Hiking stories

The day after hiking Bill Williams Mountain, the weatherman promised it would be sunny and clear, 50 degrees and warm with no wind. It was the perfect day to tackle the second highest peak in the area: Kendricks Mountain. In 2000, lightning ignited a devastating fire on the mountain that burned over the course of several months. The blackened, armless poles all over the ground and reaching into the sky were a tragic reminder of the violence of nature, but in an ironic twist, the lack of trees made for spectacular views. At the base of the mountain, there was almost no snow, but the higher we hiked, the more snow we encountered. At the open area just below the summit, the snow reached its deepest point–about five feet–as could be confirmed by the sign for the trailhead barely peeking out above the...

The cabin at the lower summit was used for years by a Ranger who lived there in the summer and kept a horse in a nearby cleared pasture. Every day he rode to the upper summit to spot for forest fires. How’s that for an unusual job? The cabin was very small inside–not much bigger than my bathroom at home–and I opted to leave my pack there for the final assault to the upper summit which meant a half-a-mile climb up a 60 degree grade, through five+ feet of snow. We were so tired by this time, having already hiked for five hours through treacherous, ever changing conditions, but we could see the summit and wanted it in the worst way, so we made the decision to go for it. (The last person to make the hike hadn’t. We could tell because his tracks ended at the cabin. But clearly, he hadn’t had snow shoes, and what had we lugged them all this way for, if not to make that ultimate peak? So we set out. And we made it. The day was so clear and warm and beautiful! Such a change from the previous day at Bill Williams Mountain (which we could see in the distance)!Shoot, we could see all the way to the Grand Canyon from up there. It was amazing and gorgeous and breathtaking (and at 10,000 feet, breathtaking has a literal meaning, too). But since it was already 2PM, and we had a long trek down still ahead of us–and the promise of even more slippery slopes as the giant, diagonal drifts across the trail began to melt and give way–we took our pictures, savored our accomplish- ment, and began the long trek down. Just to give you a bit of perspective, that long snowy open area you see in the picture is just the trail to the cabin…there were still five hours down the mountainside to go before we reached the trailhead and our...

On the second day of our trip, we set out to hike Bill Williams Mountain. We were rested, well fed, happy to be away from cell phones and laptops, and generally psyched to get physical. In our pre-trip Internet research, this hike was billed as a moderate 2.75 mile hike. Cool, we thought. A few hours, we thought. Take it easy on the first day, we thought. Well, we’ve hiked many trails and many mountains over the years, and this hike was not 2.75 miles. It was closer to four, which meant eight, round trip. Not so big of a deal if we had known, but there’s a psychological element to hiking that is very important. I tell myself, “I’m almost there,” based on the knowledge given, and I speed up and muscle to the top, exhilarated. I love that feeling of getting to the summit, sweaty and conquering. But if that last half-a-mile turns into two additional miles at a steep grade, well, let’s just say I get a little cranky. The deep snow didn’t help. As we neared the summit, the drifts were three feet deep in some places. And in Arizona (go figure!) they don’t blaze the trails. So here’s the thing: You pour a buttload of snow all over a mountaintop, and any trail pretty much vanishes. Thankfully, some intrepid soul had been on this trail perhaps a week before and there were remnants of tracks to follow. Without those, we’d still be wandering around looking for the trail. Unfortunately, when we reached the 9,000 foot summit, we were in the midst of a snow squall. It made for cool conditions, to say the least, and almost zero visibility. But we took some lovely shots of trees against the sky. (Yes, it’s blue above the trees–the snow clouds were around and below us, but not above.) At the top, we broke out the stove we had rented from a Flagstaff outdoor store, hoping to make some hot drinks to fortify us for the trip down. (We have our own trusty equipment but you really can’t fly with fuel canisters in your bag.) Unfortunately, we discovered that the store had sold us the wrong canister. It didn’t fit the stove! (Yes, we should have checked.) More utter crankiness, especially from Len who really enjoys cooking in the cold. (And good thing we’d packed water instead of relying on melting snow!) So, we put away the stove and chewed our half-frozen Cliff bars…my very dark chocolate was like dusty pebbles, it was so cold. It didn’t even melt in my mouth! I finally just swallowed the pebbles....