a 20 mile, 2 day backpack into the heart of the Superstition Wilderness, plus assorted recipes and miscellaneous philosophic ramblings.
For tips of lost gold mines please skip this section. Any tale
concerning the Lost Dutchman, who was not Dutch, has been
divorced so far from reality, that it requires something akin to
religion for belief. The real treasure in the Superstition
Mountains is how it places you in perspective. The real
treasure is a morsel of that quality termed "wilderness" . The
real treasure is intangible, yet more valuable than gold, fools
or otherwise. The 'Supes have a charm. From the highway, the
somber brown and yellow cliffs appear rather benign. A lush
green drainage upon close inspection reveals an impenetrable
hedge of skin-ripping acacia cat claw. People either
underestimate the rigors of the 'Supes or over-estimate their
abilities. Whatever the source of the gap, its presence spells
TROUBLE for the unprepared. If you enter without water, without
a map, without a first-aid kit, without telling someone where
you have gone, you have entered without respect for this place.
Okay, if you have persisted through the gloom & doom, the fun starts. An experience in the Supes cleanses the soul inside to out. The office desk will never be quite the same after a night sleeping under the stars, serenaded by the song of an ephemeral creek doomed to wither by May. Kodak cannot do justice to the vibrant yellow of brittle bush or the delicate magenta of the lowly hedgehog cactus.
One finds no lack of hiking guides for the Supes. However, these tired tomes read as dry as a June noon in Boulder Canyon:
"...... the main trail #167 heads steeply downhill 0.25 miles. It continues ahead a very short distance and crosses Needle Canyon wash at point GK-9. From this wash, the trail gradually climbs 0.75 miles through an area of brush to a junction with Trail #190. From this junction proceed due east ...."Zzzzzzzzzzz. Oh excuse me, the excitement overwhelms. Even the venerable Ed Abbey fails to inspire with his tale of a hike up Peralta Trail, the Interstate of trails in the 'Supes. He probably wrote it without even getting out of his car. Might have even been as he was looking out his window on the way to Tucson . And Abbey promulgates false descriptions of [Pauline- a mountain man!] Weaver's Needle
Bristles my geological sense of
justice. "it is made entirely of volcanic rock,"... Okay to
here.." mostly basalt" WRONG!! - The nearest basalt is Black
Mesa, a few canyons northwest, "and according to geologists it
is actually the eroded remnant of a volcanic neck or plug-
solidified magma having long since been completely eroded out of
existence..." Name your geologists, Abbey, for he/she is a
shaman. The base of the Needle is fragmental, a "breccia" in
geo-jargonese, formed at the base or margins of a thick lava
flow, crumpling, bulldozing up the underlying surface into a
carpet of rubble. Pinnacles near Kayenta, Arizona, Shiprock in
New Mexico, Devils Tower in Wyoming; those are volcanic necks.
Stick your neck out again, Ed. Of many great hikes in the Supes,
here I share one to a lesser trampled region. Yes, you will
encounter humans, but they, being of like mind, pass quietly
along the trail, and a gentle nod of understanding. The
starting point is from the Tortilla Trailhead. Follow the
Apache Trail, Arizona Highway 88, from Apache Junction.
The glory (and irony) in the 'Supes is that they owe their existence to a time of fire and explosion, born of volcanos by eruptions on a scale unknown to modern times. Makes Mount St Helens look like a mouse fart. Geologist Mike Sheridan, formerly a professor at Arizona State University, has written several guides that interpret the geo-history as seen from the Apache Trail. However in using Mike's guides, have the driver keep their eyes on the road. The rocks of the Superstition Mountains record volcanic activity from about 22 million to 15 million years ago. Isn't easy how those figures just roll of the tongue as if we piddly humans could really fathom what a million years is like. Time on that scale is like light beyond our limited range of vsion, and sound outside the ranges of our ears- humnas have a rather narrow slot of wavelengths on the electromagnetic spectrum. The volcanoes that made the 'Supes include massive flows of pasty chunky lava that rolled like a slow tracor tread, immense volumes of ash exploded into the stratosphere, glowing avalanches of hot pumice screaming down the slopes, humongous landslides and shattering earthquakes. All of this tied to the interaction of dancing continents slamming into what is now California.
So follow the tortuous highway 88 (beware of creeping RVs, mondo pickups dragging power boats, and rental car loads of blue hair biddies- all dinosaurs begging for extinction) The road climbs among the tumbled blocks of rhyolite tuff (pale yellow) and lava (brown to black), past Canyon Lake, past Tortilla Flats (last place for "civilization" - a general store, a restaurant, flush toilets, a historical spot that dates back to the 80's... 1980 that is). Beware of tourists cruising at sub-tortoise pace. After crossing Tortilla Creek, sometimes flowing across the road, climb several more hairpin twists and a long upgrade, finally offering a fantastic view to the northernmost of Four Peaks, crown of the Mazatzal Mountains. About 4 miles past Tortilla Flats, the pavement ends (and the world begins). Within 2 miles is a parking area on the right for the Tortilla Trailhead.
The hike follows a jeep trail 3 miles south from here to the abandoned ranches of Tortilla Headquarters. (So ask, why are there so many Tortillas around here?). A tough 4 wheel drive vehicle can make the hike shorter. Do not even consider taking your passenger car up that first slope. The first half mile is the worst, with deep ruts, and 15 inch ledges to pounce up. I enjoy watching the parade of vehicles who attempt this road and end up backing out after a few whining attempts. Strange definitions of "recreation" floating around out there. The road is a nice walk, and two legged drive offers non-polluting views that one misses while jolting the bones in a 4 by 4. The real trip does not even start until you leave the machines long behind. Give yourself six bonus miles for walking in and out the road.
On this day in February, I am at the trailhead with friend Uwe (pronounced "ooh -vey") and his dog. "Huskie" is a Malamute, and in Arizona probably as far as possible from his Alaskan heritage. This has been a winter of intense rain in Arizona, so we expect to find many flowing creeks. Even the Salt River has been running through downtown Phoenix, looking for anything like the river that once watered he fields of the Hohokam people rather than the industrial regulated faucet that supplies golf greens in the Sonoran desert. The first 1/2 mile of the jeep trail is steep and rocky, but then levels out, and eventually begins to drop in elevation. We are passed by more than one urban assault vehicle loaded with khaki-clad humanoids. To the east is a contorted landscape of eroded yellow volcanic tuff, swirly drainages winding their way to the dramatic Fish Creek Canyon. Last time up here I was inspected by a pack of 15 snorty, musky, javelina, and not long after was swooped by an owl with an immense wingspan. We are hiking parallel to Fish Creek gorge, itself a fantastic hike of trail-less hiking worthy of its own story or two. To the west, Tortilla Creek snakes through a deep slot, and ahead we see that we will drop down toward this flowing creek. The rough jumbled mountains beyond Tortilla Creek, represent some of the younger volcanos in the 'Supes.
At ~2.0 miles we drop into a wider valley, to some old building foundations and rusted fences of an abandoned ranch. A windmill's immobile blades are corroded with silent history. Uwe remarks about the folks leaving "football goalposts" which I almost believe until seeing that they are remnants of supports for a barn Smart-ass German got me!. We pass a few parked trucks, campsites marked by trash. This is hunting season, and later we are warned to "watch out" for these weekend warriors. Actually, we are hoping that they are doing the looking out. Within another 1/2 mile are more old foundations. At its end of the jeep trail, we face the choice of two trails. We follow the trail to the southeast, and plan to do a loop and come out on the other trail.
We cross the Wilderness boundary, and the jeep trail begins its evolutionary descent to a plain trail. Real pity, eh? This is trail #106, the JF trail, which crosses the Supes northwest to southeast, and offers access to the marvelous Rogers Canyon. Under increasing solar intensity, we climb a low ridge and dream of the other trail which had lookled as though it wound along a shaded flowing creek. A bit over 1/2 mile from the end of the jeep trail, we pass an old fence, reaching a junction with trail #111, the "Hoolie Bacon" trail. Uwe and I have amusement all weekend trying to guess who ole "Hoolie" was, and later in the trip this is our rallying cry as we climb the steeper stretches. Over our shoulder to the north, is a fantastic view of the jumbled rough area of Fish Creek, and the southernmost of Four Peaks, standing guard. Fish Creek Canyon follows the course of a fault, an area where the crust of the earth has fractured and slid against itself. This fault is along the margin of a "caldera", a circular or elliptical collapse structure that develops as large amounts of volcanic magma are ejected rapidly from below. West of this caldera margin are flat lying layered units that underlie the route of AZ88 beyond Tortilla Flats. These are mostly "breccias" formed from mudflows, landslides that cascaded down the walls of a caldera and filling the depression. Along the First Water Trail, one can even find the remnants of mudcracks and imprints of old rains drops into similar rocks. Unsure of prevalent use of "Tortilla" for naming places around here, we guess it is from the resemblance in these flat lying yellowish rocks. Don't try to roll them up.
Onward, we follow ole Hoolie Bacon's route, as it descends into Tortilla Creek. We chose to set up camp in the valley near the juncture of Tortilla Creek and the one in Cedar Basin Canyon. These creeks span the sides of a 400 foot symmetrical hill that has the shape of an Amazon sized sized Hershey Kiss. A poorly marked trail follows Tortilla Creek to the southeast- Hoolie's trail has many good sized cairns as markers. We found a rather decent supply of wood for our fire that night. A word on water- it's clear, but does it have tiny nasties that can turn your weekend into a bowel massacre? Err on the safe side, boil it, iodine it, or filter it.
Now for a culinary tangent. For me, good food is essential part of the trip. A curse on Spam or Vienna Sausage, or the ever resonating sound of "Imitation Potted Beef Food Product". On a short trip such as this one, where pleasant weather does not require carrying many clothes, we can afford to pack in fresh meat and/or veggies. On the other hand, I have been experimenting with food ideas for longer trips where watching the pack weight is essential. On this trip, Uwe has taken the former approach, and I have taken the latter. I now turn the stage over to him as he tells of his dinner plan....
Alan and I had agreed that we were going to eat well on this trip, so I decided to try something with healthy white meat and fresh vegetables. I kept it simple, since you can't get too fancy with a single burner camping stove, and both Alan and I liked the outcome of my experiment. This stuff will feed two very hungry hikers and (hopefully) make them happy campers. In order to comply with the rules for giving geological names, I call this dish:
Cooking in camp: Can be done on a single burner camping stove. Light the stove and place cooking oil in a 1.5 to 2 quart pan. Put veggies in first and let simmer for 5-10 minutes with the lid on the pan. Stir occasionally. Add marinated chicken and continue to simmer for another 5-10 minutes. Stir again, and add spices.
To bridge the cooking time for hikers on or past the brink of starvation, I served cheese and crackers as an appetizer. For desert, I brought fresh fruit (apples and bananas) which is no problem on a short trip like this. So if you like an alternative to the usual franks and beans, give this a try! It is simple and quick to prepare, and lends itself to modifications. Guten Appetit!
We descend into Horse Camp Basin, a fairly open mile wide space. It sure feels good to be going downhill. At 10:30 AM, the Arizona sun is omnipresent. The broad mesa to the west is Music Mountain, showing light yellow layers of volcanic tuff and darker lava. On south facing slopes we find pristine giants of saguaro cacti. Toward the valley bottom we lose the trail at a creek crossing, but its easy to see that the creek will follow south to Herman Mountain. We come across a deep, cool, pool that begs for immersion. Huskie has learned to take advantage of every source of water, and here, he is in canine heaven. As we lounge around, a pink and yellow ultralight flies overhead; the view must be great, but I would not want to be flying above all of these jagged rocks and sharpened cactus in a lawnmower powered kite.
Moving on, we pass a narrow, dark canyon on the east- this must be Trap Canyon; from there we pick up our trail again. Its narrow, but well beaten, and not all that difficult to guess where it should go. The route climbs a bit, rounding the east side of Herman Mountain, before descending down into La Barge Canyon. (Hey, did Herman know Hoolie?) Across the rockier stretches the trail is usually marked with small cairns. We reach a signed junction: the Red Tanks trail #107, and sadly say goodbye to Hoolie Bacon's trail.
Above the route are deep blood-red cliffs of strongly oxidized lava, overlain by now familiar yellow tuffs. Soon we pass a small prospect pit, where some fool probably named Hoolie hacked away a hole about 12 feet deep. Its surrounded by a fence, and against the wall are some rusted tools. I assume the owner is in Switzerland enjoying his wealth. We are walking east entering a narrow chasm, the Upper La Barge Box. About 200 feet below is the mad torrent of a creek. The trail clings high to the north canyon wall, and we gaze in jealousy at some campers down near the water, beneath the sycamore trees. Be patient and stay on the trail, and eventually it brings you to the creek. Follow the creek upstream (east) for some nice campsites. The trail crosses over and quickly crosses back again. While eating lunch by the creek, I am making a note of the peaceful bliss, when a helicopter comes thundering down La Barge canyon. Looking for another waterless, tennis-shoe clad fool to rescue.
This is nice and easy hiking, and soon the tall cliffs retreat. We are dropping more in elevation, and the cute Teddy Bear Cholla are suddenly everywhere. Trail #238, Whiskey Springs trail, merges in from the south. This is a good dayhike from the Peralta Trailhead past Miner's Needle and into La Barge Canyon. Over the next two miles, we sometimes are adjacent to the creek, sometimes in it, and sometimes long from it. In the cliffs to the north are funnel shaped dark rock units marking the lavas filling their volcanic vents. Look to the north also, and keep an eye out for a huge cave, which makes for an interesting detour. Then, trail #104, the Dutchman's Trail, wanders down from the south. This offers another route back to Peralta trailhead. For whatever geographic reason, this name takes over for the Red Tanks trail. Crossing the north side of the creek, we walk under an immense thick canopy of willow and ash trees, a beautiful grassy spot occupied by about 12 men and boys. Nearby is La Barge Spring, one of the more reliable water sources in these parts. That might not be saying much.
Its late in the afternoon when we reach the juncture with Peter's Trail. Uwe and I agreed that we would be in much better shape for tomorrow's hike if we climbed this to Peter's Mesa and then down into the canyon on the other side. I think both of us would have rather quit, but up we went. The trail is not all so distinct, but count on it winding upward. Rounding the east side of a knob, I spot in the drainage below an old rock wall. It does not look like an Indian structure, and I guess it was some prospector's attempt to store spring runoff. The grade finally eases up, but still winds its way north. It takes a sharp turn to the right (you almost feel like you are going in a circle) before descending into Peter's Canyon. This creek ultimately joins Tortilla Creek, flowing across the road past Tortilla Flats, before contributing meagerly to Canyon Lake.
Its just about dark as we begin preparation for camp. This day was about ten and a half miles, compounded by the ups and downs. Our first order of business is gathering deadwood for the fire. A problem here is the lack of trees! However, we find numerous stalks of the century plant. Be conservative with how much you burn. The stalks burn easy but quickly- the inside is a soft, fibrous sponge. We find a nice grassy spot just west of the creek. Perhaps "find" is not the appropriate word since the area is littered by flotsam and jetsam of previous campers- an abandoned tent sack, a discarded propane tank, plastic bags, and used cans. Tonight is my "dry" dinner...
This is not a formal recipe and easily yields to creative substitution...
After treating water, bring about 3 cups to boil. Add tortellini, mushrooms. Cook until almost done, set aside with lid. In second pan, melt butter with seasonings. Add milk. When warm, slowly stir in alfredo mix. Slowly add meat. When all is warm (but not bubbling madly), return noodles to mix. Eat when you cannot wait any longer!
Following Peter's Trail southeast, we zig zag the creek a few times, before heading north. The cliff to our left shows a bowl shaped body of layered volcanic ash, the type that are formed when hot magma explosively interacts with water. In geology, this is called a tuff ring. From the base of the cliff, look for a subtle, low, grey ridge that twists up along the cliff, a "dike" of lava which injected itself long ago, and few some of the dark lavas at the top of the cliffs.
The trail says goodbye to Peters Creek, and we trudge up a steep stretch, but not as long as the climb yesterday from La Barge Canyon. Upon reaching a saddle, and a long ago abandoned corral, we gaze northeast across Horse Camp Basin, where the previous day we walked the opposite side. Capping the cliff on the left are yellow spires, erodes remnants of volcanic tuff that look like the fingers of old Jacob Walz himself. We also see Tortilla Peak, a yellow cone of tuff, which looks nothing like a tortilla! Oh well. The trail follows a slightly uphill grade for about a mile. It then drops sharply down, ignoring any call for switchbacks. The going is rocky and very slippery. About halfway down, the springs start kicking in, and we begin to cross many pools. We reach a series of springs- Kane Spring, Indian Spring, etc. In places I see a buried length of 3/4 inch pipe, which does not look all that old. Someone had rigged up a pipeline, possible for the abandoned ranches at the trailhead.
We reach the bottom, and follow a beautiful canyon of Tortilla Creek, wandering between some low cliffs. The creek bottom is lush riparian green in many places, others have numerous stands of bare naked peeling sycamore trees. Some places would be easily confused with Aravaipa Canyon. The trail disappears in quite a few places, but the creek is always the right direction to follow. Some crossings are very very deep pools- but look for alternate routes before wading too deep. This stretch is perhaps only 1.5 miles long, but its beauty is much longer. We finally exit near an abandoned windmill and a rusted, graffiti clad water tank. This is the end of the journey, as we have reached the jeep trail back toward our car. Its a long 3 miles out, with not many words spoken, but many a good feeling from an experience in the 'Supes. If you choose to go, give my regards to Hoolie Bacon.