Monday, September 9th, 2024
Monday, September 9th, 2024: 2024 Trips, Gila, Regions, Road Trips.
With weather cooling off, I could target lower elevations in my “no hiking” weekend road trips: drive somewhere interesting, explore a little, have lunch, drive home. This time it would be a remote, quiet, hardscrabble village at the edge of a Mormon farming community, at the foot of mountains I’d like to hike.
Lunch was red enchiladas, smiling and chatting with the local country folks. On the way back, I hoped to check out access to the east side of a wilderness area I’d explored from the south last winter.
Back then, I’d hiked across open range between two cattle herds and up a steep canyon between sheer cliffs, into a white-out blizzard of sleet at the top. And on the way back I’d been threatened by a bull and two ranch dogs. The storm had prevented me getting deeper into the wilderness, which encompasses most of this northern section of this extremely long and narrow range. But this section is so rocky and beautiful, I wasn’t giving up. After studying maps, I was hoping to find a less risky approach from the east, but I knew I’d be crossing more ranchland and had no idea if the roads would be open.
Also, I was driving my low-clearance 2wd pickup and had no idea how bad the roads would get. It’s a long approach on graded gravel, past an uninhabited backcountry railroad crossing, then more miles on an ungraded dirt and rock road that gets progressively rougher and less traveled, often detouring around washouts. I passed a spread-out herd and lots of what I assumed were feed dispensers, but didn’t see another human or moving vehicle. These flats looked terribly overgrazed.
The map showed two roads leading to the wilderness boundary at the foot of the mountains, one branching off from the other. I continued straight without ever seeing the branch, the road getting rockier, showing only one clear tire track. Eventually I reached a No Trespassing sign. There was no gate, and I see could see the road ahead cresting a rise, so I continued to the rise to see what was beyond.
From the rise I saw a metal roof down in a hollow, and couldn’t tell if it was a shack or a shed, so I turned back. A rural landowner myself, I have great respect for No Trespassing signs, but this sure was a beautiful place with the cliffs rising all around.
Some research back home revealed that this was where Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor grew up. At over 160 square miles, it supports 2,500 mother cows with 3-4 full-time cowboys, none of whom I saw.
On the way back, looking for the branch road turnoff, I stopped to watch a dust devil cross the road ahead. I assume overgrazing encourages their formation.
I found the turnoff in a big cleared area with more feed dispensers. After driving through a deep gully I reached a primitive gate. There was no sign here, so I continued, closing the gate behind me.
This even less-traveled road led back into a beautiful box canyon on the north side of the crest I’d hiked last winter. It dead ended at a stock dam, windmill, and water tank at the foot of the mountains, with a huge bull and a cow lounging a dozen yards apart – an odd couple to find isolated and alone like this.
God, what a beautiful place! I figured once I got my knee working again, I could probably find a way around the bull.
To someone familiar with this country, the vegetation is markedly different over here. This area is 2,000 feet lower than my home, and significantly drier, and on the way back I wondered how different it was before the introduction of cattle. I hope I can figure out a way past the bulls and dogs in the future!
