Back at Guadalupe Mountains; The El Capitan Hike

As I said in the previous post, weather not only chased me out of southeast Arizona, but it also threw a crimp into my vague plans to head up through Silver City and from there across to the Sacramento Mountains.

But to be honest, I'd been screwing around out here long enough that, even though Thanksgiving was late this year, I was running out of time to get back home before the hordes were released.

It may have been inadvertent, but I started this trip on a holiday, and now I wasn't too keen on ending it the same way.



So at this point it really wasn't a great sacrifice to retreat right back to Guadalupe Mountain National Park for a couple more nights in my old campsite, site 31.

Though the sky had cleared nicely by the next morning, with no hint of the snow and ice predicted for the Sacramento Mountains a little further north, the winds, even in the shadow of the mountain, were still fierce. Bad enough that even with chinstrap cinched tight enough to leave a mark, (Though with my old-man-turkey-neck one more mark is pretty hard to see.) my hat blew off a couple of times, nearly taking my head with it!

For this reason I decided to forgo any of the high hikes, such as the peak or bowl trails, and stick to lower elevations instead.

Which is how I ended up trying out the El Capitan trail.

Despite it's name, this trail does NOT climb up El Capitan, for that you would have to take the Guadalupe Peak Trail to the end then do some serious bushwhacking along a scary looking ridge, which you will not find me doing anytime soon. Instead the El Capitan trail sweeps around below El Capitan and opens up some views around the southern end of the Guadalupes and across the salt-flats to the west.

If you make the recommended 11 mile round-trip hike out to Salt Basin Overlook that is. . .



And while I was still in the campground, in the partial wind-shadow of the mountain, that was a possibility, but - well - you'll see.

I didn't get a particularly early start this morning.



I could probably come up with a number of excuses for lazing around camp the way I did instead of getting to it, but even I'm not sure any of them are really legitimate.

At any rate, as you can see, by the time I shrugged into my backpack and slipped my hands through the straps on the hiking-sticks the sun was halfway up the trees.



Even so, I was still able to get a few decent back-lit shots.



OK, before I get into the hike I have to make this small detour.

That group down there

 arrived this morning in two F-150 super-cabs, yep all 10 of them in two trucks. Trucks which have Arizona tags

with New Mexico Conservation Corps signs plastered on the sides,

and, of course, we are in Texas. . . 

They are down there doing a series of warm-ups before donning gear, including picks, shovels, and climbing helmets, and heading up the trail somewhere, (Not anywhere I was) presumably to do some tail-work given the gear they carried, and not returning until late in the afternoon. They did this for the two days I was there.



Now back to our regularly scheduled hike.

Soon after hitting the trail I have a little peek of El Capitan.



But while I was looking at that, you see that nondescript shrub sitting there leaning out over the trail just enough



to snag the distracted?

It has the rather descriptive name of Catclaw Mimosa, also known by the exasperated hiker as the Wait-a-Minute! bush.

Because once you're tangled up in the damn thing you're not going anywhere until you ease those claws out of skin and clothing while surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone is close enough to hear you whimpering.

Go ahead, ask me how I know. . .

Though the elevation change on this hike is only about 400'



 I'm still at around 6000' so there are some nice views.



Speaking of views, as I continue around the flank of the mountain my view of El Capitan slowly increases.

But when I get to about where the black arrow is, with an even better view of El Capitan, and I look across the canyon/ravine/wash to where the red arrow is,

I see this and can't quite figure out what the heck I'm looking at.

My first thought was a really tall century plant, but one that tall didn't seem very likely. And this being an antenna of some sort was equally unlikely because you don't put one of those down in the bottom of a wash.

Zooming the camera in didn't help much. Now it looked like some sort of giant cat's cradle gone horribly wrong.

It wasn't until I panned down to the base and zoomed way in that it became clear this was a fence, one leg of which is going almost straight up the slope over there.

Kinda glad I'm not the guy that had to unroll all that wire!




Anyway, onward as El Capitan gets closer and closer.

By the way, I think I probably did, but did I mention the wind?

It was bad in the campground.

Out here it's brutal!



And by the time I round a ridge and get a glimpse of this hike's supposed destination, the little peak that is the Salt Basin Overlook, (which is really only the halfway point since I still have to get back) I was getting a little tired of my ears flapping so much I couldn't hear the perpetual whine of the tinnitus that is my lot in life. Besides, my hat, my go-to-town hat, was getting all twisted up by this mega-bully of a breeze.



When I zoomed in from where I was and realized, even though I was only halfway to the overlook, I could a tiny little glimpse of the salt-flats out there I decided an afternoon lolling around camp with a book sounded really good about now, and I turned around.




Decision made, with no small sense of relief, I headed back to the shelter of a wash I had come through not too long ago, climbed up it a ways to get clear of the trail, passing this well-worn antler along the way,



and settled in for a little snack before letting the wind push me the rest of the way back to camp.

Setting the wind aside, if I was grading the El Capitan Trail using a curve set by all the other trails I hiked here in the Guadalupe Mountains, on a scale of 1 to 10 I would give it a C-minus.

It's a nice enough hike, and in another location might rate a B-plus, but there are better hikes around here. That's my opinion anyway.

Hiking Parker Canyon Lake - Then Running For Cover!

The following events occurred on November 19 2019



After a peaceful night as the solitary resident of the Parker Canyon Lake campground tent loop (There were some rigs in the RV section) I was up early



because, though for the optimistic there was hope in the form of some holes in the cloud-cover, for the realists the forecast was calling for deteriorating conditions with a rough afternoon predicted, to be followed by several days of nasty weather,

and I really wanted to get a hike in before the predicted sky, and wind, and cold, came crashing down on me.



The lake is about 125 acres and there is a trail around the perimeter, which is the obvious choice for this morning's hike.




As you can imagine, this is one of the few places in the state where lake-fishing is available.

You can fish from the shore, bring you own boat (10 HP max if powered), or rent kayaks or fishing boats at the marina.

There were no people around, but by the looks of it shore-fishing is a pretty popular activity here and there are a number of these fishing-line recycling stations along the easier-to-reach shoreline near the campground and marina.

As you can also see - people suck!

Despite the good intentions, and the sign saying no cans, no bottles, no trash, every one of these things was stuffed to the gills with cans, bottles, and trash, leaving no room for the deadly tangles of fishing line.






 Anyway, after negotiating the 100' drop from campsite to lake-shore, which was the greatest elevation change of the hike, I turned counterclockwise and by the time the sun was coming up over the trees, I was around that first inlet on the shore-hugging trail and well on my way to the pointy upper end of the lake.



The end with the more rugged shore-line,



though the hiking was never difficult.



This is also the end where most the shore-birds hang out, though they made a point of moving out of my way as I went. I guess the birds here are just camera-shy.



As I approached the north end of the lake where I would turn the corner and start back down the other side I saw this thing up ahead.

At first I thought it might be some sort of dare-devil bridge to get across Collin's Canyon,

but it turned out to be a suspended pipeline and not at all suitable for walking across.

Instead the trail crosses up-canyon from here a couple hundred feet.

and right after that I came across this.

It's completely fenced in, including roof, and my first thought was of a prison exercise yard. (Not that I have any first-hand knowledge of prison exercise yards mind you!) But there were no guard towers so I still don't know what it was all about, though, just beyond this thing - whatever it is -

there is this.

A building which, despite it's "bathroom" look, apparently houses well number D23-19-17-1 or is that 55-642729?

Whichever, I'm clearly not allowed.

There's a propane powered generator on the back-side of the building and I'm figuring this must be where that pipeline originates.



This is also where some trail-markers make things a little confusing.

Standing in front of the well-house there are two different trail-markers visible. Those little backpacker-with-hiking-stick diamonds tacked to a post.

One seems to point down the near-side of Collin's Canyon, which makes sense, but then that way soon dead-ends in a maze of brush and diminishing game trails.

The other marker seems to point up along an unmarked road that's more track than road (the MVUM doesn't even show it though I think it's an extension of 48C and is probably used to get a truck in here to fill the propane tank.) that is heading north, away from the lake and away from where I expected the trail to be.

But eventually this wrong-way option does a U-turn as it crosses a wash and heads back towards the lake again.



At this point I've only covered about a third of the 5 mile loop around the lake



but, despite the lack of any real light, the sky is looking a little less ominous with larger patches of blue in my vicinity so I'm not feeling rushed.



Mind you, though I may have some bits of sun coming down on my head once in a while, the Huachuca Mountains to the east are looking a little rough, so maybe the forecast isn't completely wrong. . .



But as long as I keep my back to the mountains and look west and north, as here just after I crossed the lake's earthen dam, things are looking pretty good.



The spillway here at Parker Canyon Lake is a little different than what I'm used to seeing.

Instead of being incorporated into the dam this spillway is about 500' south of the dam and has been cut deep into the surrounding rock.

Just there in the bottom right corner of the photo you can see a bit of  the fence designed to keep hikers from falling the 30 feet or so from trail into the cut.



Instead you have to detour to the down-stream end of the cut to get across it.

Here I'm standing in the bottom of the cut looking back up towards the lake



and here I've turned around and am looking down the spillway towards where this wash eventually joins the Santa Cruz River, but not before crossing the border into Mexico.

And yes, for those with good eyes, those are the skeletal remains of a deer. Judging by the lack of flesh or even tendons, they have been there a while.



From across the lake I can see The Van glaring at me. True, I had to zoom in quite a ways, but she sure does stand out in all her sunlit white glory!

Though eminently practical, reflecting heat rather than absorbing it, not showing dirt, and being highly visible on the road, white is not the best color for whispering. Maybe a nice stone-grey would make her a little less conspicuous out there. . .



Not long after crossing the spillway I turn the corner and am negotiating the south side of the lake where it is widest.

On the home stretch now and the weather has held, in fact it's even looking pretty dang good about now, but is apparently still lurking in the area waiting to catch the clueless and less than wary off guard.

In fact, by the time I finish the hike and get back to The Van where I can check in with NOAA weather radio things are starting to get a little more serious. Flash flood warnings are up for later in the afternoon and this is supposed to settle in for several days.

From here the road out to Sonita is paved, but it's still forest-roadish with 25 miles of narrow, twisting, dipping, climbing, and low-water crossing track from here to there, so I make the decision to get on out of here while the gettin's good and relocate back towards the east where the wet part of this weather has already passed through.

Nightfall found me back in New Mexico and on the backside of the rain, which hit me pretty hard between Wilcox and Lordsburg, but the front still had a strong hold and the wind from the south was fierce. Fierce enough that I found myself dodging refrigerator-sized tumbleweeds barreling out of the growing darkness as I bulled my way the last few miles to Deming where I planned on shutting down for the night.

(I managed to dodge all but one microwave-sized weed which went under The Van with a hearty thwack-crunch.)



Before dawn the next morning I was headed back towards Guadalupe Mountains, but only after I swept the thousands of willow-leaves  off the van that had been stripped from the trees last night in the Walmart parking-lot by the wind so I could see out the windshield. (Weeks later I'm still finding little dried curls of willow-leaf hiding in the cracks and crevices of The Van.)

A return to Guadalupe Mountains wasn't in my original plans.

When I left Arizona and headed back east I had intended to sweep north through Silver City and from there revisit Alamogordo, Cloudcroft, and the Sacramento Mountain area, maybe even tackle the Dog Canyon Trail again, but with the forecast last night calling for snow and ice down to the 6500' mark, and today's forecast calling for continued snowfall above 7500' in the Sacramento Mountains, I decided that wasn't such a good idea. . .

Montezuma Pass to Parker Canyon Lake

Yep, you read that title right. There's an actual lake out here in southeastern Arizona.

True, it's man-made, but it's still a lake.



But do you remember this photo from the previous post?

Before I can get to the lake I have to get down off Montezuma pass into the San Rafael Valley, around the southern (left) flank of Lone Mountain out there under the arrow, and then travel about 5 more miles and cross two more major washes. And the road from here to there is all gravel.



Unless my (musical) keyboard or stove is on the counter, or the bike-carrier is swung out to the side, The Van is pretty much drive-away ready all the time. Just close the vents and windows and she's good to go.

But if the planned route includes rough roads there's a couple extra steps for prepping The Van.

Before I left this morning I tucked the sink-cover in next to the trashcan with the dish-rag draped over it to keep it from rattling, (For normal roads I just leave it in place over the sink but on rough roads the corian cover bangs a lot - and loudly - against the top edge of the under-mount sink as I go over bumps.)



and I snap the strap-latch on the full-height slide-out pantry. (Again on normal roads I don't bother since the regular latch holds it just fine, but the pantry is big and loaded and heavy so this is just extra insurance.)

View of Montezuma pass from the west side.

Unlike the east side of the pass where the approach is up a narrow canyon, the valley is wide on the west side of the pass so switchbacks aren't necessary as the road drops down the flank of the Huachuca Mountains on one long swoop.

Truck drivers are taught to use the same gear going down a grade as they would going up it. I follow the same adage and put The Van into first and pretty much never touched the brakes all the way down.

(Coming down off Mt. Lemmon outside Tucson several years ago Mom thought I had turned the engine off as we coasted all the way down in 3rd gear.)





At about 1000', the drop/climb on this side of the pass is about 300' less than on the east side, but that first little bit as you come off the pass is still a one-lane road.

Of course the one and only on-coming vehicle I encountered all day, another Sprinter-conversion, was right along here!

Since I was the downbound vehicle in this encounter it was incumbent on me to get out of the way. Fortunately I spotted them from a ways off so had plenty of time to look for a spot where I could put the right-hand tires up against the mountain and give them enough room to get by on the outside.



And by the time I got down to Copper Canyon the road had widened out.

Yes, that's actual water flowing across the road there. Just up-canyon (to the right) is Oak Spring and just to the left is an alluvial plain. I have just passed FR-4781 which tracks across the alluvial plain the 2.4 miles down to the border.

And no, I didn't try driving it, nor did I pull into the trailhead on the other side of the road and take the short hike past Oak Spring up Copper Canyon. It was already after noon and I had all those un-known miles ahead of me yet. But now I know and next time I'll stop



because the road along the edge of the San Rafael Valley is pretty dang good, especially if you are content to travel at 10 or 15 MPH as I was.



The valley floor is gently rolling, comparatively lush,



and wide!



You see that clearing down there in the middle of the photo?



That's a ranch out here in the middle of the National Forest.

And you see that white, flat-bed truck parked there near the house? In a bit that truck is going to come up behind me on the road you see in the upper left and hang back (Not sure if he hung back to be polite or in self-defense against the dust) until I got to a spot where I could pull over to let him pass. This was my only other vehicle encounter of the day.



But before that happens I stand corrected. On my map this place is listed as Sunnyside Ranch, but apparently it is actually the Lone Mountain Ranch.




Not long after passing the ranch I come to an intersection.

FR-227 will take me back to FR-61, (I came down off the pass on FR-61 then switched over to FR-48 some miles back) which will eventually take me to the Patagonia Mountains just beyond Lochiel, but since that's not where I'm headed today, I only have three miles left to go.



And a short time later I can see actual pavement again!

Almost there.

By the way, Sierra Vista is 23 miles from here via Cimarron Rd through Elgin and through the heart of Fort Huachuca via Canelo, Butler, and Allison roads and finally Winrow Av. out to Sierra Vista proper through the East gate. Which I understand is allowed, as long as you first submit to a background check at the East gate and obtain a vehicle pass which allows you to cross through the military base.

Otherwise the route is up to Sonoita then across US-82 then south again on US-90

The "there" I was referring to is the Parker Canyon Lake campground, officially named Lakeview Campground, and it is segregated!

Oh relax. What I mean is that there is a tent loop on the lake-side of the road, with RV's restricted to  a seperate loop on the other side.

There are pit toilets and water spigots on both sides with no hookups anywhere. The cost for either side is the same $10. ($5 with geezer pass) The issue is that the original loop, the tent loop, was not built to accommodate RV's at all with only car-sized parking.

The RV area consists primarily of pull-offs on either side of the road though a few of those pull-offs are actual loops so you aren't parallel parked right up against the road, and it looks like there is one back-in site as well.

Me and The Van fit just fine over there on the tent loop, so that's where we went. And we had it entirely to ourselves.

After 50 or so miles of dirt roads so far

I could have used a little rain to conceal the fact that I've been neglecting the Quad-B on this trip.

This is actually two campsites with side-by-side parking. Typical of the tent loop.

But I wasn't careful enough in what I wished for and those streaky clouds at sunset were hinting that some weather, including rain, was coming this way.