Total Mileage: 193.7
I woke up feeling like I was in a skiff slowly taking on water. Every corner of my tent had a puddle and my sleeping bag was soaked completely.
I left at 6 am excited to reach Doc Campbell’s Outpost, resupply, and start the next leg of this hike; The Grand Enchantment Trail. It was raining as I started, and I followed the wrong trail through high grass for a while until the rain stopped. I pulled my phone out and realized I was half a mile off trail. Normally not too bad, I had just gone on the wrong side of a huge ravine and I couldn’t descend it.
A couple barbed wire fence jumps and I was back on trail. This was the Gila River Alternate and I could continue on it but with all the rain lately, the river was high and moving pretty good. It wasn’t something I wanted to deal with. So I chose the Gila High Route instead.
There was a 3 mile forest road to follow to begin with and this was a good time to check the beta on Doc Campbell’s. I looked at the comments. Doc’s closed at 4 on weekdays and was completely closed on Wednesdays. It was 10 am on Tuesday and I was 36 miles away. There was no point in going there now so I needed to adjust my game plan.
I had somehow downloaded an alternate route of the Grand Enchantment Trail that started north of Doc’s and that at the time seemed like the right move to make. I would peel off the high route, go up and over Loco Mountain, cross the Gila River. From there get into the Clayton Mesa Trail, which would lead to Turkey Feather Pass, over a few 10,000 footers and arrive on the Holt Apache Trail. I would then take this to the West Fork River Trail, South Fork River Trail, to the White water Trail and onto Highway 180 and into Alma, AZ. Seemed like it would work, right? I stopped for an hour plus and dried all my stuff and did an inventory of my food. I had enough to make it to Alma and I should be there in 3 days.
NO markings at all, thousands of blow-downs, the trail underneath was burned down to rock so I could make out the trail. So much over growth I had no I idea where the trail was. It was raining hard and it was starting to become the most frustrating and angry hiking situation I’d ever experienced. Over 17,000 trail miles and the Holt Apache Trail was demoralizing me. At a certain point it hailed and I thought it couldn’t get any worse. It was at that point something caught my foot and I fell face first into the mud. There was a barbed wire fence lying across the trail, the only human thing on the entire section.
I eventually made it down to the West Fork River. The trail was flat going along it and easier to follow. I was in a canyon now and when the walls came right to the river the trail would switch to the other side. I must have crossed this water 30 times. By 6 I could see my breath and it was starting to get cold. I was completely soaking wet and I knew sleeping in temps under 40 we’re in hypothermia world.
I noticed a cavern that over hung near the river and dry beach sand underneath. There were some sticks and leaves and I decided at 6:30, with under 18 miles in for the the day, to stop here and start a fire. I never make fires and I’ve never made one out of necessity, but tonight I did. I was able to pitch my tent close enough to dry it and get everything from completely soaking wet to damp wet. The best I could do.
I shivered all night in my bag, only moving when it became too uncomfortable in one position. Waking up early wasn’t going to happen. I just knew no matter what happened the next day, I needed to make it to Alma.
I had 10-ish miles to get to the highway. Tough to pack up so cold and wet, but I was on the trail by 8.
Crisscrossing the South Fork River another two dozen times, the canyon started to open up. I was following orange ribbons that indicated where to cross the river and eventually they stopped. I thought I was on trail as I started ascending higher until I was up on top of a mountain. I figured I could descend off the Western side and get back to where I thought the trail was. No luck. That side was a another huge canyon where the Whitewater River joins the South Fork, with 200 foot rock walls, and I couldn’t go back the way I came up. That, as well, was also too sketchy.
I had no choice but to go off the North side; butt sliding and down-climbing a 500 foot dried out ravine to the White water River, cross it and climb 50 feet up to the White Water Trail.
After that fun-filled hour, I made it to the Gold Rush Trail, switch backed up to the top and saw the fresh pavement of the highway in all its glory. After hopping a barbed wire fence I was there, and I was spent. I had 3 miles or so to Alma. However, that was heading west and after that the trail (route) continued to the west. If it was anything like what I had just been through I wasn’t looking forward to it.
If I headed south, I would go through a “town” called Glenwood. From there it was only 10 miles of road, south to the original G.E.T. route I was going to do. There was also a trading post and stone cottages for rent. I had only done 10 miles at this point, but all I wanted was a dry bed and shitty television. By 5 pm I was in a bed watching the Golden Girls (satellite only had 4 channels).
The owner told me the weather isn’t normally like this in October. This was August monsoon weather. He gave me the handicapped unit which, given my state, was probably the right move. No stairs!
I laid everything out on the ramp out front and just dumped my pack upside down. I Hung my bag, which had clumps of feathers on each corner of it, and laid out my tent and everything else. I Ate 2 Hot Pockets, 2 burritos, a Big AZ chicken sandwich and took a hot MF shower. Watched some more Golden Girls and passed out.
I had a 100 mile road walk ahead of me, which would go into Arizona. I couldn’t believe I was walking into the state I started in less than 5 months ago. The following day I arrived in Safford, AZ after doing a 45 mile day. I wanted to pull a 50 but I needed to resupply and charge my stuff. Also, I thought maybe I could use the rest before making my way to the Arizona Trail.
Yet again, I had no idea what I was in for…
Out of Safford, I had 12 miles of desert road walk. From there, I peeled into the Pinaleno Mountains. The route brought me up through Ash Creek, which was a 7 mile uphill canyon. It was hard. No real trail to follow, just the occasional rock Cairns, but other than that, nothing. It was slow.
Sometimes it was not possible to continue through the canyon, so I would have to hike out and around a section. At one point, it began to rain and hail and not wanting to pull out my phone so it wouldn’t get wet, I followed what I thought was the trail. It wasn’t. By the time the hail stopped and I looked at my location I was up on top of a rock ridge that continued to get more narrow and more sketchy. I was bouldering at this point and the rocks were slippery. I was hoping to get to the top of this and cut over to the route. I realized that this was not good. To fall now would be the end. On either side. I had to carefully butt slide down, stretch my legs out to the next ledge, but not to jump down, too afraid I would accidentally knock myself down the mountain.
I eventually made it to a flat spot, removed rocks, and had just enough space to pitch my tent. 7 miles in 7 hours. It was dark and I was cold and wet. At this point I would be happy to be out of this section in 3 days at 20 miles a day. I wasn’t sure of the distance, it seemed somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 miles.
The next morning I found the route and made my way out of the canyon by 10am. A 4-mile road walk was a nice change.
On to Clark Peak Trail. Yes, actually a trail… with rain and hail. This lead to an open area of route creation. Sharp brambles, cactus, and high grass left me cut and scratched all over my hands and legs. It was too hot now to wear pants and the brambles poke through them anyway. The high grass made the hiking sketchy because underneath were sharp rocks and a lot of them. By 9:30 I was spent and had done 30 miles.
193.7 to end the week. The first week not over 200 miles. It was so hard. A dry river bed near Indian spring was where I cowboy camped.
