A Couple Good Hikes and a Lazy Day

            June 15 – This morning I was off to hike a 7.4 mile loop that combines two trails – the Bear Jaw trail and the Abineau trail, connected by an old pipeline road. As I was putting my lunch together, setting my GPS, and doing all the other preparation I do before beginning a hike, a man pulled up next to me. Don Lago, a long-time Flagstaff resident who hailed originally from Missouri and is Swedish by blood, asked if he could join me. I accepted. It seemed an interesting deviation from my usual solo hiking.

Lunch break

            Don and I visited as we hiked, and we learned that we shared a love for literature and hiking. It was nice to find someone on the trail with whom I share so many similar interests. He’s led a number of groups in the Grand Canyon, and has written two books about the Canyon. He is a writer, and has written a total of eight books to date, most centered around this area and its history. A very interesting companion, to say the least.

North Rim of the Grand Canyon just visible

            The hike was beautiful, running up through numerous pine and fir trees, along with a number of Aspen groves. It still amazes me that all these tall, white-trunked, bright-green leaved trees are really just one organism. When you begin to look, you can see the various groves are often distinct. Many of the trunks had names and dates carved into them, and Don explained that sheepherders used to graze sheep up in these mountains, and these carvings were their signatures. Most of the names were Hispanic, as most of the sheepherders were, and, reading them, we spotted what appeared to be a son’s and a father’s signature, dated 20 years apart. Don also pointed out the grooves cut by elk teeth as they scrounged for nutrition in bleak seasons.

Pick-up sticks

            Bear Jaw Trail climbed up to the pipeline road, and that road continued the climb a bit more gradually until we were standing at over 10,500 feet of elevation, looking at the back side of Mt. Humphrey, the highest point in Arizona. There is still snow in places at the peak – it rises 12,600 feet above sea level. The hike down Abineau Trail was a little steep and it was rough for much of it. Apparently, an avalanche had felled trees all along the original trail, so another route had been carved into the mountain parallel with the original. The mess of fallen trees was still thick – pick-up sticks dropped in a valley.

            When we got back to the car, Don asked about my hiking schedule. I’ve decided this last week I’m in Flagstaff, I’m going to do a tough hike every other day. I explained that, and he offered, on one of my off days, to show me around Flagstaff. The Museum of Northern Arizona and the Lowell Observatory are two of the sights he suggested. I agreed to the plan, so we are going to meet in a few days for breakfast at the Historic Weatherford Hotel. I’m eager to learn about the history of the area from Don – he’s a wealth of information and a nice man.

Don Lago

            After we went our separate ways, I took a much-needed shower and then decided to treat myself to some sushi. The Karma Sushi Bar in town had come highly recommended on Trip Advisor, so I gave it a try. Again, Trip Advisor was spot-on, and I enjoyed a lovely dinner of sushi and edemame. The only drawback was that at the bar I was seated next to a man who needed to tell me much about his life, his hunting, and his experience in Arizona. It was okay for a while, but I realize I’m really getting used to having time to myself. Finally he left, and I finished my meal in peace.

            June 16 – A day off from hiking, I spent it taking care of a few things. I finished with my resupply packages and got the first one sent off. I hung out around the campsite for most of the morning, and decided to have lunch at the Delhi Palace Indian Cuisine Buffet.

            That dining experience was so interesting. The food, first of all, was fabulous. I’m not real familiar with Indian food, but everything I tried was delicious. The food was fresh and hot – much more so than a person usually experiences on a buffet.  And the service was unique and spectacular. The man who seated me chatted for a while, and I got to practice close listening to an Indian accent. Then another, younger man, refilled my water and also chatted for a while. A beautiful older woman picked up my used plates and made sure I had what I wanted, and I just felt an overwhelming sensation of being taken care of. It felt as if I were joining some friends for dinner at their house.

Home for two weeks. It was lovely.

            When I finished lunch, I checked out a huge used bookstore Don had told me about, and I picked up a couple things I just couldn’t live without. After burning some time there, I still had a lot of afternoon left, and decided to hit a matinee. The best reviews were for the new Tom Cruise picture, Edge of Tomorrow, so I checked it out. It was a fun action movie, kind of a futuristic, soldiery, Groundhog’s Day film.

            Clearly, the day was a rather lazy one, and I enjoyed the break from the hiking. Happily, it does feel as if my legs are getting stronger and my endurance is building. I think alternating hiking with resting is a good plan.

           June 17 – I had a bit of a rough night going to sleep. At home, tornadoes and flooding were all over the news, and my Facebook feed was full of images of double tornadoes and flooded highways. I checked in with the kids and made sure they were safe and dry, and I watched what was happening the best that I could from afar.

I read about the tornadoes that destroyed the little town of Pilger, Nebraska, and I realized I’d been through there with Jesse on the bike before. Then I read about a tornado destroying some farms near Wakefield, Nebraska. This is the area Jesse’s parents, brother, and sister live. I messaged him, and he told me yes, his brother’s house was gone, and his parents’ was still standing but damaged so they couldn’t stay there. No one was hurt, but my heart breaks for them. It seems all the more real having been in both those houses. And I feel for Jesse, being so many miles away and not being able to help. He’s so close to his family, it must be so difficult for him.

Not only was I listening and reading reports of the storms back home, but here in Flagstaff the wind was blowing hard, with gusts up to 60 mph. My little tent was rocking and rolling in the gusts, and I hoped my stakes would hold. Fortunately they did, and I made it through the night. Once I fell asleep, I slept hard. One of the results of this wind, however, is dirt everywhere in the tent. I have to shake everything off before I can get in it in the evening. Maybe one of the hardest things about living in a tent and out of my car is the dirt. I’m never able to stay very clean for very long living outside, and I’ve come to accept that often things are just a bit gritty.

Wildflowers sprinkle ever hike

The high winds have been an issue here now for about four days, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do the hike I wanted to today because of the winds. If the winds are blowing hard at 7000 feet, you can imagine how much harder they will blow at 10,000 feet. When I got up, I thought about it, and I realized that in a few weeks, when I’m hiking the JMT, I won’t be able to skip a day because of wind. I’ll be there, on the mountain, and I’ll have to go. So I decided to give it a try.

You can just see the fire tower at the peak

The hike I’d planned for today was a 4.6 mile out and back to the fire tower atop Mt. Kendrick. It climbs from about 7800 feet to about 10,400 feet in that 4.6 miles. I knew the hike wasn’t as steep as the hike I’d made last week to Mt. Eldon’s fire tower, but it is longer and higher. I decided to do it, drove out to the trailhead, and gave it a try.

The day, although windy, was sunny and fairly cool. I hiked most of the trail with a light jacket on, the first day I’ve had to do that. Because the rise was gradual and the trail wide and well maintained, it was a very pleasant hike for the first few miles. It wasn’t until the third mile that the trail narrowed, began to rise a little more steeply, and the wind became an issue. The wind, as I climbed higher and higher on the side of the mountain, blew hard, pushing the trees into groaning waves. Much of the hike passed through old fire areas, so there were often dead and creaking trees swaying to the side of me. Downed branches and an occasional downed tree littered the mountainside and trail, and I dared not pause long for fear of falling branches.

One of the many downed trees

I thought of the tourist killed a few weeks ago by a falling tree in Yellowstone that had been standing since the fire in 1988. I didn’t want to be one of those news stories. I thought of the signs posted coming out of the Grand Canyon’s Bright Angel Campground at the Colorado River warning hikers not to stop on the trail because of falling rocks. I thought of the advice in Backpacker Magazine about never pitching your tent under questionable trees because of the “widow makers” – tree branches falling on the tent. So I kept moving right along on the trail.

When I reached the four-mile mark, the mountainside opened up into a meadow. There was a small cabin with a framed bunk bed and a table with note pads as a hiker’s refuge. I was so close, I knew I had to climb that last half mile to the fire lookout. It seemed, for some reason, to get easier. The wind still howled, but it seemed a little blocked most of that last little bit. Till I opened up to the tower. There, it about swept me off my feet. As I looked up at the tower, the firewatcher opened the window and called out to me, inviting me up inside the tower. I accepted, and he warned to hold on tight as I climbed the stairs. I did. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt quite so vulnerable climbing a set of stairs before, and I had to continue to hold on to the railing as I eased my way around the tower to the door.

 

Stepping inside, I was relieved to be out of the wind, and once I felt secure again on my feet, I looked around. The little building was just one room with a couple mattresses, a sink, a stove, and a couple tables. Maps were everywhere. George, the firewatcher, introduced himself as he was cooking his lunch. His dog, Bear, looked me over and, after a few minutes, decided I was okay.

I could tell George was happy for the company; he explained I was the first person to brave the wind and visit him for the past few days. The young woman that passed me at the time of my greatest anxiety a mile or so before the tower and then again on her way down as I just approached the meadow must have been a trail angel. He never saw her. It’s funny how many times I encounter just the right person at just the right time to keep me going.

George, the firewatcher

Bear, the bear treer

George explained a lot of what he does in the tower, and pointed out things on the map then the correlating real-world mountain. He’s new at his job – he’s only been at it for a few months – and explained he’s still learning. He leaves his wife every Monday morning, hauls his week’s supplies up the mountain, and stays until Friday afternoon, when volunteers show up to watch for the weekends. He told stories about exploring the area, including one expedition where Bear treed a bear. He laughed and said the dog needed to learn the right etiquette – this is the bear’s home, not his or the dog’s. 

 

This respect for the land and all that inhabit it is the attitude of so many people who hike and enjoy the wilderness. This attitude is so different from the world where I have spent most my life. Our culture is based on the idea that the land and all its creatures are the property of humankind and we can do whatever we want with it to serve our purposes. This attitude has caused some of the greatest disasters of our time, and continues to allow humankind to destroy the planet and push thousands of species into extinction. Sure, species go extinct through natural causes, but the rate at which they are now is unheard of. We are the cause of the latest mass extinction, and if we don’t change our ways soon, we will inevitably be one the species annihilated. But I digress.

After a nice conversation and finishing my lunch, I launched my way out of the safety of the fire tower and back into the gale that worked to blow me off my feet and down the mountain. The hike down was much easier than the one up, and I even felt less susceptible to falling trees. When I got to the bottom of the mountain, I was happy to have a good 9-plus miles under my belt and felt ready to try 10 miles on my next hike – the Weatherford Trail.