Adventures from Arizona to Alberta
Nestled within the Mazatzal mountains lies a lovely little hike that traverses along a rustic creek and an old ranch road to some ancient-looking water tanks. After reading about this hike in the Arizona Republic, Dave and I became intrigued. We’d driven the Beeline Highway between Mesa and Payson many times but never pulled off to discover what lay beyond it.
Sunrise in the Superstitions—hmmm, it sounds like a song title from the 70s. And to think this rugged wilderness is 45 minutes east of metro Phoenix—the Crown Jewel of Apache Junction.
We were looking for gold in a mountain town. When you live on the valley floor, it’s often difficult to gauge the right time to see fall colors. Sure, you can watch the predictions on the local news, but unless you live up north, it’s best to take a chance and go.
By September, memories of why we live here started to surface. An unexpected early taste of Fall arrived, and once again—we pulled on our hiking boots and stepped outside for some genuine morning walks.
Well, it's June, and still—no word. With the northern border closed, our home away from home was still elusively out of reach. Fully vaccinated, the longing to see family face to face became overwhelming. Add that to 115° temps—time leave town.
People trample over flowers, yet only to embrace a cactus.—James Joyce
Alas, there were no wildflowers this year. The heat and drought of the past summer eliminated any chance of an appearance. Happily, the cactus did not disappoint.
The days for hiking in the Phoenix Mountains are ticking down. Summer is rearing its ugly head, and as temperatures rise, the vibrance of spring quickly fades. Geez, how depressing is that?
Our plan started simply enough—drive up to Prescott, AZ for a visit with our friend Katherine, stroll down Peavine National Recreation Trail and grab lunch. Katherine, however, had other ideas.
With a little research and patience, it is possible to hike in Sedona and avoid the influx of visitors. Enter Thunder Mountain Trailhead, part of the North Urban Trail System in Sedona. The mission that day was a Birthday mission, one which Dave, Margaret, and I chose to accept.
Ahhh, Piestewa. Climbing the second highest peak (2,610 ft) in the Phoenix Mountains takes willpower—but to many, and I mean MANY, the hike is more than worth it. After all, how many places can one summit a mountain in the middle of a city?
Timing combined with a whole lot of luck. When that happens, it’s a beautiful thing to behold. On this particular hike, I believe the experience would not have been nearly as spectacular.
“The Crack” at Wet Beaver Creek—seriously? It’s hard to imagine a smuttier name for such a beautiful place. Who comes up with this stuff? I suppose it was named in a simpler time, a time when words had more literal meaning. Or—maybe someone just wanted a laugh.
Wow—I had no idea. Where has this gem been hiding? If you can get there to see the sunrise—do it. Peralta Trail to Fremont Saddle is a mesmerizing, challenging hike with a dramatic reveal.
The Superstition Wilderness in Gold Canyon offers many hiking opportunities. It is hard to believe that these towering hoodoos are the product of over 20 million years of erosion.
We arrived before dawn, and it was COLD and WINDY. Although dressed in layers, we wore shorts, which initially was quite unfortunate. Dave and I sat quietly in the jeep, toasting ourselves before venturing outside. We hit the trail at first light.
Rocky road.
Frankly, I don’t remember much of our adventure’s very beginning—we were too busy trying to warm up. Eventually, we stopped and took a look around. Massive columns of volcanic rock enveloped us as the sun broke over distant peaks. Phenomenal.
The roundtrip is a rocky 5.8 miles, with a total elevation gain of 1,330 ft. Allow at least four hours (more or less) to navigate the rocky terrain and soak in the beauty of the canyon.
Morning light.
Dave and I wound our way to the saddle’s base, where the real climb began. Switchbacks led to a smooth granite pass scattered with large boulders—a perfect place to grab a snack and pull out the iPhone. Splendiferous.
Smooth granite slabs (lower right), made the ascent easier.
Looking back from the saddle.
The pièce de résistance awaited at the saddle—Weaver’s Needle. This spire of fused volcanic ash rose from the valley below. A large remnant formed from over 20 million years of erosion, it climbs a thousand feet from the desert floor, with a summit of 4,555 feet. Rumors have it that the needle’s shadow casts the location of a cache of gold—part of the lore of the Superstitions.
Surprise!
Fremont Saddle.
By the time we made it down the rocky path to the parking lot, the lot was full. Even though the sun’s glare took some of the magic away, and our ankles and feet were stiff and sore, a brief scroll through our photos made us realize just how memorable this hike was.
Finally, it happened. After 110+ days of drought and intense heat, it RAINED. Not just a smattering of drops that move dust around—a lovely, rushing deluge. A much-needed cleaning of air, soil, and spirit.
Dark shadows and sunlight.
The next morning under clearing skies, Dave, Margaret, and I celebrated by hiking Tom’s Thumb Trail, located in the McDowell Sonoran Preserve. We started around 9 am—blissfully chilly through the first part of the hike. Layers were the key to comfort.
View from the beginning of the trail.
The trail is a steep one (1,200+ ft in elevation), but don’t let that stop you. There are plenty of waypoints to take a break and catch your breath while admiring the beauty surrounding you. The first mile is the hardest, but once you get to the first ridge, it becomes more moderate.
On our way up.
On our way to the Thumb.
After heavy rain, one would think that the trail would be muddy. Not in Arizona. The path, washed of small pebbles and dust, made the ascent and descent so much easier.
The Land before Time.
Tom’s Thumb.
Air, lightly scented with fresh creosote, combined with smogless skies, made the trip extra special. We snacked upon well-deserved clementines and molasses cookies before heading down.
Days like these are one in 110+.
Glistening saguaro.
There is nothing sweeter than a hike at dawn. Everything old looks new again, and when the sun rises over a mountain, it is nothing short of magical.
Memories of Yukon Cornelius come to mind when I think of Dixie Mine—a whole lot of nuthin’. However, the checkered past and expansive views it provided made the trip worthwhile.
Escapism [ih-skey-piz-uhm]—The avoidance of reality by absorption of the mind in entertainment or an imaginative situation, activity, etc. Yep, that seems to be the theme for surviving 2020. And our ticket to ride on the Verde Canyon Railroad filled the bill.
Stands of Aspen. Nirvana—especially for desert dwellers. However, the moment is fleeting—so make sure you plan well. Usually, Dave and I would have had our fill of fall in Alberta. Alas, —2020, has changed so many things. Thankfully, the beauty of fall is attainable only two hours from home.
Dave and I had a Nat Geo moment last week. We witnessed a necessary battle for survival that didn’t end well for one of the participants involved.
If you’ve never visited the Granite Dells in Prescott, Arizona, go—because it is one special place. The Peavine National Recreation trail provides spectacular views of the dells and Watson Lake and is one of the few Rails-to-Trails projects in Arizona.
Still hot here. Yep. A broken record of record-breaking heat. However, the desert shadows are getting longer and the days shorter, so there’s hope.
