Finding the Way at Kentucky Camp

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.

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.

Giant Junipers and Blue Agave

On Sunday we hiked down Red Ridge to the "Gold Mine" and back up Oracle Ridge. I've done it before, and it shouldn't have been too tough, but it kicked our butts. Sabkha came back with many a thorn in body and paw. She also got a large gash in her hind leg, and some weird pokes that turned into pustules on her belly. Yuck. After hanging out in the shack and trying my tongue at some fragmented espanol, we took off on the once-a-two-track for Oracle Ridge. The descent down Red Ridge had been about 3,000 feet in 3.5 miles. Steep! At the bottom we found a beautiful babbling brook, doing it's babbling in a bed of brilliant white granodiorite. Nice! Reef of Rock was visible to the west the entire way down Red Ridge. We contemplated taking a few hundred feet of rope and exploring RoR for a week or so... who needs to fly to Tibet to have an adventure? I blabbed about my failed proposal for summer-weekend-mapping in the Catalinas. My perception is that mucho has not been well-mapped. Catalina geology is fascinating, it has received some attention too-- so you (as a geologist) have a place to start. Good or bad? Contaminated ideas? Anyway, I dreamed of mapping the boundaries of the Catalina Granitic Pluton (which makes up most of the Cats NW of Mt Lemmon, i.e., Samaniengo Ridge and Reef of Rock). Edges, and jointing/veining in the middle. 'Tis the season (or the year), since two consecutive forest fires have largely cleared the nothern slopes of the Catalinas of undergrowth. And trees. Once we huffed up to Oracle Ridge, we finally left the intrusives behind. This was weird, because all the way up the two-track we were seeing coarse-grained weird looking intrusives, altered, feldspar rich (of course). Then on Oracle Ride suddenly we're on an east-dipping sequence of Paleozoic rocks- what the heck? The Dickinson map on the 5th floor of the U of A Geo department seems to indicate it's just a contact. Or rather, it doesn't make it clear what type of contact it is. Is the intrusive a mega-sill? I don't think so, but I'd love to find out. Along the ridge (which I've hiked at least twice before), we eventually passed Marble Peak (several caves there, never been) and came upon the Giant Trees. For a mile or so along the ridge, there are (or were) huge trees, spaced fairly evenly every quarter-mile. They don't grow along the slopes (which are not that steep or rocky). Why? It fascinates me. They're all burned up now, but most are still standing. Their fragrance is lovely. ex-Junipers? Also alongside the path are numerous, perfect blue agave. Wonderful, symmetrical plants! The huff back to the car is harder and longer than expected. As an added bonus, we got to hike about 1.5 miles back up the road toward Ski Valley. I knew it, but it was unpleasant nonetheless. Exhaustion. How can an 8.5-mile hike knock me down like that? [Photos of this trip]

Fantastic Superstitions

It was a pleasant drive up to Phoenix (if northwest is "up"), and then a pleasant hike up a gentle alluvial fan to the mouth of the canyon. Everything was green from the recent rains. In the distance, Four Peaks were shrouded in snow. Sabkha frolicked about, sniffing the horse droppings we say here and there. They make me nervous, and my eyes scan the horizon whenever I see the green, hay-ey blobs. The inspiration for adobe, I think. Starting up the canyon we saw some big-house-sized fallen rocks. It is always fun (for a geologist) to look up at the cliffs and try to pick out the point of origin... however, the higher the rock, the faster it tends to weather, and the longer it has been weathering (generally true, not geologic Law). We encountered a group of geriatric hikers who gave us complicated directions about how to get up to Flatiron. "Yeah, I did that back in my day..." sighed one of the old men. We bashed our way upstream through undergrowth and over wet, slick slopes covered with gravel. Eventually we reached a bare-rock chute with a stream sprinkling in from overhead in the form of a waterfall. A young lady overtook us and kept on truckin'. Sabkha decided she preferred to keep moving, and left Erin and I behind as we took a Clif break. Sab kept looking back anxiously, but she was compelled to continue with the Unknown Girl. Finally we go up and traversed a neat rock amphitheater with slanted rocks layers broken off in little 1/2" wide steplets. It wasn't easy to go up, and turned out to be much harder to go down! We stayed right when we saw the "three canyons", and eventually picked up the white spray paint marks. The trail got very steep. Toward the top was a 10-foot "step" that freaked Sabkha out. I had to do a collar grab to get her up. We made our way out onto Flatiron without incident, despite the layer of hard dark ice on the trail, and the 300-foot cliff near at hand. I put Sabkha on leash, not that it would help much if she went after a suicidal chipmunk or Gila monster. The view was nice. We picked out the Santa Catalinas and Rincons, Four Peaks, all of Phoenix (not hard), the Galiuros, and a mystery range that turned out to be none other than the Pinalenos (aka Mt. Graham). We could NOT see Weaver's Needle (although we could clearly see if from Oracle Ridge a few weeks later!!!). The day was already waning, if it can do that, but we pressed on to explore some hoodoo-ed terrain and attempt to find an alternate way down. After discovering a Grand-Canyon-sized, um, canyon in the west side of the Supes, we bailed and rushed down the evil steep canyon. Sabkha had forgotten about The Step, and it was a hassle to get her down. Argh. I had to grad her midsection and try to set her down as she flailed all four legs rapidly, trying to get some claw purchase anywhere, like on my face. Darkness appeared. We donned headlights, but mine didn't do much photon-production-wise. (The Apartment, anyone?) We survived the hike back. It was quite a hump, although I must recommend it for drama, scenery, water, and cool rocks. Oh- it was all volcanic. On a Geologic Excitement Scale of 1 (lowest) to 10 (most exciting), most mafic/intermediate volcanic rocks get about a 2 from me. Booo. [see pics here]