Week five, Arizona Trail

Well I made it to Superior after what I'd qualify as the toughest week on the trail to date. Two people had told me that the Four Peaks section of the AZT was the hardest of all. There was a woman about my age, who had thru-hiked the AZT last spring, that I met at the aid station for ultra-marathon trail runners north of Flagstaff, a couple of weeks earlier, who said that much of the trail was barely visible, consisted of loose scree and verged on downright dangerous. Then there was a girl I met while putting out a water cache at Mills Ridge, the southeastern prong of Four Peaks, just the week before. She was out of water, desperately thirsty and so covered with scratches she looked liked she'd been scourged at the pillar. I gave her a gallon of water and Zoe, the poodle pup, gave her love. She thanked us and told me that the last few days had been "the hardest of my life".

I actually came off of Four Peaks feeling pretty good, but reached my personal low point (topographically and psychologically) at the end of the day on Monday, the 23rd of October. A few weeks earlier I’d called up the Roosevelt Lake Marina, conveniently located between the Four Peaks and the Superstition ranges, to see if a) they would accept and hold a supply package for me and b) if I could get a hot meal, shower, etc there, before heading up over the Superstitions. The woman on the other end of the line assured me “yes” on all counts, and described in detail how one could buy a burger, dog or brat from the bar, then cook it on an outdoor grill overlooking the water; they'd provide the condiments and there was lots of cold beer to wash it down with. My mouth was already watering and the dream of a hot meal and a cold brew helped sustain me all the way out of the Mazatzals, across and down Four Peaks, where my animo was still holding out well. I trudged those final few miles of AZ highway 188 to the Roosevelt Marina only to find an empty parking lot in front of a long floating pier that went out to a very dead looking dock complex. There was a call box at the top of the pier, so I pushed the button, and a male voice answered.  I told him I was a hiker who had a re-supply package to pick up. A few minutes later a golf cart cruised up the pier and a grey-ponytailed dude who introduced himself as the watchman told me to get on board. We drove back down the pier to the floating bar, he unlocked a storeroom and brought out my package (thank God for that!) and when I asked what the deal was with the bar he said "closed for the season. Yah, funny thing; nicest time of year and they shut 'er down. You'd think people would be all over this place now, but they just like it when its hotter than hell". So between the time I'd talked to the lady on the phone and my arrival, the place had closed up shop. Damn! My heart and my stomach sank. I thought that at least I might be able to get a shower, he said "no, but you can take a swim in the lake". Great. That beautiful dream that had sustained me since the Mt Peeley trailhead “se hizo humo” (went up in smoke) as they say. To add insult to injury, when I asked the guy if there was a place I could camp, he took me to a patch of dirt on the shore of the lake with a cloud of flies over it. Well, you gotta grin and bear some of these things I told myself, but this was pretty ugly. I called Janice and lamented my fate to her, then actually tried calling a taxi in Globe to see if I could get a ride to a motel and a restaurant there, but the line was perpetually busy. I gave up, ate my freeze dried chicken fajita bowl dinner (yuck), cleaned up, crawled into my tent, read for a while and then drifted off to sleep. At 2:30 AM things got worse...a lot worse. I was awakened to the rustling of a family of skunks trying to get into my pack and my tent. After some prolonged and delicate negotiations, I convinced them to move on (with no olfactory consequences) after which I pulled up stakes and moved on to the paved, mostly empty, RV and truck parking lot up the hill, where I spent the remainder of the night sleeping fitfully under bright lights that I thought would discourage nocturnal intruders. I was too exhausted to think about what to do next.

Dawn of October 24th brought a beautiful cool morning and hope. After my usual oatmeal and hot cocoa, I packed up, crossed AZ 188 and pressed on up into Cottonwood Creek, which led deep into the eastern end of the Superstition Mountains and some of the prettiest country I’d seen yet. I saw javelina, a bobcat and found a wonderful spring. However, that night was another unpleasant one, this time spent on a ridge top in a windstorm (mea culpa). Wednesday, October 25th took me up over Reavis Gap, through the headwaters of Pine Creek and then dropped me gently into Reavis Creek. And its a funny thing, but after all the country I'd covered since early September, this was my favorite spot on the hike (outside of the Grand Canyon). Its in the middle of the Superstitions and practically in my back yard! When I entered that magical little valley I felt like I'd stumbled inadvertantly through the door of paradise. It's got all the things I've come to love on this trip: running water, beautiful meadows and a landscape unscarred by major forest fires. My body and soul breathed a huge sigh of relief as I reclined in the shade of a big old sycamore tree and drifted off to sleep, soaking up beauty and tranquility and recharging my batteries for the hike out of the mountains and into the desert.