Desert Snow

Finally, my promised post about Thanksgiving backpacking trip. Excerpts here, click the "View this article" below to read the whole thing.

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My sister and I flew into Tucson via Dallas on Wednesday, arriving in the early afternoon. Dad and Grandpa picked us up and did the 90 minute drive south to Sierra Vista. Arriving at their house, we unpacked our luggage directly into our camping backpacks, preparing for the trip. After a longer-than-necessary stop at Fry's to pick up food for our 3-day, 2-night stay in the Miller Wilderness Area in the Huachuca mountains, we were just about set to go.

My grandpa took us to the shooting range late that afternoon so we could acclimate ourselves with the guns he wanted us to carry. You know, for protection against Arizona wildlife like rattlesnakes, bears, and illegal Mexican immigrants. Just ask anyone down there, they'll tell you. Honestly, we weren't too concerned about needing to use our arms, but figured we'd make him happy and take them. So my sister and my dad each got a .38 revolver, and I got a .357. A heavy gun on my hip, but it felt pretty good.

Thursday morning Mom and Grandpa drove us out to our start-point while the sun was coming up. My dad had planned 8-10 miles each day, starting at the bottom of Lutz Canyon (around 5200 feet), heading up to Miller Peak (9462 ft) then over to either Wisconsin Canyon or Pat Scott Canyon (depending on our progress and how we felt), then finally out via Ramsey Canyon. He figured this would take us Thursday, Friday, and most of Saturday.

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Well, going up Lutz Canyon was killer. Between the elevation compared to St. Louis and Chicago, the 60+ pound packs, and the steep (sometimes as much as 45 degrees) inclines, we were pooped by midday. As always happens while hiking, we lost the trail for a while, but found it after we realized about 1/2 mile later that the caves we were seeing were unmarked. Took a break at Lutz Tunnel, where there were two big, old pieces of machinery (I'll put up a pic) and an old mine shaft that went in a few hundred feet. At another tunnel we saw rather large bear paw prints in the snow leading up to the entrance, so we approached with guns drawn but decided not to try our luck exploring inside.

Yes, you read right. There was snow. We were in Arizona, very far south (i.e. we could see into Mexico for much of our hike) and there were 3-4 inches of snow on the ground. The daytime wasn't too bad, probably about mid-40s temperature-wise, but the wind was quite chilly and when we de-packed our sweat gave us shivers.

So, anyway, we stopped for lunch at another abandoned mine. This one was very obviously heavily trafficked by immigrants, as evidenced by the loads of used toilet paper, discarded canvas backpacks, empty bottles of water with Spanish-language labels, and food wrappers galore. All these were up toward the front 200 feet or so of the mine. The three of us went in with our headlights and guns, determined to see what else was in the mine. At the back of the first tunnel, perhaps 600 feet straight in, there was nothing too interesting except the smell of a large animal (but its owner nowhere to be found) and a few sleeping bats. There was a side shaft that we took later, at the end of which was the old mining drill (this is no ordinary drill--think of a rusted steel cylinder the size of a streetlight pole!) and another branch. The last branch had nothing remarkable, but it was just very Indiana-Jones-ish to be nearly 2000 feet in the side of a mountain. Very cool.

The rest of the afternoon was a somewhat-less-steep climb on the Crest Trail, where we saw two other twosomes hiking on Turkey Day. The first was a young couple from the Army base nearby; the other was a pair of older women, apparently avid hikers, doing a daytrip up to Miller Peak and back. Both groups came in not via Lutz, like we did, but rather by Montezuma's Pass, which was maybe an additional 1/2 mile in length but had a lot lower grade. The women, in fact, commented that Lutz was certainly the hardest way in and that nobody in their right mind would do that uphill. We never claimed to be in our right mind....

At the junction of the Crest Trail and the Miller Peak Spur, we de-packed. This was around 2:30 in the afternoon, we were already exhausted, and we were less than half of where we had expected to be by day's-end. We headed up to the peak without our gear, and even this was tough. Miller is the highest peak in the range, and we had great views of Sierra Vista and of many of the other ranges around, some of which were well into Mexico. The wind at the peak was bitter-cold, cutting through our sweat-soaked shirts as we took a few pictures, ate some energy bars, and discussed our plan for the rest of the day.

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We came down from the peak having decided we'd cut the trip short on distance, camping near the trail junction at the first suitable spot we found. There were several inches of snow here on the pine-covered ground, but we found a clear spot where someone had apparently camped recently, as seen by a ring of ashes from a campfire. The site was less-than-flat, which sort of bit us throughout the night, but it was here and we were pooped. So we set up the tent and started getting ready for dinner.

Dinner was rice and beans and a can of cranberry sauce (in honor of Thanksgiving), and my dad and I also had a small amount of Turkey-Spam (definitely not as good as Thanksgiving turkey, but it did the trick symbolically). We washed down dinner with a cup of hot water with lemon, as my sister was shivering and couldn't feel her toes. Later that nite she couldn't even wiggle them, and we got a bit worried she'd have frostbite, but we managed to keep her warm and safe. For additional water, we boiled some of the surrounding snow and treated it with our iodine tablets. Very survival-ish. Fun to talk about.

We went to bed shortly after dark, without even the energy or desire to make a campfire. The wind was bitter, the overnight lows must have been in the teens, and the slope we had set up on made our gear and our bodies slide toward the foot of the tent over the course of the nite. This was rugged. This was 4-season camping when we were really only prepared for 3-season.

Morning came and we decided we'd shorten the route, skipping Wisconsin or Pat Scott Canyons and opting instead to head out Carr Canyon. Worst-case we'd camp near the end of the trail, best-case we'd make it all the way out of the wilderness area and to the campground where we could conceivably call and get our pickup a day early.

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We made darn-good time on Friday. After starting out a bit later than anticipated (getting out of a nice warm sleeping bag and into the cold morning air is always tough) we realized that most of the hike would be downhill. We made our way down thru different "layers" of foliage, starting high in the pine, then down to aspen, spruce, and oak. There was snow most of the way. It was lovely. Gorgeous. Each turn brought views more spectacular than the last.

Around mid-morning we made it to Tub Spring, which was literally a bathtub that one of the pioneers or miners had brought out to the middle of the woods and set pipe down into a spring. It was trickling water, and seemed surreal to have a full tub in the middle of nowhere. The hike turned slightly uphill after that, and we lost the trail for a short piece but quickly found where we were headed and took lunch in a gorgeous spot near the Carr Peak Spur.

We continued our downhill trek, seeing the footprints of another hiker or two and their dog (but didn't actually see the people) and getting closer to the wilderness area border. It was finally looking like the archetypical desert again, with prickly pear (despite patches of snow still remaining) and reddish-brown sandy soil. We were feeling pretty good by this point, you know that sore-tired-but-accomplished-with-end-in-sight good. Made it out the the campground around 3:00 only to find it completely empty. We called the "base camp team," who didn't expect us until the next day and so were two hours away shopping in Tucson. We hit a geocache that was in the campground (cached aren't allowed in wilderness areas) and then headed down the steep mountain road to meet our ride, whenever they'd arrive.

Even the dirt road was treacherous. There were a few pickup trucks, young families with little kids sledding and such, but too much ice for small cars to pass. Some of the switchbacks were amazingly steep, the kind of road you'd only want to try with a "Professional Driver, Closed Course." As we made it further down we saw more people and we finally crossed below the snow line. Mom and Grandpa arrived when we were about 4 miles down the road with another 2 miles left before hitting pavement. We were glad to have been relieved, glad to have conquered as much of the mountain as we did, and glad to have spent such a wonderful time out in nature.