Monday, November 27th, 2023
Sunday, November 19th, 2023: 2023 Trips, Mogollon Rim, Regions, Road Trips.
Suffering from burnout, I needed to get away from the problems that surround me at home. My favorite mountain getaway over in Arizona would be cold, but as a result, the cheap motel would have vacancies. I could hike in the daytime, and in the evenings I could get restaurant meals – something I never get at home since we lost all our decent restaurants during COVID. Normally the only time I eat out is during my semi-annual visits with family back east.
The weather up there was forecast to be dry. But as I drove north the sky was full of towering cumulus clouds, past the halfway point it got positively threatening, and I hit rain in the high passes. It was cold enough that I switched into 4wd to keep from spinning off into a cliff or a canyon.
By the time I reached the motel, it was almost full dark and the office was closed. My room was unlocked, but when I opened the door a heavy wave of artificial fragrance poured out. Entering, I sniffed the bed, but it smelled fine. The odor simply filled the air, and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was too cold to air out the room, so I drove to the restaurant for dinner – which included one of the best malbecs I’ve ever had.
When I returned, my allergies were triggered by the odor, and I discovered I’d forgotten my antihistamine and nasal spray – something I can’t remember ever doing before. I faced a night of no relief in this very remote place.
Adding insult to injury, I soon had a headache, and the normally complete and peaceful silence was disturbed by a rhythmic screeching noise, like an unoiled pump. I couldn’t figure out where that was coming from, either. I was exhausted enough to fall asleep, but I woke a few hours later and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.
In the morning, the sky was perfectly blue and everything outside was covered in a thick layer of frost. I walked over to the office and found they open an hour later in winter. In the meantime, I would drive the 20 minutes to the nearest supermarket for antihistamine.
But by the time I got dressed for the drive, the sky was completely covered by low clouds and it was snowing!
The drive wasn’t wasted, though. I was rewarded with multiple rainbows and sightings of the bighorn sheep that were introduced here decades ago, frequenting the shallow canyons that wind through this volcanic alpine plateau.
When I returned to the motel office I met the new owners. The couple looked and sounded like urban hipsters in their late 40s or early 50s, and I guessed they’d seen this place on visits from Phoenix over the years, and decided to relocate and invest in a modest resort, planning to renovate and increase the rates for more profit.
In any event, they seemed shocked when I told them the fragrance was a problem. They said they’d installed devices in all the rooms that emit fragrance continually. I know I’m not the only person bothered by artificial fragrance – every supermarket carries fragrance-free and hypoallergenic products – but we seem to be an aberration in Arizona. They were anxious to help, though – they said I could simply search the electrical outlets to find the device, unplug it and air out the room. They said the screeching sound was probably the well pump, in a shed outside the motel, and I suggested it might need lubricating.
Tuesday, November 21st, 2023: 2023 Trips, Baldy, Hikes, Mogollon Rim, Regions, Road Trips, Southeast Arizona, Whites.
I woke up Monday to dense fog and a dusting of snow here at 8,400′. The temperature was 27 and forecast to reach 37. I hadn’t hiked yesterday – in fact, I hadn’t had a good hike in three weeks, partly because my foot condition had returned after five years pain-free. Despite the weather, I was determined to get out into this spectacular alpine landscape.
I knew there’d be more snow at higher elevations – my favorite hike reaches 11,200′. The highway to the trailhead is closed in winter, and the shortcut from town to the highway is a steep and narrow dirt road. I decided to do a lower-elevation canyon hike I’d started once but never finished.
But I packed my winter gear, and shortly after leaving the motel, I saw the turnoff for the dirt shortcut, and swerved into it. I’d never hiked in these mountains in snow before, so I just had to try it!
I found an untracked inch of snow on the dirt road, up to 9,000′, where the highway had 2 inches. Snow was falling lightly, and the direction I was going had been plowed earlier. I was in 4wd and braked to test the traction before continuing.
When I reached the trailhead parking lot, it was untracked, but as I pulled on my pack and insulated Goretex gloves and started off, I heard an engine. It was the snowplow, returning to clear the highway in the opposite direction.
The trailhead is 9,400′, so I knew the temperature had to be in the low 20s. The only tracks in this fresh snow were from animals – elk, fox, cottontail, squirrel, something smaller.
The first mile and a half skirts the long meadows and bogs that cover the level ground on this volcanic plateau, passing in and out of small stands of spruce-fir forest. This was the first time I could remember seeing the meadows in their winter colors.
The first couple of miles of this trail see a lot of traffic in warmer weather, and I stumbled a lot because the snow hid irregularities like rocks, erosional ruts, and footprints in frozen mud. It would be even worse in deeper snow at higher elevations. My goal was at least to reach the spectacular viewpoint on the ridgetop. I was moving slow and making a lot of stops to enjoy a landscape renewed by snow.
When I reached the last clear stretch before entering the main forest, I could see what the snow was doing to the rock formations. I was in for a real treat!
The trail climbs about 3/4 mile through magical old-growth alpine forest before reaching the cliffs. Almost every aspen I passed had someone’s initials in its bark, but in this snow, silence, and solitude I was truly a pioneer.
Many of these photos appear to be black-and-white – but they were all taken in color!
At the foot of the cliffs, the trail switches back to traverse to the ridgetop. This is one of the most spectacular stretches of forest I’ve ever found, and as with everything else, the snow made it new.
I knew the overlook would be socked in with fog, but who cared? The snow up here at 10,200′ ranged from 3-5 inches deep, easily walkable without needing my gaiters. But the undulating bedrock surfaces had been smoothed over by snow, so I had to take special care in climbing to the edge of the cliff.
Having made it this far, I wanted to at least reach the second mass of exposed rock, about a mile farther up the ridge. That turned out to be a slow mile, with traverses of steep slopes where I could easily lose my footing and slide hundreds of feet down the mountain.
After arriving, I was especially wary of crossing this outcrop, since the route is unclear and the footing precarious even when clear of snow. But I carefully made it across, and with most of the day left, decided to keep going.
Past that last outcrop, it’s all alpine forest to the crest of the mountain. I would just keep going until I figured it was time to turn back.
But shortly after entering the forest I came to blowdown across the trail. I knew some of it had been there on my last visit, two years ago in August, and at first it was easy to step over. But I ran into more, and much worse, ahead. To avoid sliding off snow-covered logs, I ended up having to make long zigzagging detours.
After bypassing dozens of these fallen logs, I finally reached the edge of a burn scar. My time was almost up, and the burn scar would allow me to log a GPS waypoint so I would know how far I’d gone.
I hadn’t reached the crest, but I knew I’d gone almost five miles. In snow, that’s worth 50% more! And what a place! I can think of few places that would be as magical in snow.
The fog was lifting, so when I reached the viewpoint I could see past the cloud cover to the center of the plateau, with a sliver of blue sky.
I was wearing my winter boots, which offer maximum support. But on the way down, I could tell I’d done more damage to my foot. Only time will tell if I’ll be able to resume hiking this winter.
When I checked the map back in the room, I found I’d reached 10,600′. And by morning the weather had cleared, so while taking the long way home east across the plateau, I stopped for a view of the mountain I’d partially climbed.
Monday, November 27th, 2023: Hikes, Pinos Altos Range, Southwest New Mexico.
My problem foot had turned out okay after last Sunday’s hike – probably because I was wearing the stiffer winter boots – but I still wanted to work my way gradually up to longer and steeper walks. So this Sunday I was looking for something more than 12 miles but with less than 2,500 feet of elevation gain, and no prolonged steep grades. That’s a big ask around here – all the level ground within an hour of town is private land, hence all the nearby trails climb mountains.
There was really only one option – the boring north-south segment of the national trail I’d done twice before. I was still hoping to link it with the segment I hike from the opposite direction, but wasn’t optimistic – it would involve more than 20 miles out and back. No way would I accomplish that today.
Especially when I discovered my driver’s side door lock had frozen overnight. I had to let myself in the passenger side, then clamber over the center console and shift lever in my big winter boots, start the vehicle and run the heater for 20 minutes before the lock would operate. And while waiting, clamber back out and scrape frost off the windows.
Then on the drive, I had so much on my mind that I passed the turnoff and drove up into the eastern mountains for another 10 miles until I realized my mistake. After turning around, I finally reached the trailhead 45 minutes later than usual.
The climb to the ridgetop was scenic as usual. The sky was mostly clear, with bands of clouds hanging over the horizon, and although the temperature was in the 20s, the climb generated a lot of heat and I kept shedding layers.
Once you reach the ridgetop, it’s just a trudge through forest, with occasional boring views, about 7 miles to a little-used forest road. Birds were active, but I only recognized jays, flickers, quail, and juncos. I did find smallish bear tracks in snow that had fallen the day before.
I was giving myself 8 hours, and I reached the forest road with an hour to spare. And my foot seemed to be doing okay, so I would continue and see how close I could get to linking the two segments of trail.
Past the road, the trail began climbing steadily. I knew from the topo map that it was approaching a ridge that curved around the watershed of a creek – the other side being the segment I’d hiked from the opposite direction. Eventually I reached the ridgetop, and was rewarded with an unexpected 180 degree view, from the 9,000 foot high point of the range I was in, to 9,300 foot Black Mountain, 55 miles north, and the 10,200 foot crest of the eastern range, 35 miles east. My time was up, but despite not closing the chain, I’d reached a worthy destination. I figured I’d gone more than 8 miles, and felt pretty damn good.
But as usual, the descent of that long ridge seemed endless, and before the halfway point my entire lower body was aching. About three miles from the trailhead I encountered a couple about my age, with a dog, just starting up the trail. The sun was setting, and they were only carrying day packs, so I asked how far they planned to go. “We’ll turn around soon,” the man said. “We’re just trying to work off that Thanksgiving dinner.”
I was able to reach the vehicle before full dark without using my headlamp, but I worried about them. The lower half mile of the trail is like a maze. A full moon was rising but only sporadically penetrated the tall ponderosa pines.
