It's been a year, but I finally made it back to an orienteering meet. After a rainy week, we (E,S,A) ventured out to Kentucky Camp, near Gardener Canyon on the east side of the Santa Ritas. This area is a regular destination for me -- the area offers mountain bike trails, excellent caving (Cave of the Bells, Onyx Cave, Hidden Cave, and numerous others), and trailheads to get into the Ritas. For some reason, however, I've developed a distate for the "east side". This Sunday morning was wonderful. The drive out from Tucson takes about 45 minutes -- I-10 to 83 south and then right on Gardener Canyon Road. I tried out my new dashboard GPS. The most interesting piece of information provided was elevation. I didn't realize how high AZ 83 gets at the "pass" north of Sonoita -- over 5,000 feet. Gardener Canyon road was moist and firm, but the farther we got back towards Kentucky Camp, the muddier the road. We had a great time splashing through puddles in the Forester. Eventually we came upon a slow-moving Pontiac, who let us pass so we could continue to play irresponsibly in the mud. The Subaru slid around a few corners, but otherwise held its line very well, which actually made the driving less fun (but more safe and predictable...). The meet start was atop a alluvial hill with nice views of the rolling alluvium all around, and rocky hills and mountains to the north and west (the Santa Ritas). Erin and I decided to do the Green course (second most challenging) as a team. After a brief intro course, we three set out. We quickly found the first control, and the second... it seemed too easy. I usually run the course, but we took it easy and walked most of it. Sabkha had a good time sniffing around and watching the cows milling around in the distance. She longed to chase them and get "just one bite", but I didn't allow her the chance. We burned through the course in about 1:30 hours. We made a few minor mistakes both in route finding and control finding, but overall we were amazingly accurate.
The morning started cold but after huffing around a few hillsides we warmed up nicely. After finishing, back at the starting point we ate some cookies and sat in the cool breeze surveying the landscape. Sabkha sampled an orange, which she gobbled down rapidly -- to my amazement. She ate most of the orange. The day was beautiful, with good visibility. The Mule Mountains were right across the valley, and the Huachucas looked close to the SE. We could clearly see Miller Peak, where we had stood a month or so before. Alas, I had to get home to prepare for a picnic and the arrival of my friends from Safford. So off we went, splashing as much mud as possible on the way home. Less than a half-mile down the dirt track, we came across a caravan of classic cars, including three or four Model T's. They slowed us down a bit, but we still had plenty of opportunity for splashing through the mud.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Inundated in Pima Canyon
Erin, Barbara and I went up Pima Canyon. Out the front door, and about a 10 minute drive north brings us to the trailhead. Normally hiking in Arizona means a several hour drive, but if you leave the dog at home, you can get out close to home. The entire "front range" of the Catalinas is off-limits to dogs, ostensibly to protect the Bighorn Sheep population (not sure there is one). A silly rule, but it was ok to be without Sab for the day-- no concerns about her running off, chasing deer, or pooping on the trail. We started out from the new parking lot and crossed under a large stone bridge that leads to a new housing development in the area. After crossing the face of a hill with great views to the south and west, we entered Pima Canyon. The 7000+ foot peaks of the "front range" were enshrouded in mist. (See photos). Most of the front part of the Catalinas is a foliated gneiss, often referred to as a mylonite (this is considered a misnomer by many geologists). The foliation dips roughly SW, and is composed of alternating bands of light and slightly darker rock. This characteristic rock style lends a continuity in geological ambiance all along the front range of the Cats. In the eyes of one who enjoys diverse geology and changing landscapes, this is something of a negative. But it was beautiful, and it has been a while since I've been in the front range.
The creek was running at a high level, and we crossed the stream about 15 times on the way up the trail. Along both sides of the canyon ran waterfalls, both large and small. Dark, wet stained areas belied the location of recent waterfalls, active only during the rainfall. We made a sport of crossing the stream and remaining as dry as possible, using the various stepping-stones, grass tufts, and logs available to us. Barbara, wearing normal leather walking shoes, got soaked right away. Eventually we were all just slogging through the stream. We met many groups on the way up and down, and it was fun to watch their varying stream-crossing behaviour, from very timid, slow and cautious to devil-may-care splashing.
We hiked up and up, stopping a lot to watch the stream shoot through narrow places, or go over waterfalls and make masses of bubbles. At a few places we couldn't resist stretching out on the rocks in the sun and almost napping... or napping? The line is fuzzy sometimes. Eventually the trail began to climb and the canyon narrow. We stopped near a big rock nestled among some spring-green cottonwood trees. We decided this would be the turn around point, but we lounged for a while anyway. The trip down was fairly fast. The trail wasn't steep, but usually on the way down you watch your feet more than the scenery, both because of trip danger and because of tiredness. We did spot a few interesting things on the way down, including some holes ground in the rock by natives (the name of these escapes me at the moment). They were filled with water, and at the bottom nestled bunches of horrid-looking, purplish-white see-through worms! Not sure what they were or why they got there, but they gave all three of us the shivers.
Back at the first stream crossing (or the last on the way down) we all sat on a large rock and watched dayhikers come up the trail. More than half were stopped by this, the first stream crossing, and turned back to walk the half-mile or so back to the trailhead. Too bad! Those others who ventured across were funny to watch, being mostly unsure of how to cross a running stream, and not sure of the safety of the venture. The kids typically bounded across, while moms and dads looked embarrassed as they hopped with effort from rock to rock, usually ending up with wet feet somewhere in the crossing.
Nice hike, good views of some familiar rock. Too many people for solitude. Also, like many trails, the farther up you go, the better it gets.
Photos of this trip here.
The creek was running at a high level, and we crossed the stream about 15 times on the way up the trail. Along both sides of the canyon ran waterfalls, both large and small. Dark, wet stained areas belied the location of recent waterfalls, active only during the rainfall. We made a sport of crossing the stream and remaining as dry as possible, using the various stepping-stones, grass tufts, and logs available to us. Barbara, wearing normal leather walking shoes, got soaked right away. Eventually we were all just slogging through the stream. We met many groups on the way up and down, and it was fun to watch their varying stream-crossing behaviour, from very timid, slow and cautious to devil-may-care splashing.
We hiked up and up, stopping a lot to watch the stream shoot through narrow places, or go over waterfalls and make masses of bubbles. At a few places we couldn't resist stretching out on the rocks in the sun and almost napping... or napping? The line is fuzzy sometimes. Eventually the trail began to climb and the canyon narrow. We stopped near a big rock nestled among some spring-green cottonwood trees. We decided this would be the turn around point, but we lounged for a while anyway. The trip down was fairly fast. The trail wasn't steep, but usually on the way down you watch your feet more than the scenery, both because of trip danger and because of tiredness. We did spot a few interesting things on the way down, including some holes ground in the rock by natives (the name of these escapes me at the moment). They were filled with water, and at the bottom nestled bunches of horrid-looking, purplish-white see-through worms! Not sure what they were or why they got there, but they gave all three of us the shivers.
Back at the first stream crossing (or the last on the way down) we all sat on a large rock and watched dayhikers come up the trail. More than half were stopped by this, the first stream crossing, and turned back to walk the half-mile or so back to the trailhead. Too bad! Those others who ventured across were funny to watch, being mostly unsure of how to cross a running stream, and not sure of the safety of the venture. The kids typically bounded across, while moms and dads looked embarrassed as they hopped with effort from rock to rock, usually ending up with wet feet somewhere in the crossing.
Nice hike, good views of some familiar rock. Too many people for solitude. Also, like many trails, the farther up you go, the better it gets.
Photos of this trip here.
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