Monday, January 09, 2006
Superstition Adventure
This past weekend my father came into town and we embarked on an overnight hike up, across, and down Superstition Mountain, the most daunting peak in the valley. I knew when my dad asked me to do this with him that I was going to have to be in peak condition. It was this impending challenge that persuaded me to go for that extra run up Pass Mountain and do that last set of weights. By the time dad arrived in town I had gone from the thinned down 190 pound version of myself to just over 200 pounds. I knew I would need the extra muscle to negotiate some of the climbing and scrambling I was about to face.
My father arrived in town just as expected. Thin and shaggy, a walking testament to the fact that he can't stand that he is in his late fifties. His hair, nearly shoulder length and highlighted blonde, only added to the look of a man still in the throws of a twenty-year mid life crisis. Still, it's good to see it, so that I can avoid the pitfalls that would let me become him. We rented our gear from REI, and then had beers and dinner at our favorite German bar. Half drunk and tired, we headed home to prep for the next morning.
Dad was the first one up as expected. He is still on Louisville time. We packed up our large rucks with the tent, sleeping bags, air mattresses, food, water, wine, toiletries, butane cooker, and other assorted things. Each pack weighed about fifty pounds. We left home around 9:00 AM and arrived at the Siphon Draw trailhead a little past ten. We had parked my car at the bottom of the Carney Springs trailhead over 25 miles away. Our route would take us up the Siphon Draw trailhead with a 4,000 foot climb, some of it overhand, most of it scrambling. The Ridgeline trail was meant to last about four to six hours depending on our pace. Mine was good for four. But my father hikes like old people fuck, so it took the full six. Once we made it to the end of the ridgeline, we would hike down the Carney Springs trail, a rocky, steep trail that was mostly bushwacking and certainly full of opportunities to hurt yourself. The total hike was about eighteen miles.
The trail starts out very simple and flat. You'd almost wonder why they'd put the trailhead so far away from the mountain. But it was a good warmup and it gave me time to adjust to having the heavy pack on my shoulders. Almost instantly I went past my dad and lost sight of him. After about two miles the hike starts to get more steep and rocky. This was the warmup for my quads. And no small about of thanks is due to Kevin, my kung fu instructor, for all those hours in horse stance that strengthened my legs. After another mile or so I approached the Siphon Draw, a steep, slick section of rock made smooth by years of water washes and foot traffic. It made for a lot of heaving and sweating, but the view from the top was the first opportunity to see the Phoenix valley. Plus it was a good resting point before the two-hour scramble that was about to happen up the steep mountain face.
My father finally caught up to me at the top of the draw, giving me ample time to rest up. After another ten minutes I put my pack back on and began the long ascent alone. About halfway up I had to stop from sheer exhaustion. I was used to climbing Pass Mountain and I love desert trails. But this was easily the most rugged climb I had taken on. I have written earlier about climbing Camelback Mountain. This was like climbing Camelback four times. At one point I had to stop and take a breath, but I had to keep my hands on the mountain just to stay balanced. The good news was that there were no false summits. Nothing can dishearten like busting your ass to get to the top only to find, once you arrive, that you aren't at the top. The last bit before the summit was the most difficult, requiring actual rock climbing. I held onto a tree root sticking out, got a high toe hold and lifted myself and the pack up so that I could see over the rock. Another moment of climbing and I was welcomed by the Hoodoos, the Flat Iron, and a view of the valley from what seemed to be the top of the world. I dropped my pack and waited for dad to arrive, which he did nearly an hour later.
Once my dad finally made it to the summit, we ate a couple sandwiches and began what we thought would be an easy and scenic hike across the long ridge of the mountain. What we got was very different. When they decided to call the trail Ridgeline, they weren't kidding. The trail ran up and down each and every peak along the summit, no matter how steep or rocky. It was definitely an education. We had no idea how far we should go, but we knew the sun would be setting in about three hours so we walked until about four and decided that we had no choice but to set up camp on a windy ridge between two peaks. It was going to be a very cold night.
We set up our camp and broke out the food and wine. As the sun began to set we got the most gorgeous views of the Tonto National Forest. On one side you had Phoenix, huge and sprawling across the entire expanse of the valley. As the sky darkened, the lights of the city came on and flickered in a panoramic scene that one usually only gets to see out the window of an airplane on approach. On the other side you had the Tonto National Forest as far as the eye could see, and I can't tell just how far that was. But at over 6,000 feet I'm betting it was at least a forty mile view.
If you click on the above pic you can get a sense for the kinds of peaks I'm talking about. This one was smaller than most. But if you zoom in, you can see my father near the center making his way down. We must have crossed a dozen of these, and like I said, this was one of the more negotiable.
We got into our sleeping bags early that evening and listened to the wind pounding against the tent. We'd ensured it would stay in place by tying large rocks to the tent at several places. It was comforting, like listening to a downpour from the safety of your bedroom, dry and warm. I woke up several times that night. The altitude had some strange effects on my dreams I think. We got up just before dawn and began to break camp. It had occurred to me that night that in our hurry to get on the trails, I had accidentally placed my car keys in dad's rental car. So we were on our way across the mountain to a car that we had no access to. I would have to call Nina in to come get us. I didn't want to have to involve her, but we had no choice.
We continued along the ridge in disbelief of the unnecessary routes up each and every peak across the ridge. We could much more easily have hiked around the side of these peaks. But the cairns led us up and down, and up and down. It was a good thing that all those cairns were there though. We could have easily lost our way. The ridge is much wider than we had expected in some places. Zig-zagging around the ridge would have added hours to our trip, and we had just realized that we were about two to four liters short of water. The trip down was going to be hot, dry, and miserable.
By the time we reached Carney Springs we were tired and beginning to dehydrate. We rationed out our water and began the long, cactus covered descent. We thought the first part was bad. But then we came to the edge of Superstition from the Carney Springs trail, and were met by a steep, rocky, uneven descent that reminded me of the "stairs" that Gollum led Frodo and Sam up in Lord of the Rings. We just looked at each other and said "fuck it, let's get this over with". This trail just plain sucked from top to bottom. Cactus everywhere, rocky drops, uneven trails, sparse cairns, and full exposure to the elements. It took us nearly two hours to reach the bottom. By then we were both so ragged and dehydrated we could barely walk.
Nina had been waiting for us for a little while at the parking site as we had miscalculated the amount of time it would take us to reach her. But she tried to be pleasant and had brought us loads of fluids and some Lunchables. We stowed our gear and dropped dad off at his car. He should have volunteered to drive me back to my car, but dad becomes like some four year old after these things. He expects everyone to bend over backwards to his every whim and refuses to do anything for anyone. Factor in the way he treats our house like a hotel where Nina and I are merely staff, and you've got one angry Nina. I find it very rude, but at this point, I just can't waste my energy getting shitty. All I can do is try not to be like him.
Nina dropped me off at my car and I drove home. I immediately dropped my clothes and stepped my filthy, sore, stinking body into a hot bath, which was both refreshing and exhausting. The rest of the evening is a blur since I was so tired and recovering from the dehydration. But today, I'm feeling okay. I'm still sore all over, but that's to be expected. I'm young and I'll heal quickly. Dad had a much more difficult time than he'd ever admit and I know that he'll be hurting for weeks. He invited me out to climb Mount Shasta in June. I think I'll pass. I love trailrunning and biking. I want to get to the top of popular peaks as fast as I can to reap the physical rewards. I don't care much for mountain climbing. Dad's just going to have to deal.
All in all I'd say that the trek was a good one. I'm proud of myself for being able to handle the physical rigors, which were far greater than anything I've ever done. The dehydration made things miserable, and the Carney Springs trail will never see me again. But the Siphon Draw is a great and memorable hike, as is the Ridgeline. Unfortunately, the only way to hike the ridgeline is to climb the mountain on one side and then go down the other. The Peralta trail is a more favorable trail to take down, about one mile past the Carney Springs. I'll try that someday. But this was likely the only time I'll ever climb Superstition. Still, I stare at that mountain every day on my way to work. And now I can look at it and know that even the highest, steepest and most treacherous trail in the area, maybe the state, was not above my abilities. It's inspriting and humbling at the same time.
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My father arrived in town just as expected. Thin and shaggy, a walking testament to the fact that he can't stand that he is in his late fifties. His hair, nearly shoulder length and highlighted blonde, only added to the look of a man still in the throws of a twenty-year mid life crisis. Still, it's good to see it, so that I can avoid the pitfalls that would let me become him. We rented our gear from REI, and then had beers and dinner at our favorite German bar. Half drunk and tired, we headed home to prep for the next morning.
Dad was the first one up as expected. He is still on Louisville time. We packed up our large rucks with the tent, sleeping bags, air mattresses, food, water, wine, toiletries, butane cooker, and other assorted things. Each pack weighed about fifty pounds. We left home around 9:00 AM and arrived at the Siphon Draw trailhead a little past ten. We had parked my car at the bottom of the Carney Springs trailhead over 25 miles away. Our route would take us up the Siphon Draw trailhead with a 4,000 foot climb, some of it overhand, most of it scrambling. The Ridgeline trail was meant to last about four to six hours depending on our pace. Mine was good for four. But my father hikes like old people fuck, so it took the full six. Once we made it to the end of the ridgeline, we would hike down the Carney Springs trail, a rocky, steep trail that was mostly bushwacking and certainly full of opportunities to hurt yourself. The total hike was about eighteen miles.
The trail starts out very simple and flat. You'd almost wonder why they'd put the trailhead so far away from the mountain. But it was a good warmup and it gave me time to adjust to having the heavy pack on my shoulders. Almost instantly I went past my dad and lost sight of him. After about two miles the hike starts to get more steep and rocky. This was the warmup for my quads. And no small about of thanks is due to Kevin, my kung fu instructor, for all those hours in horse stance that strengthened my legs. After another mile or so I approached the Siphon Draw, a steep, slick section of rock made smooth by years of water washes and foot traffic. It made for a lot of heaving and sweating, but the view from the top was the first opportunity to see the Phoenix valley. Plus it was a good resting point before the two-hour scramble that was about to happen up the steep mountain face.
My father finally caught up to me at the top of the draw, giving me ample time to rest up. After another ten minutes I put my pack back on and began the long ascent alone. About halfway up I had to stop from sheer exhaustion. I was used to climbing Pass Mountain and I love desert trails. But this was easily the most rugged climb I had taken on. I have written earlier about climbing Camelback Mountain. This was like climbing Camelback four times. At one point I had to stop and take a breath, but I had to keep my hands on the mountain just to stay balanced. The good news was that there were no false summits. Nothing can dishearten like busting your ass to get to the top only to find, once you arrive, that you aren't at the top. The last bit before the summit was the most difficult, requiring actual rock climbing. I held onto a tree root sticking out, got a high toe hold and lifted myself and the pack up so that I could see over the rock. Another moment of climbing and I was welcomed by the Hoodoos, the Flat Iron, and a view of the valley from what seemed to be the top of the world. I dropped my pack and waited for dad to arrive, which he did nearly an hour later.
Once my dad finally made it to the summit, we ate a couple sandwiches and began what we thought would be an easy and scenic hike across the long ridge of the mountain. What we got was very different. When they decided to call the trail Ridgeline, they weren't kidding. The trail ran up and down each and every peak along the summit, no matter how steep or rocky. It was definitely an education. We had no idea how far we should go, but we knew the sun would be setting in about three hours so we walked until about four and decided that we had no choice but to set up camp on a windy ridge between two peaks. It was going to be a very cold night.
We set up our camp and broke out the food and wine. As the sun began to set we got the most gorgeous views of the Tonto National Forest. On one side you had Phoenix, huge and sprawling across the entire expanse of the valley. As the sky darkened, the lights of the city came on and flickered in a panoramic scene that one usually only gets to see out the window of an airplane on approach. On the other side you had the Tonto National Forest as far as the eye could see, and I can't tell just how far that was. But at over 6,000 feet I'm betting it was at least a forty mile view.
If you click on the above pic you can get a sense for the kinds of peaks I'm talking about. This one was smaller than most. But if you zoom in, you can see my father near the center making his way down. We must have crossed a dozen of these, and like I said, this was one of the more negotiable.
We got into our sleeping bags early that evening and listened to the wind pounding against the tent. We'd ensured it would stay in place by tying large rocks to the tent at several places. It was comforting, like listening to a downpour from the safety of your bedroom, dry and warm. I woke up several times that night. The altitude had some strange effects on my dreams I think. We got up just before dawn and began to break camp. It had occurred to me that night that in our hurry to get on the trails, I had accidentally placed my car keys in dad's rental car. So we were on our way across the mountain to a car that we had no access to. I would have to call Nina in to come get us. I didn't want to have to involve her, but we had no choice.
We continued along the ridge in disbelief of the unnecessary routes up each and every peak across the ridge. We could much more easily have hiked around the side of these peaks. But the cairns led us up and down, and up and down. It was a good thing that all those cairns were there though. We could have easily lost our way. The ridge is much wider than we had expected in some places. Zig-zagging around the ridge would have added hours to our trip, and we had just realized that we were about two to four liters short of water. The trip down was going to be hot, dry, and miserable.
By the time we reached Carney Springs we were tired and beginning to dehydrate. We rationed out our water and began the long, cactus covered descent. We thought the first part was bad. But then we came to the edge of Superstition from the Carney Springs trail, and were met by a steep, rocky, uneven descent that reminded me of the "stairs" that Gollum led Frodo and Sam up in Lord of the Rings. We just looked at each other and said "fuck it, let's get this over with". This trail just plain sucked from top to bottom. Cactus everywhere, rocky drops, uneven trails, sparse cairns, and full exposure to the elements. It took us nearly two hours to reach the bottom. By then we were both so ragged and dehydrated we could barely walk.
Nina had been waiting for us for a little while at the parking site as we had miscalculated the amount of time it would take us to reach her. But she tried to be pleasant and had brought us loads of fluids and some Lunchables. We stowed our gear and dropped dad off at his car. He should have volunteered to drive me back to my car, but dad becomes like some four year old after these things. He expects everyone to bend over backwards to his every whim and refuses to do anything for anyone. Factor in the way he treats our house like a hotel where Nina and I are merely staff, and you've got one angry Nina. I find it very rude, but at this point, I just can't waste my energy getting shitty. All I can do is try not to be like him.
Nina dropped me off at my car and I drove home. I immediately dropped my clothes and stepped my filthy, sore, stinking body into a hot bath, which was both refreshing and exhausting. The rest of the evening is a blur since I was so tired and recovering from the dehydration. But today, I'm feeling okay. I'm still sore all over, but that's to be expected. I'm young and I'll heal quickly. Dad had a much more difficult time than he'd ever admit and I know that he'll be hurting for weeks. He invited me out to climb Mount Shasta in June. I think I'll pass. I love trailrunning and biking. I want to get to the top of popular peaks as fast as I can to reap the physical rewards. I don't care much for mountain climbing. Dad's just going to have to deal.
All in all I'd say that the trek was a good one. I'm proud of myself for being able to handle the physical rigors, which were far greater than anything I've ever done. The dehydration made things miserable, and the Carney Springs trail will never see me again. But the Siphon Draw is a great and memorable hike, as is the Ridgeline. Unfortunately, the only way to hike the ridgeline is to climb the mountain on one side and then go down the other. The Peralta trail is a more favorable trail to take down, about one mile past the Carney Springs. I'll try that someday. But this was likely the only time I'll ever climb Superstition. Still, I stare at that mountain every day on my way to work. And now I can look at it and know that even the highest, steepest and most treacherous trail in the area, maybe the state, was not above my abilities. It's inspriting and humbling at the same time.
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