Modest Marathon
Monday, November 1st, 2021: Uncategorized.
Like so many other recent nights, the night before today’s hike was largely sleepless, so as the sun finally came up I knew I wasn’t likely to drive a long distance and do a marathon hike. As it was, I got such a late start that the only option was the trail near town that connected with the Continental Divide Trail and was in such good shape that I could get some decent distance and elevation in a shorter time than usual.
What surprised me, when I started up the “primitive” road that constitutes the first two miles of the hike, was the amount of water coming down that canyon, a month after our last rainfall. But that’s the way this canyon is – relatively long so it drains a large area, deep so it drains from 9,000′ to less than 7,000′, rock-walled so there are lots of fracture zones to store water and release it slowly, and with an impermeable bedrock floor so the creek runs mostly on the surface.
I climbed steadily at my fairly aggressive “good trail” rate, up the canyon to the CDT junction in a ponderosa-forest saddle, traversing and switchbacking through mixed-conifer forest up the south slope of the 9,000′ peak, crossing the peak into the burn scar of the 2014 Signal Fire, descending to the lower ridge and traversing its south slope to the farthest point I’d reached earlier this year.
That was 8 miles one-way, so if I’d just turned around and headed back I’d get a respectable hike. But since I’d been able to walk fast, it was still early, and since the trailhead was so close to town, I could spend more time on the trail before it got dark. So I kept going.
Past the outlying shoulder where I’d stopped before, the trail made a sharp left turn and began a gentle descent around the head of a large drainage I’d never seen before, and I soon got a view east, toward the next mountain range, that was also new. Immediate payoff for small effort! The trail had now left the burn scar and was leading through intact forest. I checked my map and saw that somewhere up ahead, the trail crossed to the north side of the ridge, so if I could make it that far, I’d get even more new views.
The timing turned out to be just right. Just before my planned turn-around time, the trail crossed the ridge and began descending steeply on the previously unseen north slope. It wasn’t spectacular, nor was it a true wilderness experience – I could see a dirt road a few hundred feet below – but this had turned into a marathon accomplishment without a marathon effort. By the time I got back I would cover almost 20 miles and over 4,000′ of elevation gain in less than 8 hours.
Just before the descent of the north slope I crossed a large flat area on the ridgetop – what in Arizona they call a “park”. I’ve encountered so many of these anomalous landscape features that I began to ponder their formation.
They’re all almost completely surrounded by a gentle ring of higher ground, usually of varying height, and although they all support some conifers around the edges, they all have a grassy meadow near the center. This one was classic because its surrounding wall was uniformly low. I began to imagine how, over a very long time, the upper slopes of a shallow natural bowl would erode and fill the bottom with sediment washing off the slopes, maybe creating a temporary dam downstream, gradually filling the center so that it flattened out. The center would flood occasionally, preventing growth of conifer trees, which need well-drained soil, and supporting the establishment of grasses. In the end, you’d get this flat expanse high up on a ridge, completely natural but looking just like a man-made park.
On the walk back to the peak, I had the sun lowering ahead of me, backlighting the fall foliage, which in this case consisted not of tree leaves but of the seed heads and dried leaves of annuals. It was a more subtle, golden beauty that you’d ignore in the company of more colorful aspens, maples, cottonwoods, or oaks.
Crossing the peak I was surprised by the glittering of sunlight off the windows and roofs of my hometown, straight ahead and 3,000′ below in the southwest. Guess I should consider myself lucky I have such places so near home.
Although I’d seen recent mountain bike tracks on the trail, I didn’t see another human all day, which is pretty amazing considering this is one of our most popular trails, only 20 minutes from town, it was beautiful, mild fall weather, and it was a weekend. What was everybody doing?
Oh, yeah, it was Halloween, our society’s favorite secular holiday – they were all preparing their costumes!
