Leaving Patagonia, I thought I'd be clever and follow my mapped route away from the Arizona Trail for a few miles, having never been a fan of the long, high-standard roadwalk up Gringo Gulch that the official route requires. Just beyond the Patagonia town dump, a four-wheeler signed FR 4100 descends to join Temporal Gulch several miles earlier than would the Arizona Trail route. The creek was pretty here, and flowing well.
Eventually the 4WD road veered away from the creek and became less than useful for my purposes. A cross-country trek up the creek next ensued, and this proved to be awkward enough with undulating strands of cobbles that I soon pined for the dull ease of the main AZT route.
The cool heights of Mount Wrightson drew ever closer as I rejoined the Arizona Trail on 4WD road beyond the signed trailhead, the occasional vehicle tumbling past this fine Saturday morning, and reminding me that the AZ Trail still has a ways to go before realizing its potential as a vehicle-free, singletrack trail experience.
I bade farewell to the Arizona Trail yet again - and a pair of weekend AZT hikers as well - as I joined little-used Temporal Gulch Trail in order to gain access to the Santa Rita high country, which the Arizona Trail bypasses. Before the hike I'd decided the Sky Islands Traverse required at least this much of me, to at least make an attempt at the highest terrain, if not the highest peak, in each of the ranges I'd traverse along the way.
Mt Wrightson from Temporal Gulch Trail. This trail was brushy but for the most part easily followable, the one noteworthy exception coming as the trail leaves its namesake canyon to begin a prolonged traverse above Josephine Canyon. Tedious scouting, and several false starts - each delineated by lines of trash left by illegals likewise perplexed by the route ahead - finally led me back to the hidden turnoff, which I flagged for the benefit of future users, legal and otherwise.
Josephine Canyon and "ridge of death," (foreground) with several desperate-looking illegal routes (unseen here, but noted) bombing down to the canyon below. Doubtless a few lost souls, unable to find the correct route line out of Temporal Gulch, may yet linger down there.
Josephine Canyon (Tumacacori Mountains on horizon)
Josephine Peak from upper Temporal Gulch Trail
Mt Wrightson from Temporal Gulch Trail. I found a page from a softcore girlie magazine snagged in the brush at trailside, not far from scattered bits of trash with labels written in Spanish.
9500'-foot Mt Wrightson, completely free of snow on its south-facing flanks the first week of April.
Leaving Temporal Gulch Trail at Josephine Saddle I joined the Old Baldy Trail for the remainder of the climb to the crest, enjoying first views of the sheer, western face of the range.
The depth and difficulty of the snowpack I encountered here surprised me. I needed something for traction while traversing the steep slopes, but the beaten path was too narrow to easily accept snowshoes. Thus began what was to become an awkward dance, the snowshoes coming on and coming off at frequent intervals based on the priority of the moment.
I soon teamed up with Guy McClure, a local hiker and mountaineer, for the push to the crest.
Guy McClure, with Mt Hopkins behind him (Whipple Observatory on top)
Guy McClure contemplating whether or not to summit Mt Wrightson today. Ultimately we both decided against it, as the way up - via trail around the other side - would have exposed us to unbroken snowpack the entire way. I was eager for a drink at this point, too, having found Bellow Spring deeply snowbound, so we both pushed northbound along the crest toward more favorable territory.
The Arizona Trail doesn't go anywhere near here for some reason!
Mount Hopkins
The Florida Fire burned a considerable amount of acreage up along the Santa Rita crest, certainly more than is apparent from below. Thankfully the Crest Trail remained in good shape, and the near views - while disheartening - were offset by the unshakable grandeur of the setting. (Photo: view east toward Arizona Trail environs several thousand feet below.)
Reaching a grassy col between peaks along the crest, my 70-something hiking partner for the afternoon bid his farewell and nonchalantly descended the steep, cross-country slope toward Kent Spring environs and Madera Canyon, a route he claimed to know well. "Sounds like quite a loop hike there" I offered, admiringly.
Pete Mountain, with Elephant Head poking up just beyond
McCleary Peak along the Santa Rita crest
The snowpack was just beginning to soften up for the afternoon, more often than not still allowing me to walk on its surface without having to haul out the dreaded snowshoes. Suffice it to say there were a few areas along the crest where the trail sidehill traversed across some uncomfortably steep runouts, and where I was again torn between the desire for traction and a need for manueverability. I left the camera stowed at these moments, and sorely wished for instep crampons. Still, the snowpack offered a much-needed source of drinking water in this area, with a nice little rill running down a cliff at trailside, something I would not have found with more favorable trail conditions.
4-way junction at Florida Saddle. Here I left the Crest Trail, joining Sawmill Canyon Trail which continued along the northernmost extent of the Santa Rita crest.
Looking back toward Miller Peak and the Huachucas from the northernmost portion of the Santa Rita crest.
East Sawmill Canyon Trail appeared to have received maintenance at some point after the fire, but surely not recent to my arrival. Blowdown avoidance quickly degenerated into a full-on routefinding adventure. I knew where the trail must go (DOWN), but could not keep with it, so was forced to try my luck alongside the uppermost portion of the drainage, which was rather severe at times. As is so often the case, I finally just stumbled across the trail again farther down, just outside the burn zone where conditions were much improved and the newfound trail seemed almost to be mocking: "Now where did YOU run off to all this time?"
Another of the famed metal see-through signboards of the Santa Ritas (strangely illegible once photographed). This one informed me that my rough go of it along Sawmill Canyon Trail was ending, as I now joined the Greaterville Trail en route to Melendrez Pass. Perhaps on a future attempt at a Sky Islands Traverse I'd rejoin the AZ Trail via a descent of Cave Creek Trail (from Florida Saddle) in order to avoid the poor conditions along Sawmill, although that routing looks quite a bit less logical per the map.
Last light on the range, near Melendrez Pass, with the Rincons and Santa Catalina sky island ranges on the far horizon. The Greaterville Trail was in good shape given its relative obscurity. Along with the other trails I followed this day, it continued to serve up a broad panorama of the Santa Ritas and surrounding ranges that one simply does not obtain from the lower, Arizona Trail route which adheres entirely to the middling terrain within the range's eastern shadow.
Final traverse to Melendrez Pass
McCleary Peak and hidden Florida Canyon, in sunset shadow
FR 165 led east from Melendrez Pass a mile or so to a rejoining of the Arizona Trail northbound. Interestingly both routes - my high crest detour and the portion of the Arizona Trail I missed by doing so - were almost exactly the same length, at just over 17 miles each. Of course my route was by far the more challenging of the two. The reward? Knowing that I'd been up among those snowy heights that the AZ Trail gazes high upon. (In fairness, I now recognized why the AZ Trail planners perhaps decided to avoid the Santa Rita crest, given its difficulty in springtime especially; and ultimately it IS readily avoidable, too, unlike some of the other ranges the AZ Trail confronts.)
The Santa Ritas now slowly shrunk to ever more distant proportions, but would remain in view still for days, as the Arizona Trail cruised easily north across pretty Madrean-eque foothill ridges of pinyon, juniper, and abundant live oak.
The brand-new Las Colinas passage of the AZ Trail was in fine shape, an increasingly popular ride for mountain bikers, though I encountered no other trail users out and about this day.
Pyramid-shaped Mount Wrightson, with Josephine Peak, lower, at far left, McCleary Peak the last bump on the right of comparable height to Wrightson
first views northbound along the AZ Trail of the proposed Rosemont copper mine location
view of proposed Rosemont Mine location fight it: www.scenicsantaritas.org
The first of the ocotillos appeared on south-facing slopes beyond Barrel Canyon, near Rosemont, waving tendrils of green in their winter-soaked exuberance, curious splotches of not-quite-sure-what across the arid hillsides when first seen from afar. The trail trended lower the farther north it went, lapping at the edge of the Sonoran desert now.
mariposa lily
Water wasn't much of a problem along this stretch, random flow and pools among the canyon rock pockets, although in drier times Las Colinas certainly poses challenges
The trail finally entered the Sonoran desert wholeheartedly on its final undulations through the Coronado National Forest, with a lavish density of succulents on display, although north-facing slopes - as here - still showed evidence of winter temperatures that routinely drop below freezing.
The Lake, simply named, and truthfully, at least for now. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the marked trail, now on 4WD road for a time, ran so close to this water source, and opted to make camp in a nearby drainage. A pair of AZ Trail thru-hikers were camped at shoreline, and we said our hellos as I wandered past. Within an hour, our world now dark for the night, a border patrol helicopter flew overhead, pausing to shine a spotlight on my fellow campers, then flying over my wash. The whop-whop-whop of the chopper blades faded away, then resurged, as the patrol circled back to scout my wash again, now with the halogens on me as I waved from below, my modern-looking nylon tent identifying me as a hiker and not a drug smuggler. This time they flew off for good.
Twin Tanks, arguably a better source than the Lake this spring, albeit smaller and perhaps less reliable.
desert chicory
The Los Colinas passage of the Arizona Trail now gave way to the Cienega passage. The character of the trail itself, once again on singletrack beyond Lakes Road, was about the same, which is to say constructed with great care to avoid more than about a 5% gradient, unfurling this way and that in gentle curves, and frankly sapping some of the enthusiasm from my walk. The trail was so mind-bogglingly serpentine, that it drew my attention away from the scenery for a while. It seemed I was at the receiving end of someone's delusions of engineering greatness. But perhaps delusional is not the right word, but rather pragmatic, especially for a section of trail built with mountain biking so firmly in mind. In that respect, the trail was built nearly to perfection, I suppose.
Mountain bike-friendly section of Arizona Trail near Sahuarita Road.
Along the Interstate 10 corridor, with recently-completed singletrack trail now easing passage.
Really old cow can still chomp down yucca stalks with the best of 'em. (And next up on the traverse: the Rincon Mountains on the horizon)
Culvert under Interstate 10. I'd made arrangements for a ride into Benson to resupply. My ride wanted to pick me up along the interstate, but I thought better of the idea after awhile and opted for a pickup in the Tucson suburb of Vail, which I'd reach the following morning.
North of the highway, the Arizona Trail enters Cienega Creek Natural Preserve, a state-managed northerly extension of Empire-Cienega National Conservation Area managed by the BLM. A former, de facto route of the Arizona Trail passed through Empire-Cienega en route to Happy Valley on the east side of the Rincons, still a viable option should the Rosemont Mine one day render the finalized AZ Trail routing unpalatable.
The so-called Three Bridges area, where Marsh Station Road and the Southern Pacific railroad grade cross Cienega Creek. Perplexingly, I noted only two bridges here.
The Arizona Trail crosses Cienega Creek on the road bridge, though an option to follow the pretty, cottonwood-lined creek corridor down to Vail became my route of choice for the afternoon.
Cienega Creek is ephemeral, and even in this wet year offered but a meager, sporadic flow. Still, the watery, wooded setting, with saguaros dotting the surrounding hills, just beyond the riparian corridor, was very reminiscent of Aravaipa Canyon, although certainly without the drama of sheer cliffs and desert solitude.
The lower, forested portion of Cienega Creek, just before it widens to become sandy Pantano Wash, has tremendous potential as a hiking and birdwatching area, a true exotic gem so close to metropolitan Tucson. The one glaring concern here is that it's a state-managed facility, and the state is not applying enough resources to prevent illegal use of the riparian zone by off-road vehicles. Rather than offering a credible recreation plan for the area, the state has created an obscure, phone-based permit system as the only means of gaining legal access. With no staff on site, no adequate interpretation, and no real management, the posted No Trespassing signs are serving to keep out the good folks, giving free reign to the other guys to go tearing up the drainage without fear of reprisal.
Cienega Creek soon before morphing into Pantano Wash, where its waters run beneath the sand except during times of flood.
