09/07/26
It was raining when I left town. Couldn't see much. Apple Valley, Colorado City, Fredonia. I drove through these places in a haze, gazing upon them through the rain-splattered chaos of my windshield. Hardly anyone out and about. Not a whole lotta drivers on the road. Just gray skies, heavy droplets, saturated desert.
And then I hit an incline and began the long ascent up the road to Jacob Lake and the rain dissipated for the time being, the heavy stuff hovering off to the west. On and on I drove, sunlight filtering through the clouds, stately pines scattered around like people at an amusement park with no sense of want or feeling.
Reached a junction, stayed on the main highway, utilized the engine break, coasted out of the pines, out of the mountains, down into the desert. The rain was mostly gone by now, all of it far away in the west. Nothin' but scattered clouds and open road and the simple perfume of the desert after a hard rain, a fresh aroma permeating from the earth, in the air, in my nose, everywhere, all the time.
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| Vermillion Cliffs |
Drove by the Vermillion Cliffs. Saw the Cliff Dweller Stone Houses, empty and cold. Drove across the Colorado River, heading south, the late afternoon light bouncing off everything, playing tricks on the mind. More damp desert, more aromatics.
Threw an old mixtape in the CD player. Jammed out all the way through the reservation, stopping at the Highway 89 "Yummy Shack" for a quick bite. No windows, no doors. Just some wooden posts and plywood and a few benches. Got me some frybread. Honey, cinnamon, the works. Ordered me a "Navajo Taco" as well: more frybread, chili, cheese, lettuce, tomato. Greasy fare. Greasy hands. A beverage was included with the order; I grabbed it out of an ice chest. RC Cola. Haven't had one of those in a long time. Maybe ever. I don't know.
And there was this middle-aged guy loafin' around and he left in his truck and came back five minutes later with more RC Cola and dumped it in the ice chest and the ladies sat in camp chairs and talked about something I couldn't hear and then a local guy pulled up on a smokin' blue motorcycle. "Lot of cops out today" he said. "Oh, so you can't ride fast anymore?" said one of the ladies. "Naw," he said, "too many cops, too many flock cameras too, they even got one down by the Chevron." And I swear, just as he finished saying that, a person got pulled over right next to the shack, flashing lights and everything.
And the guy ordered a "Navajo Burger" to go and he chatted with the ladies and the grandma lady was cookin' up everything in the back and the guy waited for the cop to leave and he hopped on his smokin' blue motorcycle and slowly, casually, pulled out of the dirt and onto the highway, destination unknown.
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| Humphreys Peak |
I ate in an unhurried, leisurely manner. Felt the wind blowing across the desert, the post-rain fragrance bombarding my nasal cavity. People came and went. Local kids. Local families. Traveling families. Husband and wife and baby drove all the way from Minnesota or Michigan or something in a camper van. "Long way from home" said one of the ladies. "Yep, sure are!" said the wife.
And everyone was extremely nice there and the food, grease and all, was delicious. I finished my RC Cola and started heading out, but then one of the ladies struck up a conversation and I chatted for a little bit. Where you from? What do you do? Where are you going? Easy conversational tidbits like that. Told her I was gonna hike up the big mountain over there, "Mt. Humphreys I think is what it's called," in the morning. "Oh," she said. "Make sure to bring lots of water. Don't want to get dehydrated." "Ahh, yes." I said. "Will do."
And then the sun started to set and I drove on out of there, up the road, Mt. Humphreys looming on the horizon. Sun down, night approaching; I made a sharp right and drove off the highway down a dirt road, bumpy, bumpy, dusty. Dark now, headlights guiding the way. Pulled into a dirt parking lot; only a couple of other vehicles posted up there. Set up my pad and bag, read a single page of Moby Dick, and that did the trick—I was out.
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| Weatherford Trail |
Silent morning, simple sunshine. Time to get up. Had a long day ahead of me. And that was by choice. Decided to take the long way to the top. Didn't have to do that. In fact, it was a pretty bad idea. I only had my weekend to do as much as possible and hikin' up to Arizona's highest point the long way would eat up quite a bit of said weekend. Wouldn't be able to do as much as I wanted. But that's ok. That was part of the plan.
You see, I wanted to take the long way. It's the respectful way; the only way were one can appreciate the mountain for what it is. You get a feel for the mountain. You get more of the story. You see more of the sights, hear more of the sounds. Sure it's tedious, time consuming, exhausting, mind-numbing. But that's part of the deal, all part of the reason to do it. I was in the mood to let my mind wander on a long walk through the mountains. So I got out of the car, grabbed my pack, and set off on the Weatherford Trail, the morning nice and cool and calm.
Quite peaceful on the way up. Nothing but soft green grass, numerous wildflowers, vanilla-scented pine trees. Not a soul on that trail; had the whole thing to myself. Just kept walking along, traveling through the forest, some of it burnt, some of it pristine. Nothing on my mind; just a steady jaunt on a steady grade, following long switchbacks as they made their way up the mountain.
Smelled a faint trace of campfire smoke at one point. Then I heard the voices. Big group comin' down, all dressed in black, walkin' their dogs, carryin' big ol' packs loaded down with overnight gear. Waved, passed 'em by, kept on going. Eventually I reached Fremont Saddle, Mt. Humphreys up ahead, still a good clip away. I sat down, chugged some water, nibbled on a Clif Bar, gazed upon the mountain. Oh yeah. This was gonna be a goodun.
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| Mt Humphreys (center right) from Fremont Saddle |
Hit the trail and kept on walkin', views of the Inner Basin coming into play now, the aspen leaves still as green as ever. Saw me a couple of trail runners zoomin' on down the trail, each one wearing nothing but a t-shirt, shorts, and a tiny little hydration vest. A bit cooler now, the air crisp and fresh. Walked through a forest of firs and tiny lil' mushrooms and then hit Doyle Saddle and started heading up, up, up into the land of rock and sun, no more forest, just a few scattered, shriveled, hardy little trees and shrubs.
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| The Inner Basin |
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| Fremont Saddle between Doyle Peak(left) and Fremont Peak (right) |
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| Gettin' closer... |
Hit the junction with the Humphreys Peak Trail, the one that everyone and their brother seemed to be using that day. No more solitude. Now was the time for groups of people with their own stories and fitness levels and hopes and dreams and conversational topics revolving around how cold it was or the spectacular views or how long was it to the top or what they'd just watched the night before or about this really good restaurant they just went to that you just had to try. Infinite voices, infinite conversations. I passed people by, people passin' me, their conversations floating in my ear like an MF Doom instrumental track, their voices nothin' but samples on an album of meandering randomness with absolutely no focus.
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| Almost there... |
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| Hooray! |
I got to the top, the summit crowded with folks of all walks of life. Old folks, young folks, kid folks, fit folks, fat folks, folks wearing name-brand clothing, folks in nothing but jeans and a hoody. The one thing tying them all together was the silence. That surprised me. Usually with a crowd as large as that, there's always someone talking. But not today. Even the dudes who were blasting music on the way up turned off their boombox when they got to the top. Everyone sat in silence, occasionally muttering only the briefest string of words into the brisk mountain air.
Very strange. But welcome. Helped me absorb the scene without much distraction. Being an ultra-prominent peak, ol' Humphreys had some of the best views I've ever seen from any summit, rivaling those I'd seen on Mt. Charleston earlier this year. Plus the weather was exceptionally clear so the views stretched off into infinity, the wide expanse of undulating earth merging with the soft sky in a blurry, unfathomable line on the distant horizon. I could see the Vermillion Cliffs out yonder, tiny and unassuming. Saw Kendrick Mountain and O'Leary Peak, two places I expected to visit para la mañana. Could even see Navajo Mountain wayyyyyyyy out there, a tiny black bump rising out of rugged, incomprehensible desert. Only thing I could't see was the damn Yummy Shack. Oh well.
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| North |
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| East(ish) |
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| South |
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| West(ish) |
Probably stood up there for all of ten minutes. And then it was time to go. Waved goodbye to the summit and started down the trail, the thing busy as ever. So many people, so many voices. One guy jokingly said to me "Hey, you only got five minutes to go! The parking lot's right there!" And I said "Nah man, I took the Weatherford Trail man, I got a long ways left man" and he was like "Wow, damn. Well good luck" and I waved him off and kept on going, my mind in a state of resolute aloofness.
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| Mt. Elden down there... |
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| An arch |
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| Snags |
Only saw a few people on my way down, all of whom were heading up to the summit. Saw a trailrunner guy, bedecked in the same minimalist garb as all other trailrunners. Saw a young college-lookin' kid who was runnin' and stumblin' up the trail, corded earbuds, cotton t-shirt, basketball shorts. Saw a tired-lookin' guy who was completing a section of the Arizona Trail; dude was functioning on nothin' but hopes and dreams. And that was about it; after that—nobody. Just the pines, the grass and the flowers.
Oh my. The flowers. I don't know what it was about them; maybe they itched a scratch in my lethargic mind—I don't know. Whatever the case, I probably spent 20 minutes of extra time to stop and take trillions of pictures of them, they were just so beautiful.
And so I ended my long hike to ol' Humpheys wandering along the trail and stopping every 2 seconds to snap several photos of the same flower from multiple angles, never quite able to capture its full beauty. And I returned to the dirt parking lot and there were a few folks scattered round, some of them bikers, some of them hikers, some of them hunters, most of 'em just passin' through on a joy ride across dirt roads beneath the pines and the dust and the wispy mountain air.
Stretched, ate the last of my trail mix, got in the car, drove on out of there. It was just after 2pm. Still had a lot of day left. Still had some energy in my legs. Why not check out another peak? And so that's exactly what I did. Just drove straight to the parking area to the next closest objective, a peak I'd seen in the distance on my way down from Humphrey's: good ol' Mt. Elden.
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| Starting the Elden Lookout Trail |
Didn't know much about the trail to the top. Only knew that it was short and steep and that there was a lookout tower up there as a kind of reward for your efforts. So I grabbed my trekking poles and a liter of water and started up the trail, the thing relatively flat, not too bad at all...
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| Up... |
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| and up... |
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| and up! |
And then I hit the grade and it was just up up up all the way to the top. Quite the workout, especially after hikin' Humphreys the long way. But this wasn't my first rodeo and fatigue is an old friend of mine so I simply found a comfortable stride and coasted the rest of the way to the top, my mind empty, focused only on the present moment. Heavy breathing, burning lungs, aching legs, a slight dizziness, sweat trickling down my nose, a salty crust forming on my face. Simple things, but they kept my occupied.
I reached the lookout tower; had the whole thing to myself. Quickly discovered that it's closed to the public. Oh well. I half expected that. So I plopped down on a rock to catch my breath, lower my heart rate, relax a bit, rethink my life choices, you know, stuff like that. Rain clouds were forming in the northeast, isolated, scattered thunderheads vomiting brief yet powerful blasts of moisture upon the thirsty ground. Breath caught, heart rate back to something more reasonable, I gathered my gear and set off for just one more bump off in the distance: the unassuming "TV Hill."
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| Northeast |
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| Southwest |
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| TV Hill directly center |
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| Flagstaff |
TV Hill was a vanity summit. Ain't no reason to go out there. I hiked over to it because it was there. And that was reason enough. I simply followed a dirt road most of the way to the top of its boring, radio tower-encrusted summit, cutting through the grass to save my legs from unnecessary extra mileage. Stood up there for less than five seconds before I turned around and hiked back down the road, hopping over to the Sunset Trail so as to not ascend Mt. Elden a 2nd time.
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| Heading back from TV Hill, Mt. Elden right |
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| Cloud vomit |
Rejoined the Elden Lookout Trail and hobbled the rest of the way down, my legs just about done for the day. I knew I probably shot myself in the foot and that I wouldn't be able to do everything I had planned for tomorrow, but, ehh, it was a good day. Saw some pretty flowers, pretty clouds, shiny rocks, green grass and stately pines. Couldn't ask for nothin' more, dammit!
And I reached the parking lot and immediately stretched, this session a lot more painful than the one after Humphreys. Somewhat relieved of soreness, I drove into Flagstaff and stopped at an Indian Restaurant where they only had one lady bussing tables, taking orders, answering the phone, processing online orders, AND training two new hires. Service was understandably slow but the food was superb and I left satisfied, the spices burning a hole in my weary stomach.
Drove off into the night out of town and down another dirt road, this time heading towards the trailhead for Kendrick Mountain. Saw some funky things out there in the woods. Big ol' bonfire out in the middle of nowhere, trailers tucked away without any lights, no sounds, pitch-black darkness all around save for the starry sky up above. Pulled into the parking lot and immediately set up my stuff and conked out on my pad, my legs finally twitching and cramping from a long day in the sticks. Hiked a combined 30 miles with about 7,800ft of elevation gain. Yikes. Tomorrow was gonna be fun, hahaha.
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