March 4, 2022
- Start: TerraSol/Patagonia (Mile 49.5)
- End: Fish Canyon (Mile 74.7)
- Miles hiked: 25.2 miles
I went to sleep last night not quite knowing what to expect. I was curious about the javelina that Mary warned all the hikers about. Would they actually come up to our tents? What types of noises did they make?
I locked my food in the outdoor shed just to keep it safe. But I never saw nor heard any animals. I can only conclude that either: (a) the javelina didn’t visit our campground this particular night; or (b) I was sleeping too soundly to notice them if they did.
The noise that actually woke me up this morning came from the couple from Michigan camping in their van right next to me. It was completely dark still when I heard their minivan’s side door slide open and then slam closed at 5:40 am. The occupant toddled off to the bathroom, and on his (or her) route back to the van, they had their headlamp shining directly on my tent.
I hadn’t bothered to put the rain fly on my tent last night because it was a nice, warm evening down here at a mere 4,000’ elevation. As so, as the person walked back to their van, the offending headlamp was shining right into the mesh of my tent and eventually right into my eyes.
As the person got back into the van, the interior dome light came on and lit up even more of the surrounding area. Then they proceeded to have a less-than-quiet conversation about their plans for the day.
This early morning nonsense is exactly why I prefer camping solo in the backcountry instead of in town.
BYE, PATAGONIA
Once my neighbors had me awake, there was no going back to sleep. So I began packing up all my gear before heading over to the outdoor kitchen to cook breakfast.
Almost everyone else was awake by 6:20 am — even our host, Mary. The only one who didn’t join us was the “injured” hiker who’d rolled in after dark last night.
As I waited for my oatmeal to cook, I used the time to check the weather one final time. It was supposed to be warm again today, but there was now a major wind advisory now in effect between 10am and 7pm.
According to the weatherman, today’s winds were supposed to be blowing at 25-35 mph, with gusts to 45 mph!!! That’s way more intense than I expected out here. I supposed it’s a good thing I was up so early. At least I’ll be able to get some good miles in before the wind began.
I departed TerraSol about 10 minutes after the nice young Canadian couple I’d chatted with yesterday. They barely made it to the outskirts of Patagonia before I caught up to them standing on the side of the road stripping off a few of their warm layers.
Fifty degrees is still a relatively cool morning for me. But it probably felt quite warm if to them, given that they were in British Columbia less than a week ago.
Once the AZT left Patagonia’s main road, it transitioned to a dirt forest road heading north toward the Santa Rita Mountains. It was an extremely exposed walk, which allowed me to enjoy the feel the sunshine warming my face. But, that same 7-mile stretch between Patagonia and Temporal Gulch would have felt brutal in the mid-afternoon sun.
This is just one more reason I’m glad I hadn’t continued walking after I arrived in Patagonia yesterday. My younger self would have stubbornly pushed to leave town to make sure I got my daily mileage quota. But, I’m really trying to dial back those obsessive tendencies a notch on this thru-hike and just enjoy the trail.
So far, this relaxed approach is definitely working in my favor.
TEMPORAL GULCH
On my final mile approaching the Temporal Gulch trailhead, the vehicle traffic on the forest road started to pick up. A bunch of day hikers were on their way out there, and car after car was kicking dust up in the dry air, making it difficult to breath.
I surmised that these cars probably held day hikers (as opposed to mountain bikers or bird watchers) because one of the cars had a vanity place that read: HIKE ON.
Once I got to the trailhead myself, I had to spend a several minutes figuring out which way the AZT went. There was a tangle of paths going in a few directions, along with an old rocky forest road. I didn’t see any clear AZT sign posts on any of them so it was time to do some sleuthing.
As expected, the AZT followed the rockiest route. I swear this trail is trying to kill or injure me. Everyone talks about the rocks on the northern Pennsylvania section of the Appalachian Trail. They half-jokingly referring to it as “Rocksylvania.” But let me tell you folks. Pennsylvania has NOTHING on southern Arizona!
The rocks here are abundant and unavoidable. Sometimes its loose rocks and scree strewn across the trail making the descent slicker than it has to be. Other times, the rocks are completely embedded in the trail like cobblestones. I feel like it’s just rocks, rocks, rocks!
From here, the AZT took a winding path through Temporal Gulch that repeatedly crossed back and forth over a small creek. Then at Mansfield Canyon, it began the 6-mile climb through the Mt. Wrightson Wilderness Area.
This section was, without a doubt, some of the most difficult hiking of the trail so far. There were times when I felt like the trail was graded like a black diamond ski slope. It just went up… and up… and up!
My calves were on fire as I climbed this insane slope, and I thought it would never end. Every time I turned a bend in the trail, it just climbed higher.
At the Walker Basin Trailhead, I finally had to stop and rest. I was moving slow and needed water. There was half a gallon cached near a trail sign, but I left it alone and went for the upper Walker Tank instead.
Unlike the cattle tanks I’d passed the past two days, this tank was a concrete dam built to capture the snow melt and rainwater running down the canyon.
After scrambling up the rocks, I was disappointed to discover that the water sitting in the small reservoir above the dam was covered in a greenish algae scum. But about 50 yards higher up the canyon I could see some nice, cool clear pools that seemed like a much better bet.
This dam would be my lunch spot as I mustered the physical energy to climb the final mile (and 800 feet of vertical gain) left until the Mt. Wrightson’s saddle. Once I made it up there, the rest of the day would be downhill or gently rolling landscape. The insane climbing would finally be over.
I took my shoes off during lunch to tend to my feet, which were now looking pretty awful. The blisters on my right foot seem to be growing and none of the layers I put on them would seem stay put. Not moleskin. Not KT tape. Not even bandaids. There was just too much friction from the uneven terrain.
I’m going to need to figure out some way to fix this problem, even if it means taking more frequent breaks so I can air out my feet and keep them from getting so moist.
TUNNELS & DESERT VIEWS
After lunch, the trail switched from a wide, exposed road to a single track trail that was lined with blooming manzanita shrubs. It was still a grueling climb up to the saddle, but at least it was prettier than it had been all morning.
Once I made it to the north side of Mt. Wrightson, the trail began its sweet descent toward Bear Springs and I could finally stretch out my legs. That climb was much harder than I expected it to be, and I cheerfully looked forward to a more relaxing afternoon of hiking.
Shortly after Bear Spring (which looked like an absolutely lovely place to camp), I passed a sign for an equestrian bypass. A side trail diverged from he AZT and then dropped to a lower elevation. I had no idea why the trail split here. And then I saw the tunnel.
Up ahead, a bunch of school bus-sized boulders blocked the trail and there just just a small portal going through them.
The darkened passage was barely tall enough for me to pass through without bending over (and I’m 5’9″). So it clearly it wasn’t suitable for horseback riders who might be using the trail. Hence the bypass I’d been curious about.
Beyond this fun little tunnel, the trail wound around Dutch Mountain and then I could see immense views of the flat yellow desert that led into Tucson. It would still be several days before I got down there. But it was amazing to see what lie ahead of me.
Gold!!
As the trail continued its gradual descent, I could now hear and feel the air gusting around me. The weather forecast hadn’t been lying. The hills to my northwest often protected me, but as soon as I emerged around a bend, I’d get pelted with a forceful burst of wind.
I continued on toward the Tunnel Spring trailhead, and the trail took me past some amazing tall spires of rock with some sort of green lichen clinging to their surface. I was now deep in the Santa Rita mountains where miners once searched for gold in the late 19th century.
Historical signs dotted the side of the trail here and there explaining how a mining engineer named James Stetson built a water system high up in these mountains for hydraulic mining. Essentially, his goal was to pump powerful jets of water at the hillside to expose the gold deposits beneath.
The majority of the precious metal here was part of placer deposits (where gold mixed with sand and gravel), and using water to separate the materials was an effective solution. Unfortunately for the miners, the gold deposits and the water sources didn’t occur in the same valleys.
And since water was a far more precious commodity in the desert, gold mining was a short-lived venture. But 8.5-miles of water tunnels between the springs, streams, and valleys still exist as reminder of this legacy.
MISSING: ONE CHAPSTICK
I eventually made it to the Tunnel Spring trailhead around 3:30 pm, and I stopped for my mid-afternoon snack near the water. The clear pools were calling my name, and I needed to take my shoes off and air out my feet again to prevent my blisters from growing.
As I hung my water bladder up on a nearby tree branch to gravity filter a few liters, I checked out the whether the small pinhole had gotten worse. Water wasn’t shooting out the tiny hole in the bladder’s side unless I squeezed the bag. If I just hung my bag and left it alone, it seemed to retain the water just fine.
So, I let gravity do its job for the next 20 minutes while I enjoyed the shade and cool air along the sheltered creek bed. I spend this extra time trying to figure out where I’d camp tonight. It was only another 3.4 miles to the Gardiner Canyon Trailhead. That seemed like good spot to stop. I’d accomplish nearly 19 miles of hiking today – a solid effort for sure.
With enough filtered water to get be through the night, I left the spring and headed north again. The trail here was a shaded forest road that paralleled the creek, and I couldn’t help but notice there were some really lovely car camping spots. Between Bear Springs and earlier here, this stretch of forest road, hikers sure had some nice options to tent. Hopefully this meant my proposed camping spot tonight would be good too!
As I mused this over, a gust of wind blew across my face and I realized how chapped my lips were becoming. I reached into the exterior of my shoulder pouch to grab my chapstick (which I’d last used at lunch up at Walker Basin), and soon discovered it was gone!
What the heck??
I hadn’t taken my pack off since lunch, so it must have fallen out when I was filtering water. This discovery came a solid 10-12 minutes away from water source and debated whether to go back and try to find my chapstick or keep going.
The dryness of my lips and the wind convinced me I had to go back. So I stashed my pack up against a tree at one of the vacant campsites and I hurried back to where I’d been filtering water earlier.
I scoured the trail all the way there, then looked around where I’d taken my break and gathered water. But no chapstick! Ah man… I’d have to wait until my next resupply to get a new one and just suffer with dry, chapped lips until then.
TOO MUCH WIND
All in all, I wasn’t in a great mood as I headed north. My pointless return to the water source (and then hiking back to where I stashed my pack again) wasted close to half an hour of time. Plus, the wind was seriously picking up again now that I was out of the shadow of the mountains.
I continued hiking in the constant 25-30 mph winds for the next hour, and I was really looking forward to setting up my tent and getting out of the elements.
Then , as I crossed over Gardener Canyon Road, I started to see a bunch of signs for “OP runners.” There were also bits of pink and black checkered tape held to tree branches with clothespins. And chalk arrows marking all the turns.
These various marking continued along the trail for at least a mile. I guess there must have been some sort of trail race out here recently. Or maybe the markings for in preparation for race was this weekend. Holy heck, today is Friday! It’s been less that a week out here and I’ve already lost track of what day it is. The weekend starts tomorrow!
I considered setting up my tent early, right between Gardner Road and Gardner Canyon Trailhead, but the cows had already claimed that particular area for themselves. Cows were everywhere, including lots more mamas and babies. Nope, I’d keep walking.
Once I got past the next gate and to the trailhead, I started looking around for somewhere good to camp. A flat parking area had three cars parked in it, but there was way too much wind there to pitch my tent. It was still blowing at least 25 miles per hour, and I knew I’d need some sort of terrain feature to block the wind.
I wandered around a bit, but decided to abandon my plan to camp near the trailhead. I’d need to head a bit further up the trail find something more suitable.
Unfortunately, the next short section of trail didn’t have anything flat on either side of it. And then, a mile later, I was up on a ridgeline following a dirt road. Nothing sheltered up there either.
I ended up walking and walking, and nothing suitable emerged. All the semi-flat spots were covered with prickly things. Or the spot was too exposed for the strong winds. Or there was fresh cow poop all over it. So I kept walking.
The wind was supposed to die down sometime around 7 pm. But it would be pitch black by then, and I really wanted to set up my campsite and get out of the god-forsaken wind already.
I searched in vain for several more miles before finally finding a decent spot down in Fish Canyon – about a mile south of Kentucky Camp. It was already almost dark out by the time I arrived, but it was an excellent spot – completely out of the wind and on nice soft ground that was free of vegetation.
I had to race daylight to get my tent set up, and I didn’t end up eating dinner until after 7:30 pm. It was later than usual, and I was exhausted after such a long, tiring day. But, I’d hiked 25.2 miles today – so at least there was that accomplishment to be proud of.
As I lay in my tent journaling, some sort of animal started howling nearby. It was probably a coyote. It was much closer than I would have liked, but it eventually wandered off and quieted down.
Then an owl started hooting somewhere above me in the trees. The soothing noise was just lulling me to sleep when I was jerked out of my oncoming slumber by something mechanical and loud.
Of course… Some asshats were out riding their ATVs nearby at night and hollering at each other. It was close to 10 pm and this ridiculous nonsense ticked me off to no end. I know Kentucky Camp isn’t far from here, which means the local area is accessible to cars. But what is the damn obsession with ATVs in this state?? Can’t people enjoy these public lands without them?
HIGHLIGHTS
- The rock tunnel was super cool. Good thing I wasn’t any taller though!
- The green rock spires this afternoon really captured my attention. What a unique sight.
- I really enjoyed learning about some of the gold mining history in the region and glad the USFS put signs out here to let people know some of the history of the Santa Ritas.
CHALLENGES
- The climb from Temporal Gulch up toward Mt. Wrightson was so insanely steep my calves will be sore for days. I’m really looking forward to some easier days up ahead.
- That wind!! I didn’t anticipate hiking a 25-mile day today, but I just couldn’t find anywhere out of the wind to set up my tent!
- The stupid ATV riders. Their noise pollution (at night no less) is a real nuisance!