Wednesday, May 18, 1994

Woke up early again. It was a little cooler, probably 50 or so. Maybe due to the higher elevation. We were about 7000 feet now. Only a thousand feet higher than the trailhead, but we'd gone up 3000 and down 2000 to gain a 1000. Not a very good deal, in my opinion.

We had to begin making up for the mileage we lost. Our scheduled stop that night was at the West Fork of the Gila River. It was about 12 miles. We'd only been able to make about 14 in two days, but we only had one long, slow climb up to 8000 feet. Then 7 or 8 miles of pretty flat terrain to the Gila. Once we left the Mogollon, there was no water in that 7 or 8 miles, so we had to make it. Or try to carry enough water to avoid a dry camp. I hate carrying water, and I hate a dry camp even worse. In that heat, and with all the exertion, we would be in serious danger of dehydration if we didn't have lots of water.

So off we went again, feeling rested and refreshed after a good night's sleep.

The trail was easy at first. Still through pine forests. Not rocky or steep. As we got higher, the canyon walls got steeper, and there was a stream crossing every hundred yards or so. The trail info had warned of this, and said the crossings could be difficult in high water. We had both brought sneakers just for that purpose. We certainly didn't have high water, and the stream crossings were relatively easy. I had these really heavy Converse high-top basketball shoes. Never needed them. They made great paperweights for the stuff in my pack, though. I thought many times about hiding them off the trail somewhere, but I knew my conscience would bother me for all of my second half- century, if I bespoiled Mother Nature in such a foolish fashion. So I carried them the whole 50 miles. The river actually became intermittent at least 4 or 5 miles before where the map indicated it would. Apparently this was an exceptionally dry year.

We made the Turnbo Canyon trail to the West Fork of the Gila about noon. It was a pretty canyon, with a big flat area full of Ponderosa pines. We took a break, but the steepest part of the climb was still ahead of us, and I didn't want to eat lunch 'til we got to the top. So off we went. The trail was still pretty easy. I was getting tired, though. My legs and feet were just getting worn out from the constant pounding. Thank goodness there were no rocks and the trail wasn't real steep.

We made the summit in an hour or so. I had expected it to be a high, flat, hot, dry mesa, with little vegetation. Instead, the Ponderosas continued all the way to the Gila. It was really great. Few rocks and the trees kept us much cooler than we had been in that grueling sun in the lower elevations.

We had lunch at the top of the mesa. I was really bushed already. Copious amounts of peanut butter seemed to help. And copious amounts of Gatorade to wash it down. For the trip, we ended up drinking 16 quarts of Gatorade, and ate almost that whole jar of peanut butter, among other things.

I had already started to fall behind Jason before lunch. Just can't hike at the pace I used to. Once, I was a pretty fast hiker. I know that it hurts to have to slow down for other people. You have to walk you pace. And after lunch I got even worse. When I started to lag behind, Juneau would run back to see if I was ok. Then run back to Jason. After a while of running to and fro, she gave up on me completely, and just went on with Jason.

It was a rather bizarre experience, walking through that Ponderosa pine mesa alone. Thank goodness the trail was easy. My energy was exhausted. My feet were getting more and more sore. Even walking on the pine needles hurt. I should have played more basketball to get them toughened up. Too late for that now. It seemed like I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I was so tired, I was practically in a trance. At one point I suddenly realized that I was hunched over with the pack above me, shuffling along like the hunchback of Notre Dame. Immediately I forced myself to straighten up, and start singing. I did a pretty rousing rendition of "Margaritaville," "Let's Get Drunk and Screw," "Barnacle Bill the Sailor" (by the ever-popular Hot Nuts), and Sneaky Pete's "Dirty Old Man," among other things. I had plenty of time to sing. It took me about 3 hours to make those 7 miles. So I guess the deer were quite entertained. There were a few other tunes that I did, but I don't remember now what they were. It certainly helped get me in a better mood, and I made it to the Gila just fine.

The descent was, of course, steep and rocky. Just what my feet needed. When I reached the bottom, there were some horses grazing in the valley, and a group of guys camped there. It was sort of a shock to see someone. There were two people camped near our first campsite, and we saw one woman at the stream. But these were the first people we'd seen in two days. It was like they were invading our wilderness. Of course, they had the right to be there, too. Although backpackers seem to think that horse packers take the easy way out.

Anyway I found Jason's pack and you guessed it, he was fishing. Or he was trying to fish White Creek, which flows into the Gila at that point. Well, it flows into the Gila when it has water. Our plan had been to follow it up towards Mogollon Baldy, then back down the West Fork of the Mogollon, where we spent the first night. Then out to the bus. There is a spring, supposedly "the most reliable in the wilderness" on the trail, but with White Creek being dry, and it being 17 miles to the Mogollon's west fork, we decided right then to head back that way we came. No need to risk a waterless 17 mile stretch.

The guys camped there told us there was a campsite on the other side of the river, so we headed across and started downstream. I was so tired I could hardly take another step and I wanted to stop at the first semi- flat place we saw. Jason insisted that we go further, but it looked like we were heading for a dead-end and I stopped. We were both tired and we had some sharp words to say about where we were camping. I stayed put. He went on down the trail, and soon found it to be uninhabitable. Ha! Ha! He should listen to his old dad.

Thank goodness he set up the whole camp. I was so tired, I just lay there watching him. I crawled in the sleeping bag and lay there. He, of course, went fishing.

I finally got up just at dusk and tried to fish for a while. There was a nice pool by the campsite, but I got no strikes and after a few minutes my arms were too tired to cast, so I went back. I think Jason caught one fish. I did walk downstream and it turned out the canyon was just magnificent. One of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen. It was too late to go back and get the camera, so I decided I'd come back in the morning and take some pictures.

That night was the same old story. An early dinner and in bed by 8:00. Even though the ground was pock-marked here, I still slept like a baby. Of course, I AM a baby. :)