I must say, our timing was impeccable. The forecast called for rain. Not just a drizzle mind you, a downpour, full of raging washes, flooded interstates, and general mayhem. With the prospect of three days of flash flood watches rapidly approaching, Dave and I decided to enjoy the sunrise with a view of Phoenix from South Mountain Park and Preserve, followed by an early morning hike.
Upon arrival at Dobbins Lookout (elevation 2,330 ft), South Mountain Park and Preserve.
South Mountain Park (formerly Phoenix Mountain Park) was formed in 1924 when Calvin Coolidge sold the bulk of the land to Phoenix for a mere $17,000. Today, it is the largest municipal park in the United States and one of the largest urban parks in North America. It provides over 50 miles of trails for cycling, hiking, and horseback riding.
Dobbins Lookout with Four Peaks in the distance.
It took us about an hour to drive to Dobbins Lookout. What amazed me is that this remote mountain park is now urban — Laveen to the west, and Ahwatukee to the south—surrounded by suburbia. The view of the city below was spectacular.
View from Dobbins Lookout
We stayed at the lookout until sunrise. A cacophony of coyote howls ensued. It was then that I realized the term howling coyote was aptly defined. Fumbling for my phone, this is all that I captured of that moment.
The skyline became hazy and pink with puffy, unsettled clouds filling the horizon. Ahhhhh, weather.
Papago Buttes from the trail.
As the sun rose, we drove to Buena Vista Lookout, where we took the National Trail towards Hidden Valley.
National Trail.
Magical sunlight.
Hidden Valley was truly hidden.
Large spaceship-like rocks appeared to defy gravity.
Smooth boulders formed Fat Man’s Pass, a narrow passageway that we decided to avoid. We took the well-worn alternate route just to the left.
We did, however, pass through the Hidden Valley tunnel.
Hidden Valley tunnel.
Our loop connected with the Mormon trail and again to the National, which led us back to where we began. All in all, the hike was a moderate five-miles.
As we headed down the mountain, hikers appeared—just starting their journey. By this time, clouds had gathered, and the breeze was picking up—rain was soon to follow.
I am so glad we took the chance on hiking that day. You know, sometimes things have a way of working out. It tends to make up for the times they don’t.