about my business organizing my food and goodies, while he finished up his conversation.

When he hung up a few minutes later, he walked over to me and said hello. And that’s when I realized the guy wasn’t a random stranger. It was Mad Max! Holy cow. I hadn’t seen him since day 2 of this hike. And now here he was in Mt. Lemmon! 

The two of us wandered over to the Sawmill restaurant for lunch and spend the next half hour catching up on the AZT. Mad Max had been about a day behind me on trail this whole time, but decided to catch a ride up from the Molino Basin Trailhead this morning. 

The tread on the bottom of his trail shoes were completely worn down from the insane rocks, he explained. He was slipping and sliding with nearly every step. So he was pretty worried that he wouldn’t make it up the steep flat rocks above Romero Pass in such worn out shoes. 

Mad Max also had an artificial time crunch that urging him on. His wife mailed a new pair of trail shoes to some friends in Oracle, AZ (the next trail town). Yet when he called them up yesterday, the friends told him they were getting ready to head out of town. If he couldn’t get up to their place in Oracle by Saturday (tomorrow), he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on those new shoes for several days.

So for all those reasons, Mad Max decided to just skip these last 22 miles of the trail and hitch up to Mt. Lemmon this morning. That adjustment should get him into Oracle tonight – or by tomorrow morning at the latest. And then he’d be able to hike in shoes that weren’t completely shot. 

As we sat there chatting and waiting for our orders to arrive, Carlisle wandered in and joined us for lunch. He said Cheez-it was staying behind at the General Store to drink all their free cocoa and charge his battery on one of their outlets. 

And so, it was just the three of us stinky hikers. We sat, ate, and had great conversations about everything under the sun for the next hour. At one point, Mad Max decided to grab a beer, and offered to buy me one too. Throwing caution to the wind, I agreed.

Why not just stick around town a little longer and have a beer with these guys? I was enjoying myself immensely with the much needed social contact. It’s been kind of lonely on the trail thus far, and I really enjoyed hanging out with them.

And so time just slipped away as Mad Max and I compared notes about various hikes (we both absolutely loved our journeys on the Camino de Santiago), and traded stories of harrowing experiences in the backcountry (he had to be rescued from a wildfire while hiking the PCT), and we discovered more obscure commonalities (like our military service). 

Carlisle joined in the conversation here and there, and I felt like I really got to know him a little better too. I’m still amazed that the AZT is his first thru-hike. He has such a good attitude and is adjusting to various challenges of the trail much quicker than most hikers I’ve observed. He seems like an old pro already.

SCIENCE EXPERIMENT

When 1:30 pm rolled around, the three of us decided it was time to finally get a move on. We’d been hanging out at the restaurant for more than two hours’ time, and the day was getting away from us. This evening’s only water source was another 10 miles up the trail. If we wanted to get down there by dark, we’d have to get a move on.

As I went to use the bathroom one last time, I got so caught up in the joy of flushing toilets and running water faucets, that I completely forgot to throw away the trash in my pack. I had nearly two days’ of food wrappers in a ziplock bag, and that I’d failed to throw it away at the Marshall Gulch trailhead. And then I forgot to dump it in the restaurant trash. But I wouldn’t discover this oversight for several more hours.

Max Max, Carlisle, and I departed town together and were surprised to discover that the day was now wonderfully warm. We’d entered the restaurant with an uber brisk chill in the air and in desperate need for hot coffee, and now we were departing into the sunshine and warmth. 

We caught up with Cheez-it (and passed him) about a half our out of town. But, it turns out he was 100% correct about Oracle Ridge. It was a mental drudge. It wasn’t anything like the slopes down Mica Mountain or any of the other peaks before. It really did feel like I was descending 100 feet, only climb back up 75 feet. Ugh!

Off to the west, I could see several white-domed structures that were connected like a secret compound in the desert. In reality, the 40-acre campus was Biosphere 2, the world’s largest artificially-controlled environment, constructed to study Earth’s ecosystems. 

Built about 30 years ago, and costing $200 million, the original Biosphere 2 mission turned into a miserable failure. After a relatively stable start, the oxygen levels inside the self-contained structure dropped from 21% down to 14.2%, making it idifficult for the eight human residents to breath. The group had trouble growing enough food to sustain themselves and they lost massive amounts of weight. After two years, the experiment collapsed. 

It’s amazing to me that we can sustain an International Space Station in outer space, but scientists couldn’t replicate Earth’s environment here on our own planet.

After the failure, the company that built Biosphere 2 dissolved, and Columbia University temporarily assumed management of the campus. The University of Arizona finally took full ownership of the biosphere about a decade ago, and now they use it for climate research and experiments.

I had no real desire to visit these geodesic domes and glass buildings up close, but I was amazed that I could see it so clearly from my position on Oracle Ridge. Then again, there was nothing else out on the flat desert surrounding it, so…

ORACLE RIDGE

For the majority of our roller coaster journey down on Oracle Ridge, Mad Max was ahead of me and Carlisle was behind me. Sometimes I’d see Mad Max in the distance and think I could catch him, but most of the time he was moving just a bit too fast for me.

Meanwhile, Carlisle’s pace continued to slow down in the midst of the warm afternoon sun. I only caught occasional glimpses of him as the gap between us grew wider. It was now into the mid-60s, and even I was feeling sleepy and slow with my belly full of town food. I suspect he felt the same problem slowing his pace too.

Before long, a field of golden grass and some tiny cottony white flowers opened in front of me as I hiked toward another iconic AZT metal gate. When I walked up to the steel portal, a single Jolly Rancher was resting on the top rail right near the gate’s lock. Mad Max must have left it for me, and the gift immediately put a smile on my face.

After walking through the gate and sliding the metal lock home again, I placed a Werther’s hard candy atop the same spot where I’d found the Jolly Rancher. I hoped it would bring a similar smile to Carlisle’s face. It’s the little games like these that entertain you while you’re on the trail.

And then the true descent finally arrived. It was steep and covered in rocks. I swear southern Arizona is just lousy with these damn rocks! They continually hindered me from keeping a reasonable pace, and the tendons in my ankles began to ache with fatigue as I tried to stay upright on the loose dirt and scree.

Coming down the remainder of Oracle Ridge was frustratingly slow, and I was mentally just over it. This stretch of trail was definitely far less enjoyable the I’d been hoping. I been so enamored with Palisades Canyons and the awesome views on the south side of the Mt. Lemmon yesterday. But now I was ready to throw a temper tantrum at the ridiculously rugged trail conditions on the mountain’s north side.

I silently cursed as I nearly fell at least a dozen times, but continued walking until the sun dropped low in the sky. As dusk approached, I saw Mad Max not too far ahed in the distance, scrambling up one last steep slope. It was nearly 6 pm as I approached the hill up to the Cody Trail junction, and I was eager to get to the metal tank containing our first (and only) water source of the afternoon.

I finally caught Mad Max taking a break the water tank. He was calling his friends in Oracle to tell him he was close by. It was only two more miles down a connector trail before he’d be in town, and they’d promised to pick him up at the trailhead in 45 minutes.

And so, Mad Max bid said his quick goodbyes. He was going to take a zero in town with his friends tomorrow and hopefully hop back on trail on Sunday. Just like that, he’d be a full day behind me once again. But who knows. We’d crossed paths once before. Maybe we’d see each other again in a later this week when I took my own zero in Kearny – just 60 miles north of here.

As I watched Mad Max head toward town, I let my water gravity filter from a fence post, and I looked around to see if I could set up camp somewhere near the tank for the night. The more I looked around though, the less I liked this spot. The tank was essentially on a rocky, dirt forest road – and none of the surrounding area was flat enough or clear enough for a good campsite. 

Carlisle was now far enough behind me that I still couldn’t see him, even after my water was done filtering. And so, I was on my own. I decided my best option was to head down the Cody Trail (which doubled as the AZT) and snag the first possible campsite I could find beside the trail. Hopefully, I’d find something decent before the sun completely disappeared over the mountains.

HIGH JINKS

Once I got onto the Cody Trail, the ground miraculously returned to the a beautiful tread. No more rocks. A gentle descent. A soft, groomed trail. It was so sublime, I felt like I was flying downhill with such ease, chasing the daylight.

Ahead of me, the sun illuminated the mountains with a red glow, and the sunset was exquisite. I sped down the easy path looking left and right for any suitable spot to set up my tent. It would be dark soon and I wasn’t seeing anything even close to meeting my needs.

I picked up my pace to nearly a jog, hoping to see something reasonably open or flat around the next turn, but flat tent sites continued to evade me. Up ahead, I could see some tall building that I was pretty sure belonged to High Jinks Ranch.

Back in 1912, “Buffalo Bill” Cody staked a gold mine and established a ranch out here in in the Santa Catalina Mountains. The ranch was eventually seized for unpaid taxes after his death, and sold for $56 to a forest ranger who built a pueblo-style ranch house on the property in 1928. 

High Jinks Ranch was now a National Historical Site, and AZT hikers who don’t want to resupply at Mt. Lemmon (or in Oracle), can mail a resupply package to the ranch. But camping on the grounds comes at a steep price according to the comments in FarOut (Guthook), so I pressed on when I got to the trail junction leading up to the ranch.

In the near dark, a metal AZT sign indicated I was approximately 199 miles from Mexico. Not quite, I thought. At least not according to how the trail was routed this year. But I was definitely close to the 200-mile mark. I’d get there soon. Probably tomorrow morning.

Right now though, what I really needed was a flat spot to camp. Not this narrow trail lined with boulders and brush. I turned on my headlamp to illuminate the dark path forward, and barely a half-mile past the trail junction to High Jinks Ranch, I spotted a perfect tent spot off to my right. It was only a few feet off trail. But it was flat, and just wide enough for a single tent.

I raced to unfold my tent, and was happy it was so easy to erect, even in the dark. The temperature was dropping quickly out here in the desert, and I was getting cold as I pounded my stakes into the soft ground.

Not a soul was around, and I was definitely camping all by myself tonight. Even if Carlisle somehow caught up to me tonight, there wasn’t room for another tent in this compact spot. Just a few hours ago I was feeling the amazingly warm buzz of camaraderie with other hikers, and now I was back to the quiet serenity (and loneliness) of a solo journey. 

Oh well, that’s life I guess. I knew solitude would likely be a large part of this thru-hike. If I’d wanted a more social experience, I could have waited to begun my hike until mid-March and hiked north with the bubble of other hikers. I’d made a calculated choice to come out to hike the AZT early so I could be back home in time for some family obligations. I guess I needed to just accept that I wouldn’t be spending more than a few hours around other hikers on this trail.

As I ate dinner and reviewed my mileage for the day, I acknowledged that didn’t make it as far as I’d planned today. I only hiked about 17.4 miles – thanks to the difficulty of Oracle Ridge and my extended lunch in town with Mad Max and Carlisle. But I have no regrets. The terrain ahead is pretty flat, and I should be in Kearny by Monday if I can push 20-miles a day for the next three days. 

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Highlights

• Spotting the mountain lion (or bobcat) track in the snow this morning on my way up Mt. Lemmon.
• Spending a bit of social time with Cheez-it, Carlisle, and Mad Max. I didn’t realize how much I missed having that bit of hiker camaraderie out here on the AZT.
• Enjoying a bit of town food (and a beer – Thanks Mad Max!) before tackling the rest of the day.

Challenges

• Slipping and falling in the mud this morning was definitely one of my low points.
• Hiking down the crazy Oracle Ridge trail left me feeling depleted. It was so much more difficult than I expected, even after Cheez-it gave me fair warning.
• Trying to find a good campsite tonight left me chasing daylight. Today was the latest I’ve hiked into evening, and my hands were more than a little cold trying to setting up camp in the dark.