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.

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