Day Four:
Morning was chilly but nice:
Two of us were ready to hike sooner than the other two:
Downstream with lots of water:
Our Holdout Canyon joined Black Rock Canyon (Black Rock Canyon is one of the easier, alternate routes described in the guidebook):
Black Rock itself could be seen in the distance:
Is it just me or is this balanced rock also streamlined?
As we got closer to Black Rock our way forward got “less clear.” We knew that we needed to cut up off Black Rock Canyon at some point, some point alongside a big span of cliffs. And then would begin three miles of pure cross country, due east. But which cliff was the right one?
After lots of map consultations, lots of river walking and sometimes moving up onto the benches next to the creek, we thought we could tell where we were and where we needed to be:
Something as simple as an old gate (described in the guidebook) is just a relief. After lots of wondering if we were going the right way (we thought we were), something that made it clear that, at least up to this point, we were:
Up and over the cliff. Onto what looked like an almost-level bench on the map. And it was… except for the deep, deep side canyons that we had to cross, one every half mile:
Lots of rock in this area. That 1997 book was kinda vague about this section of towers but it seemed like some routes had been done here:
After crossing four side canyons we couldn't figure out where we were (again). We'd come up out of the side canyon hoping to see Preachers Spring or at least a canyon that contained it. No Preachers Spring. We dropped packs and walked all over the ridge from one end to the other. I saw a trail below and way right but it didn't correspond to anything we should be seeing.
And then it hit us: that rough concrete, rectangular trough we'd seen one side canyon back was Preachers Spring! We'd passed right by it and were almost to the (good quality) trail to Kanes Spring!
Sustained, rough uphill hiking felt laughably easy… we were following a trail. An old water catchment and, later, a corral, confirmed our location at Kane Spring:
And then the day turned really, really damn hard.
The way forward from Kanes Spring looked obvious. But there was something wrong with the map. Where it looked like we should go was not what we saw. What we saw was a seemingly small gap up way above the canyon and a lot of uphill to get to it. The guidebook called out a trail sign showing the way. But if there’d ever been one, it was gone. Although the steep uphill was fairly open we couldn’t see any obvious way and couldn’t find any evidence of a trail that the guidebook called overgrown but “well engineered.” We did more backtracking in this area than I’d like to admit (up and down hill).
Finally after making 20 minute's progress over the course of an hour, we decided that trail or not, we had to make our way to that gap. We’d turn around if we were wrong and go back to Kanes Spring to start again in the morning. Ten minutes later we started crossing signs of a trail (ancient sawed off branches, an occasional duck, once in a while trail tread and two (!!) built switchbacks.
Overgrown and obscured by rock slides or not - we knew that there’d been a trail here and we knew (80% sure) that we were heading to the right gap.
At just after 5:00 we reached the gap and a trail and trail ducks. A short break for water.
Here’s the last photo we took that day: down Four Mile Canyon toward the Gila River and the town of Safford (Vicki is down at Roper State Park somewhere within this shot):
We now had to traverse an east-facing canyon wall toward a possible place to camp among ponderosa pines a mile and a quarter beyond (we were up above 7,000 feet elevation now). But we couldn’t see any trail ahead and our light was failing. Onward. Now!
On a guess I moved uphill 50 feet and found trail tread. Plain and discernible tread. Fast now, a race against dark. A huge dead tree across the trail costs minutes. The tread fades to nothing again and again. More lost time looking for its resumption.
The guidebook mentions that this area of trail was rebuilt and cleared 11 years ago. I call complete bullshit on that. I don’t know what source the author used for his comments, but we’re guessing half the time where the hell this thing goes.
After 9/10 mile we reach a tiny saddle. The trail now seems to descend! If that’s the trail; it’s damn near dark now and it’s hard to see anything. A short rest while I disassemble my pack to get my headlamp (Jon was smart enough to keep his accessible).
The trail stops in a tiny creek. It’s 6:30 and 100% dark now. There’s no sign of any continuation of the trail. Nothing. Dammit. We thought we were on the trail. Were we? What now? Stop and bivouac sitting on a hillside? Keep on by headlamp to see what we can see? Into the situation pretty deep now, we opt for the second choice. By gut and dead reckoning the trail has to be on the left canyon wall. It has to be above us. We have to have missed a turn or switchback (or such a feature is just gone now).
With full packs and full darkness we move up the hillside. Very steep and very brushy. The dogs aren’t happy (it’s past their dinner time). We’re not happy. What the f$%k now? After almost an hour we can tell by starlight that we’re getting high enough to be out of the canyon. The hillside is less steep. We reach a ridge. Following along the ridge top we come to two miracles: a flat enough spot to bivy and nearby, snow to melt for water.
That’s it. We call a halt. It’s 7:40. Jon bravely explores onward with headlamp but without pack (nothing). I feed the girls and start setting up camp.
With phone reception for the first time in a long time, I take a break to call Vicki about tomorrow. We’re a little lost I tell her. Completely lost, actually. We will need to figure out where we are in the morning and then decide how long it will take us to get out from there. I’ll call again then.
I manage to make an enhanced ramen for dinner and get it down. Apparently Jon ate two bites of his dinner and couldn’t stomach any more.
Fed and settled in, I study the maps and description. My strong guess is that we may be as close as 300 yards from the trail. In the morning, with light and looking from a ridge top, we should be able to figure out where we are and, more critically, where the trail is. I text Vicki a less panicked message and pass out in my sleeping bag.
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