The long, unbearably hot summer was on its last fiery breath. For Dave and I, the final weeks of August and early September were a test of patience and well-planned happy hours. So, when the temperature started heading downwards, we hit the road.
Sometimes, there’s nothing better than a quick getaway. Take, for example, when Dave’s brother Darrell texts and asks, “Hey, whatcha doing this weekend?” “Want to come down to Tucson?... Sure, you can bring Luci—no worries.” Dave’s response was ”ABSOLUTELY.”
Arizona was unseasonably wet and cold this past winter. As luck would have it, one Pacific low-pressure system followed another. Combine that with the rains of last summer's monsoon, and guess what happened? WILDFLOWERS.
There are still so many places in this great state to explore. Even after 30 years, it often seems Dave and I have only touched the surface.
Take, for example, Butcher Jones Recreation Site. Known for its lovely beach—tucked within the towering canyon walls of Saguaro Lake—it is an ideal spot for picnicking, kayaking, fishing, and paddleboarding. Unfortunately, the site can also be very crowded—a significant deterrent for most. Getting there early in the day is the key.
We couldn’t get enough of that Scottsdale McDowell Sonoran Preserve—so much so that we returned the following weekend. The Lost Dog Wash trailhead is yet another jewel in the McDowell Sonoran Conservancy’s crown. In addition to hiking and mountain biking, the seven-acre site’s amenities include public restrooms, shade ramadas, horse-trailer parking, and an accessible nature trail. Oh, and dogs are welcome—on a leash, of course.
Furry friend out for a hike.
Sunday, hike day, was cold and damp. Grey skies and heavy clouds lined the horizon. Yet, there was none of that familiar winter haze in the Valley—a bonus in anyone’s book.
Only the beginning.
The Lost Dog Wash Trailhead connects to over 17 miles of pristine desert. We took the counterclockwise route up Anazazi Spur to the Old Jeep Trail and then connected to the Lost Dog Wash trail.
Heading towards the saddle.
View from the ridge
From the saddle, we took a side trip to the Taliesin Overlook.
A view from the overlook
The 5.2-mile loop was somewhat rocky but moderate, with an elevation gain of about 520 feet—an ideal outing for a Sunday morning.
The wildflowers of spring will turn this hike from impressive to spectacular.
Just the beginning.
As Dave and I turn toward spring, we will miss our beloved Dota—who tragically left us in mid-February. Born on the streets of Houston, our grand dame’s travels spanned from Texas to Arizona to her favorite spot in the Canadian Rockies. Run free little one; we will always love you.
Tom’s Thumb, located in the McDowell Sonoran Preserve, has always been one of our favorite hikes. However, many trails explore this vast, protected area. Gateway Loop Trail might become a new favorite.
Dave and I have had the Chiricahuas on our to-do list for as long as I can remember. Thankfully, Dave’s brother Darrell and sister-in-law Penny gave us the push we needed to make it happen. After all, how often can you visit an island in Arizona?
Our dear friend Margaret has a unique skill. Whenever she comes up, we see lots of wildlife—without fail. This time was no different, just, um...better.
Dave and I always thought that Mount Yamnuska was for climbers/scramblers only. We were mistaken. Let me tell you—this hike was the best discovery of our entire summer.
In the past, a hike to Lake Annette in Banff National Park was as simple as turning up Moraine Lake Road and following the signs to the trailhead. Then access, in our minds, became, well, challenging—or so we thought. Thankfully, we were mistaken.
The trail at sunrise.
The freedom to drive up to Lake Louise or Moraine Lake on a whim is no easy feat. Since most areas can no longer handle the masses that frequent every summer, shuttles and reservations are the new normal. However, Lake Annette Trail is outside the Moraine visitors’ lot, so the dilemma was, how do we get in?
With that in mind, Dave and I made a plan. Our strategy was to arrive at the turnoff before sunrise and, with any luck, get to the trail before the roadblock. The road was blocked; however, gaining entrance was as simple as asking—“can we get in to hike Lake Annette?” Yep, it was that easy.
We pulled into the small dark parking area and waited for dawn. Despite being bundled up, the early morning chill quickened our pace.
A colorful preview of what was to follow.
First crossing.
The hike to Lake Annette logs 7.1 miles (11.3 km) roundtrip, with a moderate elevation (1,300 ft, 400 m).
Sunrise magic.
The term scenic does not do this hike justice.
The second crossing.
Dave nearing the lake.
With lunch packed, we arrived at the lake just in time for breakfast. Dave and I decided the sandwiches could wait. Being first at the lake felt pretty darn special. We passed quite a few hikers on the way down, happily hiking without restrictions.
Lake Annette.
For spur of the moment hikers, this is a perfect way to explore the beauty of the Moraine Lake/Paradise Valley area—no shuttle required.
Like clockwork, Dave and I go hiking, and two days later, I’m angling about the next hike. This past week we were looking for something less arduous—one without scrambling or scree—a forest walk to Taylor Lake.
At times, selective memory can come in handy. In hindsight, we, as humans, tend to block out certain realities while focusing on the overall experience. I find this selectiveness enormously helpful when revisiting a “favorite” hike.
I’m referring to Sparrowhawk Tarns—a relatively short (11.6km/ 7.2 mi) but steep (700m/2,283 ft) climb through a land of fossils and marmots—that takes you to a spectacular view of small lakes, meadows, and surrounding mountains.
View of Sparrowhawk Mountain from the trail.
The day was ours to enjoy with turkey sandwiches, lots of water, and bug spray in tow. Our early start almost guaranteed minimal dust from Spray Lake Road—which came in handy for wildlife sightings.
The trail began on the High Rockies connector trail, leading to a junction for Sparrowhawk (left) and the High Rockies Trail (right).
High Rockies continues on right, Sparrowhawk straight ahead.
About 30 minutes into the hike, we heard a couple below us making their presence known to any bear within at least five miles (hahaha). Lo and behold—we know these people! What were the odds that we would run into our neighbors Corey and Willis on the same trail simultaneously? Pretty slim. Great minds think alike.
Willis and Corey with Maggie leading the way.
Excellent company and conversation took us past a lovely little stream, where Maggie took a quick dip.
We parted ways at the treeline—after taking a moment to photograph a nearby whistling marmot.
Rocky climb begins here.
Marmot
Enter selective memory. Our climb involved a never-ending pile of boulders, following multiple paths leading to points unknown. Let’s say there are many ways to get to the top, and thankfully, the actual trail is much more apparent on the way down.
But the view is worth the effort.
Alpine meadows.
Small lake view from our lunch site.
The trip back was steep, somewhat precarious, and not at all leisurely. Nonetheless, it was a heck of a lot faster than the climb.
Dave making his way down, with Spray Lake in the distance.
Later that evening, Corey texted a photo she took of Maggie and Willis that captured the spirit of the day—serendipitous.
Maggie and Willis in the alpine meadow.
Dave and I have a knack for turning an easy outing into something a little more challenging. Ask anyone (yep, you, Margaret) who has hiked with us—every trip is an adventure. Hey, it doesn’t matter if it’s a quiet walk around Canmore—take a few trail detours, and three miles can quickly turn to six.
Warspite Creek.
We were looking for a simple, scenic hike to spend a Sunday afternoon. Warspite Lake via Black Prince Cirque Interpretive checked all the boxes: easy, short, and beautiful. The out and back route was just over four miles with an elevation gain of 700 ft (220 m). A lovely, soft-padded walk through a lush spruce forest. What on earth could go astray?
Trail just before the lake.
Once at the lake, we opted to follow the trail around the lake counterclockwise to take photos and escape people milling around the entrance.
Warspite Lake
There were still frozen areas near the shoreline—unusual for late June in Kananaskis.
Lake ice.
Mount Black Prince, and Warspite, with Haig Glacier in the background.
Before long, Dave and I noticed a group who had passed us earlier was heading back. Soon after, we encountered a family trying to cross a rushing stream covered with downed trees. Dad scrambled his way across the logs to the far bank while Mom stood up to her knees in the icy water. Their kids stood silently—apparently wanting no part of it.
Nothing clear-cut here.
As Dave surveyed the situation, the parents retreated. The six-year-old glanced at her parents and then at us, exclaiming, ”This crossing is definitely for the young, nimble, and light of foot.”
Duly noted—and ignored. Dave deftly made his way across while I lumbered my way through the icy water.
No trail here.
Bushwhacking our way around the lake on a nonexistent trail covered with debris, fallen logs, and water was a bit unnerving initially but ultimately satisfying.
Bushwacking.
Once through the bog, the lakeshore became easier to navigate. The craggy white rocks surrounding this portion of the lake hosted several family picnics.
Heading back, we crossed paths with an outgoing spruce grouse.
It was an excellent way to spend a Sunday afternoon—detours included.
In the past, Dave and I have avoided Banff's Lake Minnewanka. Memories of crowded parking lots, shuttles, and tour buses have always discouraged us from exploring the area. That is until we decided to hike the Minnewanka Lakeside Trail to Alymer Pass Junction.
Dave and I decided to revisit Jumpingpound Summit after a two-and-a-half-year hiatus. This shoulder (early or late season) hike seemed ideal for the end of May. It was cold and partly cloudy—nothing that a few layers and some gloves couldn’t handle. If you go, remember your park pass—you’ll need it in K Country.
Picture this: a bike ride on one of the busiest and most scenic highways in Banff National Park. Pretty sweet, right? Now take motor vehicles out of the equation. For Dave and I, this was an opportunity too good miss.
Eight days in, our first hike lay in wait, with no time like the present to tackle it.
It was time. Two and a half years had passed since we traveled to our home away from home in the Canadian Rockies. With Covid running rampant and borders closed, everyone lived in isolation. Traveling was a risk, not an entitlement. So Dave and I (along with millions of others) buckled down and made the most of it. However, when the border opened last fall, there was no question about where we would spend our next summer.
Dave and I have stepped up our hiking regimen by hiking up North Mountain National Trail three times a week—in preparation for summer hikes in the Canadian Rockies. Short and steep, rocky yet also paved, and mercifully close to the house. From the top, we spotted Lookout Mountain, nestled behind a resort and golf course bearing the same name. That moment decided our next hike.
Pinnacle Peak Trail ranks high in everyone’s books. Locals and vacationers from nearby resorts flock to this place in droves—with good reason. It is an impeccable trail with fantastic views of the valley and surrounding McDowell Mountains.