Saturday 4/15/2023 to Monday 4/17/2023
- Start: 260 Trailhead
- End: Payson, Arizona
- Distance: ~14 miles on the Highline Trail (#31) and Derrick Trail (#33)
After getting to the 260 Trailhead on Friday evening and seeing the group of 20-something year olds with their Costco-sized bottle of vodka, I decided not to camp in their general vicinity. Rather than heading west on the Highline Trail, I skedaddled about a quarter mile up the Military Sinkhole Trail instead.
The Military Sinkhole Trail was a 2-mile long side trail heading all the way up to the top of the Mogollon Rim, where there was still way more snow than I wanted to deal with. But I didn’t plan on going quite that far. I just wanted to get myself up to a nice flat spot near some vermillion rock ledges where I’d get a nice view of the sunset and away from the potentially Friday night partying down near the trailhead.
DAY 4 (Saturday)
The overnight low temperatures were the coldest that they’d been the entire time I’d been on trail and it was nippy in the morning. But none of that mattered today. I didn’t have an agenda. I didn’t have to get up early and begin hiking because my hike was officially done. Now I was just burning time in the backcountry to get a taste of what hiking was like when you didn’t have an agenda or trail to complete.
After nearly 12 hours of sleep (8 pm to 8 am) in my stealthy spot up the Military Sinkhole Trail, I lazed in my tent on the rocky ledges for much of Saturday morning. True to the promise to myself yesterday, I wasn’t going to be overly ambitious and try to and yo-yo the Highline Trail back to Pine. I was just going to take care of myself and give my injured foot a rest. The next three days were going to be all about leisurely enjoyment of the outdoors.
I spent the first hour after waking up this morning just nestled deep inside my cozy quilt and letting the day warm up. Then I went in search of the slim paperback book I’d thrown into my Ursack with my food cache a few days ago. I wasn’t hiking big miles today, so I had ample time to sip a cup of hot coffee, read, relax, and reflect on my plan for the day.
I briefly considered just staying in this spot for the remainder of the day and not hiking a single mile, but I would abandon that plan pretty quickly. This location was less than ideal for three key reasons.
- It’s popularity. I hadn’t heard any rowdiness last night from the crew with the board games and vodka down to their 8-person tent, but that didn’t mean a thing. It was now Saturday, and more car campers might be showing up at the trailhead tonight, and I wanted no part of that.
- The road noise. The trail’s proximity to Highway 260 around here didn’t afford much tranquility or relaxation, that’s for sure. It’s just amazing how busy the highway seemed to be all day and night. The constant noise of cars, and trucks, and motorcycles never seemed to end.
- Lack of water. But the most pressing reason I decided to move along today was the lack of water nearby. I could camp here all day on these ledges, but I’d have to hike at least a mile (each way) to get more water. And if I was going to hike two miles, then I may as well pack up camp and move somewhere quieter anyway. I had just the spot in mind – back to See Canyon over near Christopher Creek.
It was approaching noon when I finally broke down camp and lazily packed up for my 7-mile trip west on the Highline Trail. I was barely two minutes west away from the trailhead too when I saw a familiar face. It was Jesse – the guy with the knee-length gaiters who I met yesterday morning!
Jesse said he was ending his 3-day backpacking trip, and he planned to head back to Phoenix in his rental car. Since his trip was now over (and mine was continuing on for a few more days), I kindly asked if he wouldn’t mind dumping some trash for me. And when he agreed, I hiker back to the trailhead parking lot with him just so I could lighten my load just a bit. Thank goodness for the generosity of other hikers!
Thereafter, the hike west back toward Christopher Creek felt like a nice, laid back stroll. The entire time I was walking, the same thought kept popping into my head. Why hadn’t I hiked the Highline Trail westbound instead?? Hiking it this direction seemed so much easier. I was constantly losing elevation, and that long 2-mile hill I’d climbed yesterday felt like the most wonderful, gradual descent.
There’s probably a reason the Zane Grey 100k ultra marathon trail race bills their race (which goes eastbound on the trail like I did it) as one of the hardest 100k races in the nation. You felt as if you were constantly heading uphill and fighting the terrain in ways you didn’t have when going west!
I got back to Christopher Creek around mid-afternoon, and came face-to-face again with the dreaded log laying across the gap. The trailhead was located over on the creek’s west side, and while it would be nice to be that close to a pit toilet, there was a number of “no camping” signs posted over there too. I was better off remaining on the east side of the creek to explore See Canyon from here if I wanted to set up camp.
DAY 5 (SUNDAY)
Saturday night was, by far, the coldest night on the trail yet. Not only did the temperatures drop down to the mid-30s, but it my location didn’t help my case in the least.
My tent was set up at the mouth of See Canyon, so the tall walls of the canyon blocked out the warm sunshine and left everything in perpetual shadows that seemed 5-10 degrees cooler than the rest of the trail. Plus, I’d chosen a spot a mere 200 yards from the water’s edge – where the moisture clung to the air and trapped the cold air in the low pocket of ground around my tent.
Of course, my first task of the morning was to get to the opposite side of Christopher Creek using the narrow log I’d original scooted my way across two days prior. I wandered back over to preview the log last night and once again this morning – and I was feeling slightly more confident with my ability to cross it on foot. Maybe I wouldn’t need to repeat my injuries to my hands by scooting across a second time.
From this side of the creek, I’d begin my passage at the base of the tree’s trunk rather than the narrower top of the tree that rested on the opposite bank. So the width of the tree made it feel less like a gymnastics balance beam and more like a feasible bridge over the water.
Additionally, my legs were fresh now instead of fatigued. I’d only hiked a mere 7 miles yesterday and I got a full night’s rest. My injured big toe would still likely impact my balance. But if I went nice and slow, taking one small step at a time, I should be able to balance my way all the way the log across using my trekking poles as two additional points of contact to keep me steady.
Of course, this method was far easier said than done. I got about half way across the creek before the log started feeling as if it was bouncing with every movement. The water was rushing below my at a ferocious pace creating a mild sense of vertigo. And then my quadriceps started to quiver.
As my legs shook, I knew the amount of time remaining for me to stay upright and dry was growing slim and I desperately want avoid falling in the deep water. So I explored with a burst of energy and just propelled myself forward toward the opposite bank with as much momentum as humanly possible.
In the end, I still got one foot wet as I stepped off the log. But at least I didn’t fall completely in, or take a header into the boulders near the far bank! The hardest physical (and mental) task I had to do all day was now over! I could relax and enjoy my surroundings.
Although it was only a bit after 9 am on a Sunday morning, there were already half a dozen cars parked at the trailhead, presumably for day hikers heading on the side trails that paralleled the See Canyon. I had another destination in mind though. I was continuing west on the Highline Trail back up the switchbacks toward the red rock formations I’d admired so much a few days ago.
It would be a super short day – just 3 miles on trail with my pack. But I was heading back to one of the most interesting spots I saw on the entire Highline Trail, and I hoped to just spend the day relaxing, exploring the rock formations, and reading the rest of my paperback book from my campsite on the vermillion ledges.
After setting up camp near the shade of some trees, I set out on foot to explore my surroundings for the next few hours. with just a water bottle in hand. It was a lovely off-trail detour, and I felt like light as air without my pack weighing me down. This was the life!
DAY 6 (MONDAY)
After two leisurely days of exploring the area after my Highline Trail thru-hike, I was feeling totally rejuvenated. It’s amazing how relaxing hiking becomes when you stop trying to lay down those 20-mile days. My injured big toe still hurt, but it was no longer the on my mind all the time.
I’ve come to the realization that I really should hike like this more often. No agenda. No mileage requirements. Just me and my tent in the backcountry with the opportunity to explore side trails and even read a book.
Of course, I still had one obstacle left. Today was my final day out here on trail and I still had no clue how I was getting back to Payson. All I knew is I was going to head west, and then shortly before I got to the Hatchery Trailhead, I’d hit the junction with the Derrick Trail (#33).
According to my map, this shorter trail would deposit me on the same road as the Hatchery Trailhead. Yet instead of being 3.8 miles north of Highway 260, I’d get to a trailhead a mere 0.6 miles from away from it down near the Upper Tonto Creek Campground.
It would be easy enough to hitch a ride from there (I hoped). After all, I’d be near the highway, a campground, and the community of Kohl’s Ranch. There had to be plenty of people coming and going – even on a Monday.
I said goodbye to yesterday’s splendid campsite on the vermillion cliffs and continued west for another 2.5 miles on the Highline Trail until the turn for the Derrick Trailhead appeared. From there it was all downhill as I dropped in elevation over then next 3 miles from 6,400 feet down to 5,400 feet.
Unfortunately, the trailhead was dead quiet when I arrived. And even though the gate to the campground was open, there wasn’t a soul in sight. So it was down to the highway, where I stood on the wide shoulder and threw out my thumb in hopes I would get a ride before the day turned ridiculously hot.
I didn’t grow up hitchhiking, and I have to admit it still makes me a bit uncomfortable, even today at the age of 49. But, it was still another 16 miles to town and nearly 100% of this traffic driving past me was headed to Payson or to points beyond. The chances were extremely good I’d find a ride without having to call a $40 shuttle to come get me.
After 20 minutes of standing on the side of the road with my sun beating down on my head, some trail magic appeared. A woman who cleaned cabins up out at Kohl’s Ranch was heading back to Payson and pulled over to offer me a ride to town.
Like almost every woman who’s ever picked me up on the side of the road, she immediately announced that she never picks up hitchhikers. Hey, no judgment here. I wouldn’t have a ride to town if she didn’t take a gamble just this once! And just twenty minutes later, I was back in Payson where I’d started this journey six days earlier.
This certainly wasn’t the hike I’d imagined it would be as I was planning it back home during the winter months. It wasn’t even the adventure I’d envisioned just a week ago when I considered doing a yo-yo on the Highline Trail due to the snow. But instead of getting the hike I wanted, I ended up with the hike I really needed.
These last last few days were something special, and I genuinely cherished the time to slow down, reflect and recharge. I still didn’t appreciate the trail gods teaching me to “take it easy” by throwing rocks in my path so I injured my big toe, but perhaps I just wasn’t listening when they sent the message more subtly.
