Aravaipa Wilderness, 3/21-3/23

I headed down for my Spring Break in Arizona for a visit that included an overnight backpack trip with my sister, Kelly. My parents were also flying in from a vacation in Mexico with Molly and her family. Dad would be camping with us; Mom would head to southern Arizona and meet up with her snowbird friends for the duration of the camping trip.

We headed out about 1 pm to drive 120 miles, uncertain of the time it would take to arrive at the trailhead due to the variety of roads we would have to travel. Thanks to the recent rains, the desert was in bloom with brittlebush flowers. Yellow-covered billowy blooms spread across the landscape of tawny dirt with striking saguaro cacti.

We also made a stop at the Boyce-Thompson Arboretum to reintroduce ourselves to the variety cacti and succulents of the landscape; I was especially looking for an ocotillo in bloom.

Dad and me next to a saguaro at Boyce-Thompson

Kelly found a seat in the shade at Boyce-Thompson

"Rattlesnakes only beyond this point" according to a sign at Boyce-Thompson.
Was that supposed to be a deterrent?  I haven't seen a rattlesnake in years!

Following the arboretum, we passed a massive pit mine for gold. Separating the mine from the highway in several areas were impoverished communities, leaving derelict buildings along the road in this area of rural Arizona. Roofs were caved, windows were boarded, and walls were in a state of either falling in or falling out. It is ironic that we would pass this wasteland on our way to paradise, a stark contrast.

Off of the highway, we took a turn onto a narrow, gravel road for 12 miles. We passed large, comfortable, rugged homes in the bottom of the canyon, much different from the towns just a few miles back. Greenery increased in the valley as we drove deeper into the canyon on a road that stayed below the rim, but well above the floor of the canyon as it fell below us on the right. Cottonwoods and mesquite trees increased below us on our right with saguaro and barrel cacti on our left.

We arrived at to the trailhead an hour before sunset. Legally, we couldn't start the trail until the next day as this was highly managed wilderness by the BLM. So, we opened beers and fizzy waters as we read the signs posted about the area, stretched our legs, and scoped out the trailhead.

An ATV sound came from the private road just beyond the trailhead. A talkative man wearing a button-down shirt and khaki shorts stopped and said "hello!" He asked us if we were hiking the next day. Dad, being the congenial guy he is with a knack of striking up a conversation with anyone, launched in and threw in his one-liner used to spark interest in all new folks: "We're from Alaska!"

"Alaska?!" He took off his rose-colored eye protection, he pointed out they were his windshield as his 4-seater ATVesque machine lacked one. He introduced himself as "Langdon" and invited us to his house down the road to share a beer--he wondered if we had more to share?--and perhaps let us camp on his land rather back down the road at the ranger station. He had to run down the road to his neighbor's house and would be back in a moment. We said we were interested.

After he left, dad checked in with us if we felt comfortable staying with this guy. This stranger was also conversational, we actually had trouble getting a few words in, incredibly welcoming, and he lived in paradise. We were decidedly comfortable!

We followed him the .5 mile or so to his home, the roughest road of the trip with an unmaintained lengthy driveway of thick gravel-like rock. Definitely a road for an ATV or lifted truck, not a little Mazda. But we made it.

His house was clearly from an earlier era but was also a working-house but with incredibly unique southwestern detail: red and orange clay tile floors; saguaro-rib cabinets and doors; thick, wrought iron door hardware; Mexican pig-skin furniture; and thick southwestern rugs. His living room displayed an old vinyl record assortment, a collection of classic old books, movie posters, modern art. He clearly appreciated an eclectic variety of different cultures and eras.

He then asked us what kind of beer we had and hoped we had something other than wheat beer, but we only had beers with wheat in the name. Then he said he didn't really like beer but opened a bottle of wine. He led us out the back door, a sliding glass door that no longer slid easily: jostling glass door. We walked to the edge of his yard which was nearly to the precipice of the canyon where several lawn chairs were arranged around an outdoor fire pit. The views were stunning.

He regaled us with tales of saying "dude" too often, living and working in Europe, growing up (something he was still working on, he declared) in Tucson, his social-worker wife who had dedicated her life and career to helping others in a system that rarely showed appreciation, the local BLM ranger, and his neighbors up and down the canyon. He showed us where his organic cattle range spread to in the distance, the reason for living in this location in addition to his home in Tucson.

We noticed, as the stars came out, that the orientation of the Big Dipper and Polaris were much different from the orientation in Alaska: here, the Big Dipper was laying on its side! The visibility of the stars was amazing, but what was even more amazing was being able to be out stargazing at 7:30 pm in shorts and shirt in mid-March!

He and dad talked easily. The hours started to fly by. At 8, we decided we needed to set up the camping gear and cook dinner. Langdon let us set up camp in his front yard and invited us to use his kitchen to prep our camp meal. We used his stove to boil water to rehydrate the dehydrated veggies, cook the stove top stuffing, and mix in the canned venison.

He shared information and opinions on issues with raising cattle in the system, the issues of our food system in the corporate world, and his opinion on omega-3s in the human diet. As the amount of wine he drank and the amount of marijuana he smoked continued, the more and more animated he became and the more he shared. He was an incredibly humours and generous person.

Kelly and I surprised dad with a 63rd-birthday bowl of instant jello, that failed to set after an hour, with three lit candles that were quickly listing towards the jello in all directions. It was more of a chocolate jello pudding soup!

Langdon cooked up spaghetti squash on his stove, with Finlandia butter and hot sauce. It was simple and delicious. He had a great wealth of knowledge and experiences and an unassuming man who was incredibly down to earth but must not be hurting for money. Yet he spent a considerable amount of time in a home that needed some repairs, he had holes in the forearms of his shirt and a safety pin clasping both sides of his shirt as an immediate repair to several missing buttons.

As we were headed to bed, he pulled out a pack of remaining fireworks to light in honor of Dad's 63rd birthday. The first one I lit made a beautiful display of fireworks against the depthless sky, riddled with stars. We didn't see the stick returning to earth until it fell almost next to us, landing with a grunt like a body hitting the ground. Kelly lit the next one, but it was too tight in the earth. It showered the area with sparks and crackles and pops. Unfortunately, it was within a few arms lengths of our tents! Luckily, not a spark got it. Dad lit the third one and again the colors lit up the earth with the starry sky backdrop.

And with that, we headed to bed; Langdon in his house, us in our tents. Not long after we slid into our bags, what looked like a little raccoon was scurrying around us. We couldn't see the animal outright, but we could see its shape and size against the solar lights that lit the walkway from the cars to the front door.

We gazed at the stars through the mesh of the tent as we fell asleep, excited to get an early start on Aravaipa.

Kelly and I awoke to hear the chatter to these guys again! Amazing they had this much to talk about! Langdon was making coffee for all of us and again invited us to use his stove to make our meals: instant oatmeal eaten out of the package. These camp meals seemed so out of place being eaten with real silverware in a modern kitchen.

Front lawn of Langdon's house.  More ocotilloo, but still none in bloom.

In the circle in front of the tents is where we lit the fireworks.
Unfortunately, we never did get a photo with Langdon.

Langdon wished us a great trip and shared his contact information. It's interesting the people you meet whom you feel you must have known in another life. What about a chance encounter makes people hit it off? Or to put down their guard in a chance meeting? Langdon said in the 12-years of owning the ranch, they had never, ever invited guests down to their property. What was it about us to make him extend an invitation? What was it about him that compelled us to accept his offer? Were we naive, over-trusting Alaskans? Perhaps we were, but we had a great time with Langdon.

We said our goodbyes and professed our appreciation again and headed back down the roughest .5 mile of road in the 120-mile journey from the Phoenix valley back to the trailhead.

As we drove up, an older man was also loading his daypack and about to set out. Good 'ol Dad started up a conversation, again announcing we were from Alaska and made another friend.

We ran into this gentleman again later in the canyon.

It turned out he was a volunteer for the wilderness area and on the search of a Trogon, a bird that makes the sound not too dissimilar from a barking chihuahua, he said. He gave us some good information on the geology of the area; dad loved it!

We headed down the trail and with a descent of maybe 50 feet, we were at the canyon bottom and at our first creek crossing. This "trail" meanders along the canyon bottom more than the river does. We hiked on the right bank, through the river, down a gravel or sand bar, and on the left bank, never staying on any one path for more than fifty feet, and generally only twenty. Our feet enjoyed the refreshing dip in the water as it kept us cool as it splashed up our legs. It was tough walking in the river for long distances, so we kept an eye out for trails that paralleled the river on either bank.

Kelly and Dad in Aravaipa Canyon.  Cool enough for long shirts at this point.

Trail through the water.

As we hiked, I reminisced of my prior Arizona hiking, prior canyon hiking. I was slowly remembering the feeling of the heat of the day, the feel of plants that want you to keep your distance, and the smell of moist ground in an arid environment.

The walls of the canyon started narrow with Paleolithic era rock, some of the oldest and hardest rock which makes it difficult to erode (thank you, Dad and volunteer for this info). This rock was dark red and maroon which was a beautifully complimentary color to the deep greens of the barrel, yucca, agave plants that lived on the canyon wall.

Kelly next to this old rock.

The narrows

The sun was rising.

As we continued traveling, the old rock gave way to lighter colored ash rock. With the change in the canyon wall, the biome also changed to more cottonwoods than cactus. At one point, dad even pointed out we could see saguaro on the other side of a line of cottonwoods. We continued deeper into the canyon, stepping over the variety of colored and shaped stones.

Finding shade.  Example of the variety of rocks that made up the canyon walls.

As the walls became a softer compound (ash vs. old rock), the canyon widened.

Langdon told us of the 1,000-year floods of 2006 and the previous high rains of this current season.

Several hours in, we found a spot of shade and stopped for a lunch of baby bel cheese and salami on tortillas. We knew we were getting close to our recommended camping spot, across from Horse Camp Canyon, but we started to follow a trail that took us closer to the canyon walls and far away from the river and overshot HCC. We turned on the GPS and discovered our error. We turned around and found a great place to camp, though not the recommended location. We set up our tents, took out our day packs and headed back to HCC to do some side canyon exploration.

Maneuvering through boulders

Dad and Me on slick rock

We stepped over boulders and glided up slick rock. Kelly guided us to the end of our route: a deep emerald pool in the shade of a semi-truck-sized boulder in an amphitheater of slick rock. From where the water trickled down at one end, a healthy grouping of plants sprouted almost from the canyon walls. We sat quietly in the cool air; there was much to appreciate.

Columnar volcanic creations above me.

Dad and Kelly by the emerald (read: algae-filled) pool

Emerald pool with trickling water and plants growing from the side of the wall.

As we headed back to camp, we broke out the boxed wine and travel cribbage board. Dad and I took turns reminding Kelly basic rules of the game as well as strategy. As the games wore on, I broke out the surprise meals.

The first surprise was the skillet bread appetizer (imagine a thick pancake or pita minus the air pocket) from Pack-It-Gourmet. It required special cooking technique with the outback oven diffuser and constant checking to keep it from burning on the pocket rocket. It was delicious. Then came the Idaho potatoes. Simply add the water and let it do its thing. Lastly was the Bamboo Bowl from Fireside Provisions (we had previously enjoyed this meal on our Lost Coast hike and I selected it because it is delicious!): cook the dehydrated rice and veggies, add the Gentleman's Jerky, soy sauce and hoisin sauce and serve. Meals for kings. Dessert was vanilla jello, which set much better this time; stirred and served in a ziplock.

Camp site; I was prepping the food.

Kelly prepares the inside of the tent.  Fly on, prepared for the predicted rain.

Fireside Provision's Bamboo Bowl ingredients

Through the meal, we were serenaded from deep guttural noises in the trees. "What kind of bird makes noises at night?" Dad asked. The noises continued though they quickly became background noise.

Brushing my teeth, I walked behind a boulder near the campsite to spit out my toothpaste and as soon as I sprayed it over the ground nearby, the background noises that had faded without our knowing started up again quickly again and loudly! What we had thought to be birds were a group of toads whose eyes were staring back at me in the gleam of my headlamp.

This video was for the sound, thinking maybe this was the sound of the Trogon
the volunteer was searching for.  But no, it was frogs.  

Dad strung up our food and smellies in the tree with the shoelaces we bought at the last store on our way out of dodge. Who forgot the rope? We knew rain was in the forecast but again the stars through the doorway mesh were beautiful, though we had the rest of the rain fly on and ready.

It wasn't until 5 am that a little sprinkle started, but the rain didn't actually start until 7 am. This didn't dissuade Kelly from donning her puffy and rain jacket and going out to start heating water for coffee and oatmeal like a champ! We splurged with a Starbucks vanilla latte packets and Kelly taught us the art of pouring your instant oats into your coffee. AMAZING! We stood in our rain jackets in the rain and wind and smiled that even in that weather we were still warm without socks or gloves!

Coffe pre-oatmeal.  Our spirits were high!

Kelly and Dad.

We had planned for an 8am departure, but breakfast conversation and packing had us heading back at 9am. This was a short trip, not to be our last in Aravaipa.

Dad and I.  Cool enough for long sleeves, but not pants.

Ready to cross the river, again.

Retracing the trail we had taken earlier, we found the going easier: the weather was cooler than our hike in, we were more accustomed to locating trail, and by moving in this direction we were going with the detritus washed into trees and bushes from prior flooding. It all pointed downstream, like iron filings aligned by a magnet, parallel to the river. On our way up, bent bushes stabbed and caught us; this time we were, literally, going with the flow.

Crossing the River Styx

We saw a massive amount of people leaving the canyon than we did as we entered. Several groups of backpackers, one GET thru-hiker (Great Enchantment Trail--no, we'd never heard of it either), and several large groups of day hikers, one large group tiptoeing around the river, trying to keep dry as we can stomping down the middle of the river.

We also watched a coatimundi inspect a beach as we stood behind the shield of cottonwood trees stopping to adjust and delayer.

Coatimundi (larger than a ring-tail cat, and the largest wildlife of the trip)

The end of the trail came quicker than we anticipated as we stripped out of our wet shoes and sandy socks just twenty-nine hours after we entered.

The demarcation of the beginning of the wilderness.  The first 1.5 miles of the trail is a partnership between The Nature Conservancy and Langdon's property to grant people access to the wilderness.

Back at the trailhead.  Twenty-nine hours below the rim.

We took a group ending photo and vowed to return to explore Aravaipa further, and headed back to Phoenix to meet up with Mom and Richard and share our last night in the city together.

We had dinner at Nico's in Gilbert, owned by a James Beard-nominated Chef.