Thursday – 4/13/2023
- Start: Chase Creek
- End: Hilltop west of Dick Williams Creek
- Distance: 21 miles
I definitely didn’t drink enough water during my first day on this trail, and I was paying the price. I was so dehydrated that I woke up near midnight feeling parched and scrambling for my water bottle. And then gain at 1:30 am… and 3:20 am… and 4:40 am. It was a such rookie mistake, and I just wanted to kick myself.
When I eventually scrambled out of my tent to go filter myself more water at 6 am, a severe headache throbbed across my forehead. I suspected it wasn’t just the dehydration causing the pain though. The higher the altitude was probably a secondary culprit, and I hoped I could beat the symptoms by guzzling a liter of water mixed with Emergen-C and Crystal Light before breakfast.
None of my lingering concerns about my water filter seemed to have materialized overnight. The mildewy taste was nearly gone, and I didn’t have any sort of stomach pain or diarrhea this morning, all of which seemed like positive signs. I was keeping my fingers crossed that flushing my filter with all that extra water yesterday sufficiently remedied the problem. I was going to just drive on today without getting off trail to replace it.
A COOL MORNING
I was back on the Highline Trail and hiking by 7 am in an effort to get an earlier start on the miles. If I hiked well today, I hoped to make it all the way to the Hatchery Trailhead. That would mean a 20-mile day — assuming there weren’t any re-routes adding extra mileage.
Twenty miles seemed awfully ambitious for me under the conditions though. Today was only my second day on trail for the entire 2023 hiking season, and this part of Arizona was around 6,500 feet elevation, which was more than a mile higher than I was used to hiking at. Plus, I still had that injured big toe plaguing me. All told, 20 miles probably wasn’t in the cards, but I figured the best way to maximize my chances was to simply begin hiking early and see how far I could go.
The first few hours of the morning were chilly – barely in the mid-40s and the air felt crisp. The wind from yesterday afternoon bought a cold front with it, and the forecast said I should expect overnight lows in the 30s and 40s for the remainder of of my trip. But the daytime temperatures were still expected to hovering in the upper 60s. All told, not bad hiking weather, as long as it stayed dry!
As I hiked through the pine trees, I found myself thinking about my first milestone of the day – the Washington Park Trailhead. This was the spot where the Arizona Trail and Highline Trail would diverge. The AZT went north heading up to a 2-mile ascent to the top of the Mogollon Rim before continuing on the 7,000+ foot Colorado Plateau. Meanwhile, the Highline Trail would continue east paralleling the rocky escarpment for another 40 miles toward the 260 trailhead where my food was currently cached for the second half of my trip.
I was just cruising along, thinking about what lay ahead, when the trail crested a hill and then suddenly seemed to disappear. I backtracked about 50 yards, to see if I missed a turn, but a trail marker confirmed I was on course. The trail definitely dropped down to the dirt road just ahead of me, but from there, it wasn’t readily apparent where the trail picked up again on the opposite side.
I visually scanned up and down the road looking for a trail marker or sign, but was momentarily stumped. Directly ahead of me — where I’d expected to see the trail — the land was completed flooded with water running over it like a creek gone wild. To my left, the dirt road went uphill and there was a sign nailed to a tree that read, “Private Property. No Trespassing.” To my right, the dirt road seemed meander downhill away from where I wanted to go. None of the options was good.
By process of elimination, I opted to turn right and head down the dirt road since it held the best chance of: (a) keeping my feet dry; and (b) not getting shot at by someone who didn’t like hikers. My gamble paid off too, and about a 150 yards down the road, I caught sight of the a metal AZT sign below a tree. I was back in business and I didn’t even need to pull out my phone to check the map.
WASHINGTON PARK
As I continued hiking toward Washington Park, I could hear a helicopter overhead. The noise seemed to be coming from somewhere to the north, but I was now close enough to the Mogollon Rim now that half the sky seemed to be obscured by the cliff of craggy rocks above me. The helicopter’s distinct rotor noise got louder and louder, but I still couldn’t see it approaching until it was almost directly overhead.
When I eventually caught sight of the small chopper, I noticed it had a load of supplies slung underneath it, and the bundle was swinging ever so slightly in the air like a pendulum. I tried my best to take a photo as it traveled south toward Payson, but I was looking directly into the sun with the inability to clearly catch the spectacle in the air.
Soon thereafter, I was hopping across a creek before emerging from the forest to find myself standing directly in front two metal horse stalls. And to my surprise, one of them was occupied by a bay mare eating some hay!
This must be the Washington Park Trailhead, I reasoned, and I immediately scanned the trailhead’s surroundings to see if there might be a pit toilet nearby. I’d been ‘holding it’ all morning with hopes of sitting on a real toilet seat, but I was out of luck here. I guess the pit toilets were only at the eastern and western terminus, and not the smaller trailheads along the route. So I went in search of somewhere not too rocky to dig a cathole instead.
Once done with my business, I walked back to the creek to filter more water and met up with the horse’s owner. She had a thick German accent, and seemed to be camping at the trailhead in a her truck camper with a small horse trailer hitched to the truck’s rear end.
We got to talking for a bit and she told me she’d been staying at Washington Park for a few days and using the trailhead as a basecamp so she could ride the trails radiating out from here – the Highline, the Arizona Trail, and the Colonel Devlin Trail, and so on.
I asked if she’d gone above the Mogollon Rim yet and she immediately launched into a story. She went north on the Arizona Trail yesterday and when she crested the rim, the snow reached all the way to the horse’s belly. Knowing it would be a disaster if the horse injured itself, she immediately turned back and rode one of the other trails below instead.
As I listened to this report about the snow conditions, all I genuinely hoped Tom (the AZT hiker I met yesterday) decided to act with equally good judgment when he crested the rim in the next day or two. It didn’t sound fun.
THE SPLIT
I said my goodbye to my new acquaintance then continued down the trail toward the bridge across the East Verde River where I spied another trail register. As I stopped to sign my name, I was wholly surprised to read some of the comments left by hikers ahead of me just a few days earlier. Three AZT hikers mocked the high snow up ahead and then vowed that it wouldn’t stop them.
I shook my head at the hubris as I read their snarky comments. Mother Nature didn’t care how tough they were. Nor did she care that they had a timeline to finish the trail. I hoped they wised up and make some good choices up there. Nobody should ever recklessly gamble their safety for the sake of a thru-hike.
I continued on toward the East Verde River reminiscing about the last time I’d been here – just a year earlier. This was where Volt and I had stopped for our second breakfast before tackling the two-mile uphill climb to the edge of the rim. I’d been so certain it was going to be grueling and I’d built it up in my mind to be a monstrous challenge. But it was just like any other climb on the Arizona Trail.
As I walked over the bridge toward the where the trail’s split, the river seemed less impressive to my eyes today. Perhaps I was simply numb to the abundance of water after seeing all sorts of creeks flowing these past 20 miles. This year, the East Verde river just looked akin to Webber Creek (yesterday’s major water crossing), with the only notable difference being that there was a bridge across so I didn’t have to ford the cold water this morning.
Once on the opposing bank of the river though, I was ready to break new ground. I left the Arizona Trail behind and continued east into the bright sun below the outline of the escarpment. I was now hiking on just the Highline Trail and excited to see what adventures and scenery would unfold from here on out.
At first, the Highline Trail seemed to be just as well-defined as the AZT had been. Perhaps all my worrying about the route was all for nothing. I’d read a few comments online during my prep back home about how the middle of this trail was harder to follow, but this didn’t seem bad at all.
The vegetation lining the trail added to my chipper mood. Down near the ground were these giant tufts of some sort of grass that looked like something out of a Dr. Suess book. The mounds were maybe 18 inches high and had long stands hanging down from them like tiny haystacks. It was just the funniest sight, though I had no idea what the grass or plant is really called.
DUDE CREEK
For the next five miles, the Highline wound through the landscape toward the western boundary of ponderosa forest damaged by the Dude Fire. Back in 1990. That’s when massive wildfire from a lightening strike near Dude Creek burned 25,000 acres of land, destroying 60 homes and killing 6 people.
And while that might seem like a long time ago, disaster struck once again in June 2017. Another wildfire brought firefighters back to the same area to deal with the Highline Fire as it burned right across the Dude Fire’s scar.
The equestrian I’d talked to at the Washington Park his morning told me there would be a fence marking the burn area. But she didn’t have much information about the trail’s condition beyond that boundary as she hadn’t ventured into the burn. Yet I had no doubt that the middle of the day would be exposed and and dry as I walked across this terrain.
As I continued hiking east, I started to feel the benefits of forcing myself to drink tons of water all morning long. This morning’s throbbing headache was nearly gone, and I continued to gulp water at 20 minute intervals just to make sure it didn’t come back.
Unfortunately, this forced hydration I’d been drinking had a consequence, and I was having to stop and pee off trail over and over again. Plus, I was depleting my water at a more rapid pace than normal. I was down more than a liter in the miles since Washington Park, and knew I’d need to stop soon to fill up again before entering the burn area.
I found the perfect spot to grab some more water at Dude Creek. It was flowing fast and deep, but I didn’t have to ford it today thanks to a log that someone had dropped across the gap.
Just beyond my crossing point, the trail rose above the creek where I could see what looked like natural water slides. Water several inches deep poured over a long, smooth rock slabs that sloped downward – eventually dumping into round pools before continuing on. On a warmer day, I might even be tempted to try out waterslide! But today I was trying to make 20 miles, so I turned east and kept on walking.
THREE SISTERS
I was barely a half hour past Dude Creek when I approached the series of switchbacks leading up to the edge of the burn area. Up ahead of me I could see something else moving on the trail. First, one hiker. Then another. Then a third. They seemed to be moving like a slow conga line up the slope.
A smile broke across my face. Maybe one of those hikers dropped the sock I’d been carrying for the last 24 hours. If so, I’d have the chance to be a momentary hero who rescued a lost piece of precious clothing. So I picked up my pace, hoping to catch them before the top of the climb.
When I came within a single switchback below them, I called out to say hello and we all stopped to talk. The trio were sisters – named Maureen, Francine, and Cathy – out for a multi-day backpacking trip.
Before I even had a chance to ask any of my own questions Maureen asked me if I was hiking the Arizona Trail. That seemed like an unusual question, given that we were nearly five miles east of the AZT now, but maybe she thought I was one of the thru-hikers out enjoying an alternate trail while I waited out the snow.
I told I was just hiking the Highline Trail this year, and then she looked me directly in they eyes and asked, “Where does the Highline go??”
The question genuinely surprised me given that we were all standing on the Highline Trail with no other trails around (that I knew of) within miles of us. Nevertheless, I patiently explained it ran in and east-west direction paralleling the Mogollon Rim between the Pine and the 260 Trailheads. Then I asked what trails they were out here hiking.
Maureen told me they initially had a permit to hike a circuit near the north rim of the Grand Canyon. However, they had to scrap their plan because the Arizona Department of Transportation wasn’t opening the road to North Rim until June 2nd this year because of the high snow. And so, the sisters switched up their plans and drove out to Washington Park this morning to hike a passage on the Arizona Trail instead.
Ah man… I hated to break the bad news, but someone needed to tell them they weren’t on the Arizona Trail. So in the kindest way possible, I explained that they missed their turn when they crossed the bridge over the East Verde River. The Arizona Trail doubled with the Highline Trail for about 20 miles, but that was the section was behind us heading back toward Pine. They were just on the Highline now.
Rather than getting upset at the bomb I’d just dropped, they were actually grateful! They thanked me profusely and said they were glad they ran into me this morning before they ended up completely lost. They were going to double back to Washington Park and figure out their next move from there. And with that, I wished them luck then I headed east toward the barbed wire fence on the outer edge of the most recent burn area.
MY OWN WRONG TURN
I made my way through the initial miles of the burn area, noting that the trail was in far better condition than I expected it to be. It followed a well-defined, but often rocky, path running between manzanita bushes with their white and pink bell-shaped flowers still in bloom. Meanwhile, Myrtle Point jutted out in the distance as it distinguished itself from the rest of the rocky escarpment and beckoned me further east.
My left toe was still tender from stubbing it yesterday, and I somehow managed to graze several more rocks on this stretch of trail. Then I must have shifted my gait in response because it wasn’t long before I felt hotspots and blisters suddenly developing on several of my toes. Man, this trail was not an easy one on the feet, that’s for sure!
When I got to Bonita Creek, the trailed forked and for some odd reason, the white diamond trail marker was nailed it to a pine tree exactly between the two path. Its equidistant location was extremely unhelpful, especially since there wasn’t an arrow or any other markers indicating which path was actually the correct one. Should I go uphill or stay on the flat trail?
I took an educated guess and picked the lower option, as that trail much looked more worn and defined and itseemed to continue straight ahead instead of breaking away. So I continued about 100 feet further before dropping my pack and heading to the creek for more water. I was famished and this was as good of a spot as any to break for lunch, filter more water, and to tend to my feet.
When I looked back toward the trail junction from the reverse vantage point of my lunch spot, I saw another white diamond nailed to a nearby tree just above me. Whew! This sign that seemed to confirm that I’d picked the correct trail, so I didn’t even bother to pull my phone out to double check during my break.
Of course, within 10 minutes of resuming my hike after lunch, I began to have some serious doubts that I’d actually selected the right trial. I hadn’t seen any more markers – though this wasn’t particularly unusual in and of itself on the Highline Trail.
Five minutes later my doubts increased even more. The trail was getting fainter and fainter, and it still seemed to be following the banks of Bonita Creek with thick berry brambles running along it. Paralleling the water meant only one thing. This trail couldn’t be right. The creeks out here mostly ran downhill (south) and away from the Mogollon Rim. I should be hiking parallel to the rim, and perpendicular to the creeks instead of beside them.
Knowing that I was just wasting time, I eventually broke down and pulled out my GPS app to see where I was in relation to the trail. Dammit! I was definitely off-trail. I should have picked the trail heading uphill at the fork. The Highline Trail was now about 1/3 of a mile to my north and about 200 feet in elevation higher!
But rather than retrace my steps, I scanned my surroundings. The brush above me was mostly manzanita, and there were lots of daylight from gaps wide enough for game to squeeze through. If I just went uphill and headed on a north azimuth, I should eventually intersect with the trail. That route had to be shorter and faster than backtracking, I reasoned.
And so that’s what I did. It probably only saved me five minutes of time given that I was bushwhacking uphill without a trail instead of following a trail. But I eventually got myself back on the Highline again, cursing the entire way about the two stupid trail markers near my lunch spot that seemed to be deliberately misleading. Who the heck marked this trail??
ZANE GREY
Once back on track again, the trail started to become more difficult to follow. It was rockier and more rugged. Chunks of vermillion-colored rock the size of oranges and grapefruits dotted the trail, and I tried my best to avoid accidentally kicking them. It was difficult though, and I felt more like I was walking in a shallow ravine than a true trail.
A short while later, I passed Perley Creek and then I a spotted a sand-colored structure off to my left silhoutted against the rocks. It looked a bit like a hunting blind with a dozen struts radiating outward to support some sort of wide collar atop it, and it was surrounded by a perimeter of barbed wire fence
This unusual sight might have stumped me if I hadn’t already hiked in Arizona last year, where I’d seen something very similar just north of the Gila River. This looked like a rainwater collector placed out here to capture the snow and the summer monsoon rains for the benefit of the local wildlife roaming the arid landscape.
I continued walking past the site, and then the trail dropped down to cross a wide, dirt road with felt tremendously good on the soles of my feet after all the rocks. I swiveled my head around in that unconscious way you do to look for traffic before crossing a road, and that’s when I spotted a yellow Jeep Wrangler parked off by itself.
The vehicle’s presence surprised me. I hadn’t really expected to see anything when I’d glanced left and right. And this spot seemed like a truly odd place for someone to park. It wasn’t a real trailhead, just an unmarked dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
The owner didn’t seem to be around, at least as far as I could see. So with nobody to talk to, I kept hiking east dismayed that the damn rocks returned again and seemed to have multiplied in number. Manzanita and juniper bushes lined a four- to six-foot wide corridor of trail now, so even if the trail’s tread was crap, at least the path substantially easier to follow through here.
As I tried to avoid tripping over rocks, a flicker of motion caught my eye just ahead. It was a small bit of orange ribbon was tied to a branch beside the trail, and the gusty wind was making it flap and snap. It was basically the same type of tape that trail maintainers use to mark places that need repair. But this tape was more festive, with black polka dots on the orange background
About 75 yards further up, another piece of orange tape was tied to branch on the opposite side of the path. And then another 100 yards beyond that one, there was another one.
Oh, I knew what this was! It had to be some of the markings for the upcoming Zane Grey 100k endurance race, which would use the Highline Trail for its route later this month. These high visibility markers were here to make sure the runners stayed on course and didn’t get lost.
Maybe the yellow Jeep I spotted earlier belonged to a race organizer who was out here marking the route ahead of the event! That would make sense why someone parked so far from a trailhead to access this trail.
HELLS GATE
As it would turn out, those race markings came in incredibly helpful during the next few miles of my route. Once I got closer to Hells Gate Canyon, the trail seemed to become so faint it virtually disappeared. The corridor of brush was gone and so was the trail, or so it seemed. Yet I could see the flapping of orange ribbon tied to trees here and there, and so I just blindly followed them.
I was entering the stretch known as Hells Gate Canyon, and let me tell you, the name bestowed on this section of the trail was spot on. The next mile of trail dropped down sharply to Hells Gate Creek and then climbed back up the insanely steep and rocky slope with no real indication of where to go.
Game trails criss-crossed each other and none of them seemed like the actual Highline or a real trail. I was just following the orange race tape to wherever it led and saving my mental energy as I wondered how on earth people figured out this section of invisible trail without the race markings here to help them out. Without them, I honestly would have needed to have my GPS out the entire time to navigate like I was hiking on a trail completely obscured by snow.
Eventually, I made it back up to the opposite side of Hells Gate Canyon and nearly stumbled into two day hikers from Manitoba named Mark & Bonnie. We stopped to talk for a good 5-10 minutes, and it turned out they were the owners of the yellow Jeep Wrangler I’d spotted a few miles earlier (not the person marking the race route).
They were snowbirds who’ve spend the past 20+ winters in sunny Arizona, and now they were section hiking the Highline Trail in small chunks. They were essentially doing out-and-back hikes from any place they could access the trail by vehicle.
Ah, so this explained why their Jeep wasn’t parked at an official trailhead. They were trying to find any way they could to break up the long 19-mile stretch from Washington Park and the Hatchery Trailhead.
KICKING ROCKS
After parting ways with Mark and Bonnie, I continued along the crazy rock trail, and then knocked my injured big toe on another baseball-sized rock. Waves of pain shot through my toe and foot, and tears well in the corner of my eyes yet again.
Why did I keep stubbing this injured toe? It’s not as if I was suddenly wearing giant clown shoes that were so long that I couldn’t see where I was putting my feet. I had on the same exact model of trail shoe that I wore for my entire 522-mile hike through Spain last autumn. Was I just becoming lazy and not lifting my feet enough??
Not a five minutes further up the trail I almost had another mishap. But this time, instead of kicking a rock, I nearly stepped on a horned toad in the middle of the trail. It just froze as my foot came its way and didn’t scatter like a normal lizard with self preservation instincts would. But at least it wasn’t a rattlesnake!
And then, just like yesterday, the clouds rolled in around 3 pm and the blue skies simply disappeared. Everything took a colder, grayer look and it started to feel so much cooler out than the 55 degrees that the forecast said it would be today.
For a while the trail wove through more Dr. Seuss grass and past some private land. Then I passed a small spring where a group of elk were gathered. I must have startled them as I approached because the next thing I knew I saw their sand-colored rumps racing up the hillside away from me and their hooves sounded like thunder.
As I climbed the next hill, following the elk’s path up the rocky trail, I felt as it I was moving so slow today. Normally I have no problem hiking between 2.5 and 3 mph even on moderately steep terrain. But between my foot pain, the elevation, and the trip through Hells Gate Canyon my pace seemed to be ridiculously slow, taking me four hours to cover a mere eight miles of trail since I stopped for lunch.
Two more elk darted across the trail a few minutes later, but once again, I was way too slow to get my phone out to take photos. It was all just hoof beats and tan rumps. But on the brighter side, the trail suddenly got smoother and easier about a mile later. And what a difference that made on my feet and my morale.
FISH HATCHERY
Around 5:40 pm I passed over a creek running over smooth vermillion rocks that made a lovely waterfall just off trail. In my mind, this looked like the perfect area to camp, but I was still more than a mile west of the Hatchery Trailhead and the fish hatchery that had been today’s initial goal. I come this far, and I really really wanted to make it there tonight.
Unfortunately, I was losing daylight. I knew from yesterday’s hike that I had less than an hour left before the sun would be nearly down. So I picked up the pace and kept hiking.
I eventually reached the trailhead just after 6 pm, only to be met by the raging Tonto Creek and some signs warning that camping was prohibited. Sigh. I guess I’d have to cross to the opposite side and find somewhere to camp in the next mile (where nobody would come looking for me).
I almost managed to keep my feet dry on as I carefully used the boulders to cross the swollen creek, but my right foot slipped off the very last rock before the opposite bank and my shoe plunged into the cold water.
Wasn’t that just my luck today? Instead of celebrating 20 miles, I’m fuming over getting my feet wet at the last creek crossing. So, I grabbed some water and hiked another half mile up the hilltop that sat on the trail between Tonto Creek and Dick Williams Creek.
And once there I found a fire ring marking an established campsite that was sure to be relatively flat and comfortable, and I set up camp as quick as I’d done in ages. I’d made it. I finally made it!
Highlights
- As with yesterday, the Mogollon was the the star of the show, and I saw a lot more snow clinging to upper reaches of the escarpment too.
- The wildlife on trail was quite diverse, with the large elk running away from me to the horned toads that refuse to move when I approached.
- I didn’t expect to see so many people on trail today and everyone was so nice – from the German lady with her horse, and the three sisters who took wrong turn, to the section-hiking snowbirds from Manitoba!
Challenges
- My wrong turn near Bonita Creek was a frustrating detour, but the thing that made it worse is that I was actually following the Highland’s white diamond markers! Thank goodness for GPS route as a backup!
- Why do I keep kicking rocks with my injured big toe? There’s no doubt I’m going to lose this toenail for the 2023 hiking season.
- Hiking a 20+ mile day on this stretch of the Highline Trail was so much harder than I anticipated. The elevation. The rocky tread. The disappearing trail and steep drop down into Hells Creek Canyon. The combined lot was quite the challenge.
