March 2nd- Greyhound Terminal to First Water Trailhead

First Water Trailhead

     The Greyhound Bus arrived at the Phoenix terminal just after sunrise.  Knowing that a taxi ride from there to the First Water Trailhead would cost me around $100 I had already decided to save the money by using this initial day to get to the starting point of the Grand Enchantment Trail by other means.  After all, that amount of greenbacks could easily supply me with more than ten days of food along the trail.  My plan involved using the local bus links to take me as far as possible into Apache Junction and from there I'd continue with a bit of suburban hiking before reaching rural Highway 88 and the subsequent dirt road leading to the trailhead.
     The first part went off without a hitch, both literally and figuratively, as I hopped on the local bus and paid $5 for a bus pass.  Two transfers later after passing through many parts of Phoenix and Mesa I arrived on the outskirts of Apache Junction, the furthest point that public transportation would take me.
     Getting off the bus, I looked into the sky above and could see that the weather was threatening rain. Dark clouds loomed overhead and it seemed only a matter of time before they released their heavy burden of air-bound moisture.  With no time to lose I strapped on my pack and zipped down the sidewalk as quickly as I could.  My speed, however, was insufficient to outpace the storm and some moments later the first drops were felt.  Big drops falling with an audible splat.  Digging into the pack, I frantically grabbed my rain jacket and had just put it on before the real deluge began.  The rain came down in sheets, inundating the streets and in a couple of spots flooding the sidewalk.  Bent low with my head down, I trodded on as the rain pelted me. Occasionally I had to look up if I heard cars approaching because they sent a wall of water flying towards the sidewalk in their wake.  Luckily for me, I was hit by an auto tsunami only once and by that time my lower half was already drenched , so no real damage done.  Although the intensity of the storm lasted for all of 15-20 minutes before the rain finally slackened, judging from the amount of accumulated water I could clearly understand the need for the Flash Flood warning signs on certain low lying areas along the road.
     Looking for the most part like a drowned rat, a couple of dudes in a pick-up gave me a short ride to the next gas station about a half mile down the road where they were going to fill up.  Offering apologies for not being able to take me further, I assured them that the kindness they'd shown had saved me at least a modicum of time and energy.  Continuing on my way through bouts of spit and drizzle, I at last reached the turn onto the rural highway.  A swift glance behind me showed another wall of black clouds bearing down.  I felt that having endured the first torrent, I'd rather just sit this one out.  But where?  Fortune smiled on me as a little further up the road I came upon the Lost Dutchman Museum.  I managed to duck under the eaves of the porch before the rain became too intense and at this point the air temperature seemed cooler than at any point since stepping off the bus just after dawn.
     I spent a couple of hours hunkered down, sheltered from the rain.  In that time I ate lunch, bought postcards, admired the desert photography hung on the gift shop walls, and read a good many plaques giving information about the history of this part of  Arizona and the Superstitions, especially the legend of the Lost Dutchman mine.  I even made a dash between the drops out to the barn where there is a portrait gallery of all the TV and Hollywood stars that made westerns in the area.  Eventually, with the exploring done and the rain relenting, I stepped back off the porch and resumed my journey.
     A short jaunt up the paved highway and I reached the turn-off to the trailhead.  With so much rain having fallen, the normally hard-packed dirt road was a little squishy.  Not bad on the flat spots, but it made going uphill a bit slippery.  When I finally arrived at the First Water Trailhead, the weather was closing in yet again, so I did what I've done on a few other occasions and headed for refuge in the privy.  There were a couple of hours of daylight left, but I'd reached my goal for today--- the starting point of the Grand Enchantment Trail. As the rain started to pour once more, this drowned rat wound up in the sewer high and dry!  

March 3rd- First Water Trailhead to Tortilla Pass

Trail Junction

Emerging from the privy in the faint light of dawn, it was readily apparent that yesterday's storm had passed.  Morning greeted me clear and cool.  Though the soaking of the previous day was at times unpleasant, I knew in the long term it meant that water sources would be abundant in this section of the trek.  Indeed, every creek and spring I passed today were flowing, so the water load was minimal.  More like the dip and sip method that allows a hiker to carry at most a single liter if necessary.  Another thing that so much rain meant was that everything was green or as green as it could be considering these are desert mountains.
     I passed a day hiker almost immediately after setting out, but didn't see another soul until a pair of overnight hikers passed by in mid-afternoon.  In the meantime, I enjoyed the scenery and the easily followed path,  passing trail junctions on a fairly regular basis.  Early on the jutting spire of Weaver's Needle was a prominent landmark that grew ever larger as the trail tracked in its direction.  Little songbirds darted in and out of the mesquite bushes and a brightly colored cardinal could be seen hopping along the branches of a juniper.  Later in the day I startled three white-tailed deer that despite their surprise went bounding off quite gracefully through the brush and cacti ahead of me.
     Throughout the day, I passed areas where the giant Saguaro Cactus grows.  I've heard said that it takes a full hundred years of growth before the saguaro puts forth its first side arms, so the ones with multiple well-developed side arms must truly be ancient.  One of the loveliest places I passed through today, Upper La Barge Box, was like a saguaro nursery with many young cacti scattered at various heights along the side hill below the burnt-orange cliffs.
     As the day waned, I started making my way up toward Tortilla Pass.  My goal had been to make it to Angel Basin to camp because, as the name suggests, it truly is a heavenly spot.  However, as darkness descended, I realized that it just wasn't going to happen.  A little night hiking aided by my headlamp saw me to a flat area at the top of the ridge.  Worried that if I hiked further, I might inadvertently miss a trail junction, I decided to pull up and camp for the night.  Due to the cloud cover and the recent rains of the day before, I pitched my tent and crawled inside.  Tired, but not very hungry.

Distance:  22.7 miles

Weavers Needle

Pools and Running Water

The Dutchman Trail

Towering Saguaro

Near La Barge Spring

Creeks Are Flowing

Into Upper La Barge Box

Towards Tortilla Pass

March 4th- Tortilla Pass to Outside Superior

Rogers Canyon Cliff Dwelling

     When I reached Angel Basin, a beautiful,open grassy area surrounded by stately oaks, there was still a light coating of frost on the ground.  I'd expected to come across a few tents but soon discovered that I had the place all to myself, which meant that I could explore the cliff dwellings in Rogers Canyon at my leisure.  A short yet steep side trail branching left from the main, takes you to the base of the ruins, where a simple wooden sign relates the basic information about the site.  A little scramble up the rock and I was on the stone porch in front of the habitation area.  This particular site is said to have contained about sixty-five rooms and storage areas, and most likely housed close to 100 people.  Most of the site is now destroyed, but it's still one of the best examples of its kind in the area.  As I gazed out above the trees, enjoying a mid-morning snack, I wondered what life must have been like for the natives who lived here over 600 years ago.  A perennial stream, a spot of open ground for limited agriculture, some nut trees, and a fair amount of game in the form of deer, rabbit and quail, could have made it a nice haven for the Salado who dwelt here.
     After thoroughly enjoying my time exploring the cliff dwellings, I continued on the path up Rogers Canyon.  Plenty of shade trees along the course of the stream, which burbled delightfully over its stony bed, while at other times going silent when it disappeared beneath a patch of sand and gravel.  Soon enough, I reached the junction with the Arizona Trail, familiar territory since I thru-hiked it in the spring of 2012.  A short time later, I met Katie Birch from Colorado, a section hiker doing a stint of the AZT to Reavis Ranch.
     The forest road leading away from Rogers Trough Trailhead had a bit of up and down as it followed a ridgeline, but there are some expansive views to be had as I looked back over the Superstitions in the direction of Phoenix.  There were two couples in their Polaris Rangers also taking in the sights along the ridge.  The funny thing was that even though they were in motorized vehicles and I was on foot, we played a great game of leapfrog over the course of a mile or two.  They'd drive up to the next viewpoint and while they stood and gazed across the slopes, I'd mosey on by.  A few minutes later, up they came to pass me.  I followed their progress and saw them stop at the next turnout for further viewing.  Steadily, I hiked onward, caught up and sauntered by again.  After catching them a third time, they grew curious and asked me what I was doing out there, so I had an opportunity to tell them about the GET.  Like most folk, they were surprised that I was travelling so far and carrying so little.  They were also worried about my food and water situation, so I explained to them the strategy of resupply and the fact that, so far, water sources had been numerous.  I suppose the forest roads they'd been following high on the ridgeline made it seem as if everything were dry and dusty.
     After wishing me well, we parted ways.  They continued on the forest road and I went back on trail heading toward Montana Mountain, the high point for this trail section.  There's a pleasant little spot there, dotted by oaks, that makes for a fine lunch break.  Munching on granola bars, I had expansive views all the way down canyon where the land becomes much more arid.  From this highpoint, the trail plunges towards the canyon floor on a large series of grassy switchbacks, which will definitely test the resiliency of your knees, as they can be a tad jarring.  However, once the floor is reached, the walking is as easy as you please along the intermittent stream.  Traces of a recent flood had changed the appearance of this area from what I remember it being three years ago while trekking through here. Not needing water, I nevertheless checked in on Mud Spring to see what it looked like.  Floating chunks of algae and a plethora of mosquito larvae made me glad I wasn't thirsty.  Besides, my reliable source for water in the GET's segment two is the windmill and corral a couple of miles past the Reavis Trailhead.  There's a large, square cement tank with a couple of float valves, which can be pressed down releasing  fresh water out of the spigots directly into your water bottles.  No need to filter.   There's also a shady mesquite tree, a small round table and a few cut logs that act as chairs to sit on next to the adjoining tin shed.  I took the opportunity to have an afternoon snack and a field bath.  While relaxing in the cool of the shade, a whole cavalcade of off-road vehicles drove by, stirring up dust on the opposite side of the corral.  I believe in Arizona, and I'm sure in other places, they have clubs for these off-roading enthusiasts, some of whom are most definitely retirees.  Meet in the morning, pick a destination and pack a lunch.  As I hiker, the only problem I have with people with this passion is when they ignore signs indicating that the foot trail is not for use by motor vehicles of any kind.  A machine can sure tear up a trail, especially if the ground is soft or muddy.
     After my rest, I was back to hoofing it when I encountered a Brahma bull snacking on some greenery near the mouth of Whitford Canyon.  Normally, I tread softly on past, but I'm always wary of skittery cattle, which, on rare occasions can be highly unpredictable.  Obviously, this one had a burr up its behind because it charged me.  Thank goodness for a big thorn bush that was growing nearby.  As quick as a flash, I jumped behind it and found myself staring eye to eye with the snorting, belligerent creature on the other side of the spiky shrub.  Nothing else to do but stand there until he grew less hostile and wandered off a bit.  What bee was in his bonnet, I'll never know.  Anyway, danger avoided, I was rewarded with one of today's highlights just a half mile further on.  Whitford Canyon, a beautiful micro riparian habitat, replete with tall cottonwoods narrowly hemmed in by dark pink cliffs.
     After exiting the canyon, the trail leaves the intermittent stream and continues into the hills of the high desert plain.  Nothing but low mesquite bushes and a variety of prickly cacti here, while off to the west was the flood plain of an expansive wash.  Wandering through this wasteland, I eventually made my way to the pipeline road and disused train track heading towards Superior.  Resupply is tomorrow, so I made camp amidst the mesquite a few miles out of town.  As the sun set in the west, it lit the cliffs beyond Superior into a crimson hue and the full moon which had just risen shown with an other-worldly glow.

Distance:  22.2 miles
     

 Cliffside Home

Upper Level

Reavis Trail Canyon

Teddybear Cholla

Windmill and Corral

Full Moon and Red Cliffs

March 5th- Outside Superior to Artesian Well

Picketpost Mountain

     Resupply went like clockwork.  Got to Family Dollar at 8 a.m. just as they opened and purchased six days of food for less than $20.  Further into the old town, I reached the post office just as its doors were opening.  Postcards mailed off, I headed back west to the edge of town hoping for a ride, which unfortunately never came.  Five miles of walking on the paved highway shoulder in due course landed me at the Picketpost Trailhead.  From there the trail starts wending its way higher into the hills past the western flanks of Picketpost Mountain, a sentinel of rock that dominates the early part of this section.  A healthy stand of saguaros can be seen on its slopes.
     Within a mile or two of the trailhead I passed several groups of older hikers and four people riding horses all returning from a morning jaunt through the desert scrub.  The temperature today is supposed to reach the mid to upper eighties and with the heat increasing as noon approached, everyone was calling it a day.  Unlike yesterday, where there were places with cottonwood, oak or pine, there is virtually no respite from the sun on this part of the trail.
     Trough Spring was dry as a bone, which came as a bit of a blow in light of the fact that in 2012, while I was on the AZT, I actually camped near it and found the trough full with piped spring water trickling into its overflowing sides.  Searching around, I was able to find a small pool of water trapped in a depression of bedrock that yielded a crucial liter of water that would see me through a dry afternoon.  At the junction of the "new" AZT and the former route which the GET follows, I met a pair of mountain bikers who stopped for a chat.  One of them had hiked the trail before and knew Brett Tucker, the founder of the trail.  He shared a few insights and said his favorite section was the Safford-Morenci Trail, so I'm looking forward to reaching that to see if I share his opinion.
     The de facto AZT is a very vague route with an initial uphill scramble marked with the occasional blue flagging tape or a stray cairn.  However, even with these directional aids, I must admit that I lost the "trail" a couple of times on the route towards the saddle.  I'm not sure if I missed seeing them or if, as is certainly possible, the tape had somehow fallen off.  Either way, it was only a minor inconvenience.  A bit of map work reading the terrain and I was back where I needed to be.  Once the saddle was reached the trail was easy to follow the rest of the way to White Canyon.
     The prettiest place for me today was the area around Hole-in-the-Rock.  The interesting ochre-colored rock formations lit up by the piercing light of the mid-afternoon sun were quite pretty.  The amount of rabbit, ground squirrels and quail hopping about or dashing across my path added to the scene.
     The steep descent into White Canyon is along an old, rocky two-track that becomes smoother the closer you get to the canyon floor.  Once it bottoms out, its a nicely graded dirt road to the artesian well.  My oh my!  Things have changed since 2012.  The well water used to bubble up into a small stone-ringed basin set beneath the branches of a smallish oak.  That was all gone now.  By the looks of things, a huge flash flood had ripped through this area, uprooting the oak and ripping up the ground.  The well is now capped and the area around it gated.  The water is siphoned off down the drainage into four black tanks that service two round, metal troughs one of which was algae covered while the other was pristine.  Already dusk by this time, I cowboy camped nearby and after a hot and mostly waterless day concentrated on rehydrating myself. From what I can gather after having talked with some area residents, severe tropical weather coming up from Mexico in the summer of 2014 dumped horrendous amounts of rain in a two-day period.  The effects of this deluge is what I've been seeing in a few of the canyons up to this point on my journey.

Distance: 20.2 miles

Blue Flagging on the Old Arizona Trail

March 6th- Artesian Well to Ripsey Wash

The Arizona Trail

     Breaking camp, I went down another significantly altered drainage, a short cross-country through Walnut Canyon, which ends at a road leading to a familiar, wide open wash, eventually hooking up with the current Arizona Trail.  At the railway bridge, I decided to act the part of a hobo and walk the rails into Kelvin.  I made the choice because I'd already hiked this part of the AZT and was itching for a little change of pace.  Besides, I thought it would be faster than the winding desert trail, but just as scenic.  For the most part, this turned out to be true.
     In Kelvin I filled up my water bottles from the hose outside the office of the public road works.  It wasn't until I was well into the next section that I discovered I'd made a mistake. Taking a swig to abate my growing thirst, I felt a little burn in my mouth and back of my throat.  Ugh!  The taste of horrible hose water.  I suppose the dust and mineral salts that had gathered in the hose's length since its last usage had been flushed into my H2O containers and that was what was causing the slight burning sensation.  Whatever it was, it was disgusting.  Even though it was a warm and windy day, and I had to travel up and over the low Tortilla Mountains, I was loathe to drink.  What ended up happening was when my mouth became real dry, I'd simply wet it and spit the water back out.  Didn't really solve my thirst, but gave me a mental edge.  I knew I had enough in me to get to Ripsey Wash.  As far as the terrain is concerned, there isn't much out here except for the hardiest desert plants.  However, with the recent rain, there is also an abundance of wildflowers making a drab landscape much more appealing.
     Dreams of a full spring trough in Ripsey Wash were quickly shattered.  All I saw in the bottom of the rectangular, concrete catchment were a couple of foul mud puddles and a slowly dripping black pipe.  Again, this trough had been full of cool clear water when I was here on my AZT thru-hike in 2012.  What a drastic change.  Thank heavens for that little drip in 2015 though, for without it I would have been forced to drink the horrible water I'd ill-gotten in Kelvin.  It took roughly 10 minutes of dripping to fill a liter bottle, but it was well worth the time because it tasted good.  Seeing as how it was going to take the better part of an hour to fill all my bottles plus it already being late in the day, I opted to cowboy camp in a little hollow beneath the overarching branches of small mesquite trees.
     Reflecting on some numbers, I met two mountain bikers and one trail runner accompanied by his big pet bulldog, and probably spoke a total of ten words all day.

Distance:  23.8 miles

Southern Pacific Railway Bridge

Along the Gila

March 7th- Ripsey Wash to Wash Near Antelope Peak

Desert Hare

     I woke up at six o'clock because I had to fill up a couple of the water bottles I'd drained last night, especially with an 18-mile waterless stretch ahead of me.  A minor amount of water had accumulated in the muddy trough after the black pipe continued dripping all night.  At least the cows will have something to drink.  Following the same routine as yesterday evening, it took a full forty minutes to top off two liters, which meant I didn't start walking 'til around 7 a.m.
     There is an initial climb out of the wash, then open desert with an orangish gravelly path running between sage, cacti, yucca and creosote bushes- nothing tall since the saguaros have all faded away. The only animals I've seen today are a few desert hares and some brown lizards.  The survival tactic of freezing in place as employed by one of the beige hoppers doesn't work too well when it comes to humans, as it was easily seen amidst the wildflowers and desert cobbles.  Perhaps the strategy works better against its natural enemies like coyotes and birds of prey.
     The best area today was a spot called "The Boulders", a place where a small group of weather-rounded rocks protrude slightly above the surrounding desert plain.  Just before reaching it, I crossed a beautiful, sandy wash lined with lavender wildflowers and graced by several small, shady junipers, which were so inviting that I stopped for an early lunch.  With the day heating up and shade at a premium, it was ideal for a short break.
     A mix of trail and road led me to the Freeman Road water cache two hours later, where I enjoyed a long break and a welcome respite from the afternoon sun beating down from high in the sky.  Laying my groundcloth down near a scrawny mesquite tree, I took the time to get rehydrated.  The cache appeared to be fully stocked in anticipation of the Arizona Trail thru-hikers that will be making their way up from the southern border some time over the coming weeks.  It really is a boon to have fresh water out here in a long arid stretch.  A big thanks to the volunteers who take the time and effort to stock it.
     While lounging around waiting for the clock to strike four, a pair of section hikers arrived, scouting the area in advance of their week-long trek starting next week.  Over the past few years they and a couple of friends have been slowly making progress along the AZT, knocking out segments when time permits.  One of them shared his unique story about how the trail had marked him.  Coming down on the Oracle ridge he had stumbled and fallen head first into a boulder, absolutely mashing his nose.  He realized just how badly he had hurt himself by the reaction of his hiking partners, who averted their eyes so they wouldn't have to look at the facial damage.  It took seventeen stitches to close the wound and left a visible scar running jaggedly along the length of his proboscis.  A tough break, but he'd obviously bounced back and didn't let the incident deter him from his eventual goal of finishing at the UT/AZ state line.
     Leaving the cache at 4 p.m., I started winding around the northeast side of Antelope Peak, where I met a handful of other section hikers scheduled for pick up at Freeman Road.  They informed me that two hikers were only a quarter mile ahead and that I should be able to catch them.  Little did they know that I was nearing the wash where I planned to bed down for the night.  I'm really in no rush at the moment because my planned entry into Aravaipa Canyon isn't until the day after tomorrow.
     Finding an ample grassy area near a shallow eroded bank a short ways down the wash, I set up my cowboy camp and watched the stars come out and heard the quail come in.  I don't know much about the constellations, but can say that Orion the Hunter and Taurus the Bull were prominent.  Lying there, staring up at the celestial world, I noticed that the high, thin, wispy clouds that shielded me from the sun in the latter part of the day were thickening.  Feeling a drop of rain on my cheek, I wondered whether or not to pitch a tent, but decided to just in case.  Wearing my headlamp, running shoes and little else, and trying to avoid any stray thorns scattered on the ground, I imagine I made a strange sight shuffling about in the darkness.  With the tent up, I had just settled in when the rain arrived, so I made the right call.

Distance:  21.8 miles    

The Boulders

Balancing Stone

Twins

March 8th- Wash Near Antelope Peak to Brandenburg Ranger Station

Beehive Well

I met Joan (Rambling Hemlock) and Jan (Beekeeper) at a gate just after sunrise.  They're hiking the AZT from Picketpost to the Mexican border.  They didn't know me, but knew of others I'd hiked with on the CDT.  The trail community is, after all, a small yet flourishing one.  I was thrilled because after six days on trail, I'd finally found some people hiking my direction--- at least for a few more miles until the GET and AZT diverge at Beehive Well.  Having the time and opportunity to chat, I was curious to hear of their experiences on trail and hopes for this particular trek.  One of the most interesting things about Joan is that she's a hammock hanger, even in the desert.  I think I jokingly asked her if she strung it up between saguaros.  Ha!  As for Jan, she's a real expert on hiking in her neck of the woods, which is northern California.  Both seemed very enthusiastic about hiking in general.
     Except for a wayward meander and Jan's run in with a jumping cholla, we got to Beehive Well without incident.  It's a reliable source with a huge, cylindrical storage tank that feeds water to a tire trough.  Depressing the float valve, you can put water directly into your containers.  Unfortunately the water contained a fair number of greenish-yellow algal floaties.  I was disappointed because in 2012 the water had been crystal clear.  Since I camped here at that time, perhaps it was just dark, and so, not seeing them, I just sucked them down when I drank. ;-)  Anyway, this time, I took a liter in reserve to be safe.
     After goodbyes and good lucks, I proceeded down Putnam Wash, which was very wide at first, then gradually narrowed.  Saguaros returned, growing tall on orange rock that formed the wash walls.  At the junction with Camp Grant Wash water was flowing in rivulets over the gray gravel of the streambed/roadbed.  I followed it up canyon to hunt for its source and discovered that spring water emerged directly from the gravel road already naturally filtered.  Returning to the junction, I relished a mid-morning snack break under cottonwood and a locust tree in full, yellow bloom, bees thrumming as they extracted pollen for honey making.  I dumped out the well water and filled up with pure water from the wash.  
     

Flow From Putnam Spring

Parched Ground

A Dip Along Aravaipa Creek

I Wish I Could Hike That Fast

Near Brandenburg Ranger Station