The Wretched Rebar

 10-26 

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This morning was a leisurely affair, as it always is in this household. We started with coffee (tea for me) on the patio, then migrated inside for an egg, potato, sausage, bacon, and cheese scramble after an hour of conversation. Another hour or two of conversation later, it occurred to me that I would need to get on the road soon if I wanted to beat the searing Phoenix heat. So, a bit reluctantly, I packed Jane up.

I cranked the motor over with equal mixtures of trepidation and hope. But Jane fired right up and sounded right as rain. No drama today, then, at least for now. I said my goodbyes and puttered down the driveway, but not without looking back. Bryan and Hottie – my “Colorado parents” – have always been such a wonderful, positive, supporting force in my life. I’m lucky to know so many people like this. But it’s always hard to leave.

Nevertheless, Jane and I had plans for the day, so leave we did. I navigated Phoenix’s vast network of highways with the help of Google, and then we were roaring down I-17 towards Tucson, free of the city if not the traffic. A short (and most importantly, uneventful) 1.5 hours later, we arrived at our destination: Picacho Peak.

Ahhhh, giant open highways all to myself

Picacho Peak in the distance to the right, a thorny crown of... well, you'll see

This place was supposed to be cooler than both Phoenix and Tucson, but somehow still managed to be a scorching 97*F when I arrived. Ugh. The ranger walked me through my options – basically just two trails, which led up to the summit in a 7-mile traverse – and I found myself glad I hadn’t come in the night before as I had originally planned. I suspect I would have spent a lot of time sitting outside in the sun.

It was nearing 1:30PM, so I loaded up on water and headed to the Hunter trailhead. The Hunter trail is 1.6 miles long, one-way, with a stout 1300’ elevation gain. The ranger warned me it would be steep and difficult, but it couldn’t be worse than Flat Iron was, so I wasn’t worried about a strenuous hike in the heat. No time like the present, especially when the present is the rapidly-approaching hottest part of the day, on a highly exposed steep sunny mountain!

What I found is that this trail is, in fact, way worse than Flat Iron.

The hike up to the Saddle – about 2/3rds of the way up the mountain – was hot but pleasant, with cool views and a neat self-guided geology tour. The afternoon timing actually worked for me here, as part of the mountain was in shadow which limited temperatures. It was an average (but steep), nice well-worn dirt trail.

A neat breccia

The end of the shady part... Saddle lies just ahead

But upon reaching the Saddle, I found that a madman had taken over.  A madman, it turns out, with far more rebar and steel cable than patience and trail engineering acumen.

First, the trail took a steep (and totally unnecessary) 400’ dive down a slippery rock face.

 

Mostly you just slide down this on your butt when you're going down

Oh good, "stairs"!

The worst-engineered "stair" I've ever seen, complete with 8 or 9 pieces of randomly staked rebar

Then, it jinked around to the south before ascending precipitously, bulling its way across the mountain with liberal use of rebar, steel cable handholds, and on occasion fence netting where cables were deemed insufficient to keep hikers on the mountain.

The cliffy side of the mountain...

...and the means by which you ascend it

Looking down a cable handrail... exactly as steep as it looks

A cool saguaro-filled bowl near the top of the mountain. Also, one of the few places where you could walk on a normal trail

Watching some hikers climbing back down this... whatever it is

Looking up the "whatever it is", mostly just a 30' long crack with cables run up it for some reason

Looking down on the saguaro bowl

Looking down on The Crack (lol)

Another piece of the trail with a strategically placed 2x6 for extra walking space

It was absurd. I mean, I’m not afraid of heights – and I’ve got Zion’s Angel’s Landing hike under my belt to prove it – but every minute of that hike had me questioning whether I really wanted to continue. Did I really want to trust my full weight to cables installed by a madman? The answer was definitely no. But as always, persistence won out over common sense (a trait I had in common with the madman, I guess), and I hauled my way up to the top of that damn mountain for some admittedly pretty cool views.

Looking down the spine of the mountain

A picturesque saguaro

Neat drainages in the foreground, blue mountains marching to the horizon in the back

I don't know what this mountain is called, but I sure looked at it a lot

The same mountain, but this time with a massive train for scale

A super long train!

But then I had to go back down. Let me tell you, it is a special kind of hell to be climbing backwards, with no visibility of your next steps, using cables to support your entire weight – and doing it very quickly, because of course the cables are ripping hot because they’re metal and it’s sunny and nearly 100*F out. Boy howdy that was NOT fun. But it did have the effect of getting me down from that section 4x faster than I had gone up.

Pretty in the afternoon sunlight though, as long as I tried really hard to forget about all the rebar

Eventually I reached the Saddle and the shady side of the mountain, somehow without mishap. I sat down for a bit, in part to consider my life choices. But in part to wait for my campsite, which I could see, to start to fall into shadow. Might as well stay in the shade on the side of the mountain instead of setting up camp in the blistering sun.

After a while, I decided the sun was low enough and I proceeded down the rest of the mountain, my knees screaming the whole way. I have really done a number on them the past couple weeks. But hey, I’m getting to the end of my trip, so what’s a little more for the sake of a few last great views?

The best view of all

My campsite proved to be another great view, even if I could see the interstate from it.

Boy, that is RED

As night fell, I watched the saguaros darken to inky silhouettes against the vivid orange and indigo sky.

The trails might have been designed by a madman, but the campground certainly hadn’t. I sat out in my camp chair long after night fell, the Milky Way rising and wheeling through that wide-open sky that I love so well, an endless scroll of the heavens, tantalizing flashes of far-away unreachable realms. Moments like these are few and far between, especially as the human world continues to expand. But for now, it is perfect. Even if I can still hear the interstate.

Kelly signing out.